#all these behind the scene photos are driving me mad

[elspeth-catton]

stopppp i love them so much

[inhuman-obey-me]

🕶 with Barbatos please??👀 also yes on MC! (sorry for being specific, you can ignore it if you want but can it be directed at mc i'm not normal about Barb)

"I saw a little thing I didn't like you tried to hide." - Barbatos/MC

content warning: blood, reference to torture/gore

Barbatos has a reputation.

It is one that you remind yourself of at times, when you get lost in his sweet words and even sweeter treats. Those soft smiles, his ever-readiness to serve, his meticulous attention to detail so that things were always perfect for you – he would insist you had him wrapped around your finger, but sometimes you wonder if it truly isn’t the other way around.

After all, while you loved that side of him – one that few had the privilege to witness – you could not help but be intrigued by the part of him that reigned in the shadows. 

The part of him that delighted in the slow torture of a traitor. The part of him that could use a knife to cut up a bleeding-heart artichoke just as deftly as an actual bleeding heart. The part of him that could drive someone mad just by warping the space around him, damning them to experience eternity in a matter of seconds. 

Perhaps you were a bit too intrigued, your morbid curiosity having led you now to wander the dark halls of the Demon Lord’s Castle in search of him. He was supposed to meet you at the foyer earlier, but when the ever-punctual demon was nowhere to be found, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You wanted to see if you could catch the consistently composed butler off-guard, unprepared. 

A fool’s quest.

You pass an archway and stop in your tracks, swearing you heard a faint scream from down below. A metallic scent pervades, your stomach churning as you take a step, and then another, and yet another – slowly descending the stairs, unsure of what you’ll find at the bottom. 

It’s dimly lit, torches along the walls flickering with magic flames. Your eyes adjust, and your heart nearly skips a beat as you see Barbatos in the distance. You dive behind a wall, peering around the corner to observe. 

He seems to be talking to someone, though you can’t see who. A cell, you think, as you notice the iron bars gating certain areas. The light catches on an object in his hand, something silver, and you realize he’s cleaning it off with cloth. Your own hands fish out your D.D.D., opening the camera function to zoom in and get a clearer look.

Oh.

He’s splattered with blood, standing in a pool of it. It’s a sight to behold, and you’re unable to tear your gaze away from him. Slowly, your finger goes to the capture button, taking a photo of the scene. You duck back into the passage, checking to see how the shot turned out – and chills run down your spine as Barbatos seems to be looking straight into the lens. 

“Tsk, tsk.” Gloved fingers tightly wrap around your wrist, forcing you to turn around to meet a dark gaze that you knew all too well. “I saw a little thing I didn’t like you tried to hide.” 

“B-Barbatos!” His name leaves your lips in a squeak. You don’t know how he got to you so fast, but you do know it’s better not to question it. “I-I’m sorry, you didn’t show up earlier and I got curious and wanted to look for you so I ended up down here and then I found you but I didn’t want to disturb you and –” 

He puts a halt to your rapid explanation with a single finger against your lips, his gaze softening. “I’m sorry, my dear. It’s not like me to forget or lose track of the time. I must make this up to you immediately.” He lets go of your wrist, examining you once over before taking a step back. “But first, I need to freshen up. Shall we go upstairs?” 

With a nod, you follow him back up to the brighter hallways of the castle, though he pauses once you’re at the landing. “...And what are you going to do with that photo?”

“Oh.” You can feel the warmth rush to your cheeks. “I, uh … just kind of wanted it for myself.”

“Is that so?” You can hear the amusement in his voice, see the way his lips twist into a smirk.  “Well, if that’s the case, I suppose I can let your little reconnaissance slide. Next time, however,” he leans in close, breath ghosting your ear. “Just ask.”

[justasimpleton-26]

A simple date

(Jason Todd x Reader: MDNI, slightly OOC)

It’d been your sixth date with Jason, and he decided to take you out to the town fair. Smiling and laughing, Jason thought that as the last ride, you should both go on the Ferris wheel. You were a little nervous, as you had a slight fear of heights, but didn’t want to put a damper on the good time you were both having, so you agreed. Once on the ride, you clung on to Jason mostly out of fear, but also because it always amazed you how strong and muscled Jason was. And hot. God, he was hot. The moment the ride let you both off, you dragged Jason away, his playful teasing making you blush. “I wasn’t that scared.” You argued, and Jason relented, pulling you closer to him as he leaned down to kiss you. There was some heckling and some laughter, and for some reason, it caught Jason’s attention. You both looked up to see a guy dressed in t-shirt and jeans and a baseball cap, laughing with his buddies as he took on more picture of the both of you. You blush, feeling embarrassed, but Jason is already pushing you behind him, trying to shield you from their line of sight. “Hey man, that was a private moment you took a picture of. Can you delete that?” Jason asked, and you breathed in relief as Jason was using his words instead of his fists. That relief was short lived, as you heard the guy and his friends laugh, and he showed the screen of the photo he snapped; you and Jason kissing, and then it was the guy’s face in the corner of the picture making a suggestive face. “Yeah, I’m not going to do that. In fact,” he pressed the post button, and the picture posted on one of his social media accounts. Okay, at this point, you were scared for the guy. Jason took a step closer, straightening up his tall six-foot-three frame. Jason had a good three or four inches on the guy, but of course, the guy was with a group of friends, so he was feeling cocky. “I’ll ask you again; take down that photo.” Jason warned, and the guy laughed, slapping his knee as if Jason said the funniest joke he had ever heard. “Make me.” The guy said, as if daring Jason to punch him. And Jason did hear the dare, was ready to cash in on the guy’s words when- “Jason, I want to go home now!” you called out, trying not to make the scene even worse. “You heard that, Jason? You lady wants you to take her home. Put on your big boy pants, and get out of here.” The guy replied mockingly. Jason glared into his soul, and before he could go back to you, the guy dumped his blue slushy all over Jason’s head. At this point, you walked up and grabbed Jason by the arm, pulling him away, and Jason let you, because he knew you were right. He knew it was wrong to beat the life out of this man, but Jason was also very anxious to get home, opening the door for you to get in his truck, and sliding the key to his ignition, the truck rumbling to life. The drive back was met in silence, and you looked over, trying to read Jason’s face. Blue liquid clung to his forehead and face, and you reached the glove compartment and grabbed some napkins, careful to wipe his face off. “I didn’t want you fighting anyone. I know you’re capable of holding your own, but I just didn’t want you to get hurt.” You told him, and he looked at you, his features softening as he gazed upon you. “I’m not mad at you. It’s just…I struggle with my temper. Especially when that guy…but yeah. I didn’t want to ruin the night, and the night got ruined anyway.” He chuckled, awkwardly. “Not true. I had a great time with you.” You replied, and he leaned over to give you a quick kiss as he pulled to a stop at the red light. “Mm, plus you taste like blue raspberries.”

When you both get home, you head over to the bedroom while Jason wanders off to shower, and you fall back on the bed, flicking on the lamp. You almost have a heart attack as you see a guy standing in the corner wearing a blue and black suit, a mask on his face.

Jason had already taken the post down on his phone before he even got in his truck to drive Y/N back to their house. He could feel anxiety churning at his stomach though; if Tim was scouring through the web like he usually did, it wouldn’t take long to find that fucking picture. Or the location. Jason had gone into hiding two years back, and hadn’t reached out to any members of the BatFamily. He’d done it for some distance, but mostly for himself. It was time that Jason’s main focus was on himself rather than the never ending dramas that were held in the Manor, in the Batcave, in Gotham. Taking a step out of the shower, Jason decides to let off some steam and going out to hunt the guy that took that picture. As he wiped the water off himself, and wrapped a towel around his hips, he turned and froze, seeing someone lean against the door frame of the bathroom door. “Showering with the door open? You’ve gotten real comfortable with this girl.” Timothy Drake says, geared in his Red Robin suit. “What the hell are you doing here?” Jason asks instead, and Tim falters for a bit, before perking right up. “I finally found you! You were off grid pretty well for the last two years, but I never stopped scouring the internet for any tryp of whereabouts for you. Come to find out that you’re here in Noweheresvill, USA with a really cute girl.” Tim replied, smiling at Jason. Jason ran a hand though his damp hair, glaring at the ground. “So what’s the cute girl’s name? How did she react when you told her you’re Red Hood-“ “Tim, can you not? I haven’t told her that I’m Red Hood because I haven’t found a need to.” Jason interrupted, causing Tim to frown. “But you did tell her what you use to do right? You did talk to her about your family, right?” Tim asked, and Jason shook his head, causing Tim to go pale. “Oh…then she’s probably not going to take it well.” “What do you mean by that? You came alone, right-hey! Where are you running off to?” Jason cried out, chasing after him. They headed to the room where you and Jason slept together, the door slamming open, and Jason swears as he sees his older brother Dick Grayson in his Nightwing suit sitting on a chair across the bed where a very much freaked out Y/N sat, clutching a pillow to her chest. “Jay, these people,” your eyes flicked to the other brightly suited up person, “they say that they know you, is that true?” Jason sighed, as he glared at Dick and Tim. “It’s kind of a long story but firstly,” To Dick and Tim, “can you both get the fuck out so I can at least get dressed?” And like nothing, they dip out of the room, heading to wait for Jason and Y/N in the living room. Jason looks at you for a long time, wondering how the hell he was going to explain all of this to you.

[ddejavvu]

Ok since you brought it up about the episode “Riding the Lighting” maybe a scene like the hotch and jj one but with reader instead? Hotch has to take a moment after leaving the room because he’s really mad 👀 I’m obsessed with possessive hotch ;)

mmmmmutual pining with bau!reader because it's my fave <33

--

"There's three more girls we need to know the location of," You speak calmly and slowly, meeting the unsub's wicked gaze with your own confident one, "Megan Walsh, Casey McMillan, and Monica Chen. If you can tell me where those girls are," You flatten your hands over the table, fingers spread over each one of the girls' portraits, "We'll tell the court you cooperated."

"That's not going to matter much," The man laughs, evil seeping from his lips, "They're not going to repeal the death sentence, are they?"

"No, but they might not slam you into the door on the way out," Aaron spits from behind you, more venom in his voice than you've ever heard before. "And you might want to stop staring at my agent and start taking a look at those photos, because they're your only hope."

"They don't matter anymore," The man shrugs, jumpsuit baggy over his emaciated frame, "They're over and done with. You, however," His eyes trail down your face, examining the features he'd sought out in his victims, "You would have made a nice Number 9."

"That's it," Aaron snaps from behind you, his hand falling heavy on the back of your chair and yanking you out from the table, "You had your chance, and you wasted it. Now I'm going to tell the guards you perpetuated your behavior, and I won't look back if I hear a thud."

Aaron's careful not to hurt you as he pulls you out of your chair, the hand on your arm firm but gentle. He leads you by your bicep out of the room and leaves behind you, blocking the unsub's view of you from behind with his broad frame.

Once you're out of the unsub's sight Aaron rounds on you, keeping his hand on your arm and staring at you with a concerned glance, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," You nod, though you have to admit you're more shaken up by Hotch's reaction than by the creepy comment, "That's just... what they do, right?"

He stares at you for a second too long. Eyes against yours, searching for any lingering uneasiness. When he finds only resignation, he nods, registering your words late.

"Yes," He nods, letting go of your arm and starting down the hallway, "Unfortunately, that's just what they do." His jaw is tight, his steps heavy as he leads you back to the guards waiting for you by the entrance to the cell block, "If you'll excuse me, I need to make a private phone call. Y/L/N, you can wait for me in the car."

The officers are kind enough to walk you back to your SUV, pitching into tense conversation with questions about the unsub. You answer all that you can, shutting the passenger's side door to the SUV and glancing at the clock, wondering what time Hotch will be back to drive.

When your gaze falls from the clock it locks onto a small black device on the center console; Hotch's phone.

A comment he'd made earlier pops into your head five minutes too late, something about their being no outside cell service in the prison, so he was going to leave his phone in the car. No use carrying around dead weight.

But he comes back from his mystery outing with a droplet of water by his temple, soaking his hair that looks damp around the line. So he went to the bathroom, but to wash his face? Why did he need to lie about a phone call?

"Sorry," He apologizes, setting his suit jacket over the center console and effectively burying his phone, "I've been wrestling with the cable company for weeks now, we can't ever reach each other. I felt my phone buzz in there, figured I'd try reaching 'em."

You nod, silent, observant, "Funny, I didn't know you had a second phone."

"Hm?" He glances over at you, hands poised on the wheel. You peel back his suit jacket, one eyebrow raised as his eyes lock onto his phone.

"You're a good liar," You commend him and his years of profiling work, "Next time, just make sure there's no evidence."

"Alright, so I wasn't on the phone," He sighs, bracing his hand on the back of your seat to pull out of the parking lot, "But the cable company has been messing with me, I think."

"They're conspiring against you," You tease, "They don't want you to downgrade from the HD channels. Is that why you had to splash your face? Just so frazzled from the cable company?"

"Jesus," He hisses, rubbing at the wet spot against his temple with his sleeve, "You're new here but you don't act like it."

"So?" You try holding back the pride that threatens to burst from your chest, "What was it? What had the great SSA Aaron Hotchner losing it in the prison bathroom?"

"It was the way that guy talked to you," He admits, keeping his eyes on the road as they scrunch in disdain, "He was out of line."

"He's a serial killer," You laugh humorlessly, "There isn't a line, not anymore."

"Regardless. It's still not fun to be told you'd make a good murder victim. Are you really alright, Y/L/N?"

He takes the few seconds that a red light grants him to stare over at you questioningly. Although you'd felt uneasy at the man's comment, you'd been far more affected by Aaron's response, and the protectiveness he showed over you. You appreciate the fact that he seems to care about you already, even though you're a recent addition to his team.

"I'm alright," You decide, lifting your chin towards the green light so that he doesn't miss it, "Thank you for stepping in. I wasn't really sure what to say."

"I wouldn't have told anyone if you'd decided to punch him in the teeth," Hotch grumbles, "I'll have Morgan go over there tomorrow, and see if he can get it out of the guy. And if not..." He hesitates, glancing up quickly to clock a speed limit sign and slowing the car slightly, "I might tell Morgan to punch him in the teeth."

[peppershark]

WOLFER --- The real California history behind the Tomione Fic

Convict Lake Camp (OwensValleyHistory.com)

When I was a kid, my family frequently visited Bishop, California. I can still feel the light-headed enchantment of hopping out of the van at a relative's green, creek-watered ranch shadowed by towering granite faces of the High Sierras. The dusty road and sage-sharp aroma propelled my imagination two hundred years into the past.

Wolfer is set in 1890 Bishop Creek, and while some of the location names are changed to fit the story, the town really had ranching barons like the Sacred 28 families, churches which exerted certain levels of social power with the well-to-do folk, boarding houses for mill workers and on-farm worker housing for fruit pickers and cowboys--or perhaps the odd wolfer.

It's amazing what you can dig up when you're procrastinating working on your WIP, lol. I did a lot of initial research while writing a Gingerrose fic set in post Civil War Bishop Creek.

Here are some things I found.

Main Street, Bishop Creek 1880 (OwensValleyHistory.com)

In Chapter 1, Tom rides down Main Street to the marshal's office (played by a grudging Severus Snape) and runs into Hermione.

Way off into the upper right you can see the steeple of the First Baptist Church on Main Street.

East Line Street, Bishop Creek (OwensValleyHistory.com)

Tom chases Hermione to Line Street, where he pushes her up against the Brown's Machine Shed, which is of course re-named to fit Lavender Brown's family.

(OwensValleyHistory.com)

Check out that snow! Sitting at 4,000 feet of elevation in the foothills of the East Sierras, the snow can get quite voluminous.

W.D. Roberts Ranch, Round Valley (OwensValleyHistory.com)

The ranch near the dry saltbeds of Owens Lake where Draco visits Harry, (by way of Mad Eye Moody) might have looked like this.

Cerro Gordo photo taken some time between 1871 - 1879 (OwensValleyHistory.com

We get a brief glimpse of the Cerro Gordo silver mine when Draco and Harry ride off into the sunset together for a night of wild debauchery. The brothels and bawdy houses within these sprawling mining towns would have perhaps been some of the only public places for late 19th-century gays to be themselves. Miss Lola's was among the more famous, and I'm struggling to find the website where I originally learned this this but I believe she hosted queer sex workers and provided space for an early LGBTQ+ scene.

The silver mine itself brought together a richly diverse group of fortune seekers. I accessed California census documents and found that while Bishop Creek was mostly white, Cerro Gordo had a much more diverse population (interestingly all marked with 'I', even Latinx names).

I did a phone interview with the Inyo Historical Society and chatted for an hour with a local historian, telling him I was getting context for a novel. (He didn't need to know that my novel was also a fanfic, hahaha.) The historian told me the mine had Mexican, Black, Chinese, and Indigenous populations working as miners, teamsters (people who drive wagons), cooks, brick masons, farm laborers and all kinds of interesting jobs related to running the mine.

Main Street in Bishop Creek, 1878 (OwensValleyHistory.com

One thing that sticks out in my mind from the conversation with the historian is how the white and Mexican ranchers demolished the irrigation canals the Numuu Indigenous tribes had dug to create a green landscape in Owens Valley. Native Americans have been 'farming' America's landscape for thousands of years in a low-impact way. In Chapter 4, Tom muses on this detail as he's setting a wolf trap on Rosier's ranch.

Perhaps the most illuminating account of the region comes from Sarah Winnemucca, daughter of Chief Truckee (after whom the town is named). Sarah travelled as an advocate for Indigenous rights and cataloged her experience and the story of white settler colonization in her book, Life Among the Pauites: Their Wrongs and Claims which you can read for free here.

Thank you for diving into California history with me!

Read Wolfer here.

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Single Dads Club

First posted: August 7,2018

Focuses on: Bruce Wayne (and Jim Hopper??)

My favorite bookmark:

Tier: Bottom third, easily. The nichest of niche.

This is my "behind the scenes" series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

Chapter One

What an absolute fever dream of a fic this is. I wrote this... after watching Season Two? I think? I just thought new adopted dad Hopper and Bruce would have things to chat about.

Clark is the one who put them in touch. The odd events and strange reports coming out of the area caught his attention, and when he found out what was at the center of them and the interpersonal trouble at the heart of it all, he thought it best to reach out to an expert.

Makes sense, doesn't it? I put a premium on writing things that make sense.

He regrets it the entire drive over. (Can’t fly the private jet, because it’s such a backwoods town that they don’t even have their own airport. Bruce is appalled.) He regrets it when he walks into the town’s one diner and every head swivels to take in him and what he had thought was a subtle and tasteful outfit. (Seems Hawkins doesn’t have much call for chinos and loafers.) He regrets it when his contact—the bearded head of the local law with a beer gut and a ketchup stain on his lapel—eyes Bruce doubtfully before shaking his hand. He definitely regrets it when he has to slide into a booth that squeaks and groans as he scoots across the seat.

The urban vs. rural dynamics tickle me to no end. Bruce is a chameleon when in costume or disguise (see: Matches) but as himself? He's such a city boy. A rich city boy at that. Also, I am constantly trying to google what rich people wear or own or drive for this guy. I don't hecking know.

Bruce almost chalks the afternoon up to a waste of time and excuses himself, but then a group of kids ride by the window on their bikes. They’re loud and obnoxious, all talking over each other and the clatter of the plastic and metal tied to their spokes. Bruce would have paid them no more than a glance, except the sheriff looked out the window, too. “Which one is yours?” Bruce asks. He shrugs slightly when Hopper gave him a narrow, surprised look, but waits rather than repeat the question. “That one.” Hopper points to one of the girls, a curly-headed tween with apple cheeks and skinned knees. “Jane.” Almost as if she hears her name, the girl’s head turns toward the window. When she sees Hopper, she lifts her hand and waves with a small, secret smile before pedaling off with her friends.

Some fics are extremely hard to write. Some aren't because I don't feel like I'm writing them. They're a movie I'm transcribing as I watch, that's all. That's what this one was.

Bruce waited in silence for a beat, then pulled out his wallet and placed two photos in front of Hopper. “That’s Dick,” he says, tapping the first photo before pointing to the next. “And that’s Jason.”

And now I'm mad because I wrote this fic in present tense (not my usual style but it seemed to fit) and didn't notice that I reverted back to past tense for that single sentence.

“Adopted,” Bruce explains. “Dick when he was ten. Jason when he was fourteen.”

I refer to this post by @batmanisagatewaydrug constantly so I don't have to do the math.

Chapter Two coming soon, though it should be noted now that that chapter spawned from evrymeeveryyou reminding me that Hopper used to be a dad before Eleven. (This was before the show expounded on that part of my history.)

[targaryenluvs]

all too well - l.h & p.g

summary: in which an angry pierre stuffs his relationship up and desperately tries to make it up to his devoted girlfriend. and while trying to make up for it he realizes that he’s already lost her to a certain british man. loosely based on ‘all to well’ by taylor swift. 

warnings: A N G S T, I REPEAT, A N G S T, profanity, drinking, just sadness, toxicity, anger, crying, screaming, pining?? if unhealthy relationships/toxic relationships hurt you or offend you, 2022 british grand prix (ifykyk), mentions of eating disorders and body dysmorphia and shitty mental health

word count: 2.0k

pairing: lewis hamilton x female reader, asshole!pierre gasly x female reader, platonic!f1 drivers x female reader, platonic!wags x female reader

requested: yes! here! highly recommend listening to all too well.

It was horrible. 

You had been sitting with the engineers during the Grand Prix, cheering your boyfriend Pierre on as you watched on. You felt as if the world stopped when him and Yuki spun off in unison. You could feel the world stop around you as you silently prayed they were okay. 

Collective groans of disappointment and shouts of anger broke out around you as you quickly flicked on the switch in front of you, allowing you to speak to your Pierre. “Pierre! Honey please, say something!” But you didn’t, just Yuki’s outburst of anger.

“Here.” Pierre replied as you let go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding. You sunk into your seat as you held your head in your hands, shielding your face from the Netflix cameras which no doubt wanted your reaction for a dramatic made-up plot line for the next season of Drive to Survive. 

It wasn’t long after before Pierre angrily walked through the Garage, frustration radiating from him as he weighed himself before stomping off. You followed him to his drivers room before shutting the door. Before you could turn around he stuffed his face into your neck as he broke out in sobs. 

“Shh, I know. Pierre baby I know, it's okay.” You spoke as your hands combed through his tangled hair. “Y/n. Always me? All the bad things, me. What did I do to deserve it?” The French-man cried as you felt yourself begin to cry too. “It’s not you love. You know it was Yuki’s fault. He’ll own up to it, I know he will. You’re amazing okay don’t beat yourself up over this. It was absolutely out of your hands. You know that. You did your best.”

“It is! But that doesn’t make up for my shitty season! I don’t deserve this.” He shouted. “Pierre, not here. Don’t get angry here. The media will eat it up, let’s go home. Fuck the interviews. I’ll make you feel better okay? Whatever you want, we’ll do it mon chéri.” 

“Fuck the media! Fuck you! Fucking isn’t going to make up for me missing out this race okay? You can’t make me feel better with food or cuddling Y/n.” 

“That’s not what I’m saying Pierre! Please let’s get out of here, please, please.” 

“This is my fucking job. I can’t just leave because I’m mad. I’m not a model who sells photos of my self for money okay? My job isn’t easy like yours.” 

You scoffed, “Easy? Easy? My job isn’t just sitting around looking pretty. Shit goes on behind the scenes that you have no idea about. Bitchy models, photographers judging you all day, every day, tabloids and media making up  the most absurd rumours up and everyone eating them up, shitty mental health, body image issues, starving yourself to fit in a dress! Just because you sit in a car, racing at 200 kilometres an hour and have a dangerous job doesn’t make my job any less than yours!” 

“Mon amour-”

“No! I’m sick of this! You taking your shitty results out on me when I have nothing to do with it! You are driving the car, not me. Your fans attacking and picking apart our relationship and you letting them. You never defend me when interviewers ask the most foul questions about me. ‘Is she good in bed?’ are you kidding me?! ‘Oh you have no idea.’ And then laughing it off. Travelling the world and never getting out, constantly on the move. It’s so draining. Cancelling fucking Paris Fashion Week when I have never missed a year because you convinced me too. You. All you. I’ve missed out on huge movie and TV show deals, Bullet Train, Euphoria, No Way Home, Don’t fucking Worry Darling. Harry fucking Styles!” You shouted in his face as he sighed.

(Bare with me I know Paris FW is a few weeks before Bahrain)

“Then fucking go! God if I hold you back so much leave! I don’t fucking need you here, anywhere matter of fact. I don’t need you Y/n. I can get anyone I fucking want. Go to Harry Styles. Go to whoever you fucking want. Whine to them. They’ll never love you like I do. Fuck you like I do. You need me. But then again you. You need me, I don’t need you so fuck off. Get your shit and leave bitch.”

(foul, im so sorry 😭😭)

“Mate what are you doing!” Charles shouted as he burst through the door, followed by Charlotte, Isabel and Carlos. “Oh baby I’m so sorry.” Charlotte said softly as she and Isa wrapped you in a hug. You didn’t react. You didn’t even know what was happening. What pulled you out of your trance was the groaning of your boyfriend, well, ex now.

“What the fuck Charles?” Pierre yelled as Charles retracted his fist from his face.

Lewis ran in at the sound of yelling, Angela hot in his tail. “What the hell is going-” Lewis stopped dead in his tracks at the scene, Pierre soothing his right cheek, Charles with balled fists, Carlos pulling Charles away while Isa and Charlotte hugged you. You. 

You with your mascara stained face. You with your sobs and sniffles. 

It broke him. 

“My beautiful, beautiful Y/n.” He whispered as Isa and Charlotte slowly handed you off to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he kissed your forehead. As you stood in the hallway with him you felt, safe, loved. Which meant a lot since you hadn’t felt comfortable in a long time. 

You could feel the pain. The anger. The late nights worrying whether Pierre would come home or not. Trying to soothe him after bad races only to be met with a empty hotel room the second you took your eyes off of him. The rumours and the side eyes that floated around the grid when you walked hand in hand with him even after videos of him getting too handsy with some rando at a club surfaced and spiralled. Even your friends and family contacted you, your best friends Maddi and Sayda had reached out to see if you were okay.

‘Poor girl probably doesn’t even know.’

‘Why is she still with him? Oh god is she pregnant?’

‘She probably cheats too, you know how models are.’

But none of that mattered, as long as you were with Lewis. “Come on let’s get you cleaned up.” Charlotte said as she linked her arm with yours, “Don’t waste your tears on him sweetheart.” Isa whispered as she moved your hair out of your face.

“What the fuck is he doing with my girlfriend?” Pierre yelled at Carlos as he pointed at Lewis. 

“She is not and will never be your girlfriend again. You’re disgusting. It’s one thing to be angry and accidentally yell. But calling one of the most gorgeous, intelligent women on this Earth a bitch? Fucking despicable. She’s always been there for you, patient. When literal video proof came out of you cheating she didn’t blow up on you, start posting about you, start attacking you. No. Because she’s too kind for that and you took advantage of it and her. Y/n came straight to you for an explanation. And she told me your explanation, it was quite literally the worst fucking lie I’ve ever heard. ‘She thought I was her boyfriend.’ and ‘I thought it was you.’ Are you fucking kidding me man? You knew she wasn’t even in the country, she was on a plane, flying to your race after cutting a photoshoot with fucking Victoria’s Secret to come support you. You ruined her. You took away her opportunities because of your own selfishness. You will never find someone like her again. You fucked up. And I hope you kick yourself when you realize what you lost. Who you lost. Y/n is a thousand times more deserving of a man. Not a boy, someone who can’t even respect his own girlfriends career.”

Pierre stood there as Lewis walked away. If he stayed there any longer, looking at his idiotic face, god he would’ve swung.

But that was all in the past. 

Months ago. Seven to be exact.

And now?

Now you were making your way down the runway, in a stunning Donatella Versace dress in front of thousands. The crowd was roaring, cheering the models on as you all displayed the clothing. Your face dead straight. 

That was one of the things you praised yourself on. So did the media. You were known to never ever break face when on the runway. Always professional and well handled. But it was bound to happen. Your four year streak broken. 

As you made your way to the end of the runway your eye caught on to a certain braided hair man, who was hard to miss with his bright pink outfit. And god did he look amazing. As you looked at him he smiled, blowing a kiss. 

Your eyes crinkled as your lips turned upwards. Blowing a kiss back.

The media ate it up.

‘Y/n Y/l/n finally broke face on the runway, the reason? Seven time world champion Lewis Hamilton! Seems the model has moved on from her breakup with Lewis’ colleague and fellow racer Pierre Gasly.’

‘Lewis Hamilton culprit of the wide smile plastered on Y/n Y/l/n’s face during the Versace launch.’

‘Lewis Hamilton and Y/n Y/l/n share their relationship to the public!’

And Lewis could not be more proud of himself when he walked into the paddock, his hand entangled with yours. He was happy to show you off, respectfully of course. But Lewis wasn’t always kind, sometimes mischievous. 

So when he saw the idiot that was Pierre Gasly, jaw dropped and eyes threatening to hop out of his head at the sight in front of him while seated at the Alpha Tauri hospitality whilst having lunch with Yuki he decided to have some fun.

Taking your hand and spinning you in towards him, shortly before kissing you.

“That little fucker.” Pierre swore as he ogled you. “That’s what you get when you fuck up, badly.” Daniel snickered as he walked past, towards the two of you. “Danny!” You smiled as you engulfed him in a warm hug. 

“Missed me a bit too much Y/n/n.” Daniel smirked, “Lewis you better hold on to her tight, might just sweep her off her feet.” The McLaren driver joked as your boyfriend shook his head. “Seven months too late, I’ve been swept for as long as I can remember.” You grinned as you looked up at Lewis.

“You’re in love I get it.” Daniel laughed, “I’ll see you on the panel Lewis. See you tonight, my hotel room.” He joked towards you as he walked towards the conference hall, but not before winking your way. 

“Shit I have to go. If he comes anywhere near-” 

“I’ll be fine Lew, I promise. I have a guard dog in the form of Charles Leclerc ready to bite.” You smiled as you kissed him again. “Hey I do not bite!” Charles frowned as him and Carlos waited for you. 

“Sure thing Charles. Remember when you lost in uno to Lando-” Carlos smirked as Charles yelled, “Hey!” 

Lewis kissed your head, “Why would we ever think of having kids when we have those two assholes in red?”  “Rude.” Carlos stated as he and Charles crossed their arms in defense. “I’ll see you later my love.” He spoke before walking away. 

“Stop rustling his hair Carlos.” You scolded, “It’s not my fault he’s so short.” Charles scoffed, “Actually I am 180 cm, 5′9 thank you.” He spoke proudly as Sainz let out a laugh, “Mate, I’m 179.” The two of you chuckled and made your way to the Ferrari hospitality as the Monegasque tried to defend his height.

As you passed Alpha Tauri your eyes wandered and saw him. 

And you smiled as did he. But it didn’t mean you were over everything.

You remembered it.

All Too Well.

[soleilcrumbs]

Vintage

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Pairing: Kim Mingyu x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.1K+

Genre: fluff, angst

Warning: kissing, implied sexual content, suggestive scenario, ex boyfriend mingyu

This fic was inspired by "Vintage - Niki"

•••

If we’re talking about high school, there are two kinds of people; the one who despises it or the one who loves every single minute of it. You definitely fall into the later one. The life you had in high school was fucking fantastic.

Sure, some people might categorize you as the snobby popular cheerleader that seemed to have it all easily. You don’t mind, you did have it easy. You had great friends, cool parents that supports everything you do, good grades, and at one point you also dated the hot jock that everyone seemed lust over in senior year, yeah the list goes on.

Nevertheless, that was high school. You eventually had to graduate and leave it all behind to go on another adventure called college—which was also very fucking fantastic.

“Ugh, come on, girl. You look amazing, stop fiddling with your hair and let’s go inside! I can’t wait to meet everybody!” Your friend practically screams on your ear, rushing you to get out of the car to attend the highly anticipated five-year reunion of your high school.

The class of 2015, the only class that has ever won the homecoming pride parade all four years of high school. Beating all the allegations of dorky freshmen and keeping the tittle all the way to senior year.

“Okay, okay, I’m done. Geez.” You sigh, getting out of your friends car. Didn’t even bother to drive your own car cause you know you’re getting fucked up tonight.

You both excitedly enter the huge mansion where the event takes place. When you enter through the front door into the foyer, your eyes immediately scans the room. Trying to locate your high school cliques who are seating comfortably in the middle of the huge living room. Laughing and drinking obnoxiously as if they own the place.

As you walk towards them, you get this sense of déjà vu. This reunion doesn’t feel like a five-year reunion but more like a friday night house party.

There are no big screen showcasing old nostalgic photos from the four-year madness. No podium for the student body president at the time to go up and deliver some cheesy emotional speech about how fast the time went by. Instead, loud uplifting music blasting from speakers, people stripping down into their bathing suit and doing canon balls into the pool outside. The only difference being everyone is now drinking legally.

“Are we sure this is a reunion and not an after party of homecoming parade at Jeonghan’s?” you ask when you finally reach your friends. Hearing laughter as response.

“Why are you even surprised? You should’ve expected at least this monstrosity when you refuse to organize the reunion and let Hoshi handle it.” Joshua replies, standing up to pull you into an embrace.

You miss your friends, a lot. The fact that you move away for college across the country made you miss them even more, considering you only get the chance to see most of them on holidays.

Sitting down you snuggle yourself between Joshua and Jun, savoring the sweet feeling of nostalgia having your loved ones laughing around you.

Looking around, you absentmindedly search for him. Mingyu.

Mingyu was the highlight of your senior year. And a few weeks of summer after that. People love Mingyu. Such a scene stealer, standing oh so deliciously tall at 6’2, people drool over him.

You are deep in your thoughts about your beloved ex when your friends starts cheering and calling out his name, pulling you out of your thoughts and looking straight to where he’s standing.

“Speak of the devil, my oh my!” you mumble more to yourself.

Catching you staring, Mingyu flashes his infamous devilish smile your way as he make his way towards the living room. That’s one thing you haven’t seen in a while, you thought to yourself. Making your heart skips one too many beats.

“Hey, little one.” Mingyu continues to grin as he pull you into a big warm comfortable hug.

“Hey, big guy.” you breathe to his chest. Stomach fluttering as if there’s a thousand butterflies swarming inside due to the nickname.

“You look good. You look real good.” Mingyu pulls away but keeping his grip on your waist. Staring down admiring your blushed appearance.

“How have you been?” you chuckled, blurting out the most basic question to mask the nervousness. Eyes glued on how good his features look in this light. Brain zooming back, reminiscing bout the good times.

“Been good, life’s good. Could be better though.” Mingyu winks, pulling you to sit down next to him on the over crowded couch. Making you stick to him in a way way too friendly manner. You can see Dokyeom and Hoshi throwing you teasing looks from the corner of your eyes, making you have to fight the urge to roll your eyes.

After a few rounds of question to catch up on each other’s life, Mingyu pull out his phone to answer some text and making you gasp while doing do.

“Please don’t tell me that’s the same phone you’ve had since the summer after graduating? Oh, never mind it’s the case. How stupid.“

Mingyu chuckles, lightly smacking your knee. “You know I’m way too clumsy to keep a phone functioning more than a year. Still got all of our pics and everything on cloud tho.” His eyebrows raised teasingly.

“For real?!” you bounce in your seat, excited. “I wanna see, show me!”

Mingyu grins so hard you afraid his cheeks might pop. “C’mere.” he invites but his hands already snake his way around your shoulder. Making your head dizzy.

The two of you took a sweet sweet stroll down the memory lane. Lost in the drunken state of each other’s familiar presence. Mingyu makes it easy. Too easy, just like a zephyr. It feels like the last five years had disappear, and you two just a couple of freshly graduated senior, savoring the last summer before drifting apart for college. Making the old feelings resurfaced, not completely, just enough for you to want to hit reverse.

“Mingyu! Why on earth would you let me went out wearing this?!” you shriek looking at his phone, picture of you two snuggling on a couch with you sitting comfortably on his lap inside a poorly lit living room surrounded by drunk underage teenagers. Too much like your current situation.

“What do you mean?! You look amazing!” he blurts out equally shocked with the fact you think you looked ridiculous. “I think all the shit you dealt with in college mess with something up here.” his finger lift to your temple and taps it lightly.

Oh, Mingyu and his charms. His sweet, sweet mouth that always know what to say for a comeback. His clean and clever comebacks.

Your thoughts starts to wonder down the dangerous path of ‘Why the hell did we broke up?’ Cause right now, you really don’t remember. Can’t even fantom you once said see you never.

Time passed with you two still snuggling into each others presence. Minutes? Hours? What the hell. It could be days and you’re confident you won’t mind.

When the outside sky mirror the color of Mingyu’s mesmerizing eyes, he pulls you up. Snatching your body off the couch and back into his embrace, but standing up this time.

“Dance with me, little one.” he ducks his head to whisper in you ear. Broad shoulder and chest with a pair of strong sturdy arms enveloping you. Making you feel another burst of butterfly bombs inside. “Come,” he breathes and leads you through the crowd towards the dance floor filled with people dancing to the uplifting music.

You sway, following his lead on the dance floor. Mingyu’s a big guy, but he doesn’t move like one. Very smooth, nothing you’d expect a 6 foot 2 inches giant would do.

“I like your dress.. You look real fucking good.” he mumbles, another butterfly bomb explodes. Sending shivers down your spine. Making you respond with the only thing your brain manages to form, a nod. A fucking sign that it wont be long before no becomes yes.

Still whispering sweet nothings to you ear, pulling every card to haul you in. You start to think, maybe one more night wont hurt. A reenactment, not repetition. That’s for sure.

You can feel the disapproving looks your friends throw at you from the couch. Knowing the pain you had to and probably will endure again if you didn’t snap out of it right this minute.

But the music’s blaring too loud for you to comprehend shit, and Mingyu’s hand on your hips and waist did not help at all. When the devil of your past leans back in to deliver more of his sweet nothing bullshit, you thought to yourself, fuck it.

You turn you head so fast and caught his lips in yours.

Bombs after bombs of butterfly bursts in your stomach, chest, head, everywhere, even fingers along with the acrylic coffin-shaped nails you get done just for tonight.

Mingyu pulls you out of the dance floor, scrambling through hallways to find an empty bedroom in rapid speed, afraid you change your mind and bolt out of his grasp again.

When he finally find an unoccupied bedroom, he kicks the door but only stand aside. Waiting for you to come in on your own will. Glancing around, you find one of your friend stare you down in disbelief. You look straight into her eyes and reads the unspoken words of “What the fuck?!” thrown your ways.

Without hesitation—the butterflies are taking over you body and soul by now— you throw a quick wink at her before stepping inside the empty bedroom and let Mingyu closes the door behind him as he follows, locking it.

•••

You passed out. Not for long you don’t think. An hour probably.

Sitting up, you feel something heavy weigh down your stomach. An arm, Mingyu’s arm. You chocked. Registering what happened during the short few hours between you arriving and now. Sprawling on top of an unknown bed with someone you know too damn well.

You quickly gather you clothes—thanking the Goddes all of them are within the arms reach. Quickly detangle yourself from the heavy figure sleeping soundly next to you, jumping off the bed you pick up your bag and shoes.

“What’s with the hurry, little one?” he groans, half awake. Freezing you mid way to the door.

“My.. my ride.” you blurt out, knowing damn well he’s not buying it.

“Can we talk?” you can hear him sitting up behind you. You hesitate for a minute as he collects his clothes. When you finally turn your back, he’s already marching towards you. Arms reaching out.

“I can’t, this was a fucking mistake.” you sigh. Arms stretched out to his chest preventing him to come any closer. Afraid of another butterfly bomb clouding your sense.

“Didn’t felt like it.” he mewls, broad shoulder droppings. Your heart sinks.

“I’m sorry, Mingyu. Whatever the fuck that was... was a reenactment and I don’t do repetition.” you sigh. Hands flying up to cup the side of his face. Caressing it lightly. Caressing the boy you once loved with raging force.

“Come on, lil one. You felt it too, I know you do.” Mingyu leans into your hands. Pleading.

“A reenactment. If it makes you feel better, it was a fucking great one.” you wink. Patting his jaw. You reach up, standing on your tippy toes, kissing the side of his face with so much affection you had to pull back.

“Goodbye, big guy.” you turn your back to him. Unlocking the door, you walk away. Doing the thing you should’ve done a few hours ago.

Left all alone, Mingyu freezes. Standing still a few feet away from the door. Watching you walk out breaks him. He thought he had forgotten you. Turns out, he doesn’t. He never did.

And what had happened just a mere hours ago, was wake up call for Mingyu. He needs you. He needs you back. And hopefully, he’ll get you back.

•••

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[skylarmoon71]

Aaron Hotchner (Criminal Minds) - Chapter 1

“What do you think they’re talking about?”

Garcia is peering through the blinds, along with the rest of the team. Whenever Erin showed up it usually wasn’t good news. Hotch looked a bit aggravated, which was saying something since he rarely ever showed any emotion. Erin turned after some words said, and the team scattered around. She walked off, heels clanking on the floor. When Hotch stepped out, Rossi came to his side almost immediately.

“Doesn’t look like good news. “ Rossi stated.

“We’ve got a case, and a new member.” Hotch nods to the team, and they all follow to the room. Standing next to the table was a woman. The second she caught sight of the team members, her eyes sparked. Moving closer she reached out a hand, successfully dropping the folder in her hand.

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry.”

Dropping to her knees, she gathered the papers, standing up with a huff.

“(Y-Y/N) Black, nice to meet you all.”

Hotch just stared, unimpressed.

“Ms. Black will be joining us as a consultant.”

You couldn’t tell if he was mad about it or not, because his face gave nothing away. Apparently everyone here was used to it, because they just took their seats. All heads turned to you, and you fumbled, rushing to a seat.

“Sorry, what do we have?” You asked. Garcia sent you a smile, clicking the button as she went over the case. Each of them offered they’re own statements on what it could be, and you listened intently, making notes.

“Anything you want to add?” Rossi asks. You look up.

“The attacks are impulsive, so it’s clear he’s younger. Adolescent. Consistent wounds indicate something personal. From the way they were done, precise, he’s done this before. They should look into deaths in the tri state area. He’s not smart enough to hunt outside his hometown.” A few of them look impressed, but Hotch’s expression hasn’t changed.

“Wheels up at thirty.”

They rise and you follow a bit clumsily.

On the ride, Rossi is sitting with Hotch. They glance at you from across the jet. You’re buried in the case file.

“What do you think is Strauss’s play?” Rossi questions.

“She says it’s a recommendation. No ill intentions.“

“You believe her?”

Rossi already knew the answer to that question.

“There’s some political agenda here. It’s not the first time they’ve come after the team.”

“It probably won’t be the last. Hotch we’ll be fine. We’re a family, we'll get through this. Besides, she seems harmless.”

You dropped a pen, and Rossi chuckled as you bent over, spilling the contents of your folder on the ground.

“That’s what I’m worried about.” Hotch voiced.

~~

Through your pursuit of this unsub, things felt normal. It’s clear that Hotch was blindsided by your arrival, but he’d remained completely professional. He didn’t shoot down your ideas, or belittle any inputs you had.

Your assessment was he was more focused on saving lives than his discontent with the situation. The only time you could sense anything was when you were in close range. It wasn’t that he disliked you per se. More like he was trying to protect something.

“I’m sorry.”

You’re in the office where the photos are set up. Most of the team was interrogating while the others were surveying the scene. Hotch and Reid stayed back to narrow down the location. When Reid stepped out, you approached. Hotch raised his head, that blank look on his face. The only real change you saw was the raise of his eyebrow.

“I-I know me being here gets in the way of working the way you’d like. I appreciate your professionalism. I’ve heard a lot about you and your team, I have to say that it doesn’t do you justice. I hope we can work together.”

You hold out a hand for him, and Hotch straightens. For a moment he looks at your hand, and moves to shake.

“Hotch we got a location!” Reid comes pacing inside, and you turn.

“Let’s go.”

You nod, following behind them. The drive to the location feels prolonged. You know it’s mostly nerves. Nothing more.

The police have surrounded the old house, and Hotch straps on his vest.

“Let me come with you.” Hotch’s jaw clenched.

“You’re not trained to be in the field. You’re a consultant.”

“I also have the best insight on this guy. I can help sir, trust me. I know how to get inside his head.”

You mean that in more ways than he knows.

“Hotch we don’t have time, we need to go now.”

Morgan insists. Hotch gives you a look, and you nod, pulling on a vest, taking a gun for good measure. It was true this wasn’t your area, but you could feel so much. Letting them go in there without the proper guide could mean death.

The team splits up. You go with Hotch through the front. JJ and Morgan take the back. Spencer and Reid utilize another entrance. Every step Hotch takes is calculated, and you mirror it. You’ve gone through the training. Your hope was just you’d never be placed in such a situation. You were an empath at heart. You took no pleasure in violence. Hotch does a primary check of a room, and when he opens the door, you can hear a struggle. He barges in, and so do you.

“No one else comes in!!”

The yell of your unsub makes Hotch inch closer. Both of your guns are drawn as you point it at the male.

“You don’t want to do this, trust me.” Hotch warns. The woman he holds is blind folded, and sobbing. You swallow.

“This is all her fault, she left me. She did this!!” He pressed the gun deeper into her neck, and the cries increased.

“Jeff, that isn’t Sarah. Sarah died two months ago."

“NO SHE DIDN’T SHE LEFT ME!!”

You groan, and Hotch glances in your direction. You look like you’re in pain Jeff stares in confusion.

“What’s wrong with her!?” He demands.

You look up with pleading eyes.

“Please just let her go. I know why you’re so angry, it isn't because she left. It’s because you wanted to die with her in that accident.” His hands tremble, and you take a step closer.

“You kept hoping that it was a dream.” you speak. He raises a hand to his head, scratching it.

“How are you doing that…what..”

“Take me.” You say, and he looks up in shock,

“Take me, “ you repeat. Hotch is confused, but soon Jeff starts saying it.

“Take me, take me TAKE ME!!”

The both of you shout simultaneously. He drops the woman and before you can make a move, he raises the gun to fire at Hotch.

“N-NO!”

Jeff grunts as his body flies back as he slams into the wall. You fall back as the bullet echoes. Jeff appears unconscious, and Hotch rushes to your side. He signals backup to run inside, and the second they breach the door, Morgan and a few others come bolting in. The authorities secure the area, and you’re unsub. Morgan drops to Hotch’s side, and you look up at them with a thumbs up.

“D-Did we stop him?” Morgan can’t help but laugh. He can see the ambulance helping the injured woman out.

“We sure did, good job Rookie.”

Now that they get a good look, it’s clear that the bullet had hit your vest. Hotch is looking at you in interest, and you do your best to remain neutral. You knew after it was all settled he’d have questions.

Ones you aren’t sure you’re ready to handle.

[stossgebet-und-dominum]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬

first chapter of a small ficlet series :) this time, zoro+shopping together for the first time! i hope you like it <3 no warnings, just fluff!

series masterlist.

𝑖. 𝑠𝘩𝑜𝑝𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑡

Zoro puts beer cans on the shopping cart, a lot of them, expensive ones. You look at him with a serious expression on your face, and take more than a half of the cans, so you can keep looking for what you really need.

You move the cart and Zoro follows you, like a child behind his mother, a little bit lost. Why is this supermarket so big? Why so many shelves? And, especially, why not take all the beer he can take? It wasn’t even a quarter of he wanted to take home. Zoro has a lot of questions to ask you, but your face is kind of scary, furiously looking at the small checklist you did before driving there to do the stupid and boring shopping.

It is the first time ever the both of you are shopping together. It’s the first day you can call yourself his wife. It’s the second day you’re living with him and, as you could bet, you woke up after the pizza-sake night to make a breakfast and it wasn’t even a slice of bread and butter or jelly. And nothing to eat a decent meal without ordering it from a restaurant.

After asking him how the hell he survived for two years on his own, you decided it was time to shop basic items of survival—you know: real food.

Zoro agreed, not very happy, because he absolutely hates going to the market. But he was ready to make an effort if you wanted this so much. You looked kind of cute all excited, saying it was the first married couple things you were going to do together. And, of course, you promised he could take what he wants to drink and eat—you also said “since it’s not too much alcohol and stupid shit I know you will hate”, but he didn’t listen at all.

Inside the market, seeing you picking stuff and putting on the cart, thinking about many ways to save money and still get the best ingredients, Zoro thinks it’s not that bad. The place is still big as fuck, there are things he doesn’t know how to start eating and you don’t let him take lots of beer, but hey, it’s nice to see you walking around with that happy and proud gaze. You look at him from time to time, seeming to forget about the beer incident, smiling sweetly—and checking if your man still with you.

You hold his hand when Zoro stops to see more interesting food that he’d never seen before. You don’t want him to get lost, it would take hours to find him again. He likes the way your hand holds his wrist as he admires the, hm, mangos and pineapple?

“Do you want to buy one of those?”, you ask, finding it interesting as well. And Zoro seems amazed, holding the pineapple and trying to figure out how people eat that. Doesn’t make sense for your, neither to him. “It must taste good”.

“Yeah, let’s take it”, he puts the fruit in the shopping cart, holds your hands properly, walking by your side.

You feel your heart jumping, all happy. You like the feeling of being like this with the man you love, probably a cute scene seen by the others. You take your phone out of your pocket and uses you camera to take a picture of your hand on his, showing the pineapple next to the many beers—somehow he managed to put another case without letting you notice—and a cute effect with hearts.

“What are you doing?”, Zoro asks. He knows you like to take photos of a lot of things, but why here? Why this?

“Taking a cute pic for us to remember how our first married shopping was”, you explain, looking at him, smiling. He puts his free hand on his nape, as you notice a detail on his ring finger. “Where’s your wedding ring, Zoro?”

“I think I left at home”, you hear and sigh instantly.

“You messed up with my damn picture, marimo”, you frown, whispering. “What kind of married man are you? Going out without the ring? What if people think I’m an unfaithful woman?”

“They won’t”, Zoro answers, simply. You’re so funny, getting all mad because of a silly thing. He understands, though, why you are so concerned.

“Why?”

“Trust me”, he says and you stare at him, and then close your eyes for a second, sighing.

“Okay. Now put your hand here again, I need to take the photo”, you say. But Zoro doesn’t obey, just uses one finger to turn the camera, showing both of you and a shelf full of… tropical and expensive fruits. He presses the button at the same time you feel his lips on your cheek. Your face is surprised on the picture, but you two look very good. “Oh. Thank you, love”.

Zoro kisses your lips briefly after checking if people can’t see his red face. “Let me take the extra beer case”, he asks and you nod, pouting.

“Alright. You won today”.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 || werewolf!Lee Bodecker x reader

summary: being the sherriff’s department’s crime scene photographer means seeing terrible things.  following lee bodecker into the woods means experiencing terrible things.

word count: almost exactly 4k

warnings: smut (noncon but she comes around eventually, if you will), werewolf sex (so...pseudo-bestiality??? but like... not really??), breeding kink, knotting, some a/b/o tropes?, kinda some degradation?,  violence, vague-ish description of gore

Something undeniably wicked was lurking in the woods behind Knockemstiff, Ohio.  That much was obvious.

It wasn’t your first gig as a crime scene photographer, so you knew what to expect; or, you thought you did.  This town was nothing like Toledo, though, in all the worst ways.  You’d left the big city in hopes that you wouldn’t have to see another drive-by shooting, another stockbroker who jumped out of his office, another mafia job left out in the street to serve as an example for would-be testifiers.  You’d left to escape some of the brutality that the urban environment brought.  And to be fair, it wasn’t anything like that, but it wasn’t at all better.  

You’d never seen a cut this deep before.  You’d never seen a body nearly turned inside out.

“It’s that damn bear,” the officer nearby announced, his words failing to distract you from your task of photographing the bloodied remains.  “This happened a couple months ago, body just like this turned up.  Thought we shot the damn thing but I guess we got the wrong one.”

“That can’t be right,” you frowned, stepping back and lowering the camera from your face; it looked worse when it wasn’t seen through the viewfinder, it looked more real.  “Bears might maul people, but they don’t… eat them.”

“They do if they get hungry enough,” he sighed.  

“Do you really believe that?” you pressed.

“I need to.”

The conversation was still echoing in your head as you drove back to the station, which was still bustling despite the day being just about to end.  

You stopped by your desk to grab a folder from your top drawer, "FOR SHERIFF" written in big letters on the front.  Tucking it under your arm, you navigated through the officers and secretaries mulling about to the back hallway of the station, finding the last door on the left and knocking even though it was already halfway open.

“Good evenin’ little lady,” Sheriff Bodecker greeted with a smile when he looked up at you, “got somethin’ for me?”

“Photos from yesterday,” you explained, stepping inside and setting the folder down on his desk.  He opened it and flipped through your shots, nodding slightly.  

"Looks good," he praised— gruff and monotone, but praise nonetheless.  "I think it's enough to prove who was driving recklessly and who was just driving."

"Think they'll be all right?" you asked, remembering how one of the car crash survivors looked as they were being wheeled into an ambulance.

He sighed a little, setting the folder down.  "Seems so, last I heard."

"That's good…" you trailed off, toying with the strap of your camera nervously, studying his face as he looked down at some paperwork in front of him.

You were a career woman, working in a male-dominated profession, and you had so much to prove… but god, if you didn't sometimes fantasize about the Sheriff in ways you knew you shouldn't.  In spite of the fact that you were sure he wanted an obedient housewife, and that that was something you could never be, you'd been known to daydream about another life where he wasn't your boss and you weren't so worried about what other people thought and the two of you could be together.

Or, on other occasions, you just wished Knockemstiff was as liberal as Toledo, so you could have a fling with him and not worry about everybody calling you a harlot.

Either way, it could never happen.  You worked with him and he worked with you; he was looking to settle down and you were looking to start your life.  It was a basic incompatibility.  That didn't stop you from letting your gaze linger on his hands, admiring how strong and thick they were.  God, you wish he'd just grab you—

"Anything else I can do for ya?" he asked slowly, that deep voice making the question sound just a bit more dirty than he likely meant it.

"No, that'll be all," you decided, giving him a polite nod before you slipped out of his office.  

Sometimes, it felt like the only chance you got to really think during the day was when you were alone in your darkroom.  The photo development equipment here was significantly more primitive than what the Toledo Police Department had been able to provide, but you didn’t mind; if anything, it brought you back to your roots, when you were just a newbie photographer who wanted to make compelling art, take photos that would end up on magazine covers or beside hard-hitting journalism.  

That dream had been dashed quite some time ago, but you really did enjoy your job more often than not.  Sure, it came with a lot of gruesome imagery, but at least it was important, and interesting.  

You couldn't be sure what time it was— with no windows and no clocks, and with hours always flying by when you were developing film— but the lack of any noise from outside your darkroom made it clear that it was quite late and everyone had left.

It was odd, then, that you did hear a noise from outside the room, like floorboards creaking.  You were ready to blame the old building settling until you heard it again.

“...hello?” you asked hesitantly, the sterile echo of your voice only making you just that much more paranoid.  “Is someone there?  I’m just here developing my film…”

The red lights cast everything in an eerie glow— bright enough to see, but not enough to assuage your fear.

You opened the door to your darkroom slowly, careful not to let too much light in, and peered down the dark, empty halls.  An uneasy feeling awakened in your gut and you swallowed nothing before hesitantly stepping out into the dark.

Another creak from around the corner made you turn, walking towards the noise and considering calling out again but suddenly afraid to speak at all.

A man's form appeared in front of you out of nowhere.

“Oh!” you gasped, but you sighed a bit when you recognized the badge glistening on his chest.  “Sheriff, shit, you scared me…”

“Sorry, little lady,” he breathed, “didn’t know you were still here…”

“Come in, if I leave this door open too long it’ll let light in,” you explained, pointing to where the street lamp outside shined into the window and ushering him past you into the darkroom.

“What’re you still wearin’ that damn camera for?” he asked, pointing to your hip where it was slung at your side from over your shoulder, making you giggle a little as you shut the door behind the both of you.

“Force of habit.  Never know when something worth photographing might take place,” you explained, returning to the tub of ammonium thiosulfate where you were dipping another glossy print.  

“If somethin’ worth takin’ a picture of happens while you’re stuck in here, I think you’ll’ve got bigger problems than not having your camera,” he smirked.

“Fair enough,” you scoffed.  “Let’s hope I never need to take pictures like these—” you tilted your head towards the pictures you’d hung to try— “unexpectedly.”  Lee sauntered over to where you’d motioned, pulling one the more developed photos from the clothespins.  “That’s the body we found in the woods,” you informed him, “I’m surprised you weren’t called in— it’s pretty gnarly.”

“Sweet girl like you shouldn’t have to see stuff like this,” he shook his head, sighing somberly.  

“I can handle it,” you shrugged, “Believe it or not, I saw worse working mob cases.”

“I’m going with ‘not,’” he answered quickly.  

He was right not to believe you, and you weren’t sure what to say now that he’d called your bluff.

“What… what perfume are you wearing?”

The question threw you off but you figured no harm could come from answering honestly.  “I’m, uh, I’m not…”

He stepped closer, his footsteps soft but audible on the carpeted floor as his form settled behind yours.  Your breath caught when his fingers trailed over your arm and he leaned in, pressing his face to the side of your head as he breathed in.  “You smell good,” he stated plainly, deep voice vibrating in your ears and making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“Um… thank you…” you answered, hearing your voice waver.  

Just when you thought he might make a move (was this already a move?), and just when you thought you might actually reciprocate if he did, he pulled away.  “I should… I’m sorry, I oughta— I have work to get done.”

Before you could even begin to wonder what he was talking about, he had already slipped out of the darkroom and back into the hall.  Oddly enough, you were sure you heard him start running the second the door was shut.  You considered shrugging it off and getting back to work, but the more you thought about it, the more you were worried.  Most of all, you wondered if he had seen something in your photographs that gave him a lead on what killed the poor old man.  

That possibility needed to be investigated further.

So, you powered down your equipment and left the darkroom, leaving just in time to see the Sheriff stumble out of the back door of the station, seeming to be limping slightly.

Too curious now to stay away, you followed his path and pushed the door open with your weight, seeing him making a mad dash for the nearby treeline.

“No, Lee, the woods—!” you warned, horrified to imagine that he could meet the same fate as the man in your photographs.  You weren’t dressed well enough for the weather— already the evening breeze blew against your bare legs and made you shiver— but you forged ahead regardless.

The moon light was just enough to illuminate your path at first, but as the clouds moved and the tree cover grew thicker, squinting just didn’t do enough to help you see.  Generally, you weren’t afraid of the dark, but this was different… it was cold, and you were alone; but you didn’t feel quite as alone as you would’ve liked to.  You called out for Lee, only hearing the gentle rustle of the leaves and the occasional snapping of twigs on the ground.

At about the same time you considered turning back and using one of the station phones to call some officers for a search, you heard something.  A whine, maybe, or a whimper.  You weren’t sure what it was; it only just barely sounded human.

“Lee, are you out there?” you called, whipping your head around wildly.  

In desperate need of light to navigate your way, you had a moment of insight and reached for the camera slung by your hip.  You relieved yourself of the shoulder strap, pointed the camera ahead, and opened up the flash.

CLICK.  A brief moment of light gave you at least an idea of where you were standing.  It was impossible not to notice how similar it looked to the background of the photos you had just been developing.  You realized, then, that you’d worried so much for Lee’s safety in these woods, but hadn’t considered your own.

Lee, at least, had a gun.  You just had a camera.  Both could shoot, but only one could protect you.

CLICK.  You moved in the direction that you remembered as clear.  It was even harder to see in the dark after the bright light had burned your eyes slightly, and you longed to reach out ahead to feel out your path yet found yourself too terrified of what you might touch.  You could hear the flash charging between shots, you knew well enough by now what it sounded like when the camera was ready to shoot again.

CLICK.  Something white reflected back in the distance, so you moved that way, nearly tripping on a root for your trouble.  

The cloud over the moon finally blew away, and just barely— finally— your eyes could make out the shape of Lee, leaned against a tree and breathing deep and fast.  His back was turned to you, but even then you could see he didn’t look well, his back bending and swelling with each panting breath that grew louder as you stepped closer.

“Oh my god, Sheriff?!” you squawked, sprinting closer.  “Are you alright?” you asked loudly, but when you reached out to touch him he spun to look at you, eyes wild and teeth bared.

“Leave,” he growled between panting breaths.

“You… you’re…” you tried to begin, but you were speechless as you tried to imagine what trick of the light could make him look like he was getting taller, like his eyes and face were shifting.

“GO!” he bellowed.

You stumbled back, dropping your camera but too terrified to even hear the bulb shatter as it hit the ground.  Your legs couldn’t move right, your eyes couldn’t look away from what you were seeing, and what you were seeing… you couldn’t describe it, couldn’t understand it.  

It didn’t look like what scary stories and picture books told you a werewolf was.  It didn’t look like an animal; it sure as hell didn’t look like a person.  Disturbingly, it still looked a bit like Lee, even though his Sheriff’s uniform was tearing at the seams from his morphing, swelling body.  His cries were broken and twisted as his face seemed to be overtaken by teeth— so many teeth— and dark fur.  

Ultimately, one last command to "go" was lost to a howl.

You finally managed to get your brain and body on the same page, turning and scrambling to run away, hearing him chase behind you.  

He walked on two legs but ran on four, his snarls coming closer and closer as you made a mad dash for the distant light of the police station.  Cold wind blew past you as you sprinted, coming to a sudden halt as you tripped and landed on the ground.  Leaves crunched under your hands and feet as you tried to stand back up, but he was already above you, tossing you to the ground again and pinning you at your shoulders.

You tried to kick him away once he'd turned you into your back, but it was laughable— pitiful, even.  When he curled his lips back to brandish his glistening fangs, growling deeply, you were too stunned to fight.  But you could beg.

“Lee, please, please don’t eat me,” you sobbed.

“I didn’t turn to feed,” he informed you, and it almost sounded like Lee, aside from the depth and roughness that shook you to your core.  “I turned to mate.”

“No…” you whispered, denial more than rejection— and as you looked down between your body and his where he hovered over you, you choked on your breath at the sight of his cock, erect and reddened and.... for lack of a better word, enormous.

You weren’t excessively familiar with human cocks (not all the rumors about the new girl who moved here from the city were true), but this one seemed different than what you’d seen, most notably in the size but additionally in how you could see it pulsing and throbbing.  His teeth were bared as his claw-laden hands grabbed your legs, lifting and spreading them.  Your stupid dress just fell away and exposed you easily, like it didn’t even care that he was a monster.

Your panties were already damp, like you didn’t even care that he was a monster.

A deep breath in through his snout-like nose made it clear he was picking up your scent.  He grinned and you shuddered.

You’d seen how deep those claw marks could go, so you were surprised when he was delicate enough to tear your clothes off without ripping your skin.  The fear that he could or would, though, kept your heart pumping plenty fast— or maybe that was because of his dark blue eyes scanning your nude form hungrily.

He adjusted your hips as he held you with his… paws, one might call them, pulling you closer and bumping his thick, swollen head against your entrance.

"No, you can't—" you stammered, not sure if you meant morally or physically.  There was no way that would fit in you, right?  There was no way Lee would force himself on you… right?

The noise you made when he pushed into your channel was, ironically, animalistic.  His intrusion stretched you wide and filled you deep, and he wasted no time in setting a brutal pace that slammed his rough, strong thighs against the back of your soft ones.

Fear paralyzed you, made you unwilling and unable to fight back.  He was all claws and teeth— where could you reach to try to push him away, without the extremely high risk of him just biting your weak little hand off?  No, it was better that you just laid there, whimpering and sobbing and trying with all your might not to moan at the feeling of being fucked, hard, in the woods, by a beast.

His tongue on your neck was an odd sensation, another way he forced you to acknowledge that this wasn’t normal— because no human tongue was this long, this thick and hot, nor surrounded by sharp teeth that grazed your jaw and cheek.

“Gonna breed you,” he informed you coldly.  It made you squirm beneath him with renewed vigor, desperate not to be filled with the seed of— well, of anyone, but especially not this thing.  Could it get you pregnant, were you even biologically compatible?  You didn’t want to find out.  

“Please, no,” you whimpered.

“If you hate it so much then why is your cunt sucking me in so tight?” he whispered gruffly against your ear before licking it, too, with that cursed tongue.

His question was probably rhetorical, but either way you couldn’t answer it— you had no idea why your body was submitting so easily, why your walls welcomed him so eagerly, why your legs wrapped around his hips to pull him closer.  Further, you had no idea why you were about to come.

Numbness and sensitivity warred across your body, everything feeling tighter and hotter and heavier until you finally snapped and your body shook and convulsed.  His arms reached beneath where your back was arching, and you clutched at his shoulders as your fingers weaved into the fur you found there.

Of course he didn’t stop when you reached your peak, he wouldn’t stop for anything now, so you were forced to take him just as deep and hard as always even as your body went limp and became overwhelmingly sensitive.  It was clear, then, that your pleasure was only collateral damage to him; he was using your body for whatever he wanted, to sate his biological drive to impregnate something.  Like everything else about this, it was disgusting yet annoyingly arousing.

It's hard to say how long you laid there, limply jolting with each of his thrusts, dripping your arousal onto the cold earth beneath you, moaning weakly as you alternated between pleading for mercy and pleading for more.  You watched the clouds blow through the night sky, afraid to look up at his monstrous face, at his pointed ears and shining teeth.  Occasionally you glanced down and noted the way your stomach bulged from the size of him; you couldn't look at that anymore because it would either make you sick or make you come again.

You gurgled and choked as you felt his cock swelling inside you— bigger, wider, until your body was stretched beyond its limits.

"Take my knot," he instructed darkly, "my little bitch."

Disturbingly, you realized he probably wasn't calling you that to insult you: it was literal.  You were his breeding bitch, a womb to carry his litter, and you whined at the way it made your gut sink in shame.

His noises were more animal-like than ever while he came inside you, thick come all but pouring into you as he panted and growled.  Funny thing was, it just didn't stop: he kept coming for so long, giving you so much while the knot kept every drop inside.

You'd never felt so full in your life, of anything, let alone hot come that made you feel warm and sticky and dripping wet.

The knot kept you plugged and showed no signs of going down as he caged your body in, nuzzling into your neck.  He could bite you now and end it all, but you weren't afraid of that since he seemed to have found a better purpose for you.  His heavy breathing made his back rise and curve above you, his clawed hands pinning your wrists beside your head while he started to lick and nibble at your ear, neck, and collarbone.

You didn't even notice that you'd fallen asleep until you awoke in the wee hours of the morning— that time just before sunrise where there's light but no real color in the sky yet— with Lee asleep on top of you.  Regular Lee, that is, naked with no fur whatsoever and a normal cock that had softened inside you.

Okay, maybe "normal" was a strong word considering it was still pretty big and deliciously thick despite not even being hard anymore, but at the very least totally human.

"Lee," you whispered harshly, shaking him to try to wake him up.  "Sheriff."

He stirred, and his cock moved inside you; the subtle stimulation on your sore insides made you moan lowly and involuntarily squeeze your walls around him.  That got his attention, and you heard his breathing change beside your ear before he groaned a little.

"Mornin'," he greeted, his grin audible in his tone as he sat up slightly and looked down at you.  You reached up and brushed your hand over his chest, happy to find a much thinner layer of hair there than last night.  "Of all the times I woke up in this forest with no fuckin' idea what happened the night before… this has got to be my favorite."

"What's the last thing you remember?" you asked.

"I told you to run… I must've caught you, huh…"

You nodded and bit your lip.  

"You know I can't stop, when I'm like that… I didn't mean to—"

"It's okay," you sighed, "you didn't— it wasn't you."

"But it's my seed in you," he remembered, his words sending a little tingle up your spine.  

He must have felt it, must have seen your eyes widen or heard you gasp a little, because he grinned proudly as he looked down at you.

"Oh, you really love it, huh?  Love bein' mine…"

His hands held your arms tight as he pinned them down, making you whimper a little while he leaned in to suck on your neck.

"Love bein' bred like a bitch, ain't that right?"

You heard the deep, desperate moan before you even realized it had come from your mouth, his chuckle beside your ear making your heart twist.

"Yeah, I can tell… who knew you were so dirty, little lady?  Sweet girl like you shouldn't be gettin' off on being ravaged in the woods by a monster."

"Y-you're not a monster," you protested weakly.

"I eat people," he reminded you, letting go of your hands which you instantly weaved into his hair.

"Well, that's… everybody's got flaws, that's all."

"Yeah?  And what's yours?" he teased.

"I've got a crush on my boss," you answered with a grin, "and I came harder than I ever have in my life being fucked by… what are you?"

"The clinical term is lycanthrope."

"Right," you nodded, "that."

"And what would a pretty girl like you have a crush on me for, hm?"

"I dunno," you smiled coyly, running a finger down his chest, "guess I just thought you were cute…"

"Cute?!" he scoffed incredulously.

"Yeah… and sweet… you know, you go around actin' all tough and stuff, but I think you're really just harmless."

He cut you off with a growl as he lightly bit at your neck, holding your arms down again and tightening his grip on your wrists until you yelped and giggled happily.  "Oh, honey, you have no idea yet just how monstrous I can really be…"

[paragonrobits]

a lot of hot takes about Batman and Gotham in general feel off to me because generally they seem to assume gotham is a normal place that has an unusually large number of costumed criminals and heroes to fight them but is otherwise conventional and, its really not.

there’s a secret society of malevolent rich people who are orchestrating things behind the scenes to keep things getting worse forever. they wear owl masks all the time and meet in deep underground battle arenas beneath the ocean. they use a secret assassin (who is visually based on Batman’s evil counterpart from the crime universe) in an owl costume, presumably completely unrelated to Batman’s own bat themes.

Not that far from Gotham itself is a swamp called SLAUGHTER SWAMP. they dumped a mob boss in there and he rose from the dead as a hulk zombie that used a nursery rhyme as the basis for his entire new personality and sometimes he can only talk in verse from that nursury rhyme. For a while Batman wasn’t even involved with him at all, he was fighting the magic version of Green Lantern who couldn’t affect his powers with wood and also that zombie mob guy was... internally made of wood at the time, i think.

in one continuity the whole city is built on top of a steampunk wonder city powered by energies from a weird chemical pool that heals people real fast and can straight up bring the dead back to life but it also drives you violently irrational and the chemicals drove the entire city into a killing frenzy and then they built Gotham on top of it and straight up forgot about having a city built on top of a murder-laboratory. (If you assume the chemicals are STILL affecting people and are partially responsible for at least influencing people, this explains a LOT about Gotham.)

In most continuities, until the rise of super criminals, Gotham was straight up run by the mafia. The mayor was super corrupt, outright admitted that his fondest desire was to kill all the poor by setting them on fire, and was essentially a criminal head in his own right. The police weren’t just dirty and power-mad, they were an arm of the crime families and they were literally just gangsters in uniforms.

The infamous mental insititution was founded by a guy that ended up being tormented by nightmares of a bat over a hundred years before Bruce Wayne was ever borne, with strong implications that somehow the horrors and madness afflicting modern Gotham were so bad they went back in time and drove the founder of Arkham to madness out of the horror he saw coming. (Gotham is so fucked up it screwed itself up RETROACTIVELY.)

Gotham is so weird and so screwed up that Batman doing his thing isn’t him LARPing, no more than Zorro is LARPing, and its not a case of him not applying his money to charity and public works. He already does that, as well as giving henchmen stable jobs. No, supervillains just keep popping up anyway and odds are good that the average guy running a charity is gonna get a costume and get guns out and start a hold up during the next function while declaring themselves the Flamingo and staggering around on stilts and talking about how they will filter-feed what they deserve from the people of the world and start mugging people

GOTHAM HAS ZEPPELINS FOR NO REASON

basically if you approach Gotham like its any kind of normal city that has some costumed criminals and heroes, that’s kind of missing the point! GOTHAM IS FUCKING WEIRD AND SCREWED UP and it really says a lot that the one time the Joker edited old timey photos to make it look like he was an immortal spirit of discord plaguing Gotham for centuries, a lot of people just went ‘okay that sounds about right’ without actually being shocked

(also it says a lot about Gotham that Mayor Hamilton Hill, exposed to truth chemicals, ranted about how much he really wanted to murder the poor and thought every single horrible thing he did was their fault, and no one even blinked or thought this was unusual.)

[fanficbitch]

Aaron Hotchner // Secrets

I stand at the kitchenette in the bullpen gulping down water and shoving bagels in my mouth. I think I’m on my second one, there’s no way I could be on my third. “Slow down,” I hear from behind me. “You don’t want to choke.”

I turn to see Derek sipping his coffee. All I can do is shrug because my mouth is full of bread. Derek raises his eyebrows at me. “What?” I ask once I swallow all my food. 

“Why are you eating those? You once told me they taste like sandpaper,” Derek says suspiciously. I eye the bagel box and Derek nervously.

“I think they must’ve changed their recipe because they taste good now,” I say. Derek still has his eyebrows raised. He’s not convinced. 

“Fine,” he says. “I don’t care enough to dig any deeper,” he says then walks away. I eye the bagel box one more time. Would a third one really be that bad? No, I can’t. Derek is already on to me.

I nervously twist my engagement ring on my finger the best I can as I walk to my desk, but my fingers have already started swelling. About a week ago, I found out I was pregnant. I was starting to get suspicious when I started craving everything in sight and my period was late. But no one knows, not even Aaron. I know it seems ridiculous to keep this information from my fiancé, but my fiancé also happens to be my unit chief. And if my unit chief finds out I’m pregnant, he’s gonna bench me. 

I know I realistically can’t keep this secret for long, but I just want to get a few more cases in. We are actually in the middle of a case right now that is based in DC. There is a serial bomber in DC targeting popular places like libraries, train stations and movie theaters. We’ve developed a pretty good profile for who we’re dealing with. It currently says that it is a man is 50’s-60’s who probably appears disheveled. We have also discovered that he likes to stay at the crime scenes and watch the aftermath. We’ve looked at pictures that were taken after the bombings occurred, but we don’t see anyone that appears at all of them.

I decide to pull up the photos taken after the bombings on my computer to see if there is anyone that sticks out. I comb over the photos and find one older man, but he only appears at one of the scenes. It’s probably not him, but I still study his face just in case he comes up again. He has long white hair, glasses broken in the middle and wrinkles on his face. 

Just when I click out of the pictures, Aaron shoots out of his office. “There’s been another bombing. We need to move now,” he says. We all jump out of our seats and run out to the cars. I get in a car with Derek driving, Emily, JJ and Spencer being the passengers.

We grab our vests from under the seats and secure them to our chests. “Where was the bombing?” Emily asks.

“Down by Capital One Arena, a game just let out,” Derek says. Within minutes we are at the arena. I run up to the crime scene and see that the bomb was just outside the main entrance. The rest of the team meets us and examines the scene.

“Everyone keep an eye out. You know who we’re looking for,” Aaron says and we disperse. I walk through the crowd and carefully eye each person. All of these people are relatively young, no one that fits the profile. As I scan the crowd, one face sticks out like a sore thumb. It’s the man I saw from the photo earlier today. I’m so shocked that I stare at him longer than anyone normally would. He makes direct eye contact with me then bolts in the opposite direction.

I race after him, trying to push past people. “I’m on him,” I say into my radio, then pull out my gun. The farther he runs, the thinner the crowd gets and the easier is gets to chase him. I can hear people running behind me so I know my team is backing me up. I get close enough to him that I jump on him and tackle him to the ground. I think I have a good enough hold on him, but he manages to get a hand loose and punch me in the head.

I roll off of him and onto the ground holding my head. There is loud ring in my ear that slowly fades. JJ sits in front of me, her mouth is moving but nothing is coming out. She helps me to my feet as the ringing fades away. “Y/N? Y/N? Can you hear me?” JJ asks.

“Yes,” I whisper, “just stop yelling.”

“We need to get you to the hospital,” she says.

“Wait, did someone get him?” I ask, referring to the unsub.

“Yeah, I think Derek has him,” JJ says and I let out a sigh of relief.

We reach one of the free ambulances and climb in the back. “JJ, I can go by myself,” I say as she gets in.

“No, I’m not leaving you alone,” JJ says as the EMT closes the doors. I lay back on the gurney and struggle to see things straight.

“Prep the CT machine,” the EMT calls into his radio and I shoot up.

“No!” I shout. “I can’t have a CT.”

“Y/N, you need one,” JJ says.

“But I can’t,” I say with pleading eyes. JJ looks confused for a moment, but quickly puts the pieces together. I grab her hands and squeeze them. “Please keep it to yourself, no one knows.”

“What about Hotch?” she asks.

A wave of dizziness hits me and I fall back on the gurney. “No, he doesn’t know,” I whisper then slip into unconsciousness.

                                                       **********

I wake up in a hospital bed, with Aaron and JJ standing at the end of it. “Hello?” I ask and they both turn to me.

“Could you give us a minute?” Aaron asks JJ and she leaves the room. Aaron walks up next to the bed and frowns at me.

“We got him right?” I ask, but he chuckles.

“We’re not talking about that right now,” he laughs. He sits on the side of my bed then sighs. “We’re going to talk about the fact that you are nine weeks pregnant.”

“Surprise,” I whimper, but Aaron doesn’t seem amused.

“I don't know if I’m more mad at you as your fiancé or as your unit chief,” he says.

“Let’s start with unit chief,” I say.

“Okay, you are immediately removed from field duty,” he says and I groan. “And I’m disappointed that you felt that you couldn’t tell me.”

“I just wanted to be in the field a little longer,” I say.

“You know it’s not worth it,” he says and I nod. “Now, as your fiancé. How long have you known?”

“About a week,” I say. He takes both of my hands out of my lap and wraps them in his.

“Part of me is so mad at you for not telling me earlier,” Aaron says and my heart drops. “But, part of me is over the moon.”

I give his hands a squeeze. “We’re going to have a baby!” I say. Aaron leans forward and kisses my forehead. He sits back and he has that smile that he so rarely gets. His lips are curved up as far as they can go without showing his teeth. All will be right in the world.

[littlemisslipbalm]

I live in the neighbourhood - Part 3

What happened to the cycling classes after work and the occasional drinks with coworkers? Now it was flying to Italy to vacation for the December holidays with Harry and his family and friends.

Ok part 3!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and the final part of ilitn i believe! let me know what you think! plssss! Not proofread, but your support means the most and it means the world to see your thoughts, literally anything about it, and this little harry I always have to remember that’s the simp your honor ^ right there! anyway happy reading!

Read Part 1 | 2

Word Count: 10.9k | Warnings: swearing, smut! (finally) - oral (m+f receiving, dirty talk, choking? i can’t remember ngl there might not be, sloppy sex, outdoors by the pooldeck just btw, christmas, idk but hopefully nothing I missed, feelings! happy ending (possibly rushed 

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“You’re really flying to Italy and then traipsing around the Italian countryside for three weeks with Harry and his family? I cannot believe you’re leaving me behind.”

“You’re gonna kill me for saying this, but he had said I could invite a friend or two if I wanted. But I thought it’d be weird with his family so you literally can’t be mad at me!”

“Fine. I’ll move past it, but how did you move past the whole panic attack? Like you barely spoke to him for a month and then he’s on your doorstep and you’re kissing and agreeing to a Roman Holiday?”

“It’s Harry,” she sighs, laying down on her couch. “How could I not, I got scared because he was gone, but once he was back, nothing else mattered.”

“I guess,” Cate mumbles.

“Oof, sorry Cate I have another call, I’ve got to go…”

By the time she tries to pick up the other line has gone to a message and she’s left to listen to her boss over a voicemail:

“Hey Y/N, I know your holidays have just begun, but I wanted to inform you that you’ll be getting a new client in the new year. Big artist! Anyway, just wanted to inform you that I’ll be emailing over some of their paperwork. Feel free to ignore it until the new year! Have a nice trip.”

She sighs. “Interesting...but will definitely be waiting for the new year to even think about work,” she says to herself.

She throws her phone to the side. Tired of all the phone tag and messages she had begun to have to deal with as the Holiday season dawned more and more upon her. She had more important things to think about. Most important being the suitcase laid out before her and the flight she was bound to be taking in less than 24 hours. This time, she wouldn’t be picking Harry up from the airport. No, this time they were flying out of London Heathrow together.

Together together? She wasn’t sure. The kiss on her doorstep and plea of Italian holiday meant a lot to her, but did it scream committed relationship? She had no idea when it came to Harry. Maybe it was better not to ask and just wait until he told her. Wondering had gotten her in a pit last time and she never wanted to feel the way she had over the last month while he had been gone.

She sleeps in her bed for one last night before leaving for a month. Harry had managed to convince the airline to allow Rori to ride with them in first class, so she wouldn’t have to leave her dog in a kennel or with friends during the holidays. She was grateful for that and she just didn’t understand how she had gotten so lucky as to have someone like Harry in her life.

They fly first class and while Harry had secured her ticket last minute, she insisted that he take her money to pay for the ticket. She was determined to not lose herself in this process. She would happily go along with Harry’s crazy life as long as she maintained her constitution. And paying for her own ticket was one of her ways of doing that.

The flight is short, a quick jaunt compared to the arduous trips across the Atlantic, both her and Harry were quite used to from their work and family lives. He smiles at her throughout the journey, coming across the aisle often to check on her and pet Rori. He would make little jokes that wouldn’t make anyone else laugh but them and he would grab the airpod she would take out and play whatever she had been listening to and offer a dance. His little dances were so sweet, if strange and awkward in the small flight cabin.

She wore grey marbled leggings and a matching thick strapped tank top beneath a nondescript hoodie. Harry’s dressed quite nice for traveling, she presumes in case he’s papped. Linen trousers, a collared coat, and some beaded necklaces he had taken to wearing over the last few months - each month seemed to add on another necklace, but she wasn’t counting.

He had reminded her to bring large sunglasses for the airport.

He had said “I don’t care if we’re seen together, but it’s more for your comfort. I hate when my friend’s lives are put on display for the whole world. You’re not the one who signed up for this.”

She had been appreciative and grabbed her largest pair of sunglasses because truthfully she didn’t want to be seen with Harry. She didn’t want the whole world knowing her or her business, it wasn’t who she was. No, not at all. So when they step off the plane and head to baggage claim after customs, she feels aware of her surroundings in a way she never has been. It reminds her of the way Jeff, Charlotte, and Mitch had conducted themselves in the bar that one time. Extremely alert. Watching people’s eye movements and considering whether they recognized her companion. She trails behind him a fair amount, three paces at least. Harry glances back every few moments, checking in to make sure she’s still with him as they move through the bustling airport.

They make it to baggage claim with no stops, but sadly Harry’s luggage seems to give him away. That or just his presence, he was a 6 foot tall and extremely broad man who gave off this energy that couldn’t help but turn eyes. And all it took was one of those eyes to recognize the fluff of hair, the olive-y skin, the peaking bird tattoos and colorful necklaces to alert the world of just where he was.

He doesn’t get stopped for any pictures, but she feels the number of eyes on him grow. She also watches as Harry doesn’t shrink from the growing attention. If anything, it simply makes him move quicker, but only slightly. He glances at her once to see her hood up and big green glasses covering up half her face. Rori has left his carrier and is covering the other half as she pushes a cart in front of her. He makes a nondescript nod and then sets off towards the exit, she follows behind easily.

By the time they’re in the car that was waiting to drive them to Harry’s villa, he’s gotten buzzed by Jeff just to check-in since a few photos have been uploaded of him at the airport. People were so fast. She shook her head in disbelief as she looked up Harry Styles on twitter and saw the scene she had just been apart of minutes ago on her screen now. She’s unrecognizable in the photos she happens to appear in and to everyone else she looks like another traveler instead of Harry’s companion or whatever she was to him. Instead of his friend.

Harry calls Jeff as they’re driven to his lovely sprawling home near Lake Como. He informs him they’re fine - he is quick to ensure that Y/N is well after asking her himself once they had gotten into the confines of the small car. She thinks it’s sweet especially because she was sure that Jeff really was more focused on Harry and his well-being since he was both his friend and his client while she was just an extra. The two men talk about the flight and customs and what Jeff will be doing with his holiday since he had turned down Harry’s invitation to come out to Italy as well. This leaves her to stare out the window at the passing scenery. She and Rori are completely content with this as they watch the tranquil life around them as they pass by little forests and towns over cobblestoned ground.

The colors seem brighter throughout Italy compared to the sad and gloomy winter of London. The dreary scape traded for something far more picturesque. Italy growing ever more beautiful the closer they drive to Harry’s home. Everything was so radiant, from the sun shining above her head to the little dew drops still pooled on the perfectly green leaves of plants she knew not the names of.

The car pulls up to the long driveway to Harry’s place which he insisted was just a house, but she knew better. The driveway felt like half a mile of perfect cobblestones, seemingly handpicked to make the smoothest drive. Outside the house sat a gorgeous little convertible that was in between steel and cream and sparkled in the sun. The top was currently up, but she could tell the interior was just as nice as the exterior. Harry had a thing for cars and she suspected that no matter where he was, he managed to keep his cars in perfect condition.

The house was breathtaking due to its simultaneous simplicity and intricacy. It’s coloring was variations of cream and gold and some terra cotta. But it sprawled into the hillside behind it and wrapped around the nature to the side of it and the pool to the back right of it. There also was a little separate shed like thing that also seemed to be a residence. Harry insisted it was just an extra bedroom, but it looked like almost another house to her.

As she stepped out of the car, she thought that she might get lost in that house if she was left to wander around it by herself. A feeling she feared to get accustomed to.

The door of the house was a dark green that seemed oddly familiar to her as she walked through it. And when Harry looked back to make sure she had gotten in the house alright she recognized it. His door somehow matched the color of his eyes in dark lighting. A green that was timeless and ancient at the same time. A green that was unnerving yet inviting. A green that was Harry. She never thought she had a favorite color, but in that moment she was sure it was his eyes.

Harry calls her name and she realizes he’s been saying it for awhile.

“Sorry?”

He smiles fondly at her confused face and leans towards her as if he might kiss her. She stops breathing in that moment, wanting more than anything for that to be his next move. His chest brushes against hers, his warmth invading her space. His face is a mere milimeter from hers and she can count every speck of stubble on his jaw. But his lips don’t brush gently over hers in a way that she knew was addicting. Instead, his strong hand reaches past her and shuts the entrancing green door gently.

His eyes flicker back to her face when he pulls back, taking a single step backwards to allow for a comfortable space between them. Still close, but not like he’s about to embrace her expecting frame and kiss her.

“I asked if you wanted a tour of the house? Or if you just wanted me to pick your room.” His eyes are crinkled at the corner, a smile on his face even though his mouth is hung open in a lingering question.

She blinks her eyes and twitches her head to glance around the rest of her surroundings. Rori had run off the moment they had gotten in the door. The hallway Harry and she found themselves was narrow and simple, a single painting right behind Harry’s head was the sole decoration and a tapestry style rug beneath their feet. She nods after a moment, feeling all her words caught somewhere in her throat for no reason at all.

“Good,” he nods and gives her a funny look, trying to understand her quiet demeanor. “Just drop your stuff here for now,” he adds.

His hand encircles her wrist, as it had grown accustomed to, to lead her through the house. She bites her lower lip to muffle the little giggle that somehow escapes her as he tugs her playfully down and through the house.

He goes on about almost every piece of art and trinket he has hung and placed throughout the house. Each thing has its story and Harry waxes eloquent on every single one. He shows her each room in the house and then leads her outside through the single door of the master bedroom on the second floor. The door takes them onto a small balcony that overlooks the center of the estate which included the pool and then a garden to the left of the converted poolhouse - what Harry insisted it be called when Y/N had told him it was a mini house.

His hand has traveled down to intertwine with hers as the tour had drawn on. So as he leads her down the little spiral staircase to the ground floor, she hums at the warmth his thumb rubs into her skin ever so softly. His eyes flicker to her face and hold her gaze for a moment as he watches her descend the last two stairs.

She smiles at him, her cheeks rosy from the air outside. They walk between the garden and the pool to reach the “converted pool house” and she stops for a moment to dance her fingers through the perfectly clean pool water - he must have had a housekeeper who came by recently to open everything up and clean it all.

“This is truly amazing, Harry,” she sighs as she stares out at the entire house from the single stone upstep to the little cottage. It gave her a view of the entire place besides the front of the house. It was gorgeous.

Harry nods, tucking his head to his chest slightly, possibly feeling a little bashful. Behind the successful man that stood before her was a young boy with a dream that had made this possible and he never forgot that.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely and unlocks the door of the cottage, a similar green is painted on this door as well.

She goes ahead of him at his request and he watches her fingers on the green paint, caressing it softly, each finger never wishing to leave it as they slowly depart its surface. This place is just a microcosm of the house they had just been. A kitchenette, a living area, a bedroom, and a full bath - including a freestanding tub.

She all but runs around the place, fingers running over the countless spines of books that Harry mindlessly chose to store there in ceiling high bookshelves and eyes taking in prints of personal photography he had been too nervous to store anywhere but here. There were larger poster sized prints as well as smaller ones, all black and white, of different scenes on the walls of the living area. Some were portraits of loved ones, others were landscapes of cities and countryside alike, and some were of past lovers with their hair swept behind them as they looked back at Harry in some beautiful place. She smiled at these obviously film photographs and turned to Harry after a moment, almost mirroring the people in the more personal pictures.

“When’s the last time you used your camera?” She asks.

Harry’s figure is perched in the door, his body slightly slumped on the frame while he rolls his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger. He hums, thinking back to the last time he took out his camera.

“Last tour...I think. I got film back with Camille in it and I just didn’t feel like putting more in it after that,” he rasps out and clears his throat at the end, clearly unnerved by the topic.

“Well, these are beautiful, you have a smart eye for catching precious moments,” she smiles softly, understanding Harry’s apprehension.

“Thanks,” his voice still a bit deeper than usual, “I still use my Super8 pretty regularly when I’m doing things for work. Like when I shoot music videos, I usually bring it along to get my own footage for later.”

She only nods and watches him enter the room, moving closer to her to gaze at the images more up close as well.

“I like to have something to remember it by. Just in case, someday,” he starts and sighs, eyes trained on the wall of memories, “My mind isn’t what it once was.”

She watches him delicately place his hand on the couch behind them to brace himself and she notices the slight fear in his face as he says it. She blinks at the scene in front of her. A man in an amazing moment in his life fearful that it might all disappear from his vision someday. A horrible thought that seems to plague him more often than one would expect.

She nudges closer to him immediately. Her shoulder brushes his arm as she presses her head to his own shoulder and stays there firmly.

“Thank you,” she whispers and his head drops down to look at her face now radiating warmth against him. “For sharing this with me.”

His hand on the couch moves to wrap around her shoulders and pull her closer. Instinctively, she wraps her arms around his waist and he rests his head atop of hers. He stays silent but places a chaste kiss in her hair. She squeezes harder, telling him everything is alright and all he had to be with her was himself.

He switches his gaze between the girl wrapped up in him and the pictures of the rest of his life in front of him and he takes it all in. He feels safe, a comfort he was hard pressed to find with his life always on the move. The bustling change felt eons away while he was wrapped up in her. She was constant and kind. Understanding. She took him as he was, no expectations. That realization has him melting further into her, his head dropping down to her shoulder and nosing into her hair. His hands cusping at the back of her neck and the small of her back. And he presses firmly yet gently.

They stand there, swaying slightly to an unknown tune that played only in their private world of just them two.

A branch sways too and breaks them out of their reverie when it taps against the French doors that lead out to somewhere else in Harry’s estate.

“I think I’d like to stay here, if that’s alright,” she says, pulling back from him only slightly.

His hands migrate from their embrace around her back and neck and slide to her hip and her shoulder separately. Her hands both rest on his chest and she feels his consistent heartbeat that she had been listening to for the last few minutes against her ear.

His eyes sparkle at her suggestion. “Really? There’s plenty of spots in the main house,” he rushes.

“No, I love this place,” she glances around once more, soaking in the cozy room that housed Harry’s art. “Plus, your family will be here tomorrow and you should all be together under one roof for the holidays. I know how rare that can be.”

He nods in agreement and twists a tendril of her hair around one of his fingers slowly. She doesn’t notice until he makes an experimental and playful tug on it. Her lips purse at the feeling and her eyes narrow.

“You’re an evil little thing under all those layers of niceties and kind words, Mr. Styles,” she says as she pulls away from him.

Now that it was decided on where she would be staying for the next few weeks, she wanted to get her things settled and take a shower possibly. She also needed to check in on Rori and see what he had gotten up to while they had been wandering.

Harry laughs, filled with an unmatched glee as he follows her out of the cottage and back into the main house, “I can show you evil if that’s what you want, dove. I’ll give you anything you want.”

And while she knows he’s saying this in jest, she knows he’s also telling the truth. He’d give her just about anything she wanted, all she had to do was ask.

-

After settling the house a bit, finding where Rori wanted to sleep - he chose inside the main house, and some showers, she and Harry both felt refreshed.

She walked out of the front door of the cottage and crossed to the French doors at the middle point of the house. They had them open to get fresh air in the house and she walked right through and into the kitchen where she found Harry and her dog happily perched on the countertop.

Rori batted at Harry’s hands and nuzzled into his scratches as Harry cradled him to his chest. It was criminally sweet and she knocked on the door frame to pull Harry’s attention away from her furry friend.

“You look nice,” Harry smiles.

She glances down at her outfit; a cashmere olive colored sweater and high waisted cream corduroys along with her sneakers of choice. She thought it was casual, but she appreciated the compliment nonetheless. She murmurs a thanks and a quick “you too”, she didn’t even need to look at what he was wearing, he always looked good. Her head tilts to rest on the door frame as well, her eyes trained on Harry’s face.

“Do you want to go for a drive?” He inquires as he places Rori back on the ground.

The dog scampers to her side for a moment before running off to do his own thing. Her lips quirk up on the sides and her eyes narrow slightly. He’s looking at her with a quiet confidence set in his jaw that she doesn’t quite understand.

His smile makes her bite her lip, slightly unnerved by the energy he was giving off. Maybe it was because they were completely alone - not something new to them since that’s how they interacted almost solely, but something about being in Italy seemed to have shifted the dynamic. Something in the water or whatever that saying was.

“Do I get to drive?” She stands from her leaning position and crosses in front of him.

His laugh comes out quickly and heartily. “No chance, dove.”

She groans and pushes at his shoulder.

“Trust me, you’ll like it better. Can just enjoy the scenery, don’t have to focus on the road.”

He wraps a hand around her waist and then scoots her towards the door that would lead them out of the house. She giggles at the contact and she feels him watching her. It felt nice, felt simply theirs.

He drove her down the driveway and onto a country road until it merged into a road by the lake. He brought the top down so the wind rushed around them, blustering about as he drove at a quick yet somehow leisurely pace. She glanced at the scenery and took a few pictures, but something else kept demanding her attention.

Harry. He was a quiet kind of handsome in this moment. It wasn’t in your face, it was just how each curve of his skin seemed perfectly placed. Every pore was clear and every mole had a reason. His tattoos peeking from his collar and shirt sleeves were that perfect inky black that remained smooth. It was consistent, the way his hair fell over his forehead and he would smooth it back without even thinking. His eyes were focused and bright, yet slightly stormier than normal. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. And she wondered what she had done to be beside him at that moment. Wondered what it was that she had done to be cared for by Harry.

His hand on her leg brings her out of her mind once again. His looks always seemed to get her lost in thought. He was just that special. No one else had ever caused any similar reaction. His fingers splay on her thigh, no rings on them today. He rubs his thumb back and forth softly and she leans closer to him to whisper in his ear. They were completely alone, but it felt like something even the wind didn’t deserve to hear.

He tilts his head to her, eyes flickering to her movement for a moment and then back to the road. His hand on her thigh slips upwards with how she moves.

“I’m the most lucky girl in the world,” she says, her lips brushing the shell of his ear as she says the words.

She pulls back and stares at him, her hand going down to her thigh to play with his lovingly. He looks at her again and sees her serious expression. This causes him to pull over on the side of the road by the water. He rubs at her thigh again with his thumb and she shifts in her seat.

“And why’s that?” His voice low as he asks and shifts the car into park.

“Because I’m here, with you. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything in this world.”

He hums in response and licks at his lips when her sweater happens to fall off her shoulder. She notices the slip, but doesn’t bother to fix it since she also saw how Harry’s eyes danced over the newly exposed skin.

“I wouldn’t trade this either” the words dance slowly off the tip of his tongue. His accent fuller as he says the last word. “Let’s walk around,” Harry suggests when he sees her eyes flicker between his and his lips.

They explore the grassy area that lives just before the dip of the water at Harry’s request. He guides her along with his hand entwined with hers. Her eyes stay on only him still, the scenery unable to compare to the beauty of him that she was just fully realizing how bad she wanted to be enveloped in. His profile is illuminated by the sun shining above them and she swears he’s sparkling under the light.

The fear of what they were and all of the things that came along with labels were the furthest away thoughts. The man who had been the quirky neighbour had transformed into the man she was pretty sure she was in love with. Too afraid to say those three words, she decided the best thing she could do was to show rather than tell.

“Harry,” she calls and he stops his wandering, turning to face her instead.

A hand reaches up to trace over his strong cheekbone and caresses down the side of his face and cradles his slightly stubbled jaw. Her thumb rubs over the place where his dimple often showed up. He sighs into her touch and says her name back. His voice fails him as he gazes down at her, everything he means to say dies in his throat, for once at a loss for words.

She purses her lips and reaches up to connect their lips, having missed his sweet lips touch. They were meant to press against hers. Harry seems to forget how to breathe, her initiating the kiss between them, something foreign to him, but not unwelcome. He leans down to make it easier on her and she glows in his reciprocation. His hand shifts to cradle the back of her head as the kiss continues. Their lips dance, brushing back and forth, tongues slightly licking into one another’s mouths ever so delicately, playfully even.

A specific clash of teeth as the kiss continues leads to a breathless laugh from her as Harry presses himself closer to her. His other hand pressing her waist safely into him. She happily obliges, sinking one hand to rest over his backside which makes him smile.

“Naughty,” he mumbles against her brightening lips, eyebrows bobbing over his closed eyes.

She laughs now, her head tilting up for a moment, eyes opening to look at his face, yet up so close it's just his eyes and upper cheeks. His eyes are extra large from this angle and the grey green they had been dancing between had merged into a darkening seafoam green that was rather rare for them. She wanted to take an inventory of every color his eyes managed to be, but she was sure the list would never end.

“You like it,” she quips back, a peck sneaked at the corner of his mouth. That little love touch leads to more minutes of making out. Her supple and soft chest against his strong one, hands roaming the other’s body searching for purchase. Soft sighs and gentle moans leave Harry’s mouth when she nibbles at his ear and leaves loving kisses to his neck and collarbone. She makes similar sounds when he laves his tongue over the hollow of her neck and mouths happily on her neck.

The sight of them is two lovers enthralled in each other’s mouths and bodies in a meadow beside a lake. The sounds of nature are only overtaken by their happiness with each other.

When he ruts his hips against her body and she writhes against him with eagerness previously not seen, Harry realizes just how in public they are and he pulls away. A whine of discontent falling from her lips before she can control herself.

“We should…” He falters again, staring down at his neighbour he had begun to want more than anything else in the world, “Should head back.”

“Right,” she nods curtly.

Hands falling back to her sides, but Harry grabs one of them and intertwine their fingers as they had them before. She smiles so wide her eyes crinkle at the corners and he can’t help himself to peck at the left side of her temple.

They drive back to the house and Harry suggests a dip in the pool which Y/N agrees to easily. Something to cool them off from the heavy makeout session they had partaken in down by the water.

“Everyone else is arriving tomorrow,” Harry says after he surfaces from his expert dive into the deep end. He treads water lightly and drifts towards her.

She’s floating on her back a little ways from him. Her hair was shimmery all wet again and the  skin of her face glowed with tiny droplets. Her eyes were closed as she moved her hands back and forth through the comfortable water.

She feels his eyes on her, burning into her, waiting for a response. She peaks open one eye and looks at him. His cheeks pinken quickly from the slight embarrassment of being caught, but he doesn’t look away.

“It’s going to be really fun, Harry,” she rights herself and swims closer to him causing him to smile happily. “I’m really happy to be here.”

“It won’t be just us anymore,” he says, swimming backwards and creating a slight chase for her as she follows after him.

She narrows her eyes at his tactics, but still follows as he swims to the edge of the pool where they could both stand.

“Nope, but we’re gonna really get the holiday spirit flowing. Family dinners and games, shopping for gifts...this really is one of my favorite times of the season,” she smiles back at him and puts her hand against the edge of the pool, her chest emerging from beneath the cooling water.

Droplets roll down her chest, racing down her body and in between her cleavage. Harry’s eyes follow the water droplets disappearing beneath her bright red tied bikini top. He gets distracted when the air pebbles her nippls beneath the thin wet fabric, his tongue darts out to wet his lips at the sight. The round of her breast was especially full in the thin fabric. He had never seen this much of her despite their friendship lasting for many months now. It was...mouthwatering and his eyes stayed trained on her breasts as they rhythmically moved up and down with her breathing. It was like a spell.

That he was brought out of when a splash of water flicks at his face. She gives him an obvious look saying she had caught him staring and then she rolls her eyes at his smirk obviously not embarrassed by his latest fixation.

“We won’t be alone like this,” he steps closer to her, his own chest running with water droplets. His hair messy and wet atop his head as he pushes it off his forehead. “Possibly at all for the next three weeks,” he continues and hears her breath catch as he moves even closer. His body hovers a moment away from hers as he stares down at her. His nose almost brushes hers as he starts to lean down. She stays almost completely still. Her head moves though to allow Harry access to where his mouth seems to be headed, the side of her neck.

“After today,” he whispers before smudging an open mouthed kiss just below her ear.

A small gasp escapes her at his hot breath and a searing kiss against her chilled skin. She feels his smirk on her skin as he continues down her neck, leaving spongy eager kisses down the column.

“Well, I don’t think that’s a problem,” she tries to remain composure, feeling the burn inside of her pitch back up. The fire had dulled from the kissing by the lake once they had swam, but here he was pressing into her once again. Suddenly more eager and forward than he had ever been. Her breathing is hard to regulate with his expert hands running along her naked sides below the water and his legs backing her into the edge of the pool while his lips make love to her neck.

“Oh?” Harry hums, moving a hand up to fiddle with a strap of her top, the wet nylon twisting easily and then he lets it snap back softly. Her arousal only grows from the tiny smack. “Not a problem, eh?” His lips travel down between her breasts and she gasps in anticipation.

“Won’t be able to make you feel this good anytime you want,” he breathes and then ghosts over her covered pebbled nipple.

“You’re a tease, Harry,” she grips at his shoulders that are hunched to allow him to kiss on her. Her eyes having the perfect view of his curved neck and spine, the skin an expanse of clear perfect flesh, no tattoos in sight from this angle. The little curls at the nape of his neck trickling with spare droplets as he sucks on her own skin.

“Hmm…” his lips travel back up to the underside of her jaw causing her to tilt her head back and her stimulated chest to press into Harry’s. A chuckle passes against her skin as he feels her two points press into him.

Then, suddenly, he pulls back and grips at the back of her head to make her look at him. His eyes are deep and dark as the day starts to wear on, the sun beginning to set off in the distance.

“Maybe I need to demonstrate just what you’ll be missing out on?” He tilts his head at his suggestion and the glimmer in his eyes shows that he knows exactly what he has to say to get his friend - and soon to be lover - riled up.

Her chest heaves once, longing for the warm touch of Harry’s lips again. “What are you getting at?”

“Wanna make you feel so good you’re begging me to call my family up and tell them to not bother coming because we won’t be leaving your bed for the next few weeks.”

A breathless laugh leaves her, in disbelief, but also in wanton need. Her desire for him grew tenfold in the last ten minutes. His last sentence leaves her itching with longing. For his touch as he promised it.

“Give me the best you got then,” she challenges, her conviction never wavering despite her needy state.

That little sentence is what sets Harry’s eyes ablaze and has him gripping her waist and picking her up and setting her on the edge of the pool.

A quick press of his lips against hers and a “wait here” before he’s pulling himself from the water and shuffling to grab one of the towels he had laid out. She watches him curiously, confused why he had just promised to ravage her but was pausing to towel off.

He comes back with the towel and lays it behind her.

“Harry, what are -”

A finger presses to her swollen lips as his other hand goes to her shoulder and lays her back.

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

She nods, eyes wide and glassy as she stares up at him kneeling over her, his body between her bent knees. He leans down to press another kiss to her lips and then begins his decent.

“Gonna make you feel so fucking good, sweetheart,” he whispers.

Down her throat that he had happily been sucking on. His lips ghost over her still hard nipples and his hot breath has her arching off the ground immediately. A whine leaving her lips when he mouths between her two breasts in the valley just above the tie of suit. His fingers dance around on her skin, playing with her swimsuit fabric and she wants to scream at him to just untie it and really touch her, but she refrains. He continues his assault down her body. His hands grip at her knees when his lips travel below her navel. Her breaths have grown more strained as he’s gotten closer and closer to her heat. The cold wet fabric that covered her was a poor substitute to what she wanted to rub against her.

“Please,” she begs in a sigh as Harry’s lips skip where she wants him, instead traveling to her upper inner thigh.

He spreads her legs wider with his arms and her back arches further, her body just about fully on display for Harry. His eyes flicker up to her face that was staring right back down at him, watching his every move.

The cheeky bottoms left little to the imagination and the ties on the sides were so enticing Harry’s fingers smoothed up her thighs and began to toy with them. His face now hovering over her clothed center. His breath fanning the flames of her arousal just below the cherry fabric.

“See,” he smirks, eyes back on her face, “I haven’t even touched you yet, but you’re already begging.

“You’re an ass,” she grits out, trying to not be bothered by how easily he has gotten her in this position.

He clicks his tongue and tugs experimentally at one of the bottoms ties, “S’not a very nice thing to say to the man who’s about to stick his tongue in ya’?”

She gasps and slaps at his right shoulder at his crudeness. “You’re dirty!”

“And you’re wet,” he says confidently, smirking up from between her legs.

His fingers finally tug the ties undone and pull the fabric away from her center. The red bikini bottom falls limply to the ground and Harry’s eyes train on her glistening mound. Wet with the pool water as well as her arousal. To add to the cool air ghosting over her newly exposed skin, Harry blows his own breath over her. She writhes at the sensation, she bites at her lip to hold back any possible moans.

He glances at her face again and settles one arm to be wrapped around her leg and pressing down on her left hip. His other hand snakes between his face and her body and lightly drags between her folds. She bucks her body again, completely in need of some friction after all of the build up and teasing of today. Every nerve down there was electrified at the possibility of Harry finally touching her like this.

His finger pulls back and a string of arousal clings to him, a testament to the filthy thoughts she had about her neighbour. Thoughts she had pushed away for so long until recently. Thoughts she only indulged in in the dead of night, when she was exhausted but her mind insisted on wandering to the green sharp eyes that might stare at her if he ever were to delve into her depths. Her hands would travel to where he was now and rub out a triumphant shake of her thighs and heaving chest all in hopes that maybe he would bring her to that euphoria himself one day. Well that day was today.

He filthily takes that finger into his mouth and grins.  “So wet,” he corrects.

His eyes disappear from view as he launches into his work. His drying curls flop over his forehead and tickle at her lower stomach slightly. He flattens his tongue and licks a strong stripe between her folds. The wet from her weeping hole spreads to her lips and around her clit as his finishes the lick with a little swirl. He uses his free hand to spread apart her lips a little more and takes the new angle to suck on the little puffy nub that is already throbbing. She gasps audibly when he pulls off of it with a squelching sound.

“Fuck,” he sighs and goes back to eating her out, happily pressing his tongue into her.

His hand on her hip travels to grope at one of her breasts and he deftly pulls at the top’s tie and grips onto her skin underneath the fabric. The strong grip mixed with his expert work between her thighs has her moaning loudly and her body writhing as he builds her up.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he rasps, thumb on her nipple flicking happily back and forth. “Scream it out,” he says into her quivering center, “Nobody around to hear you, be as loud as you want.”

She moans louder at his words, her hands gripping harder into his hair. The thought of this scene turns her on even more. In all honesty, if someone did hear them she’d kind of like it. If someone walked in and saw her stretched out next to the pool with their wet bodies writhing against each other in pleasure. Harry’s head buried between her thighs making her feel better than she ever has, her breasts falling out of their top as he massages them harshly.

“Taste so sweet,” he groans, lapping at her tight hole, the muscle contracting against his tongue’s invasion.

She liked how messy he got with it, not that she really had much coherent thoughts in this moment. But his hot tongue swiping up and down and back and forth over her glistening lips and sucking on her clit left her breathless. Her juices and his saliva were making a mess of her thighs and the towel below her. When Harry felt her getting closer he’d back off and pay attention to another part of her and then go back to sucking and nipping perfectly into her.

She was eventually stuttering out, “I’m going to cum, Harry.” Breathing becoming uneven as she was about to tip over the edge. He nods, sucking harder at her clit one last time before taking his tongue and pushing it in and out of her hole, one of his thumbs traveling to rub over her clit in quick succession.  

“Cum for me, dove,” he mumbles quickly before going back to making her feel good.

She grips her own nipple now with one hand and Harry’s hair with the other, her hips pushing up into Harry’s face over and over again. And then she’s hitting her climax and tipping over the edge, a moan ripping from her throat and freezing on her face as Harry eats her out through it. His tongue licking over her quivering pussy. His thumb rubbing comforting circles around her clit until she stopped shaking. Her breathing slowing down, eyes fluttering open eventually. They lazily stare at the man below her who’s lips and chin are slick with her juices as he grins up at her.

“Do you want me to call my mum now or wait until you’re fully back on earth,” he says slyly and kisses the inside of her thigh once more. Eyes lovingly staying on her pleasured out face.

“Seriously talking about your mom while you’re still between my thighs,” she breathes out, completely in disbelief. Harry and her had never gone that far before and it was life changing. He had been right, even if she didn’t want to admit it, she wasn’t sure if she could go three weeks without that again.

He sits up and begins to gently pull back on her swim bottoms and tie them back up. She lays there watching him work.

“How about now?” He asks with a smirk, moving to sit beside her and help her sit up when her bottoms have been readjusted. The fabric against her newly sensitive area was definitely interesting, but she couldn’t care with Harry beside her. She ties off her top on her own, even though Harry gestured that he could do it.

“Shut up,” she laughs and takes a hand to caress at his cheek.

He nuzzles into her touch.

“You forget I’m staying in the cottage...separate from everyone else,” she winks at him.

“Think they’ll still be able to hear ya’ from in there, dove. You’re a loud one,” he bites the inside of his cheek as he teases her.

She huffs and drops her hand, “I was gonna return the favor, but now I don’t think so.”

It’s Harry’s turn to laugh and reach out to her face, he pulls her face close to his, bringing her eyes level with his. “I’m just teasing. Plus, you don’t need to return the favor, I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”

A laugh bubbles from her lips at the thought of Harry wanting her as much as she wanted him and she pecks at his lips. She grimaces only a little, tasting herself on him still.

“We’ll just have to be sneaky,” she pulls back and rests her forehead against his.

“Yeah,” Harry breaths out. His breath hitches when he feels her hand begin to trail down his chest and fiddle with the hem of his shorts. Her eyes are trained on his, expressionless like she wasn’t beginning to palm his hardened length over his sticky swim shorts.

“I told you,” he musters, “You don’t have to.”

“But,” she rasps, finally. “I want to,” she licks her lips with determination, “Want to make you feel good, too.”

He hums as her soft fingers go back up to the hem of his shorts and he helps her pull them down as he gives a nod of approval to her watching eyes.

Her eyes widen when his length is finally revealed and its bright red tip stands tall and strong against Harry’s stomach, placing itself slightly just below one of the ferns. Harry watches her lick at her hand and then places it between his thighs, her body positioned right next to him. On her knees, she makes an experimental first pump, seeing how his body responded. Her eyes mainly watch his face and an open mouthed smirk twitches onto his face when he notices her gaze. She pumps him again, twisting her wrist this time and swiping at the precum leaking from his tip. A groan leaves Harry’s mouth at that and his stomach flexes, the skin beneath his many tattoos hardening.

“Feel good?” She inquires.

“Great,” he breathes out as she leans forward on her knees and attaches her mouth over his head.

She slowly moves her head down and attempts to fit his entire length into her mouth, but despite her best efforts, she can’t quite get her throat to open up for his entirety yet. After holding him there for a moment, his head scratching at the back of her throat, she pulls off. Heaving a sigh and continuing to work him with her hand, her now glassy eyes look at him. Saliva gathers at her mouth and Harry can’t help himself but reach one of his hands from behind him to her lips. He swipes at it and presses the wet to her lips which she sucks at eagerly, a whine hidden beneath the action.

When his hand pulls away she says, “You’re quite girthy.”

“Girthy?” He sputters, both at the funny comment but also that she’s said it while still jacking him off.

“Mhmm,” she nods seriously, “Couldn’t get you all in.”

“That’s alright,” he starts, but falters on a specifically masterful tug. She grins, knowing what she's doing to him. “You seem to excel, no matter the setbacks.”

“I’ll get it eventually,” she begins to speed up her strokes, “Just need a bit of practice.”

Then her lips are pressing back onto Harry’s prick. She sucks solely at his head and Harry moans out as he gets more sensitive. Then she slides down further and bops her head vigorously. She wants Harry to come undone for her just like she had for him. Make him feel like she had moments ago. And within a few more minutes of enthusiastic sucking and pumping of her hands, even some fondling of his balls which Harry had been extremely receptive to, she has him stuttering beneath her.

One hand gripping at her hair, while the other keeps him upright, Harry’s head is thrown back on his shoulders as he tries to keep his eyes open and trained on the girl taking him so well down her lovely little throat.

“I’m almost there, sweetheart,” he pants, his hips bucking up once as he begins to lose control.

This only spurs her forward, spit drooling down his cock every time she pulls back from his slightly. Her ass is high in the air now as she arches over his length, trying to get him to unload.

“Taking me so well,” Harry praises. “Fuck,” he exclaims at another squeeze of his balls.

She swirls her tongue around his runny head and then hollows her cheeks and sucks on him with everything she’s got. This has Harry cursing and repeating her name, his load spurting into her mouth as she stays still. His chest now covered in beads of sweat as he tries to catch his breath after tipping over the edge himself. His eyes are trained on her. She keeps her lips diligently around his cock, wanting to swallow everything he’s just expended. When he’s done, she pulls back and sits on her legs, swallowing quickly and staring at Harry as she does it.

His eyes bug at the sight. She was the hottest woman in the world and she’d just sucked him off so well that he’s pretty sure he saw stars. Then she made eye contact as she swallowed his cum with her pretty little bikini barely covering her anymore, as she seemed to shift slightly uncomfortable in her drying bottoms. God, he was fucked.

“Shit,” he says, still trying to catch his breath. “You’re an absolute angel.”

-

Harry’s family arrives the next day and the pair have a hard time keeping their hands off of each other. She doesn’t know why they decide to start this little game where they pretend like they don’t want to jump each other’s bones each minute of the day. But as the days go by, they maintain to his family and chosen family that they are only neighbours who became friends. Anne gives a knowing look to Gemma every so often and Gemma’s boyfriend whispers in her ear sometimes, but for the most part they buy it.

No one notices that some nights Harry’s or Y/N’s beds are vacant sometimes. They don’t see him descend his spiral staircase at midnight or see her scamper next to the pool and slip into her cottage in the wee hours of the morning.

In the nights, it’s Harry’s soft lips pressed against her hot skin, panting praise and leaving little bite marks that can’t be seen with clothes on. Her lips mouth at his shoulder when fills her up and she exhales a breath that feels like she’s been waiting to let go for her entire life. They make each other feel good and they don’t talk about it but the secrecy of it makes it all the more enticing.

At least that’s what she thinks. Harry had been completely ready to tell his family about him and Y/N, at least that things were new between them, but when she introduced herself to his mum and Gemma she had said she was a friend. Harry had gulped, his adam’s apple bobbing hard, taking in the change of direction and agreeing with Y/N immediately. “Just a friend” he confirmed with a nod of his head and glance at her. She had smiled wide and given a hug to the other most important women in his life like she’d known them forever.

He didn’t understand why she wanted it this way, but his objections would be forgotten when night fell and she’d do the things he’d only dreamt of. Her breathy whimpers and pliant body would all but wipe his mind of any other thoughts but her and then he had no complaints, just a wish for the night to never end.

Y/N doesn’t even tell Cate when she calls her a week into the trip. It’s just something she wants to keep to herself and Harry. Their own private world.

It’s Christmas Eve when that bubble pops. The Champagne has been flowing for hours non stop - well only stopping when a different drink is in their hands, whether that be red or white wine or a mixed drink Harry has decided to concoct.

In the big Italian house, he’s free of prying eyes and he’s able to truly spend quality time with his loved ones. They have fancy dinners at private restaurants, go on gorgeous hikes, swim, and relax. They have a good time with playing holiday games, which they do most nights when they stay in.

Tonight’s the first night that Harry and Y/N haven’t ended up on the same team. He fears that most times he cheats it by swapping a paper or two, but tonight the alcohol has fizzed his brain and he forgot. This shouldn’t be a problem, not really. Except that everyone in the house has learned over the past week and a half that besides being perfectly matched in almost everything else, Harry and her are both equally and extremely competitive. Being on the same team has both advantages and avoids squabbles like the one the house has found themselves in at half past 11.

Harry’s arguing that his team got the last question before the buzzer went off, but she won’t back down. She is sure that Gemma had said the correct answer, but after the timer had run out. Everyone else was too sauced to care, but Harry and her were adamant and passionate about game play. As the argument heats up, Anne gives Gemma another one of those looks.

Y/N has stood up and crossed the short distance to Harry. She’s a breath away from him and he puffs up his chest, his eyes dark and serious as he’s ready to fight for this win all night.

“The time was out,” she says simply, but her eyes are beginning to glower.

“No. It was not.” He states back.

His eyes narrow at her as she stares right back at him.

“Was too.”

“Was not.”

They go back and forth, rapid fire as the alcohol in their veins flows straight to their mind and hearts.

“Children please!” Gemma exclaims,  finally growing tired of the bickering. “It’s Christmas. Harry show some spirit and let your guest have the final say.”

They think she’s done but then adds, “Or else she might never want to come back here.”

Harry exhales harshly through his nose as his gaze flickers to his older sister and listens to her scolding. Handing over the timer to Y/N, which had been what kept them from moving on, he turns on his heel and walks out of the room.

“Oh gosh,” Y/N says after a moment, her frazzled mind processing that Harry’s leaving has something to do with her. A hand goes to her lips for a moment, a ghost of his warm breath still there, but gone too soon.

“I’ll...I’ll be right back,” she confirms and exits the room, following Harry’s footsteps.

She finds him on his front porch step, his breath misting in the cold air, much like it would back in London when they’d walk the neighbourhood streets together.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she says, placing a hand on his left shoulder to really get his attention.

He turns from looking out at the clear night sky, his nose and cheeks already pinkened from the night breeze. His eyes are still dark out here, but there’s no malice or anger behind them. His lips tilt up on one side for a forgiving half smile, but there’s also some pain mixed in there.

“You wouldn’t not come back, right?” He asks helplessly, his smile faltering.

She swallows, taken aback by the question, both unsure of where it came from but also how exactly her drunk brain was supposed to respond with the double negatives.

“I’d come back next Christmas and the Christmas after that, Harry,” she whispers, “If you wanted me to of course.”

“Of course I’d want you to. I want you, sweetheart. All the time.” His voice isn’t slurred, but it’s raspy, a slight dry mouth from all the alcohol consumed tonight.

“Okay,” she confirms, “Then I’ll come back.”

They stand on the porch silently for a few minutes, eyes on one another, but no movement towards anything. It’s not a profound moment for their hazy minds, despite the meaning behind their words. It’s not quite clicking for them, but maybe tomorrow when they wake up with massive headaches it will register.

“I really am sorry,” she repeats when she sees little goosebumps begin to prick at his skin.

He had forgotten a jacket. And while his drunk blanket makes him immune to the feelings, her brain still registers that she doesn’t want him to get sick.

“S’alright. For what it’s worth, I was being a little childish. So, m’sorry too.” He says sincerely, maybe a little slurring of words slipping in.

He reaches a hand out of his pocket to touch at her upper arm. She can feel his warmth from beneath her thin long sleeve. They smile at one another and turn to reenter the house, feeling the giggly tide of alcohol wash over them again. Euphoria on their mind rather than family game malice.

Just as they’re about to open the door to the house. The two of them at the precipice of a house, a place they often find themselves, Gemma swings it open face and with little care for its heaviness. She glances between her brother and his “friend”  and then up to the top of the door.

The top of the door? Why was she looking at the top of the door? Mistletoe.

“Mistletoe!” Gemma exclaims, pointing between the two of them. “You’re beneath the mistletoe, go on!”

Harry shakes his head in protest, falling onto the sword of friendship again. But then Y/N is grabbing at the back of Harry’s neck and pressing her lips to his. It’s a little sloppy, but Harry can’t help but enjoy the taste of her against him. They slot together like they usually do, but this time his sister is watching them, which is a little odd, but his muddled mind quickly forgets that fact. Her tongue is the deciding factor as it licks into his mouth and he licks back, pulling her closer by the waist. They get lost in the kiss and only pull apart when they hear a cough.

Gemma is now accompanied by the rest of the household watching them in disbelief. Everyone’s eyebrows are raised and even Rori is standing with the group, confused that the humans didn’t know they were doing this.

“Erm…” Harry has no idea what to say, shifting to face his family more fully.

Y/N blushes and shrinks into Harry’s chest, feeling like a teenager caught in the closet with her crush.

“That’s not how friend’s kiss one another,” someone murmurs.

There’s a few “I knew it”s mixed in as well with the rest of the chatter.

“Well…” She finally musters and throws a hand out to her side in a ta-da motion,

“Happy Christmas!”

-

After the revelation on Christmas Eve, everyone won’t stop teasing Harry and Y/N. The two laugh it off but something always nags at the back of their head. What they were to the other person. The status of this relationship. This friendship that had taken a turn to something else entirely.

It’s another Eve of a holiday when Harry finally musters up the courage to ask her directly. They learned from Christmas day that they couldn’t drink as much as they once did for multiple reasons. So on New Year’s Eve, they both choose to only consume a couple glasses of Champagne.

It starts with “Can we talk about us?” right after midnight. Right after Harry’s just started the New Year with her lips on his. She hears his question and takes it in, her stomach twisting with nerves and possibly excitement as well, and nods.

They slink off to his bedroom, but not for the activity everyone else was certain they were engaging in.

He sits them on the edge of the bed, both her hands clasped in one of his. He’s been quiet all day, she just realizes as he stays silent another moment longer.

“I love you,” he says in his dimly lit room.

Her jaw drops slightly, not quite expecting those three words yet.

“You don’t, don’t have to say anything yet. I just wanted you to know that,” he continues. “And that I want to be with you.”

“Harry,” she starts, breathless at his words.

“No,” he stops her again, “I felt something draw me to you the day you moved in across from me on Sherwood, like I was meant to know you or something.  Then I met you and you made me feel so comfortable, all I wanted to do was be with you and that month when you didn’t really talk to me...dove, those weeks were wretched. But when I came back, it was like nothing happened and I was so happy because I couldn’t fathom life going back to the way it was before you. When we kissed, I felt overjoyed, I was so happy that you liked me like that because every time you called me friend...felt like a knife in me. I don’t want to be just your friend,” he pauses to say her name again, “I don’t want to be just your lover, I want to be your boyfriend or whatever they call it now - If you’ll have me.”

He takes a deep breath and blinks away the little well up of water that had grown in his eyes. He had forgotten to blink for a moment he realized.

His stare had been intense as he’d confessed all of his feelings to her, but she didn’t feel intimidated, his gaze had warmed her with its sincerity. It had strengthened his confession.

She sighed, her own eyes not as strong as his, unable to hold his gaze as she herself said her own confession.

His hand rests between them on the bed, steadying himself upright with it. She places her own hand over it and their fingers slightly intertwine. She feels him begin to fiddle with her fingers like usual. Like normal.

“Thank you,” she starts, “Of course I’ll have you. All the time, Harry.”  She repeats his words from Christmas Eve back to him.

He starts to interject, the rambling thing, but she tugs at his pointer finger and he takes it as a sign to be quiet.

“I want to be your partner, too. I want it all with you, lover,” she gazes at him now, his free hand reaching up to caress her cheek in that moment. “Want it all,” she repeats in a whisper before he’s kissing her again.

Kissing her and kissing her. Over and over again. Because she was his. And he was hers. And it was a happy beginning. A happy new year and a happy new beginning of a relationship that was bound in friendship, born out of proximity, and nurtured by two kindred souls.

And it all started with her parents making her take her dog. Harry really needed to thank that dog for being the best wing man to ever run around on four legs.

-

Who knows who that new client of Y/N’s might be...

[haikyuuuuuhypeeeee]

Ch. Seventeen

⚠WARNING: Swearing

• ────── ✾ ────── •

For five days Osamu ignores you. Your texts go unanswered, calls are sent to voicemails, meet ups at the café are now solo trips.

You’re beyond upset at this point. If this is his way of needing space, that’s fine. You’d be okay with giving him space - you just need to know if he wants space. Having this awful radio silence between you is driving you mad. What if he’s sick? What if he needs to go to the hospital? He lives alone and his family isn’t close, and he hasn’t mentioned other friends to you before. You’ve talked plenty about Oikawa, Mattsun and Makki - surely he would’ve offered up stories about his friends if he had them, no?

But you also worry that you’ve done something to really offend him. He’s a pretty laid back guy (all things considered) so you must have really pissed him off if he’s resorting to ignoring all forms of communication.

You just need to know. Even if it will be the end of your friendship (something your brain isn’t ready to comprehend, thank you very much) you have to know why Osamu doesn’t want to talk to you.

So you’ve changed plans. You decide to skip afternoon classes and set up camp at the cafe. You knew he visited the cafe at least once a day, and you thought that maybe he was coming at different times to avoid you but you weren’t gonna let that happen so you would change your schedule and ambush him.

It was literally the only idea you could think of and at this point you were desperate.

“Jasmine tea, right?” The barista greets you when you step up to the register.

“Yes please,” you answer, reaching to grab your wallet from your bag.

“Hey, I haven’t seen that one guy who you’d been studying with in awhile. He used to come all the time.” The barista sets down your tea and types at the register. “What was his name, Osamu?”

You nod, trying to swallow your disappointment and pass over money to pay. If the employees here haven’t noticed Osamu coming in then maybe he is sick. And the odds of you coming across him here are slim to none.

You thank the barista and grab a table in a different spot of the cafe. The whole point of this is to change up your routine and try to see if Osamu will stop by. The last thing you want is for him to walk in, see you sitting at the table, and leave. You sit at your table, pull out your notebooks and get settled. Hopefully you can get some studying done while waiting.

A faint bell to indicate a new person coming in rings, and you nearly snap your neck to look in the direction of the front door. But it’s a young woman talking on her cell phone who walks in, not Osamu. You sigh to yourself and open your books.

~~~

The front door bell rings again, and like before you quickly look up. To your dismay, a group of three guys probably close to your age walk into the café and make their way to the register.

You’ve been at the café for 45 minutes and this time it’s the 10th time you’ve been tricked by someone walking in. You feel yourself wilt and look back down at your books, ignoring the stinging in your eyes. This is pointless.

“We’ve checked the campus all morning, and Shin combed the library top to bottom.”

The group of guys waiting in line are standing close enough to your new table that you can just hear what they’re saying. You don’t really eavesdrop on people, but it’s hard when they’re not really trying to keep quiet. And you had given up on your homework ages ago, so you just sit staring at the table while listening to the three friends talk.

“We know that he’s studying here. We should just go up to the registrar’s office and find out where he’s taking classes.” A second voice speaks up.

“Yeah, and how is that going to work?” The first guy was speaking again. “We’re going to waltz onto a campus of a school we don’t go to and what, ask nicely if they can tell us where our friend is? We’ll get the cops called on us for sure.”

“Enough.” The third friend spoke, and you didn’t have to look to know that his voice commanded an air of respect. “We’re here for a few more days, we cannot argue amongst ourselves.”

“Kita, it’s a big campus in a big city. It’s gonna take more than a miracle to find him.”

You look up and around the café, and you can’t help but let your eyes wander to the three guys who’s conversation you had overheard. The shorter friend takes his coffee from the barista with a nod and moves towards the sugar and creamer station. “Him ignoring our phone calls is making things difficult.” The guy paused again to pour sugar into his coffee. “But it’s his mother’s birthday soon, and I know she would like him to be home for it.” You look away to gaze outside but continue to listen (eavesdrop) to them. You can’t help but think that the shortest guy’s accent sounds very familiar to you.

“To hell with the birthday.” The second guy speaks again, sounding agitated. “Osamu should be home with us, not holed up in this city alone.”

Your head snaps in their direction again. The shorter man with black and white hair is nearly dwarfed by two other men, one dark-skinned and the other with dark hair parted down the center. The shorter man and dark-skinned man are busy making their coffees but the one with dark, parted hair catches your movement. You stare at each other, him having no problem holding your gaze. You watch him pull his phone out of his pocket, tap at the screen (without looking away) and bring the phone up. A quick flash and you realize that this stranger has taken your photograph.

What the hell?!

You start, not expecting the action and look back down abashed. This is what you get for eavesdropping, you dummy. You chance a quick glance and see the shorter man giving the photog a stern look. You look away again but you can’t shut your ears off as you hear them speak again.

“Delete that photo right now Suna.”

“But she was looking right at me!”

“Delete it.”

Footsteps approaching your table make you look up again and your pulse quickens when you realize the shorter man is approaching you. Behind him the dark-skinned man is scolding the other friend, both looking cross with each other. But you can’t focus on them as the short man has finally arrived at your table. To your massive surprise he bows in front of you.

“I sincerely apologize for my friend. I assure you that he deleted the photo he took and he will not be doing anything like that again.”

Hearing his voice you can definitely pick up the same accent Osamu has. His eyes are gentle and kind and he does look remorseful for his friend’s actions. “Uhhh, no worries.” You stammer out, still dazed by everything that is happening.

Before you can think to voice your confusion out loud the man bows again and takes his leave. He doesn’t get a few feet from your table before you're blurting out.

“I heard you talking about Osamu.”

The two friends hear you (as did everyone in the cafe) but they immediately make their way to your table. The dark-skinned man is looking at you with surprise but it’s the other friend’s face who catches you by surprise. He stomps over and leans down to your eye level.

“Where is he?” You’re taken aback by the ferociousness in his voice, and the frantic frazzled look in his eyes. The shorter man steps back to the table and rests a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“We’re friends of Osamu from back home, and we’re having trouble finding him. Are you a friend of his?”

“Uh, yes. Well, I think so.” You weren’t sure of your status now after he’s been ignoring your calls and messages.

“Well which is it?” The other man asks aggressively. You don’t get a chance to answer as you all hear the café door open and you turn to look at the newcomer.

Your heart flutters when you see Osamu walk through the door. It’s the first time you’ve seen him since realizing that you like him more than a friend, and besides relief at seeing him in person after he’s been ignoring you, you feel comfort at seeing him.

You meet his gaze and watch him stop in his steps when he sees you. His eyes widen slightly in surprise, but it’s nothing compared to the look on his face when he takes in the full scene. Your heart twists when he pales, and before you can call out to him he takes off.

“Shit!” The man who took your photo takes off, expertly weaving through the small crowd in the café and following Osamu out the door. The second tall man chases after them a second later, having a bit more trouble getting through the other patrons.

The third, shortest friend remains, and you hear him heave a sigh. After a beat he speaks up. “May I join you?”

You start but not immediately. He doesn’t waste time in sitting down in the chair next to yours. Only when he gets situated do you realize what you’ve done - you’re letting someone who supposedly knows Osamu sit with you, someone that makes Osamu look like he’s seen a ghost and run away as fast as he can.

What if this man is dangerous? Did you just endanger Osamu’s life?

“We’re not here to hurt Osamu.” Your companion at your table speaks up. You have no idea how he was able to read your mind, and you feel even more suspicious. “My name is Kita Shinsuke - the one who took your photo is Suna Rintarou, and our other friend is Aran Ojiro. We’re friends of Osamu’s from Hyogo.”

You nod at his introduction, but you’re not buying it. Saying outright that you’re not going to hurt someone is exactly what someone who wants to hurt someone else would say.

Kita must sense your hesitation again and he reaches into his pocket. He pulls out his phone, taps the screen and sets it on the table facing you. He nudges it in your direction, and you cautiously pick it up. What you see on the screen nearly makes you drop the phone in surprise.

It’s a group of guys - you immediately recognize this Kita person with his black and white hair, as well as Suna and Aran. You also see Osamu, giving the camera a lazy smile.

And his exact replica, standing next to him with a wider, cockier smile.

His twin.

Besides the initial shock of seeing a picture of Osamu’s twin, you see Osamu looking happy. He’s got his small smirk you’ve only seen a few times, and even then it pales in comparison to the smile he’s wearing in the photo. It’s such a stark difference to the cold, apathetic Osamu you know now that your heart can’t help but twist.

You hand the phone back to Kita silently. He takes it and puts it away.

“How long have you been friends with Osamu?” He asks.

You swallow. “A few weeks.”

Kita nods. “And do you know about Atsumu?”

“Is that his twin?” Kita nods at your question. “Then yes, that’s how we became friends, kind of.”

Kita gives you a confused look (his expression barely changes but you can just detect it.) You clear your throat. “I lost my best friend a few months ago. We realized we both had something in common and we’ve been able to talk about it with each other.”

Surprise flickers across his face before a serious, somber look takes its place. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” you reply automatically. You appreciate his gesture, and you’ve been handling these kinds of interactions with general strangers for months. If, for some godforsaken reason, the passing of Hajime comes up in conversation everyone immediately offers their condolences, you thank them, and then the conversation continues. You’ve long been able to push aside the wave of grief that comes with the briefest of mentions of his passing. You understand that sometimes the stranger you were talking with doesn’t really mean the words they’re saying.

But with this Kita Shinsuke, you feel the sincerity behind it. It only comes from someone who can understand what you’re going through because they’ve gone through it themselves.

“Can I ask how much you know about Osamu and Atsumu?” Kita asks.

You struggle to find an adequate answer, embarrassed by your lack of knowledge about Osamu’s past. He always seemed uncomfortable talking about Atsumu, and you never wanted to push him. Gosh, can you really say you have deep feelings for him when you don’t even know how to answer this simple question?

“I know he came to Sendai for school.” You answer carefully, putting your insecurities away for now. “I think he wanted to get out of Hyogo.”

Kita’s response is a hum. It’s thoughtful, and you can see gears turning behind his head. You wait for him to reply, unsure of what else to say.

“Osamu definitely wanted to get out of Hyogo, and he did come here to attend Sendai University.” Kita confirms. “But what you may not know is that he vanished from Hyogo, without a trace save for the letter he left for his parents to never call him again.”

Kita’s brief explanation feels anything but that. It shocks you to your core, freezing your lungs. Any reply you would have had to it was wiped clean, and you really can’t do anything but sit and stare.

Kita nods. His features soften, and you now see a hint of sadness in his eyes. “I understand his actions. I cannot imagine living in a place with constant painful reminders of his loss.

“But he didn’t give any hint of wanting to leave. He never told anyone his plan. One day we woke up and he was just gone. His parents are heartbroken. They had already lost one son, and now another that leaves no open channel of communication, no desire for any of us to reach him. To them, it feels like they’ve lost both sons.

Your heart clenches painfully. You know Kita isn’t accusing Osamu of anything - you can’t hear any blame in his voice. But you can’t help but feel the need to defend your friend for his actions that are, frankly, self-serving.

Kita goes on. “Aran, Suna and myself have an old schoolmate, one of Osamu’s old friends as well. He recently reached out to tell us that his cousin thought he recognized Osamu here at this campus when he came to play Sendai University’s mens’ basketball team. It was pure dumb luck, and honestly not even a hint of a confirmed lead, but we got a chance to find Osamu. We arrived two days ago and have spent all of our time searching every corner of the campus looking for him.”

You still can’t get over the new information you’ve learned about Osamu. Leaving his small town and the only people he knows with no plans on returning. You can’t help but remember little bits of information gleaned from your conversations with Osamu.

He moved to a new city and got a new phone and new phone number. He doesn’t have any friends or family here in Sendai. How unwilling he was to find a therapist and seek help for unhealthy coping mechanisms.

Now with the added information of knowing Osamu left home without a trace, you’re left with a revelation that sends you reeling.

He’s running away.

Osamu is trying to run away from the trauma of losing his brother. He’s doing his very best to shake off any trace of his past and reinvent himself in a new city. Zero contact with friends or family and no support to help him work through a disturbing life event that shouldn’t happen to anyone. And he’s shoving it all down.

Why? Why in the world would anyone want to do that to themselves? And is this what he’s been doing to you now? Running away from you?

A ringing disrupts your disturbing thoughts and you watch Kita bring his phone up to his ear. “Hello?” Whoever is on the other line must tell him some disappointing news because Kita’s face falls again. “Ok, I’ll meet you at the hotel.” He hands up the phone and sighs.

“Aran and Suna lost Osamu. Not surprisingly, since Osamu was always quick, and he knows the area better than we do.” He stands. “I will leave you to your studying. May I borrow a slip of paper and a pen?”

You wordlessly hand over a scrap piece of paper and pen, letting Kita bend down to write on the table. He hands the items back to you and straightens up. You look at the paper and see his full name and phone number written down.

“You have no obligation to, but if Osamu reaches out to you will you please let me know?”

You think of the messages you’ve sent him and the calls you’ve made - all unanswered. But you can’t bring yourself to tell that to Kita now. “I’ll try my best.”

“I greatly appreciate it.” Kita bows and makes to leave. But he hesitates and looks back at you. “We’re not here to drag him back to Hyogo against his will. If he wants to stay here in Sendai he can, he’s an adult. I just want him to know that he has people that care about him, people that miss him.”

You watch Kita pause, standing still. He swallows hard and you see his hands ball into fists. Watching Kita compose himself somehow hurts you the most in this entire interaction you’ve had with him.

When he speaks, his voice is strained. “I don’t think he knows that. I think he believes that he’s truly alone.”

Kita nods and takes his leave, leaving you sitting alone at your table in the café.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

A/N: Enter the Hyogo friends! But Osamu doesn't seem too happy to see them....are we gonna find out why? Also a sad Kita is literally the worst thing in the world and it makes me not okay! :')

Taglist Open! Please send an Ask with the request to be added to It’s [Not] Okay Fic & SMAU: @psycho-nightrose @camcam1617 @kamalymaly @toobsessedsstuff @shookykookie30 @roro-707 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @cerealfrdinner797 @ara-mitsue @gray-444 @tanakasimpcorner @rintarovibes @jellien @everytimeswift @bongofrito @babucrow @beidouluvr @kozuken-ma @imarriedachef @badkarma-a

[it-was-summer]

Video Killed The Radio Star (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: I know I usually write for Five Hargreaves, but lately I’ve been having the idea of a fanfiction for Spencer Reid involving some sensitive material. If you haven’t watched Criminal Minds, that is a-okay because this doesn’t really follow any sort of certain plot in the series but it does contain some spoilers from it so maybe be warned? If you’d like for this me to continue this little idea, please give me so feedback and let me know. Till then, Em <3

Warnings: Stalking, talk of kidnapping, cursing and some sensitive material. 

Plot: You leave videos for the BAU to find once you find out you have a stalker. 

Word Count: 1.3k

-Tape #1, January 5, 20XX

Your face moved away from the screen as you moved to sit on a desk chair, smile growing as you waved your hand at the webcam recording a few feet away from you. “I, uh,” you looked down at your hands, playing with the ring that resided on your middle finger before letting out a tiny nervous giggle “, I don’t really know how I should start this off.” you trailed off, looking back up at the camera.

“You know that feeling you get when you’re driving your car and you think ‘oh my god, the car behind me is following me home!’, I guess it all kind of started like that. I tried to keep them off my tail, but I guess they already knew where I lived because they started parking outside my house, never the same car.”

You cleared your throat gently, bending over to pick up a small, dead rose. “This was the first thing I got,” you held it closer to the camera, your hands shaking lightly “That’s when I realized something was wrong. I started to notice that I would get home and suddenly, there would be a car across the street.” You looked outside, towards the window “It’s not every day, and it isn’t sporadic either! It’s every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday around noon till seven, sometimes eight.” You ran your hands through your hair, biting back tears.

“My mom thinks I’m crazy, but I... I know that something isn’t right,” You kept your calm composure, smiled sweetly at the camera, and waved again “ I guess  I’m signing off till I have some more proof or something? This is Y/N L/N, signing off I suppose.”

Then the screen went dark.

-Tape #2, January 17, 20XX

You were already sitting in your desk chair when the video started, indicating that you figured how to use a timer for this personal vlog of yours. “Hi,” You seemed to be in better spirits than before “I’m more organized this time!” This seemed to be the reason for your good mood, probably because being organized made you feel more stable, safer.

“So, I’m Y/N L/N and I am twenty-four years old, living in Richmond, Virginia, in this apartment complex a little bit outside of the city.” You held up a photo of a tattoo that was currently hiding under your shirt. “This is the tattoo that I got when I was drunk off my ass on my twenty-first birthday, just a good...” you cleared your throat quickly “A good identifier.”

You folded your hands in your lap as you straightened out your back. “The stalking started just after Christmas, I haven’t the faintest clue of who it is, but I know I am being stalked. I told the police but they didn't really think anything of it and sometimes I see a patrol car drive by on weekdays.”

“These videos aren’t meant to be a big, fat, told you so. I’m just really scared that something bad is going to happen. I just need some trace of me, I need to feel less helpless.”

You swallowed thickly and grabbed a sticky note hanging from your computer “These are all my passwords so if something does happen, it is right there.”

You looked around, all of your preparations failing you in a single moment as you found yourself lost for words. You quickly flashed again, conversation lighting up in you as you spoke again “I work in the city as a librarian, I get the weekends off for the most part.” You held up a copy of Wuthering Heights “Today this was left on the roof of my car,” You opened it and turned it so the pages were facing the webcam, showing highlighted sections of the book “The only parts that are highlighted are the romantic scenes between Heathcliff and Catherine.” You flipped through some pages quickly and held the page up, looking for one quote that was highlighted, underlined, and circled. “Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad, that's one of the lines circled, underlined and highlighted...” you stared at the page, before turning it back to the camera.

“I’m done for now..” Screen. Black.

-Tape #3, February 14, 20XX

You were wearing a striped sweater, lines ranging from white, pink, and red. You seemed to have forgotten about the heart-shaped glasses on your head, pushing back your hair, but your eyes were red, tired, lifeless almost. “It’s Valentine’s Day,” you heaved a sigh, slouching over in your chair. You could feel the bubble in your throat, and you tried to keep your voice steady, but it broke as soon as you started to speak “ Today was really bad,” you coughed lightly, feigning courage “He, She, I don’t know! They were in here! They got into my house, rose petals everywhere! Rose petals on the bed, in the sink, everywhere! They were just,” tears started to flow before you could do anything about it “ Just everywhere.”

You brushed your tears away quickly and let out another sigh before you took in a big breath and smiled, sadly at the camera. “I did some more research,” you laughed “, I live in Virginia and I have way too much time on my hands sometimes.”

You leaned over to pick up some papers off your, now rose petal-free desk “So, I was looking for people who would be good at, uh, helping me.” You held up a photo of Agent Jareau, in all her beauty “, I’d be pretty blind not to think about the BAU, right? This is,” you looked at the photo quickly “, the very pretty liaison for the BAU. I know that she’ll be seeing these first so hello? I would really appreciate it if the team could help me. Help find me maybe? I told the police what happened and they searched my apartment and the security cameras-” you felt tears well up in your eyes again and cut yourself off.

“I’m sorry, I have to go.” 

Black.

-Tape #4, February 18, 20XX

A smile was on your lips now, nervous albeit, but still a smile nonetheless. “The police are patrolling the neighborhood now on the regular so I feel a tiny bit better!” you leaned over to grab a copy of Jane Eyre “Today I was gifted another book, it seems my stalker is a bit of a Brontë fan. This one is the same as the last, but the important be quote seems to ‘You are my sympathy --my better self --my good angel’” You closed the book, sighed, and closed your eyes slowly. “Till then.”

Black.

-Tape #5, March 5, 20XX

You knew this was going to be your last video, every bone in your body knew it. Every. Single. One. After almost two weeks of no attention, no cars, no anything. You thought you were free, thought that maybe it would all be okay.

It was a foolish, childish thought. A moment of fleeting happiness if you will, but you held onto it with everything you had. The police were paying you less attention and you didn’t mind. You kept an eye out for something, anything. Now it was March fifth and you had a new gift. It was the most extreme out of all the gifts. Your hands trembled as you reached for a destroyed pair of your panties, drenched in blood. “Something bad is going to happen,” You threw the panties down near the books and dead rose. You kept them all just in case if they needed it, what if they needed more.

What if they needed more to find you? Would all of this be enough? “Please find me,” you looked at the screen with a heavy conscious “, I want to be found. Please, find me.”

Black.

March 8, 20XX

“This is Y/N L/N, a twenty-four-year-old woman last seen two days ago and has since gone missing. The Richmond police station contacted us after they found a folder containing these videos on her computer.” J.J. said, clicking to the next PowerPoint, showing more details for their case, but Hotch was already standing up, ending everyone’s input and conversation. 

“Wheels up in ten.”