#and these songs still hold an incredible amount of weight

[swiss-army-fangirl-art]

• if you need a place to hang your head, a shoulder’s better than a knot •

“careful what you wish for” // ‘finding god before god finds me’ // bad omens

[smfolklore]

Ignorance

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Author's Note : Okay she's here! This is 2.5K, I hope you enjoy it! Please leave me your thoughts, if you'd be so kind. I'm so happy that you all liked the first story I wrote. It motivated me to write this!

Synopsis : Y/N goes to Uriah's dormitory and gets incredibly tipsy (she's obliterated). Her instructor discovers this and is snarky with her because he's jealous.

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Present Time

My head is fucking pounding. I can hear only the persistent throbbing echoing throughout my brain. But it's what I deserve.

Uriah invited me to a “small” gathering happening among him and his two fellow Dauntless-Born companions. What I didn’t expect was the mass amount of alcohol that we were going to consume that night.

But I didn’t exactly say no. 

I will never deny an opportunity to have fun. When I lived with the Abnegation, there was zero tolerance for fun. It’s the one regulation I will never miss. There were aspects that I loved, like the simplicity and generosity of the people, but the negative aspect of this faction is that they were far too rigid.

In that, Dauntless is the complete opposite. And it’s the reason I’ve fallen in love with how at ease life is here. There are zero regulations (which is.. concerning), but to me that only indicates freedom.

Which is why last night, I drank. I consumed every shot that was handed to me, which if I remember correctly was eight. I’d never drank an ounce of alcohol before yesterday, which should have steered me into complacency but it didn’t.

–––

Uriah’s Dormitory - The Day Before

My face is slightly red as I feel the warmth of the liquor pulsing through me, and I’m trying desperately to contain the giggle slipping by.

We’re in Uriah’s dormitory. There’s six of us: Myself, Uriah, Lynn, Christina, Marlene, and Will. Christina and Will are desperately attempting to sing a chosen song, a microphone in each hand and while everyone is laughing and enjoying the euphoric sensation rolling through them, I feel the entire weight of my figure get heavy.

Uriah laughs at my expression, “Are you okay!”

And before I can even respond, I’m shaking my head with an erupting laugh, “No! No! I can’t stop laughing”.

I feel Uriah plop beside me, and I let my back hit the mattress as I see him lay across it. We’re a chaotic mess of laughing and bloodshot eyes. I blink at him slowly and see the lazy grin on his face.

“I am so fucking drunk right now”.

His grin stretches, “I feel complete. I’ve managed to intoxicate a girl from Abnegation. I never thought I would see the day”.

I raise an eyebrow in disbelief and let out a laugh as I say, “This is the first and the last time. I swear it”.

I don’t, actually.

I’m having far too much fun. Christina and Will are doing Karaoke, Lynn and Marlene are holding onto each-other for balance as they laugh so hard that they’re wheezing, and Uriah and I are laying across his mattress trying to gather our bearing’s. 

I can do this for the rest of my life. This faction is so liberating in spite of its faults.

Before I’m able to register it, Uriah is gripping onto my two wrists and using them as leverage to pull me upright. I’m still a pile of limbs, my body incoherent almost, but I grin as I see him pulling me to my feet.

Once I’m standing I hear a quick, “Our turn!” and my eyes widen dramatically. I can’t sing.

“No, Uriah! I can’t!”

But he’s smiling and I relent as he directs us to the stand that’s hosting the microphones. I pick one up, and as soon as I recognize the song that’s playing I turn to Uriah excitedly and exclaim, “How do you know this song!”

–––

Present Time

When I manage to open my eyes, I’m groggy. Beside me is Uriah, and beside him is Lynn as well as Marlene. We all fell asleep at his dormitory. I use the knuckle of my finger to get completely free of the drowsiness that is looming over me.

I groan as I force myself to sit up. I push myself toward the opposite side of the mattress, softly tying my laces and straightening my clothing. I laugh a little when I see Christina and Will on the couch beside the microphone post. Regardless of how close they’ve managed to become, they swear that they aren’t romantic. Yeah right.

I’ve become accustomed to waking up at 4 in the morning given my training session with Four. In spite of the fact that the first stage is complete, he’s prolonged our training. I didn’t ask him, he simply did. I’d expected him to stop the session, but he never opened the topic, and I certainly wasn’t going to propose it.

I enjoyed our time together.

In the last six week’s, Four and I have built upon our relationship. Our dynamic is.. fairly complicated. There are moments where I feel the tension dissipate and it often indicates the beginning of a friendship, but then he can quickly revert to the distant instructor I see so often.

I can admit that it hurts. I don’t know where I stand when I’m with him and it’s by far the most confusing relationship I’ve ever had. He’s gentle and patient one moment, and the next he’s curt and stern.

This pattern of inconsistency is only intensifying my doubt. I have no clue as to whether or not he thinks I’m attractive. Or if he even likes me. And it’s only served to irritate me. When I see him, I remain indifferent. 

It’s for the absolute best is what I tell myself. He’s clearly not interested in me. He had six entire week’s to give me even an inkling that he likes me, and he hasn’t. I can’t help the disappointment that I feel, I’d thought given the tension within our first session that there was more, but I can’t force him to find me appealing, can I?

I make my way into Uriah’s restroom, searching through the cabinet until I find what I was in need of. A new toothbrush. There’s no way I’m going to train with my insanely hot instructor without brushing my teeth. It’s like asking him to stop training me, when in reality I want to improve. I want to succeed here.

I wash my face, and even manage to brush my hair with a new comb I found stashed beside his toothbrush. I slip out of his dormitory as quietly as I can manage, trying to let them rest. I can’t have them discovering where I go so early in the morning. It wasn’t explicitly said that my training with Four is going against a protocol, but I don’t want to involve him if it is. So I maintain this secret for myself.

It’s 4:47 when I stroll into the training center, and I thank myself internally when I see that I’m alone. He isn’t here yet. I go toward the fountain, and sip on the fresh water pouring through as I wait for him to arrive.

I walk onto the platform, and begin to stretch softly, knowing that I’ll love the open range of motion it’ll give me when I’m fighting against Four. He doesn’t train me easily, not like he started throughout our first session. I’ve landed on my spine so many times, albeit softly. He isn’t unnecessarily rough, but he is rough enough to get his lesson through. 

I have my arm in front of me as I do a stretch when I hear the unmistakable latch of the front door. I peer over my shoulder and see the set of his face; cold.

He isn’t happy.

I carefully watch as he steps onto the platform and before I can register it I’m blurting out, “Nice night?”, with the intention of lightening the atmosphere.

His expression doesn’t change, and he doesn’t even meet my eye when he curtly says, “For some”.

This has my eyes widening slightly, as I’m a bit stunned. His body language is telling me that, unfortunately, he was not as fortunate. He’s tense, and his fists are clenched so tightly that the veins on his forearms are prominent. I put my arm down from my stretch and tilt my head, as I mutter to myself, “Okay, then”.

My attention snaps to him when I hear him say in an almost dull tone, “You look exhausted”. I frown wondering why he would point that out, but regardless I respond reluctantly, “We went to Uriah’s dormitory last night”.

All I get in response is an indifferent, “We?”. He’s not even looking at me, which confuses me. He’s untying his laces in order to get into position. Why is he being so adamant on evading me?

I shift from one foot to the other, ease in my voice, “Yep. Uriah, Will, Christina, Marlene, and Lynn. We were.. just learning how to play a card game”. It’s silly to not be honest about this but I don’t know if telling your initiation instructor that you got obliterated the night before is appropriate.

He meets my eye. Finally, but he’s looking at me without amusement as he fires in response, “Guzzling alcohol must be synonymous with learning a card game”.

I’m astounded by how affected he is at learning that his initiates are drinking. It’s entirely normal, but it’s not like I’m going to advertise it too. I furrow my eyebrow at the bite in his tone and feel irritation bubbling within me.

“How do you know what we were doing?”, I respond indignantly.

I watch as his shoulders tense, and it would have been entirely unrecognizable if not for the fact that I’m constantly observing him. I can’t help it, I want to understand him. How he thinks, what he’s feeling, and it goes beyond attraction. There’s a magnetic pull that I feel when I’m with him. 

He’s seamless in his response, “It isn’t exactly difficult to figure out. You're pale and dehydrated”.

I tilt my head and slightly narrow my vision, “There’s no way for you to know that I’m dehydrated, Four”. I’ve caught him; he’s a liar. I stare at him intently as I analyze his carefully crafted expression. I think about last night, attempting to recall a memory that could help me decipher how he’s in the loop of what I did in Uriah’s dormitory. 

And I do. 

It was Zeke. He came to Uriah’s dormitory to tell him about a family dinner.. and in return he helped us all consume as much water as possible. And he forced us all to swallow an Acetaminophen Tablet to prevent the headache that all of us would surely have the following morning.

He must’ve told Four when he left. I don’t know how, or when, but it’s the only possibility that I can think of. Zeke and Four have a friendship and because of that Four is going to hear about Uriah’s antics. Zeke likely mentioned to Four that his entire group of initiates is going to be fucking hungover for the session today.

He isn’t entirely wrong.

Four doesn’t react, simply getting into position and motioning for me to replicate it. But I don’t. I glance at the clock and read the time as 4:54, muttering, “It’s not 5 o'clock yet. We have time”. 

–––

Four’s Point of View

I narrow my gaze at her and try to prevent my body language from giving away just how much irritation is coursing through me.

I’ve felt this gnawing sense of discomfort fill me since the moment Zeke entered my apartment last night, divulging how Uriah and three of my initiates are getting “hammered” in his dormitory.

It isn’t the alcohol that has me tensing my shoulders, or narrowing my gaze at her, it's the disturbing thought that she was with him. I’ve noticed how close they’ve become.. they eat together, I see them in the pit together, and apparently Zeke placed her to sleep beside Uriah last night as well. Granted there were two extra people on the mattress with them.

In spite of the fact that logically, I’m aware nothing could have occurred, there’s a persistent ache of discomfort in my chest that I can’t identify properly. This can’t be jealousy. I can’t like her.

And yet, when I flick my gaze to her, and locate the determination in her eyes to find out what I’m hiding, I find my throat going dry in appeal. 

“I didn’t agree to having a conversation with you, I agreed to train you so that you can improve your fighting” I respond curtly.

There’s a flicker of hurt that catches on her expression and it immediately has me wanting to retract my response. But I don’t, because I can’t. If I tell her the truth, about what I know, I’ll have to explain why I’ve reacted the way that I have. And that will open a conversation that can’t be opened until she isn’t my initiate. Until I can tell her how I feel without putting her in a position where she might feel obligated to return my affection.

It isn’t fair to her. And if I’m going to pursue this.. It has to be done correctly.

So I persist, “Position yourself”.

But she doesn’t. She’s hesitating, and it frustrates me. She grits out in irritation, “Tell me how you know what we were doing”.

I’m almost stunned by the way she’s spoken to me. Y/N has always maintained that line of respect even through the telling of a joke, or when we’re in a session. But now she’s wary, and she’s considering the truth as a possibility; that I like her. 

The thought that Y/N might discover my affection for her has reverted me to the default personality that I’ve adopted since the moment that I chose this faction; cold. I cannot let her figure it out before she’s designated an official member.

I pause, tilting my head in an almost sadistic way as I stalk toward her as intimidatingly as I can. My demeanor is insulting, and I’m aware that the next thing I say may ruin the small connection that we’ve developed. But what choice do I have?

“I advise that you learn how to address your superior. I only agreed to this to help you learn how to fight. If you aren’t going to comply, then get out”, his tone is menacingly calm, but there is an undercurrent of condescension. He’s speaking to her in a manner that would resemble a conversation he’s having with an imbecile.

And it’s enough to hurt her feelings. He sees the flicker of emotion on her face before she decidedly takes a step away from him. 

Her expression is masked, a glimpse of nothing. “Fine”, she mutters, voice indifferent. Her expression is blank when she glances away from him. And it’s blank as she laces her shoes. And when I hear the latch of the steel entryway, I groan as I come to terms with the fact that I’ve only pushed her further into the arm’s of Uriah, and directly away from me. She’s going to hate me. I watched the hurt consume her, and then I watched her mask it with the ease only a person from Abnegation can adopt. I wonder if she’ll come back tomorrow.

[bella-rose29]

paper rings

Anthony Lockwood x fem!reader

Word count: 10.2k words

Warnings: mild spoilers for the later books (this is set after TEG and they're all 18+), a LOT of mildly explicit innuendoes and sexual references, swearing

this is my Valentine's Day surprise that I've been talking about, so happy Valentine's Day to you all! <3

based on the Taylor Swift song of the same name

Anthony Lockwood masterlist

It was nearly 2 in the morning, and Y/n L/n was exhausted. 

She had been on a case for the last seven hours and everything hurt and ached - including places in her body she didn't even know she had - and she just wanted her bed and an incredibly large cup of tea. 

So why was she having to babysit three other agents who really should have been old enough to look after themselves?

Two of them seemed to be high on flare fumes, giggling about absolutely nothing and making weird sounds every few seconds. The third was smiling fondly at his friends and coworkers, but wasn't doing anything to stop them from getting closer and closer to the edge of their sanity. 

Y/n sighed for the millionth time in the last ten minutes, and the third agent (the one who wasn't as insane as the other two - she'd nicknamed him Beanpole) looked over from where he was leaning back against the DEPRAC van with his arms crossed. Somehow he looked effortlessly cool and relaxed, despite the plasma stains and dirt covering his entire body. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. 

“I'm fine, just want to go home and stop looking after three other agents.” 

“Ah, that’s fair. Wait, 'looking after’?”

“Yeah, Barnes told me to keep an eye on you three 'cause you were in trouble or something.” 

“Oh, we're not in trouble,” he grinned, and although she rolled her eyes she couldn't deny the way her heart skipped a beat at his smile. “Barnes just likes being dramatic. We didn't do anything.” Somehow she didn't believe him, but the sheer amount of charm that was pouring out of him was making her disregard any concerns she had about how truthful he was being. 

“So what is it that you aren't in trouble for then?” His grin only grew wider, and Y/n found herself smiling back. 

“Minor property damage. But in our defence our client didn't warn us about the malignant smoke that she'd seen creeping out of the basement or even the intense waves of nausea she felt when walking past her under stairs cupboard. So we really can't take any of the blame for completely decimating her bannisters and front hall. Plus, we're insured.”

“No you're not,” Barnes interrupted, joining the conversation and holding a manilla folder. “You didn't have your DEPRAC standardised iron chains, Lockwood. Not according to this report.” That made Beanpole (Lockwood? Although that didn't sound much like a name) stand up, uncrossing his arms as a frown decorated his pretty face. 

“What? But we did, I made sure after Mrs Hope's house.” Y/n didn't know what had happened at Mrs Hope's house, but from the way Barnes was frowning even more than usual and somehow looking even more unimpressed with Beanpole she figured she didn't want to know. “You can go in and check if you like, they're still in the hall.”

“Fine. L/n, you go in and check.” 

“What?” 

“Just check the chains are there, then come back. They managed to at least get rid of the ghosts.”

“Alright,” she grumbled, hoisting her belt up a little and trudging off in the direction of the building Barnes had pointed her to. She shouldn't even be here, since she was meant to have been at home around half an hour ago, but now she was making her way into some random woman's house to carry out a job that any random DEPRAC officer could have done (if what Barnes had said about the other agents removing the Visitors was true). She pushed open the door, glad for her gloves at the chill in the air, and scoffed when she immediately laid eyes on the thick iron chains that had been kicked to the side in the fight. Y/n picked them up, huffing under the added weight, and was about to turn and leave when her eyes caught on the state of the front hall. “What the actual fuck…” she whispered, then shook her head and closed the door behind her, choosing to ignore the mess inside. 

“Well?” Barnes demanded when she'd made her way back. She dropped the chains at his feet. 

“Yep. I don't know why I had to do that though, anyone could have looked.” She was being irritable, she knew, but she thought she was perfectly justified in feeling that way.

“Alright.” Barnes looked unhappy about the whole situation too, but that wasn't Y/n's fault. “Then just sign these papers and you three can go.” Beanpole was smiling smugly, and he nodded and took the papers that Barnes handed him. 

“Thank you, Inspector. Luce, George, here.” They were both still laughing at something only they knew about, clutching their sides as they took the sheets of paper that Beanpole handed them. 

“Can I go home too?” Y/n asked Barnes while the others signed the forms. 

“Yeah. Maybe catch a ride with these three, they're your way.”

“Fine.”

A few minutes later the four of them were piled into a taxi and heading off down the road in the direction of Marylebone. 

“So,” Beanpole started. The moon was shining bright on his face through the taxi window, making him look like a Visitor himself when combined with his already pale skin and the dark shadows under his eyes. He still looked effortlessly gorgeous though, and Y/n found herself wondering if he was single. “You're an agent then. Solo?”

“Oh, yeah. Never liked working for the big companies. They never really cared about the people, you know? Shit,” her eyes widened as she realised what she'd said. “Are you a company?”

“Yes, but don't worry. We have a grand total of four people at our agency. Sometimes five or six if we get extra help from others.”

“That's... very small. Is the fourth your supervisor?”

“No, our secretary actually. Holly doesn't much like being in the field anymore though, but that works out alright for us. She still gets paid a good amount.”

“So if you don't have a supervisor…”

“I'm the agency head,” he smiled, but now instead of appearing chipper and light, he looked tired and weighed down by the responsibility of running a company and looking after his coworkers. “Anthony Lockwood, Lockwood and Co.” 

“Y/n L/n, formerly of Fittes.” They shook hands awkwardly in the limited space they had in the back of the taxi. 

“And you left because they don't care about the people?”

“That's right. I always wanted to connect more, but I guess that's because of my Touch. Fittes were much more businesslike about it all, just going in and getting the job done and not caring about anything other than having another successful case under their belt. It just didn't sit right with me.”

“Well if you ever feel like working for a company again, you could always come and work with us,” Anthony Lockwood said. “I'm sure we could do with someone like you helping us out. Besides, we do care about the people; it's pretty much the only thing going for us other than our skill in the field.”

“First stop?” the driver called out, slowing the vehicle. 

“Oh, that's me,” Y/n stated, grabbing the door handle and getting out. “Thanks for letting me ride with you.” She moved to the boot of the taxi to take her kit bag and rapier, and was surprised when Anthony Lockwood followed her, helping her to balance all the bags inside and making sure that nothing fell out. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem. And I mean it, if you ever feel like joining us on a case then just come and find us.”

“That's... that's actually nice of you, thank you.” He nodded with a smile, then clambered back into the taxi (which looked difficult with how long and thin his limbs were). She stood on the pavement for a few moments, waiting for the taxi to start moving again and waving at the three agents left in the cab as they drove off down the road. 

As soon as she was inside her shared house, door firmly shut and locked and kettle boiling on the stove, she pulled up the chair at her desk and switched on her computer, typing in her password and logging in. Ten minutes later she had a mug of tea brewing on her desk while she furiously tapped at the keyboard for any information on Lockwood and Co, and was pleasantly surprised by what she found. There wasn't much, since she couldn't access a lot of the full reports of cases, but there was a decent number of newspaper articles that had been uploaded for her to read. One detailed the £60,000 fine that the company had been given for setting fire to a certain Mrs Hope's home a few years prior, and from the blurry black and white photo the blaze looked like it hadn't left much behind. 

Further research provided an address for their agency at 35 Portland Row, not far away from where she currently lived. One or two articles were about the parade incident from the Black Winter and Lockwood and Co's success in protecting the people present, but other than that there wasn't much more. 

She sat back in her chair, sipping the last of her tea. Bedtime for now, but when she finally woke up she'd head to the nearest corner store and pick up some food. The fridge had been nearly empty when she'd looked earlier, and she knew that Portland Row was on the way back. 

She wanted to say thank you again (and totally not spy on their house), and everybody loved a doughnut.

~~~

Y/n had knocked on the door roughly two minutes ago, and nobody had answered. 

She knew that they were all at home, because she could hear them arguing about who was going to answer the door, but nobody had done it yet. 

Knocking once more while balancing the box of doughnuts in her other hand she sighed, waited another thirty seconds, and just as she turned to leave she heard the locks click behind her. The door swung open to reveal Anthony Lockwood, once more dressed in a suit (a lot cleaner than the one he'd been wearing in the early hours of that morning), and a wide smile on his face. 

“It's you! Miss L/n, was it?”

“Uh, yeah. Just Y/n is fine though. Um, I just wanted to say thanks again for the lift last night, and for being nice and shit when you didn't have to be, and I bought some doughnuts if you guys wanted them.” She tried to surreptitiously peer around him to take a look at his front hall, but the interior was quite dark and cluttered and it was difficult to pretend to not be inspecting somebody's home when they were stood in front of you. 

“Oh, you really didn't have to, Y/n.” He took the box out of her hands anyway. “Did you want to come in?”

“No, thank you. I should get back. I've got a lot of paperwork to get through and I think one of my housemates is cleaning today and wanted everyone's help, so…” she trailed off, rocking slightly on her heels while Anthony Lockwood watched her. 

“Right, well, thanks for stopping by! And for the doughnuts, that was very generous of you.”

She shrugged. “I've had taxi rides with people I was actually working with and they were complete arseholes to me, so I really appreciated you not being like that when you didn't even know me.”

“Anytime.” He paused for a moment, then frowned at her. “How did you find us? I know I said that you could always drop by but I don't remember actually telling you where we live. There's not a problem with it, by the way, just curious.”

“Oh, I looked it up. Figured you meant to tell me and never got round to it. Besides, I needed to go shopping anyway and I live nearby, so it wasn't too difficult for me.”

“Ah, that makes sense. Well it was lovely seeing you again, Y/n. I look forward to our next meeting.” His smile was infectious, and she still had a grin on her face at the thought of him when she went to bed that night.

~~~

For the next few months, both Y/n and Lockwood and Co were busy with their own cases, but regularly passed each other in the street. Anthony Lockwood had taken to sending her a wink or flirty quite early on, and because Y/n believed it impossible that someone like him was single and therefore able to chase after someone like her, she ignored him. Every now and then she would indulge him, of course, flirting back to see how he would react (he was always pleasantly surprised and kept their little game going for as long as he could before he was needed), but for the most part she would walk right past him. 

It wasn't entirely her fault, since many of the times they bumped into each other she was on a time schedule, and didn't have the extra minute or so to flirt with the pretty boy. 

The last time had been different, though.

~~~

“Hello again, darling,” a voice said from her left, and Y/n smiled when she recognised it right away as Lockwood's. They knew each other better now, from the few times that they had been able to talk for longer and ask how the other was doing, and when he had found out that she was calling him Anthony Lockwood in her head he gave her a look of barely contained amusement and told her she could pick one. 

Anthony had felt too personal, since everyone else that spoke to him seemed to call him Lockwood, and she didn't think they knew each other that well for her to use his first name. 

“Come here often?” he asked, appearing in her field of view and leaning on the table she was sat at in the small night café. 

“Only when I know that you're going to be here,” Y/n responded, and delighted in the faint pink tinge that came onto his cheeks. 

“May I?” He gestured to the chair opposite her, and she nodded. 

“Not with your friends tonight?”

“No, they're probably at home already, lucky bastards. My case ran on a bit longer than I expected, and I couldn't wait for a cup of tea. Plus, when I saw you in here I couldn't not come and see you.”

They sat there for a while, making their way through two cups of tea each before deciding to leave, and Lockwood offered to take the taxi home with her.

When they were nearly back to Y/n's house, he spoke up. 

“I'll pay, if you like. I'll be paying for this stretch of the journey anyway so it doesn't make much of a difference to me.”

“Oh, Lockwood, I can pay you for my part at least, it's not a big deal to me.”

“Nonsense.” He seemed to hesitate for a moment, just as they drove around the corner onto her street. “Or… you could come back to Portland Row with me?” Their flirting had never gone as far as properly inviting the other back to their place (although there had always been the comments of 'why don't we finish this somewhere else?' or 'wanna come home with me and prove it?'), and it took Y/n a moment to realise that he was being serious. 

“I mean... if you're sure? I don't want to impose or anything.”

“No, you won't be imposing, darling. George and Lucy will be asleep, I'm sure. I think there's half a bottle of wine that needs finishing off if you wanted to share? No pressure though.”

“That sounds great, actually.”

“So are you two both going to Portland Row then?” the driver called, and Lockwood nodded. 

“Yes please.” He turned back to Y/n, worry starting to creep into his expression. “You did agree, right?”

“Yes, Lockwood, I did. I think I need something that's not tea to be honest.”

“You can stay the night, too. If you need to. I'll sleep on the sofa and you can have my bed.”

“I'm not kicking you out of your own bed, Lockwood. How big is it?”

“Darling, I'm scandalised that you would ask me that question. You know that size doesn't mat-” He was cut off by Y/n smacking him in the chest, and he chuckled when she glared at him. 

“The bed, Lockwood, how big is the bed? If I wanted to know the size of your dick I'd ask you to strip.” She ignored the weird look that the driver cast them in his rear view mirror and focused on Lockwood's answer instead. 

“Steady, darling. We're not back yet.” He yelped when she whacked him again, and caught her wrists and held them so that she couldn't attack him anymore. “It's a double.”

“Well then we can both fit, can't we?”

“Asking me to strip, getting me into bed with you? If I didn't know any better, darling, I'd say that you were trying to seduce me,” he smirked, leaning in close. 

“Oh, Lockwood. I think we both know I did that a long time ago, don't we.” They were dangerously close to kissing, their lips only a couple of centimetres away from each other while their noses brushed with every jolt in the road, and then the taxi was slowing and pulling up to the curb outside 35 Portland Row. 

“Alright you two, out. And use protection please, you're too young to be havin' kids.” Y/n flushed and opened the door, moving around to the boot to take out her kit bag and rapier, and when Lockwood followed a moment later after paying the driver his face was red too.

~~~

“Here,” Lockwood said, handing over a tea mug filled with wine. 

“Thanks. You're sure the others won't mind us drinking this?”

“They've had plenty of time to drink it, and I own the house and therefore the kitchen and the contents of the fridge are mine too, so I say it's fair game.” His smile was slightly blinding, but Y/n had learned to see past the glare and look at his eyes instead, finding the pure joy behind the façade he put up for the world to see. 

They didn't know each other that well, when everything was considered, but Y/n did call him her friend when describing their relationship, and she did feel that if asked, Lockwood would say the same. 

Around thirty minutes later Y/n was nearly doubled over with laughter at some stupid thing that Lockwood had said (the wine had gone straight to her head and she had no recollection of what exactly he had said), clutching her sides as they sat in the cluttered library with the bottle of wine between them. 

“You, Anthony Lockwood, are ridiculous!”

“I am! In fact, have I shown you my hat collection?”

“Is that some sort of weird euphemism? Or are you genuinely more deranged than I thought you were?”

“Not a euphemism, love,” he grinned, and Y/n in her wine-addled state thought about how he was starting to look like the deranged young man she'd just accused him of being. 

“So... you actually have a hat collection? Why?” Lockwood shrugged. 

“It's good for disguises when I need to do a little bit of extra research for a case. I can do accents too!”

“No offence, Lockwood, but I've heard some of your accents, and I'm very surprised that you haven't been hunted down and killed yet.”

“Believe me, people have tried!” Somehow he didn't look concerned about that, still smiling just as widely as before, and Y/n thought he looked rather nice like that.

~~~

When she woke up in the morning, Y/n realised she had never taken the painkillers Lockwood had left on the bedside table for her to use. 

“Shit,” she whispered, grabbing the packet and the glass of water and swallowing the pills the best she could in an attempt to stave off the headache that had formed. After finishing off the wine, Lockwood had managed to find some more alcohol hidden away in a cupboard in the library ("It's my personal stash, so don't worry about feeling guilty about drinking this") and they had stayed up until it was nearly sunrise talking about everything and nothing. She was regretting not drinking the water before sleeping, and when she flopped back onto the bed and under the covers she realised that there was someone else in the bed with her. 

Lockwood looked peaceful asleep.

While she didn't mind waking up next to him in the morning (the view was actually rather nice), not being able to remember what had happened the night before was a little disturbing, especially since she was in her underwear and, as far as she could tell, Lockwood wasn't wearing any clothes. 

The bedsheets had been partially kicked off in the night, most likely because the heating was apparently on full from the very warm temperature of the room, and the duvet had bunched up around Lockwood's waist. She didn't want to wake him by trying to find out if anything had happened last night, since he probably never slept with the sheer size of the shadows under his eyes, so instead she carefully got out of bed and picked up her clothes.

Finding all of her things was difficult, since they'd been flung all around the room in what she hoped was drunkenness and not desperation, but after nearly ten minutes she was dressed and reaching for the door handle. She didn't make it that far though, because before she could leave the sounds of somebody waking up started coming from the bed, and Lockwood was asking her where she was going. 

“Oh, I just... I just figured you wouldn't want me to stick around-”

“Why would you think that?” He was rubbing his eyes and sitting up, and she had to force her gaze away from where the sheets were dangerously close to revealing whether or not they had slept together. 

“I don't know.” There was silence for a minute or so while Lockwood tried to wake up enough to work out what was going on, and Y/n stood by the door feeling very awkward. “Did we... did anything happen? Last night?”

“Don't think so. I feel like I would remember that, darling,” he winked, and she felt her face heat up. 

“Oh, right. Yeah.”

“You don't seem convinced.”

“No, I am,” she said, very unconvincingly. There was another silence while she hesitated. “Are you naked?” she blurted out, immediately covering her face with her hands to block out Lockwood's shocked reaction. His laughter didn't help, only serving to make her feel more embarrassed than she already was, and she stayed safely behind her hands while she waited for it all to be over. 

“No, darling, I'm not naked. But if you wanted me to be then I'm sure we could figure something out.” She could hear the amusement in his voice and groaned in frustration, knowing that he wouldn't ever let her live this moment down. 

“I'm good, thanks.” She didn't really mean it, but it was nice to have a friend like Lockwood, and she figured that having sex with him probably wouldn't help to keep that friendship at all. 

“Alright. Well if you don't want to see me in my pants then keep your hands there, I'm getting out of bed.” For the most part she obeyed, but she would be lying if she said that she didn't peek through her fingers briefly while he was getting dressed.

~~~

Luckily the other members of Lockwood and Co were not at home when Y/n left that morning, having said no to Lockwood's offer of breakfast (she would pick up something from Arif's, even if it was out of her way a little), and within half an hour she was back in her own house with a very large cup of tea and a plate of food in her favourite armchair in the living room. 

When one of her housemates asked her where she had been all night, a suggestive tone to her question, Y/n simply shrugged, and replied “What's it to you?”

~~~

One week later she was running for her life. 

It wasn't that this sort of thing didn't happen often, since her job required a lot of running a lot of the time, but normally she wasn't this exhausted from it. She wasn't even working on a case, either. Y/n had just been walking home from her actual case for that night when she'd accidentally taken a wrong turn in her fatigued state and had come face to face with a bunch of Type Twos. 

At least she had her rapier and a few flares and salt bombs left, and her boots were solid enough that despite how much running she had already done that night, she couldn't feel the ground beneath her feet when normally her soles would be protesting in pain. 

“Fuck's sake,” she grumbled, heading for the nearest iron fence she could find. Unfortunately she still had to cross a road that was surprisingly busy at this time of night (or morning? she wasn't sure where the line between the two was drawn) and then vault over the fence into the park, which was probably also infested with Visitors. Going against every action movie she had ever seen she looked back (which was precisely what she shouted at the characters for), then immediately stumbled since she couldn't see where she was going. Her brief pause in her flight allowed the Visitors to catch up a little, and within a few seconds she was seeing her life flash before her eyes and throwing up her rapier in a last ditch attempt to not die. 

Then something else was flashing before her eyes, and the ghosts were being driven off. 

Y/n realised with a start that the flash had been Lockwood and his stupid grin, dressed in his stupid long coat that was stupidly attractive on him, waving his rapier around in stupidly perfect motions. 

“Did you miss me, darling?” She didn't even have time to respond, already ducking to not be hit by the bicycle a Poltergeist had sent flying their way, and Lockwood pushed her to the ground to dodge the railing that followed. They landed with a thump, and Y/n winced when her back hit the concrete of the pavement and then again a very brief moment later when Lockwood landed on her. 

“I did, Lockwood. I really did miss you.” She hoped that he could see how sincere she was, and he looked as though he was about to say something. Unfortunately he was cut off when a badly-aimed salt bomb exploded right above their heads, and a small “Sorry!” was called out from somewhere nearby. 

“Not to worry, George!” Lockwood yelled back as he got off the floor. He offered out a hand and Y/n let him pull her up, holding her breath when he pulled with more force than was needed and she fell into his chest. “Woah,” he said, voice quiet. “You alright?” His free hand had come up to steady her by the arm, and now he was gently stroking up and down. She wondered if he knew he was doing it. 

“Yeah. Can we maybe run away from the death bikes?”

“I think that would be a good idea. You going home?” Y/n shook her head. 

“One of my housemates has their partner over, and I'd really rather not be there. I was gonna put up with it but if you're offering your bed again I won't say no,” she teased. Lockwood's face went pink, but not from the cold or the running. 

“I'm always offering my bed, darling, you should know that by now.” His smile was as blinding as the flash he had appeared in, and then he was tugging her hand and leading her away from the ghosts (which wouldn't be able to follow after a while, since she'd already run quite far from their Sources), and instead heading for 35 Portland Row. 

When they made it inside (Lucy was already in bed, but Lockwood and George had been coming back from a case like Y/n), George bade the two of them goodnight, then tiredly climbed the stairs, leaving Lockwood and Y/n in the front hall. It was dimly lit, only the lamp on the hall cupboard providing any reprise from the darkness, and the yellow glow of it made Lockwood look ethereal. 

He had dust and dirt all over him, staining his usually perfect white shirt and tie, and his hair was a mess from the slight wind outside, but he still wore his confidence and his charm like a second skin, and he had never looked more like Anthony Lockwood in all the time Y/n had known him. 

“What were you even doing out there?” he asked. 

“I was coming back from a job, took a wrong turn somewhere, and came face to face with those fuckers. I'm just really glad that you were there in time because I probably would've ended up in hospital otherwise. Or a furnace.”

“I'm glad I was there too,” Lockwood said, stepping forward. He made to move his hand, as though he might reach out and touch hers, but then his fist was clenching at his side again, fingers flexing every few seconds. “I thought you would be alright, really. Then I saw you trip - why the hell did you look back? You always get annoyed when they do that in movies. I was scared, Y/n, that you might not get back up again.” She could tell that he meant it too, from the way he was looking at her. It was almost too much, his gaze, since it was heavy with so much emotion that they hadn't even properly addressed between them, and that was probably why he kissed her. 

She both had and hadn't been expecting it. 

It made sense when she thought about it, because beneath all the teasing and flirting there was attraction and a real desire, and she had always figured that being with someone was easier if you knew and trusted them. But she had never thought that either of them would act on it, since both of them seemed happy to let the friendship cover up the truth because at least that meant they weren't without the other. Bringing the truth to light could ruin that, and then they might not see each other at all. 

Now, though, she wondered why they hadn't kissed before. 

It had been brief, a few seconds at most, but it was enough to make her realise that they had been incredibly stupid in not doing it earlier. She had had such a long night - they both had - and when he pressed his lips to hers for the second time she knew that despite the fatigue and near death experiences involving bicycles, they would be alright. Her hands had moved without her fully knowing, and when they pulled away after the second kiss she realised that they were in his hair and clutching his coat that he hadn't taken off yet. His were nestled around her waist, holding her close to him while he searched her eyes for any sign to stop. 

The third kiss was the longest yet, and it took them a long time to move from the front hall to his bedroom.

~~~

Y/n had always been a fan of anything that shone, and had been called a magpie by nearly everyone that knew her. 

It didn't matter if it was expensive or not, if it was shiny, then she would have it. Growing up she hadn't been used to expense, and finding trinkets on the street was her speciality, but every now and then someone would buy her something a little less on the cheap side, and she would be overjoyed. 

Then of course there were the things she bought herself. 

The Fittes Ball that she was on her way to had invited agents of all kinds (a rarity for solo agents who usually went forgotten), and her outfit was one of the most expensive things that she had bought yet (other than her shared house). It was worth it, though, for the look on Lockwood's face when he first saw her. 

“You look incredible, Y/n/n!” Lucy gushed, immediately wrapping her new friend in a hug. George and Holly agreed, and while their fussing was nice it was Lockwood's opinion she really wanted. They hadn't spoken after the night they spent together two weeks ago, and now he had an unreadable expression on his face while he looked at her. It was ridiculous, really, how nervous she was to know what he was thinking, since she had never usually cared about what any man thought of her. 

“Thank you, I love your dress, Luce! And George, are you actually in a suit? No, no, no, you look very nice! Holly, you look incredible as always,” she said, returning the compliments her friends had given her. Her gaze kept darting back to Lockwood though, and after the others had moved away to talk to someone else, he cleared his throat. 

“Y/n.”

“Lockwood.” He took a step towards her. 

“You know I told you you could call me Anthony.” He had, not long after he'd taken her to his bed. 

“Oh, right. I didn't know if that was just... for then.” She was struggling to look at him now, so she missed the way his expression softened. 

“It's for whenever, darling.”

“Okay,” she said, and the small smile he gave her made her heart beat a little faster in her chest. 

“You look stunning, darling. Truly.”

“So do you, Anthony,” she replied, and this time she took a step forward to close the distance. A frown came onto her face, and when he asked her why she paused for a moment before answering. “What are we? Because we haven't spoken since... since that night, and now we're acting like we did before and I'm just quite confused.”

Instead of responding with words, he dug into his suit jacket pocket and pulled out a folded paper, handing it to her a second later. She tried not to focus too much on his hands (the memories of two weeks ago were coming back to the front of her mind now) and took it with confusion, starting to unfold it. 

“Oh, I'll be back in a minute, George is calling me over.” He flashed her one of his winning smiles and was off, moving in what she assumed was the direction of George. She finally unfolded the paper and was surprised to see that it was mostly blank, just one question and two little points below it. A pen had been folded into it, and she bit back a smile when she'd read the words. 

Would you go on a date with me? Please circle one answer

yes

no

He was ridiculous, she had decided, but then again she couldn't deny how ridiculously cute it was that he'd written out this mini questionnaire and put it in his pocket, despite not knowing whether she would actually be here or not to take it from him. Why he'd left immediately she didn't know, but maybe he was just too nervous to find out her reaction right away. She clicked the pen and circled 'yes' the best she could with no hard surface to lean on, and winced when the paper punctured. He knew where to find her, but she wrote her address anyway and the house phone number, and refolded the paper. Looking around she couldn't immediately see him, but then she caught a flash of a smile that could only have belonged to one Mr Anthony Lockwood, and she made for where he stood. He blushed slightly when he caught sight of her, then his cheeks burned brighter when she tucked the piece of paper and the pen in the pocket just inside his jacket (standing much closer to him than she needed to), and walked away without a word.

~~~

Two hours later they had snuck into the Fittes building's public library, giggling about something stupid one of the stuck-up snobs who was far too old to still be alive had said while they sipped the fancy champagne that was being served. 

“Do you think they get many kids in here? Like, actual kids who would need entertaining?” she asked, making Anthony look round from where he'd been perusing the shelves. 

“I doubt it. Why?”

“They've got origami. Look,” she pointed, putting her champagne flute down on a sideboard and picking up a sheet. “I used to be able to make loads of things, but I reckon if I tried making a rabbit or something now it'd look like someone folded a bit of paper a bunch of times and then sat on it.”

“I used to make those snowflakes where you fold it into quarters and cut bits out. Got quite good in the end; I could make chains of them eventually.”

“Of course you're good at making paper snowflakes,” she muttered, no hint of malice behind it. “You're good at everything, I swear.”

“Oh, that's not true.”

“Really? Name one thing that you can't do.” He paused, and she could practically see the cogs turning in his head. “See? You can't do it!”

“Well, I don't think that was very fair, actually, because you didn't give me long enough to actually think about it!” She moved to sit down, picking out various colours of paper squares before settling on one she liked. Anthony sat down next to her, his thigh close enough to hers that she could feel his body heat through his suit. He chose his own square of paper, immediately starting to fold it in different ways. 

“What are you gonna make?” she asked him, not looking up from where she was attempting to make an origami butterfly. 

“That's a secret.”

“Alright then,” she snorted, “be mysterious. Is that because you're bad at origami and you're trying to hide it by making me guess?”

“Sure, that's what's happening.”

They sat in comfortable silence while they worked, and when Y/n crossed her legs she made contact with Anthony's knee and drew in a breath. She refocused and looked at the paper in her hands, frowning when she realised that she had no idea how to make a butterfly out of it anymore, and sat back with a huff. 

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just bored, I suppose. What are you making?” He had folded his piece of paper into a thin strip, and now he was pulling the ends together, somehow making them link. 

“May I?” he asked, gesturing to her right hand. She didn't answer for a moment, too busy watching the way his fingers moved. “Y/n?”

“Oh, right.” She let him take her left hand in his, holding her breath for the millionth time around him both at the tenderness of it all and at the way his hands were so cold compared to her warm ones. He lifted the origami up and slid it onto her fourth finger, tightening it by pushing the ends together further. 

“You can take it off, if you want.”

She wasn't sure she was breathing. “Are you proposing?”

“What? No, if I was proposing you'd know about it, darling. I just… I don’t know.” He looked nervous, and although he hadn’t let go of her hand, she could see that he was fidgeting. 

“I love it, Anthony. Thank you.” He smiled then, small and as under as the way he was holding her hand, and she couldn’t help but ask what she’d been wondering for the last two hours. 

“Did you read my response?” Somehow he softened even more, and his grip tightened ever so slightly before he nodded. 

“Yes, I did.” Had he moved closer? She thought the distance between them was no longer as frustratingly large as it had been, but he was still too far away. 

“Well?”

“Are you free on Saturday? There’s a great place for lunch I’ve been dying to show you for a while now.” He was definitely closer, and she could make out the small scar on his lip in perfect detail. 

“Midday work for you?”

“Absolutely.” He was still holding her hand when he kissed her gently, like he thought she might leave at any moment, and when he pulled back after a couple of seconds she dragged him right back to her lips, shifting somehow even closer to him on the seat. The gift he had made that now sat on her finger felt as heavy as a gold one, filled with the promise of what could be and happy endings, and she found herself thinking that if the two of them did ever marry, she would be happy to do so with a paper ring. 

They were sat there kissing for a while, not stopping until someone shouted outside the door in drunken laughter, making Anthony and Y/n jump back in surprise. Then they were laughing too, like they were teenagers sneaking off (which, she supposed, they almost were, if you ignored the fact they were legally adults now), and he pressed one last quick kiss to her mouth before he stood up. “We should head out. I’m sure the others will be wondering where we are.” Y/n stood up too, still holding his hand, and moved to straighten his tie. She had pulled on it when they were kissing, and now it was all crooked around his neck. 

“I think they probably know that we’re together, though. I doubt that they’re too worried about us.” She finished fiddling with his tie and draped her arms around his neck, and flushed when he wrapped his own arms around her waist and pulled her tight against his body. They stayed that way for a while, just trading small kisses and swaying gently back and forth. 

“I’m glad,” Anthony said suddenly, breaking the silence. “That we… you know.”

“Nearly died and then slept together?”

“That’s one way of putting it. I just - I’m glad.”

“I’m glad too, Anthony.” Normally accidents like having sex with her friends was something she hated, but given it was Anthony Lockwood that it had happened with, she was happy to make an exception. 

~~~

That night, while Anthony finally managed to sleep next to her, Y/n stayed awake. The glow of the ghost lamp outside had woken her a few minutes ago while she had been surfacing, and now she couldn’t get back to sleep. Her dress hung on the back of his desk chair, and various parts of his suit were slung around the room in piles from where they had thrown them earlier in their haste to be as close as possible to each other. 

The ring now sat on Anthony’s bedside table, and although it wasn’t light enough in the room for her to make out its shape, she still knew exactly where it was. Before the two of them got too caught up in each other she had slipped it off, saying that she didn’t want it damaged (as it likely would have been), and when she placed it to the side her eyes had caught on the photo in the frame. 

“Is that us?” she had asked, grabbing the frame with both hands. 

“Oh… yes. Sorry, it was just a really nice photo and we don’t get to see each other that much, and-”

“Anthony,” she interrupted, warmth flooding her face at her next words. “I’ve got cut-outs from papers that wrote about you framed, so this is perfectly okay.”

She flushed again just thinking about it, and how softly he had smiled at her, and then how softly he had kissed her afterwards. She had been dreaming about him, about both of them, and what would have happened if they had stayed in the library at Fittes for a little longer (a lot of hushed moans and whispered words, and his hair completely dishevelled). 

He was the one that she wanted, she was sure of it. There had been others, but none of them had featured in her thoughts about the future like Anthony Lockwood did. 

~~~

Months later, when the seasons had gone from wonderfully warm and sunny (or as sunny as England could get) to cold and biting air, Anthony and Y/n were on a case together. 

She had officially become a member of the agency not too long after they started dating, and while Lucy and George had originally been worried about the logistics of living space, they quickly realised that their new hire would be sharing a bed with their boss. Y/n had settled in quickly, getting used to how her friends lived within a few weeks, and the company had settled into a nice rhythm. 

“A hotel? That’s a pretty big location, shouldn’t we have Lucy and George with us?” she asked as the taxi pulled up to their destination. 

“It seems to be contained to one area, from reports, and since they had a couple of actual children give statements I’m going to trust them. Just the outdoor space around the back, apparently someone - a worker, it says here - died while manning a barbecue near the large pool.”

“How do you die manning a barbecue?”

“He fell face-first into the coals, this says,” Anthony replied, waving the paper report around. They clambered out the taxi, thanking and paying the driver, and once the kit had been collected out the boot and the driver was heading back down the road, they were alone. 

“Well that’s an awful way to go. Type One? Or manifesting as something stronger?”

“Everything points to Type Two, but that’s nothing we can’t handle.”

~~~

He was right, as he so often was, but unfortunately the way in which they handled the Type Two ghost of the Barbecue Man meant they ended up jumping in a pool. 

The Source had apparently been one of the tiles on the ledge, where the Barbecue Man had tripped after falling face first into the coals and cracked his skull open on the edge of the pool. A delightful scene, Y/n was sure, but they hadn’t figured out what the Source was until much later. While she had been scouring the barbecue for any sign of a trigger for the Visitor, Anthony had been drawing it closer to the pool. He seemed to be having a wonderful time taunting the poor dead man, and she couldn’t help but curse him out a little under her breath. “There’s nothing here!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Anthony, I’m pretty sure!” She was just about to tell him off for questioning her when he stepped back on his right foot and made the Visitor shriek an ungodly noise. “Wait! Draw it away from where you currently are!” She wasn’t sure if he’d actually been paying attention to her words since he didn’t give any indication that he had heard her, but a moment later he started moving away, the ghost following him, and she was able to dive for the tile. The second her hands came into contact with it she felt the pain and torment that Barbecue Man had been in in the brief minutes before his death, and at the same time that she managed to dislodge the tile (it had been knocked lose, most likely from his head after he hit it) and wrap it in a silver net, Anthony jumped in the pool. When he surfaced, hair plastered to his forehead and coat and suit completely soaked, he shouted at her to jump in too, leaving the Source on dry land. She just stared at him, but then a rush of cold air hit her and she didn’t think twice. Anthony was waving his arms around, making the water move about enough to fend off the second ghost that had appeared. 

Unfortunately that meant that when Y/n attempted to come up for air, she got a face-full of water. 

“Anthony!”

“Whoops. Sorry, darling. Here,” he said, offering out his hand. She took it gladly, still spluttering slightly, and they hauled themselves to the opposite side of the swimming pool. The water was freezing, but it was better than being ghost-touched, and besides, Anthony hadn’t let go of her hand yet. 

~~~

Her hands were turning a little blue from the temperature of the pool. 

It reminded her of when they had been redecorating one of the rooms in Portland Row about two months ago. George had complained that the room was lacking something, and all inhabitants (and Kipps, although Anthony didn’t pay him much attention) agreed that they needed to update it. They had painted it blue, not too dissimilar to the colour of Y/n’s fingers in the present day, and while it had been a wonderful day it had also been the day of her and Anthony’s first fight. 

She couldn’t even remember what it had been about now, something stupid and fuelled by external factors such as job stress and fatigue, but Y/n had slept in Lucy’s bed that night. 

It had been a while before either girl went to sleep, instead spending the hours attempting to stop Y/n’s crying and watching the old tapes of movies and television shows from before the Problem that Lucy had stashed away on her bookcase. When the morning had come, Lucy had offered to go downstairs and sort out breakfast for them both, so that Y/n wouldn’t have to run into Lockwood, but Y/n had shaken her head, saying that the two of them needed to figure something out. 

The moment she had set foot in the kitchen, seeing the back of Anthony’s white dress shirt while he stood at the counter making teas (he had made one for her too, in her favourite mug), she had started tearing up again. He’d heard her sniffling and whipped his head around to see her hovering just inside the doorway, and immediately he had crumbled and rushed over to her, wrapping her in his arms and mumbling “I’m sorry” into her hair. 

Now, back from their case with Barbecue Man, they were sat in the library, Anthony pushing a cup of freshly made tea into her hands in an attempt to get them back to their normal colour. “Feeling any better?” he asked, sitting down in the chair next to hers and picking up his magazine. 

“Yeah, a bit. I can actually feel things again now, so that’s good.”

“Good. Well, I’ll keep you under surveillance for a while, just until I know you’re better.” She snorted, lifting the mug to her mouth. 

“Thanks, Doc. Much appreciated.” His responding smile was enough to warm her up entirely. 

~~~

A few hours later she woke up feeling disorientated, most likely because she never remembered falling asleep in the first place. Anthony was still in his chair on her left, but he had fallen asleep too, magazine splayed across his chest. Y/n stretched, yawned, and checked her watch, then started at the time. It was nearly half six in the morning, and they had come back from their case at around midnight. She wasn’t sure how long Anthony had stayed awake watching over her, but she knew that the moment he did finally regain consciousness she would be sending him straight up to bed for another few hours of sleep. 

She heard somebody moving around in the kitchen and went to investigate, finding George in an oversized t-shirt and no trousers putting the kettle on to boil. “Morning,” she said, shuffling further into the room and stuffing some bread into the toaster. 

“Ah, morning. Lockwood still asleep?”

“Yep. He’s in the library. Did you need him for something?”

“Oh, not really. I woke up at about four and was shockingly hungry, and when I came down he was sat reading his magazine. I was just wondering how long it would be before he was up again.” It made sense for her boyfriend to have stayed awake until he literally passed out from exhaustion, given how little Anthony normally slept anyway, and she frowned when she heard the stairs creak. A few moments later Anthony Lockwood himself appeared in the kitchen, bleary-eyed and smiling like there wasn’t a thing wrong with him only getting about two and a half hours of sleep. “I need the toilet,” George suddenly said. “If you could move out the doorway, Lockwood, that would be great. Thanks. The kettle should be boiled soon, if you two wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all, George,” Anthony replied, already taking mugs out of the cupboard. “Who’s toast is this? I think it’s burning.”

“Oh, shit, that’s mine! Fuck that’s hot!”

“Not hotter than me though, right?”

“Shut up, Anthony. My fingers are burning.” He reached over and took her hand in his, not caring for the piece of blackened toast that sat on her plate on the counter, and pressed a gentle kiss to each fingertip. She had flashbacks to the last time her hands had been near his mouth in a far less family-friendly setting, and tried to stop her knees from giving out. 

“Better?”

“Um… I guess. Yeah.” If anything she was worse, since now her whole body was on fire at how sweet that one gesture was. He hadn’t even thought about it, since there was less than a second between her saying her hand hurt and him kissing the first fingertip, and that had her knees weakening all over again. She took a step towards him, threading her burning fingers with his and placing the other one on his chest to grab at his collar and pull him in for a kiss. He’d had a long night, she was sure of it, and the more-prominent-than-usual bags under his eyes were giving her a solid argument. The kiss was short and sweet, and when she pulled back he followed her for a moment before realising that it was over. He pouted, his eyes practically begging for her to kiss him again, and she let out a small laugh before obliging. That kiss was sweet too, but lasted a little longer, and the third one would have gone on for longer still had George not come back from the toilet and pretended to gag. 

~~~

“Anthony?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever think about just… leaving for a bit? Not completely, I don’t think I could stay away from London forever, but just running off on holiday for a while. Getting a break from the ghost hunting and constant threat of death.”

“That’s… really? You want to ask that now? Darling, my mind is not in the right place for an actual conversation right now.” His hand trailed over her bare side and his eyes were looking at everything but her face, proving that he really wasn’t in the right mental place for a conversation like this, but she tried again anyway. 

“Okay, but do you?” He sighed, reluctantly dragging his gaze up to meet hers. 

“I suppose I’ve never really thought about it before.” He paused, shifting his weight to get comfortable. His legs knocked against hers and his hand hadn’t stopped tracing the skin of her body, and he had never taken off the ring he always wore. It had been a pleasant chill against her earlier when she thought she was going to combust from his touch. “I think because of the company I wouldn’t take a break. And I’d have a lot of guilt about leaving when there are people who might be in danger and I could have helped them.”

“But if you could drive away, would you? None of the guilt, or people getting hurt. Just… going off on your own for a bit.”

“I don’t know about alone. I think I would want you with me, darling.” He punctuated his statement by lowering his voice and pulling her closer by her hips, flush against his body, and although she was tired she couldn’t help but feel warm again. 

“I’d be happy to drive away with you, Ant. Anywhere you go, I’m going too.”

“You mean it?” he breathed, eyes looking almost golden in the glow of his bedside lamp. He looked desperate for her answer, like he needed to know that she would truly always be with him because he couldn’t stand being left alone again. 

“Of course I mean it, Ant. I want it all with you; everything. The complications and fights and of course all the good things too. The horrible Mondays where we get clients who don’t realise that what we do is a full-time job and we don’t really get weekends, the times we do get days off, and we can just be… together.” She ran her fingertips over his arms, marvelling at the hidden muscles she felt. Given how skinny and beanpole-like he appeared, the first time she had realised how toned he was she had been pleasantly surprised. It made sense, she supposed, since he was incredibly proficient with a rapier and had been from a young age, and being that good meant he had to at least be somewhat physically fit and capable (he was very physically capable in other ways, too, something else she had learned early on). She didn’t think she would ever get over how much she loved his arms, or his hands, or how they looked when he rolled his dress shirt sleeves up and folded his arms against his chest, and from the look he was giving her right now he apparently knew that she felt that way. 

“You alright, darling?” Good lord, had his voice gone even lower? His eyes had gone from being a honey-golden to a dark syrupy brown, and if what she could feel against her lower half was any indication she could tell that his mind was back to being somewhere other than their conversation. She sounded out of breath when she spoke. 

“I’m alright. Do me a favour?”

“Anything.”

“Wrap me in your arms?”

“Absolutely.”

She definitely shouldn’t have this much of an obsession with his arms, but the moment his arms tightened around her torso and her thigh, bringing her on top of him fully while he sat up with her in his lap and kissed her deeply, she couldn’t find it in her to care. 

~~~

On their one-year anniversary, Y/n woke up early. 

She didn’t want to, but the moon was shining brightly through the bedroom window, and there was a gap in the curtains that let the light through. It was landing on the books that had been stacked up on the bedside table, titles just about visible and all of them ones that she had read before. The moonlight was also resting on Anthony’s face while he slept, and he looked like he had in the taxi on that night when they had first met, ethereal and effortlessly gorgeous (but not quite so tired and weighed down by responsibility), and she found herself falling in love with him all over again. 

It was probably all forms of creepy to just lie and watch him breathe while she tried to go back to sleep, but there was something oddly soothing about it: the rise and fall of his chest and the peaceful expression on his face. It was rare she got to see him so relaxed, the only other times were when he had a day off and was sat in the library with a cup of tea, Y/n sat nearby, or when they had spent time exploring each others’ bodies, hands roaming over skin and through hair while they made love. 

The paper ring that he had made her just over a year ago, not long before they started officially dating, was sat on the bedside table next to the stack of books. He’d made her new ones at random points throughout their time together, but the original one that he’d folded from that piece of paper in the Fittes public library had remained in pride of place in her jewellery dish in their now shared bedroom at 35 Portland Row. 

Looking at it now she was absolutely certain that he was the one that she wanted, taking him in marriage with a paper ring, putting their pictures in frames to decorate their home, and he was the one she wanted in all of her daydreams. 

Anthony Lockwood was her future, and her future was looking wonderfully bright. 

lockwood tag list: @anathemaloren, @anthonylockwoodandco111, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss (hopefully you get this notification, ik it's been weird recently), @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @informedimagining (hopefully this works for you too my lovely), @karensirkobabes, @locknco, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @novelizt, @ran23sblog, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @no-morning-glories, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife, @zoom1374, @light-23, @ahead-fullofdreams

and then I'm tagging @neewtmas, @oblivious-idiot, @bobbys-not-that-small, @maraschinomerry, @uku-lelevillain, and @lewkwoodnco because I've been promising you this for a while and you just didn't know it :D

if there is anybody who wants to be added to my lockwood tag list, then please go here! I am aware that it has been a while, but from now on I will be checking this post every time I write a new fic to see who is there, so head on over to give a comment or a like and I'll pop you on for next time! <3

[gooppoo]

i know you have a lot in your plate but neteyam kissing reader for the first time while fucking her?? he’s not a kissing guy but my man folded for reader lmfao (write it when your request will be open if you’d like to!”

– 🍤 anon

awe dis is so cute <3

Just a kiss.

Requests Closed!!

mdni.

warnings: p in v, kissing duh, Neteyam kinda just being a cutie pie ig and agedup!Neteyam ofc

The whole point of missionary is to see each others faces.

You're supposed to hold each other, cuddle, get tangled up in each others limbs.

Kiss.

Usually kissing is synonymous (sometimes required) in order for the deed to be done, but Neteyam had proved otherwise. He wasn't big on the idea of kissing, in fact you two had never kissed. This might usually deter people, but there was an odd charm about it.

Saving your first kiss for something super special. Besides him literally being inside of you, a kiss was incredibly intimate. But you didn't always need to kiss to be intimate. Neteyam knew how to get your tail flicking and you steamy just with a few touches. He'd always tease the idea of a kiss, and somehow that frustration would manifest into desire which opened your flood gates for him. With his magic fingers he'd have you cumming once, and with his dick, cumming twice...sometimes three times.

But never a kiss.

Sometimes you'd want to kiss him after a long session, just because you were overflowing with endorphins and wanted to find another way to express your appreciation. But you held back, respecting Neteyam and you in a way - because you knew when the time came it would be amazing.

So you're in that position now. It started with you and Neteyam doing your duties around the clan, and when he finished up he came by to watch you until you were done. You were preparing food for some of the children and elderly you looked after when Neteyam snuck up behind you and danced his fingers around the front of your torso. His tail tickled your thigh and he hummed in the crook of your neck. Sweetly, he swayed you back and forth, even beginning to hum a song...

then you felt him against your ass.

He must've been pent up all day. So you teased him by moving your hips against his, offering him a pathetic amount of friction. He sighed into your shoulder.

"What's going on back there?" You murmured, continuing to prepare food.

His warm breath and sultry lips found your ear, "I have been thinking about you all day. I think about the noises you make and I get hot. Let me make you feel good."

Not long after that you had your duties fulfilled, we're back at your shared space, and had Neteyam pressing inside of you. The fill was familiar but still as toe curling as the first time.

One hand cradled your head, the other slotted under your arm and keeping him from releasing all his weight onto you. Your legs were on his hips, fingers in his hair or tickling his face. Neteyam had set a loving pace with a wonderful angle so he could hear you gasp and whine. Even his pelvis ground against your clit, hitting all the marks.

Like clockwork, your sweat began to mix and your legs and arms began to shift to find a better way to just be closer and to feel each other better. With the little prep you had, Neteyam had unintentionally trained you to be lustful for him at the feel of his fingers, or the embarrassing imprint of him on your backside. As fun as foreplay could be, sometimes diving in really added a level of intensity you both enjoyed.

With your climax's on the horizon, Neteyam pulled away from your sweat clad torso to view you in all your glory. A few strands of hair framing your face, eyes half lidded and loving, lips parted for your genuine moans to slip out.

And though these were individual things Neteyam loved to see while he was drilling into you, everything combined to create a gorgeous being that he was over the moon for.

You were beautiful.

Even when your back arched and your jaw dropped you were just fantastic. It was like this every time. And every time he wanted to kiss you, but for a reason unknown, it didn't pique his interest. The intentions were there, but following through was daunting.

He had denied you long enough.

With you clenching around him and wriggling through your orgasm, Neteyam caught your attention with his hand cupping your cheek and leaned down.

For a second he hovered, your eye lashes kissing more than your lips. Your noses bumped against each other's cheeks. Even your nipples grazed his chest. It was when Neteyam finished inside of you, he let that gap close, you joining the effort.

Your lips slotted together so well, so affectionately. He hummed and you purred, both of you seeing shooting stars behind your eyes. There was an extra heartbeat in Neteyam's chest.

Your mate loved fucking you, he really did. But this new combination of the delicacy of a kiss mixed with the roughness happening below your loincloths was something to behold. With you, no less.

While there were fireworks, there was also a deep sense of home. He now new there was no reason to be afraid, and there never was. He was glad he reserved this moment because it sealed his enamor for you in a number of ways.

After realizing breathing was a necessary function, you both momentarily gasped for air. Immediately, your gazes met and observed the fluctuation in your pupils. You swore you saw little hearts twinkling about. All you could do was smile and pull him back in for another one. What else was there to do but soak up this moment?

And when Neteyam's lips collided with yours, the fireworks erupted again! And again, and again. Even when you two had cleaned up and called it an evening, Neteyam wanted to swoop in and kiss you, it was his way of saying, "I love you."

[earthtoharlow]

Flashing Lights

19. Break Up Song

Jack Harlow x Singer!OC

series masterlist

“This is our break up song, but can’t we just get along for the night, in spite, of the hurt we hide. For old times sake, won’t you just take me by the waist and hold me underneath the sheets. Make love like our first week.”

Maryse took a deep breath as she removed her headphones. Her leg of the tour with Coldplay was over and she was finally back in the studio for the first time.

She turned to her engineer, Swish and she couldn’t help but feel a flutter of nervousness mingled with excitement.

“Well?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. “How’d that sound?”

Swish’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm as he leaned back in his chair, a smile spreading across his face. “That was incredible,” he replied, his tone filled with genuine admiration. “You sounded great, I think we got something special here.”

Relief washed over Maryse as she took in his words. “Thank you.” She told him with a grateful smile. It was hard to sing breakup songs about Jack when all she wanted to do was write love songs about him. Because she still loved him, and probably always would.

Though it had only been a short while since their relationship had ended, the pain of their breakup weighed heavily on her heart, casting a shadow over every aspect of her life. What had once been familiar and comforting now felt distant and foreign, as if she were navigating a world that had been turned upside down overnight.

Every day felt like a battle, a relentless struggle to come to terms with the reality of her new life without Jack by her side. The memories of their time together haunted her, their shared laughter and intimate moments now serving as painful reminders of what she had lost.

And yet, despite the passage of time, the wound of their breakup still felt raw and tender, as if no amount of time could ever truly heal the ache in her heart. Each day brought with it a new wave of emotions – sadness, anger, regret – music was the only thing helping her through it.

As she continued writing her notebook, Maryse didn’t think much of Swish saying he wanted her to meet someone. She heard the door of the studio open, she was shocked who she saw standing in front of her.

“I want you to meet someone,” Swish said enthusiastically. “This is Clay. He’s a talented producer, and I thought it would be great for you two to collaborate.”

Awkward tension hung in the air as Maryse shook Clay’s hand as they exchanged pleasantries. Despite their attempts to mask it with polite conversation, Maryse and Clay couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that filled the room and it only slowly went away when they started writing together.

Swish ended up leaving half way through the session which left them alone together. Clay watched Maryse from across the studio, a thoughtful expression on his face. He could see the pain etched in her features, the weight of her emotions heavy on her shoulders. With a sigh, he approached her, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet room.

“Hey, I just wanted to apologize for showing up here,” he began, his voice tinged with sincerity. “I didn’t realize that you were the one I was going to meet, and I wouldn’t have come if I had known.”

Maryse offered him a gentle smile. “It’s okay, Clay,” she reassured him. “I’m actually glad you’re here.”

He looked up, surprise flickering in his eyes. “Really?” he asked, a hint of hope creeping into his voice.

She nodded, giving him a small smile. “Yeah,” she replied softly. “It’s nice to see a familiar face.”

A relieved sigh escaped Clay’s lips as he relaxed, the tension melting away from his shoulders. “I’ve missed you, Maryse.” he admitted, his voice filled with honesty. “After the breakup, things just haven’t been the same. Jack misses you—“

Before Clay could continue, Maryse held up a hand, her expression grave. “Please,” Maryse interjected softly, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness. The mention of Jack hurt more than she wanted to admit. She missed him too. “Let’s not go there.”

Clay’s eyes were immediately filled with remorse when he noticed the look on her face. “I shouldn’t have mentioned him.”

“It’s okay, Clay,” Maryse replied softly. “He’s your brother, after all. It would’ve been weird if you didn’t bring him up.”

Clay nodded, "Thanks, M,” he said, his voice filled with appreciation. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Maryse gave him another small but genuine smile, “I will be.” His concern warned her heart.

They continued to write and collaborate in the studio; the creative energy between them flowed effortlessly, the earlier tension went away with each passing moment.

As the session drew to a close, Maryse turned to Clay with a smile, her eyes alight with excitement. “Hey, I wanted to invite you to the opening night of Beauty and the Beast,” she said eagerly. “I’ll leave some tickets for you at the door. It would mean a lot to me if you could come.”

Clay was taken aback by her invitation, his surprise quickly giving way to gratitude. “Wow, Maryse, I’d love to come,” he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. “Thank you for inviting me. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Great!” she exclaimed, her excitement bubbling over. “I can’t wait for you to see the show. It’s going to be amazing.”

Maryse gave him a hug before leaving the studio. As Clay watched her leave he wondered if he could convince Jack to come to her debut. He knew Jack still cared deeply for Maryse and maybe attending her performance could be a step towards reconciliation.

Clay rushed out the studio and called Jack asking if he wanted to meet up for lunch since Jack was also in LA for work. All Jack and Maryse needed was a little push.

***

“But I think it would mean a lot to her if you were there. She really wants you to come.”

It had been months since Jack had last seen Maryse and the thought of facing her again filled him with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

He couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease creeping over him. What would Maryse say when she saw him? Would she be angry, or would she be glad to see him? Clay did say Maryse wanted him there, but what if she changed her mind? The uncertainty gnawed at him, fueling his nerves even further.

Jack squared his shoulders and made his way towards the entrance of the venue. Whatever lay ahead, he was ready to confront it. And as he stepped through the doors, he couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope stirring within him. Maybe tonight they would actually be able to have a conversation they so desperately needed and if she wanted him there then this was the step in the right direction.

Of course when he walked in, Clay and Urban were sitting in the middle, perfect view of the stage. Maryse wouldn’t be able to miss them even if she tried. Jack’s knees bounced nervously with pent up energy.

As he glanced around the room, Jack couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease settle over him. The crowd buzzed with excitement, but all he could think about was the impending encounter with Maryse. He closed his eyes and took a moment to center himself. After all, tonight was about Maryse’s moment to shine, and he was determined to be there to support her, no matter what.

Jack opened his eyes when sudden realization washed over him like a wave crashing against the shore. He remembered the surprise he had meticulously planned for this night – a custom-stained glass guitar inspired by Beauty and the Beast, a gift he had intended to present to Maryse as a symbol of his love and support.

But now, in the wake of their breakup and the events that had followed, he couldn’t help but wonder if the production crew would still go through with the gift. On one hand, he wanted nothing more than to see Maryse’s face light up with joy as she received his gift. But on the other hand, he couldn’t shake the fear that it would only serve as a painful reminder of what they had lost.

His thoughts were cut short when the lights began to dim, his heart skipped a beat when Maryse walked out on stage. Her presence commanded the attention of everyone in the room.

“She sounds amazing.” Urban whispered next to him. Jack could only nod in agreement. With every soaring note, Maryse seemed to breathe life into the character of Belle, her performance a testament to her skill and artistry.

After Maryse finished the opening number, she spotted Jack. Her heart skipped a beat with a mixture of surprise and confusion. What was he doing here? Why had he come to her show after everything that had happened between them?

Her thoughts raced as she tried to make sense of the unexpected sight, but then she noticed Clay and Urban sitting beside him, a small but significant detail that suddenly brought clarity to the situation.

In an instant, everything clicked into place – Jack’s presence at the show was no mere coincidence. He had come at the request of his brother, a silent gesture of support that spoke volumes without a single word.

As Maryse slipped into the iconic yellow dress backstage, her mind still reeling from the unexpected sight of Jack in the audience, she was approached by a member of the production crew bearing a gift.

With trembling hands, she accepted the beautifully wrapped package, her heart fluttering with anticipation. As she carefully unwrapped the gift, her breath caught in her throat as she revealed the stunning stained glass guitar nestled within.

Tears welled up in Maryse’s eyes as she traced her fingers over the intricate design, the beauty of the instrument taking her breath away. And then, as she read the accompanying note, her heart swelled with emotion as she realized who the gift was from.

Maryse unfolded the note attached to the gift, her eyes filled with tears at the heartfelt words written by Jack. The message was simple yet profound, conveying a depth of emotion that stirred her soul.

Dear, my sweet M,

I will always be your biggest fan. Your talent, your passion, and your spirit continue to inspire me every day, and I am endlessly proud of everything you have accomplished.

With this guitar, I hope to remind you of the love and support that surrounds you, even in the darkest of times.

No matter where life may lead us, please remember that you will always have a special place in my heart.

With all my love,

Jack

Maryse blinked back her tears, not wanting to ruin her makeup. Taking a deep breath to steady her emotions, she composed herself and turned to the production crew with a hopeful expression. “Hey, um, do you think we could switch out the guitar for the ending song?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. “I just… I really want to use this one instead.”

The crew exchanged glances, recognizing the significance of Maryse’s gift. Without hesitation, they nodded in agreement.

With a grateful smile, Maryse cradled the custom-stained glass guitar in her arms, feeling a renewed sense of purpose and determination. She was ready to put on a performance of a lifetime.

As Maryse descended down the set stairs on stage holding Josh Gordon’s hand the crowd erupted into thunderous applause, their cheers echoing throughout the theater. With every step, Maryse felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins, amazed by the overwhelming support and adoration from everyone in the crowd.

Maryse’s eyes locked onto Urban, Clay and then finally Jack. A warm smile spread across his face as he caught her gaze, his eyes shining with pride and love.

When Maryse was sure the cameras weren't pointing towards her she mouthed the words “I love you” to Jack, a tender smile graced his lips, his eyes shimmering with emotion.

She took a deep breath and began to sing the final song, her voice soaring with passion and sincerity. When she reached the pinnacle of her performance, she transitioned seamlessly into an electrifying guitar solo, her fingers dancing effortlessly across the strings of the custom-stained glass guitar.

In the audience, Jack’s eyes widened in astonishment as he watched her. The sheer power and passion of her performance took his breath away, leaving him utterly speechless. The theater erupted into thunderous applause, the crowd rising to their feet in awe.

And as the final chords faded away, Maryse felt a sense of peace wash over her – a profound gratitude for the love and support. But in the back of her mind she couldn’t wait to reunite with Jack backstage.

Jack quietly slipped backstage, his heart pounding nervously, he found Maryse in her dressing room, lost in a whirlwind of emotions. Before he could say a word, Maryse launched herself into his arms, her tears flowing freely as she clung to him tightly.

With a shaky voice, she began to apologize, her words tumbling out in a rush of emotion. “I’m so sorry, Jack. I never meant to hurt you. I took your love for granted. I love you, and I’m ready to face whatever challenges come our way. I want to move in with you, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. All I want in the world is to be with you.”

Jack held her close, his own heart heavy with emotion. “Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered, gently wiping away her tears. “We don’t have to make any decisions right now. What matters is that we’re here, together, and we’ll figure things out, one step at a time.”

With a tender smile, Maryse reached into the small pocket of the Bells dress and pulled out the note Jack had written her. “Thank you for the guitar,” she said softly. “It means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

Jack nodded in thanks, and Maryse’s tears began to subside as a sense of relief washed over her. And then, as they both calmed down, Jack took a deep breath.

“Listen, Maryse, I’m sorry for what I said that night. I was wrong to accuse you of stringing me along,” he admitted, his voice filled with sincerity. “What do you think about flying to Kentucky for my No Place Like Home show, in a couple days? We can talk more there, have a real discussion about where we go from here.”

Maryse looked up at him, her eyes shining with hope. . “I’d like that,” she said softly, her heart filled with renewed optimism. “Thank you, Jack. For everything.”

They held each other close, hoping that in a couple days everything between them would be resolved. And that they could go back to the way things were before.

***

Jack had just closed the door of his dressing room as Neelam escorted the interviewer out the room. He was more nervous than usual tonight. He was about to play at a sold out KFC Yum Center in his hometown and the only thing he could think about was Maryse.

They had been texting back and forth all day. She had texted him saying she was on her way. Maryse had decided to stay in a hotel while in town. Not feeling comfortable yet to stay the night with him yet before they had their talk. He was nervous but ready, he missed her so much as these last few months were some of the hardest of his life.

He jumped up and took long strides to the door when he heard a knock. Jack was taken aback when he saw who was standing in front of him. “Victoria?” He tried to compose himself, his mind racing with a whirlwind of emotions.

Victoria was someone he dated, if you could even call it that for a couple years. Before he met Maryse, he didn’t like going to bed alone and Victoria was always there at his beck and call. Jack eventually got bored of her, so he stopped contacting her. Months later, he met Maryse and he was the happiest he had ever been. until the breakup.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Jack exclaimed, his voice tinged with surprise and unease. “You can’t just come backstage like this.” Victoria’s presence immediately brought him discomfort.

Victoria looked at him confused before pushing past him inside the room. “Nemo, invited me. And besides I thought you would be happy to see me? I heard you were single!” She told him in a singy tone, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Jack sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, annoyed that she was here and quite frankly ruining his mood. “It’s complicated, and none of your business.” he replied, his tone tinged with frustration and uncertainty. He knew that explaining his situation would only complicate matters further, but he couldn’t bring himself to outright deny the possibility of a reconciliation with Maryse.

Before he could say more, Victoria's eyes darted towards the door and she quickly pulled Jack into a kiss. Before Jack could pull away, the door of the dressing room opened and there stood Maryse, eyes wide with shock.

Maryse’s heart sank as she struggled to process what she was seeing. All the trust she has placed in Jack seemed to shatter, leaving her feeling vulnerable and exposed.

Jack immediately pushed Victoria away, his eyes widening in alarm as he registered Maryse’s presence. “Maryse. No, it’s not what it looks like,” he stammered, his voice tinged with panic as he realized the gravity of the situation. His words fell on deaf ears as she shook her head in disbelief.

Without a word, Maryse turned on her heel and bolted from the room, her heart pounding in her chest as she raced down the hallway. Tears blurred her vision as replayed the scene in her head. The pain of it all threatened to consume her.

As she reached the hallway, Maryse collided with Urban, her momentum causing her to stumble backward. For a fleeting moment, their eyes met, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak. With a shake of her head, she pushed past him and fled from the venue, her mind reeling with the weight of her shattered trust and broken heart.

When Maryse left the room, Jack turned to Victoria face red, frustration boiling over. “Why the fuck would you do that?!” He barked, his voice laced with anger.

Jack didn’t even give her a chance to reply but he raced down the hall hoping to catch Maryse before she left. He knew deep down that he had already lost her.

As he reached the hallway, Urban stopped him, concern etched into his features. “What happened?” he asked, his voice tinged with worry.

Jack opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. How could he possibly explain the mess that was made, in just a few words? With a heavy heart, he shook his head, sank to the ground, his back pressed against the cool surface of the venue’s wall, as a wave of defeat washed over him.

With his head in his hands, Jack felt the weight of what happened bearing down on him. He couldn’t help but feel like he had lost the love of his life for a second time, and the thought was almost too much to bear.

***

AN: I know, I know…but I did warn y’all that it gets worse before it gets better. 🏃🏽‍♀️

song lyrics from Break Up Song by Pixie Lott

Tag List

(message me if you'd like to be added or removed)

@heavyhitterheaux @hoodharlow @neon-lights-and-glitter @babiefries @jackmans-poison @dstark-0706 @harlowsbby @itsyagirljaz @leftapricotprofessorlover @toocriticalharlow @minkookie95 @harlowcomehome @jackharloww @jaydaaasworld @kkrenae @hufflewhore128 @w1ldthoughts @jackiehollanderr @katiaw2 @halfmoondaze @babybardi2 @vinniehackersbaee @daphnescorner

[bhobbiel]

Given Anime and Movie Reaction

I watched it not knowing anything besides it was a BL story with a band, and the hair colors (orange and black) of the two protagonists. I feel grateful I did not know much else and I watched the anime first (I was hesitant to watch before reading but I am glad I did)

I have not read the story up to or past the movie and anime- so no spoilers

Spoilers about anime and movie below:

TW: death and suicide

Wow wow wow I have not cried at a piece of media in a while, but episode 9 wow. (To be fair I was an a bit of emotional headspace but still have not felt that specific bittersweet kinda cathartic but gut wrenching movie cry in a long time! Especially not by something new I watched)

Incredible song/singing/ voice acting for the concert scene

This is just notes more than fully fleshed written ideas

I have so much feelings thoughts and analysis. I am reading the manga but I am not to where the movie and show end in the story.

I partially want to read from beginning to understand more of Yuki’s story

On beach- will not remember in 10 years. Someone online said does this allude to Yuki not thinking they will know each other in 10 years alluding to possible suicidal . But it is something somewhat common sentiment people say

I estimate they have probably already been each others lives around 10 years by that point. I

Gut wrenching like tearing up just thinking about that whole concert and flash back scene

Film studies classes often use the montage in the movie “up” as a good use of montage and covering a lot of story in a short amount of time. I feel like this montage is also a good example of an emotional montage. Not to be embarrassing but thinking about episode 9 still kinda tears me up.

Im sorry but them holding hands of Mafuyu from the arrest, and not long after their (I interpret) possible first time having sex with that emotional intimate gesture and eye contact. Even the annoyed face from teasing that only happens after knowing someone for a long time

No one will know Mafuyu from his abuse to his best friend to first romantic love. As much as memory and forgetting is a repeating sentiment there are some relationships and experiences that define who we are and what we carry

It just showcases an irreplaceable relationship. They grew up together. They saw each other in childhood tragedy to a deep first love. They have a dynamic that is once in a lifetime. One where fhy

Guitar: curse and a beginning

One could an

“He wanted to write you a song, but you wanted him to say let’s make one together”

One interpretation: Yuki was working and saving money to get a guitar to write a song for Mafuyu so possibly feeling rejected felt like he was doing everything for him but he did not see it

Mafuyu literally Carries it like a weight and only plays it via new love and friendships. From being open again

.

The guitar is the reason they meet and have romance. The tragedy of one love directly leading to a new one

It reminds me of a sentiment often of older married couples where one dies. Of like the deceased spouse would “want you to find new love” instead of feeling guilty of romance after them

I don’t know if I feel like that it is a sentiment any of the characters or it would make sense for them to have that philosophy but just something that I was reminded of.

“ I am not lonely, friends at school, I like someone new… I wish I could tell you about it”

——-

Yukis death

Shocking, confusing,

Normal type couple fight? Or just to an outsider or to Mafuyu as well?

As a reader it made me feel those feelings that you logically/morally know are not “right” but you would actually feel in that situation.

Like who was at “fault”? Did Yuki have chronic secret mental health problems? Was it impulsive? Was dying an over reaction to a cruel comment? Was it a real idea of proving devotion?

Would he be alive if Mafuyu did not say that? Did he really believe Mafuyu would not try to repair their relationship and took his comment to heart instead of trying to work it out?

I don’t get the feeling there was this super intention of making his loved ones feel guilty. There was love in his life

I am not saying these are “good opinions or questions” but they are real. It’s like going around in circles

It makes you go through the stages of grief and confusion that suic*de can specifically envoke. The confusion the anger the unresolved ness

Would something similar happen down the line even if he was not told that in that moment? Aka if they broke up later or if he was overall prone to suicidal ideation ?

It is interesting that Yuki mom gave guitar to him shows a lot

——-

The movie was more like ooof emotional in that young(ish) adult toxic learning curve romance. The anime was more objective tragedy and showed a once in the life time relationship that was cut too short in such a tragic way. It also showcased “firsts” which has a different feel both as a tragedy and just overall feel. I am young enough for the “firsts” feeling to not feel too far away and what that vulnerability feels like.

The movie (if you are a young adult) feels like a mirror of the pain and learning curves of romance of the clunkiness of your 20s. It’s the feeling of watching your friend make mistakes or you making your own in ways that feel overwhelming. I mean damn they showed that toxic on and off again dynamic omg.

Eventually it showcases I believe both the maturity and immaturity of romance (esp 20s). Both the outward facing personality and qualities one showcases and they more vulnerable truths not everyone sees

[theninthdoor]

Hey I want to participate in the game

My initials APJ

Capricorn rising

Future spouse

song || Jungkook (ft. Latto) - Seven (Nightfall Mix)

messages || Can we get it out of the way right now and say "Sexy"? lol. No, but- very physical, touchy, loving, intimate. They just have a thing for touch - be it holding hands, running their hands through your hair, giving hugs, whatever. Touch is likely to be their love language, really. Beyond that, this is someone who's extremely loyal, reliable and steady. They never give up; they will NEVER give up on you. Challenges is what makes you two stronger, so don't fear them. Your future spouse enjoys being a provider and a protector, but I could totally see them letting their guard down around you and be truly vulnerable. They feel deeply, care deeply about their family and friends, and are always ready to give anyone a helping hand. "Weight of the world on your shoulders, I kiss your waist and ease your mind." - this goes both ways, I feel like… You are absolutely devoted to each other; the amount of trust and love I see here is incredible! Appearance wise, I see a well-built figure, not too muscular but still sturdy and cosy (I've never described anybody's body as "cosy", so… this is interesting). You'll feel safe in their arms, that's the biggest point here! And they will feel safe in yours, too. Their hands might be particularly beautiful, as well. They may also have significant Leo and/or Cancer placements.

[experiangel]

𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐁 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐒 𝐔𝐒!

STATS

full name:  experiment 624 ( lmao ) .

nicknames:  angel .

age: twenty - three .

gender:  cis  female .

species:  alien .

orientation:  bisexual , biromantic .

date of birth:  tbd .

place of birth:  jumba's lab probably .

residence:  evermore .

occupation:  lounge singer @ gusteau's .

RELATIONSHIPS

parents:  is jumba dad ? acCURSED CREATOR ?!?!!?

sibilings:  n/a .

significant other(s):  only insignificant others atm.

PHYSIQUE

faceclaim:  paris berelc .

eye color: brown .

hair color:  brown ,  shifts to pink at will .

height: 5′3″

ABILITIES

siren song :  basically , she sings a cute little tune that can turn all of jumba's previous experiments before her evil again ♡ it supposedly works on jumba too but idk

x - ray vision :  she spies with her little eye ! angel can see through solid objects and organic matter . she'd be a great doctor if she cared .

super strength :  pretty self explanatory ! she is VERY strong . i'd say she's able to hold at least twice her weight with ease .

shifting : you know whats up ! she really likes her human form though , won't shift unless she has a Really good reason to ! nevertheless , she misses having her antennae out . they're cute :(

character inspo:   angel numbers made of tiny little rhinestones, glitter on your eyes, twisting the phone cord around your finger, envy adams ( scott pilgrim vs the world ), reclaiming the color pink, maxine minx ( x ), jennifer check ( jennifer's body ), girlhood vs godhood, " they gave me a name and alienated me from myself " – clarice lispector

𝐇��𝐑𝐌𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐎𝐏 𝐏𝐎𝐏𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐉𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐀'𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

HEADCANONS

has a bit of a god complex. in angel's eyes, part of the reason why she was created was because the other experiments clearly weren't doing what they were supposed to, which makes them all inferior to her. she definitely believes she's superior to all of them (except maybe 626, but shh) and is incredibly proud of herself for, well, existing.

she is absurdly competitive and is not above cheating, though she rarely needs to. she's always ready for a challenge but that doesn't mean angel will pick just about any fight; she knows what's worth her time and what isn't, and it turns out that whatever hard work she puts into her schemes usually pays off!

she can come off as extremely rude upon first meeting, and doesn't like to be interrupted or disturbed. despite angel's wholesome and approachable exterior, a good rule of thumb is to just not speak to her unless she speaks to you first. she can be very volatile.

has massive trauma stemming from when she was deactivated. because of that, angel still struggles to tell the passage of time and will rely heavily on little markers from watches to associations like flowers for spring and fallen leaves for autumn. one of her biggest fears is that she'll end up missing important stuff by being deactivated again. on a similar note, she's also very quick to pick up new skills and social cues, which is part of what made her adapt easily.

still on the matter of having being deactivated and isolated from the other experiments, angel does not like the dark. she heavily associates it with being cold and alone and it's just not a good feeling. she's never gonna admit to that fear though, even if you catch her shaking and screaming and crying in a completely darkened room.

she's actually very, very curious about hawaii. there was a decent amount of research that went into learning about it before the other experiments disappeared to evermore, and she's been curious about the place ever since. in fact, angel is curious about the entire galaxy. she may be stuck here for now and with other priorities, but she fully intends to travel the whole universe someday.

being a singer at gusteau's is honestly more fun that she'd anticipated, partially because it makes her feel like she has an actual talent. sure, being able to turn the previous experiments evil is super fun and makes her feel very powerful, but it's not the only thing she wants to be! she didn't use to get compliments on her voice before and now feels all giddy and happy whenever she gets them. probably one of the few things that make her genuinely happy.

on a similar note, angel often finds herself wondering what she'd be like if she hadn't been built for chaos and destruction. it's fun to be evil, she's not complaining, but wouldn't that mean more people should be striving for the same thing? it's confusing and annoying, and even a little bit intimidating. at the same time, she's not sure she could ever be good; it's not what she was made for. there's a part of her that thinks that if she ever became genuinely good, she wouldn't be herself anymore and that would suck.

angel has the emotional intelligence of a three year old. please don't expect her to understand or know how to explain how she feels because she simply doesn't know anything ever.

i am very sorry but. she do be a bit of a pick me girl. she's terrible at feminism please help her out i think it's because the concept of sisterhood was never introduced to her.

monster energy drink blood. the pink one specifically.

her hair is always styled like this. it's a little nod to her antennae &lt;3

[fiddleabout]

hello my kingdom for your thoughts on taylor's new midnights album

okay pal let’s get into it

The Vibe: this is Reputation but from Swift’s Aaron Dessner era.  Which is not to say that this is the album that Swift would’ve made if she’d been working with Dessner back then-- both Lover and folklore had to happen first-- but the point stands that there’s a not-insignificant amount of anger underpinning this album and there is a sonic weight to it that, even if Antonoff is more technically present throughout the album, is very much the precise intersection of Swift and Dessner.  Even the bob/bop-adjacent entries throughout are still couched in a heavy, almost sludgy base, which works specifically because juxtaposition is a powerful tool.  The contrast of Lover-era Swift (big bright sounds, the way everything tilts towards shimmering) and folklore-era Swift (grounded, pulled back, the kind of warm sound that feel likes it’s holding you in one place against your will) creates this sound: that underwriting almost muggy synth with interpolated brighter pieces lifting the sound but never quite as much as you’d expect.  Swift took the sound she cultivated between Red and Lover and pulled it in, not so much giving it the folklore treatment-- there’s plenty of synth and keys on here and barely an acoustic trace to be found, and I don’t mean that as an insult at all-- as compressing it down into something denser and heavier, and for the most part it works.

Vibe Assessment: 8/10

Lyrics: look.  Look.  Look.  I’ve never shied away from that fact that I think Taylor Swift is an obnoxiously incredible songwriter, and I stand by that-- time can’t stop me quite like you did is incredible!  when my depression works the graveyard shift is like getting slapped in the face! and if i was some paint did it splatter on a promising young man! -- but to be frank, there are some lyrical clunkers on this one.  Sometimes I feel like everyone is a sexy baby.  I just.  Ma’am.  Please.  

Lyrics Assessment: 6/10

Individual Tracks: there is....a lot going on, and not all of it great.  Which is not to say that there are bad songs on here-- to be completely honest, I dunno that I’d say Swift has put out a bad track since London Boy-- but coming off the heels of folklore and evermore lifted Swift’s already-high bar even higher and honestly not everything here hits it.  There are some unequivocally great tracks on here: Anti-Hero stands singularly out, but also the quicker tilt and the bubbly little late-eighties flourish underpinning the verses of Mastermind are fantastic, and Question...? leans less on that heavy underwriting and does a masterful job of balancing it and a more traditional pop rhythm like what Swift used on 1989.  Would’ve. Could’ve, Should’ve is distinct from the rest of the album with those drums that pull the whole song up and keep it pushing forward at a clip that most of the rest of the album doesn’t hit while eschewing the mostly-traditional song structure that the rest of the albums uses, extending the bridge before barrelling into the last chorus. 

But there are also tracks that feel like a very distinct retread of old ground.  Bigger Than The Whole Sky, while still good, also feels very much like rewriting Clean with Aaron Dessner instead of Imogen Heap.  Paris is a stylistic sequel to Paper Rings with just a little less oomph (which isn’t a bad thing, necessarily-- I love Paper Rings and I quite like Paris-- but it’s still a retread).  Karma and Vigilante Shit both just sound like they were plucked out of Reputation and polished up with that now-distinct Swift/Dessner vibe. 

Tracks Assessment: 7/10

So, tl;dr final thoughts: much like evermore was a good album that had the misfortune of being constantly compared to folklore-- an incredible album-- Midnights is a good album that has the misfortune of being caught between two polarizing styles.  If this is the direction Taylor Swift is moving in then I’m delighted, because when it works out the way I think she intended for it to it’s phenomenal--again, there are some great standouts on this album-- but it also still has a feel of a bit of a work in progress.

Overall Assessment: 6.5/10 with the important note that x/10 for a Taylor Swift album is, crucially, an assessment of it as a Taylor Swift album.  Which is to say: like it or no, Taylor Swift is one of the best in the world at doing this, and 6.5/10 on that scale is still a very good album.

[9w1ft]

when u understand how the business side, marketing and advertising works, it's gonna be a better experience as a fan. a lot of the things taylor had done are pretty common marketing tactics used all accross different brands. the earlier u realize this, the easier for u to map out everything. taylor swift is a brand first before anything else.

i agree. and i think you know, it might feel icky to put down a buck sixty nine on songs that are free a day later but, it does give her the results that make her the powerhouse she is. but anyway.. i don’t want to dismiss peoples feelings or impulses to point out when marketing tactics hurt people, because i think the awareness is important to vocalize and think critically about these kinds of systems. feedback is a gift. still, it’s important to also decide what’s best for you personally in the event that taylor swift ™️ doesn’t change.

and i think that it’s actually pretty incredible how taylor manages to be the arguably most successful artist in the world and still maintain this amount of a… of a semblance of connection with her fanbase. that we feel as if our voice holds as much weight as that of her investors. it is mind blowing to me how personal everything feels to me, when she’s just this… stratospheric once in a generation type person.

[2c75ff]

//sliiides url over

🔵 -- 'MY OPINION ON...' meme . ACCEPTING

my opinion on;

CHARACTER IN GENERAL. I like Vegeta; but my relationship with him as a character in the canon is a bit complicated by the fact that, at various points throughout the series, I like him more for what I think he could or, in my opinion, should have been rather than what he actually was. I feel like he's given an awful lot of chances and faith by other characters which, quite frankly, I don't think he's strictly done the work to deserve. (Which could be an interesting incongruity to explore at greater depth. Unfortunately though, it often doesn't pan out that way, at least to my eyes.) He's pretty Not Great in a lot of ways, which, honestly, is what I actually like about him. I think it's interesting for him and those around him to have to wrestle with that reality; but then a lot of times it feels like he gets granted a weird amount of slack for those significant ongoing flaws, and it's like...why? He's at his best when he kind of Sucks in ways that have actual consequences for and effects on both himself and those around him.

HOW THEY PLAY THEM. You do a good and very conscious job of maintaining/highlighting Vegeta's antisocial tendencies while simultaneously leaning into traits and little situational manipulations that ensure it's possible for people's characters to interact meaningfully with him, despite him being the way he is in general. Those interactions might not be light-hearted or easy to navigate, mind you, but they are interactions, and they do have weight. I'm sure you've experienced for yourself before just how frustrating it can be when you're trying to interact with a 'withdrawn, surly loner' kind of character, but the writer isn't doing any of the legwork to help make the character accessible in a way that still feels on-point and natural for them. It's an incredibly irritating position to find yourself in, so I appreciate the effort you put into making sure that people have ample openings for interacting with Vegeta, while still allowing him to be the rude, violent, mercurial piece of work he is.

THE WRITER. We haven't necessarily talked a great deal yet, but already I appreciate how able and willing you are to come to the table with your own thoughts and ideas in hand, in terms of both IC and OOC interactions. (Like, some people simply can not hold up their end of the conversation. You don't suffer from that particular affliction; and by god, I adore you for it already.) You also draw a clear distinction between Vegeta's personality and your own, and don't at all come across as unwelcoming or standoffish yourself despite playing such a famously prickly character.

do i;

FOLLOW THEM. Yes. RP WITH THEM. Slowly but surely. WANT TO RP WITH THEM. Of course.

SHIP THEIR CHARACTER WITH MINE. As is my long-standing and glorious custom, I'm going to preface this answer with the understanding that I pretty much always need to see how characters actually interact with each other before I can say with any confidence whether or not a ship might be interesting or feasible to try out.

With that aside, I'll say right up front that I really don't anticipate that Seventeen or Vegeta will be each other's 'types'. I'm open to surprises, as always, but my kneejerk impression is that they won't be drawn to each other in those particular ways. However, I’ll also say that, if they do indeed end up sort of Weirdly Getting Along in the way we’ve talked about some, then I could see Seventeen being willing to casually fool around with Vegeta anyway without feeling the need to make a big ol' deal out of it, if Vegeta turned out to be down to clown. (Please note how much heavy lifting the word ‘if’ is doing in that sentence.)

what is my;

OVERALL OPINION. I hate this question because it's like [gestures vaguely at the previous multiple paragraphs], so I'm just going to fill this space with whatever song happens to be in my earbuds at this exact moment and call it a day.

[sinfulauthorwrites]

Hold Still, My Sweet - A Vaati x OC Fic

Vaati requires a certain ingredient for his spellwork, and Enora is the only one who can help.

This fic is a gift for and was written with the help of a close friend as a thank you for being so kind to me while I was ill! I’ve wanted to write this fic for her for AGES due to a server in-joke about her taste in fictional men and dentists, and I’m glad I finally got the chance! Also, the title comes from "The Dismemberment Song" by Blue Kid!

Rating: Mature

Ship: Vaati x Enora (Original Character)

Word Count: 1.3k

Applicable Tags: Dentistry, Tooth Pulling, Mild Blood, Magic, Hypnotism, Anesthesia, Dubious Consent, Sexual Tension, Death Threats, Pet Names, Spells & Enchantments, Virginity, Vaati Being A Little Shit, Flirting, Implied Sexual Content, Oral Fixation, Tongues, Teeth, Established Relationship, Aftercare, Unrequited Love (kinda, it's not unrequited by definition but there is some kind of sense of it), There's No Actual Sex (it's just incredibly kinky), POV Third Person Omniscient, Light Masochism

Enora knocked cautiously on Vaati’s alchemy laboratory door, the wooden sound resounding through the hallway. “Come in,” the voice from the other side beckoned, and the tawny-haired maiden opened the door, shutting it behind her slowly to avoid the slamming sound it often produced. “It seems you got the message I delivered, my pet.”

Enora sighed. “Do not oppress me with your delusive titles, miscreant buffoon.” the tail end of her retort shrouded under her breath. She advanced closer to the table the mage was working at. “You failed to be clear in your request as you inquired of my help and to denote exactly of what kind.” She peered over Vaati’s shoulder, seeing an array of ancient scrolls and various types of seeds. The scrolls were in an old font, one that was indecipherable to anyone not already well-versed in Hyrulean sorcery.

“I’d prefer to explain it to you in person, as I doubt I could explain that amount of convoluted information into a single letter.” Vaati turned to face his betrothed, rolling up the sleeves on his periwinkle tunic and leaning back on the desk, putting his weight on his hands in back of him. “I need something for my next project. Something from you.”

Enora’s eyebrow raised with suspicion, wary of his vague wording. “If you need it so urgently, just be clear with it. I don’t have time for beating around the bush.” She folded her arms, waiting for an answer.

“I’m currently working on some more transformation spells, one that a scroll otherwise couldn’t grant me. Besides,” he leaned forward slightly, piercing his gaze into hers, “you said you were eager to be of help, no?”

“Hardly,” Enora retorted. “And for what purpose do you need a transformation spell? Aren’t you proficient enough with that on your own?” Her suspicion only grew, as the man she loved was already a keeper of many secrets.

Vaati’s smile dropped immediately, and his formerly flirtatious posture stiffened. “Are you prepared for the consequences of that burden?” His dark gaze turned eerily soft as the back of his index and middle fingers caressed Enora’s cheek. “I’d hate to have you parting from me so soon.” A chill went up the blonde’s spine, the mage’s words scaring her into submission. He saw the shift in her expression, smirking at her. “It seems we’ve met an agreement then, my love.”

“You still haven’t told me what you need,” Enora asserted despite her fear.

“After doing some research, it seems that acquiring the tooth of a virgin will produce the best results. However, I can’t just waltz into any home in Castle Town and demand a child provide me theirs.”

“Who would stop you? You’re more than capable enough.”

Vaati gritted his teeth. “That’s beside the point. I’m horrible with children anyway, especially quadruplets.” Vaati gently tugged at Enora’s cheek. “It would only be one of the back ones, and you wouldn’t feel a thing as long as I charm you. You hardly need all of them, especially with your utter refusal to eat anything they were built for.” Vaati paced forward, causing Enora to back up along with him. “I’ll even make it worth your while. We can do something about that pesky… virginity that’s been plaguing you.” Enora’s pale skin turned beet red, and, in her astonishment, stumbled onto the long, wooden bench behind her. Its elevated headrest gave her a direct view of Vaati towering over her. “Oh, but I almost forgot about your persistence to chastity until we wed. It’s rather… cute… of you. How did that minute fact slip my mind? It’s unusually clumsy of me.” Vaati reveled in Enora’s stammering and blushing, looking down at her slyly.

Enora released a sound of bewilderment, fumbling over her words as Vaati sat on the bench beside her. “I-I think, maybe-”

Vaati shushes her, pressing one of his slender fingers to her lips. “Shhh, it’s alright. You don’t need to worry. It’ll be over faster than a cucco’s swarm.” Before the maiden could object, Vaati chanted words in a language long forgotten, and a wave of calm overcame Enora’s mind and body. The world around her became fuzzy and warm, all discomfort she had previously felt fading. Her eyes fluttered open, this time much more glossy and distant. 

“Ah, good,” Vaati sighed. “I doubt you’ll fully understand me, but I’ll talk you through each step of the way.” Vaati gently gripped Enora’s chin and eased her mouth open, pressing the pad of his thumb down slightly on the centermost point of her tongue and tracing it delicately. “Mmm, nothing unusual, thankfully. You wouldn’t believe how often I’ve had to dispose of a participant because something went wrong.” The thinly veiled threat didn’t disturb Enora, as one such as that would normally scare her even more if she were more aware.

Vaati’s hand moved from the blonde’s tongue back towards her molars, tapping each one gently to check its ability to pull. “This might be a bit more challenging than I imagined- Oh!” Vaati’s eyes lit up as he reached the furthest left molar, giving it a slight wiggle. “Seems like we’ve finally got some luck! Now, just hold still for a moment, my dear.” With a flick of his wrist, a trail of magic sent a table of specimen supplies near his side. He hummed quietly to himself as he perused the assortment of metal tools, settling on a pair of shiny metal forceps. 

Vaati held the instrument in front of Enora, allowing her to focus on it if she could at all. “I’m going to use this to remove the tooth. I’ll start gently, but I will need to use considerable force. You shouldn’t feel a thing, though. Probably, anyway.” Vaati took her silence as understanding and began to insert the forceps into her mouth. He carefully wormed them to the back of her opening, tugging slowly on the chosen tooth. The friction elicits a whine from Enora, causing a dusting of pink to cross Vaati’s pale skin. “Rather forward are we, my dear?”

Vaati attempted to ignore the sounds, but the gyrating motion of the forceps segregating tooth from bone didn’t greet the maiden with pain but rather, under the spell’s influence, brought forth a sensation of euphoria. The final squelch of the molar breaching from its gums brought Enora to a higher state of pleasure, her breathing labored as Vaati quickly brought a handkerchief to the wound to ease the bleeding and assured her it would subside quickly. 

After a few moments of soothing his betrothed, Vaati removed the cloth and held her hand gingerly. “It’ll be a while until the spell fully wears off, so take as much time as you need to recover.” Vaati began to clean up the supplies from the procedure, taking extra care of the tooth he extracted. 

Before standing up and returning to his studies, a groan from behind him catches his attention. “Yes?”

Enora grabbed Vaati’s hand, keeping him from leaving her side. “Again?” she slurred, her inhibitions gone and eyes pleading.

“Excuse me?”

“That was… exhilarating,” she sighed, her breath labored. “Another? Do another?” She inquired with a whine. She weakly attempted to hold his hand tighter, to no avail. 

Vaati’s face turns an even darker red, contemplating whether to let go of her hand. “My pet, while it may feel good now, if I take too many, it definitely won’t later. I’ll have to decline kindly.” While Enora’s pleading was like ambrosia to his ears, he didn’t want to harm her, or at least more than what was necessary. He inhaled sharply before letting go of her hand and returning to his studies. “Let me know if you need any assistance.”

Enora stared longingly at her betrothed as he left her side, slowly drifting off to sleep as the charm did its work.

Liked this and want more? Check out my AO3 here!

[let-them-read-fics]

What Could've Been

Requested By Anon: "pls do a rosé or jennie imagine where the reader is into them but they just keep rejecting her. then they just cross the line one day and say hurtful things to y/n so the reader just ended up stopped pursuing them. then someone else (could be the other rosé or jennie also of yk what i mean) became interested in y/n and they get all petty and jealous yk djajdua,, COULD BE ANY ENDING HFHSHAU I'M JUST A REAL SUCKER FOR IMAGINES LIKE THIS TYSM"

Pairing: Love Triangle -- Jennie x Fem!Reader and Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 7,333

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Pining, Rejection, Crying, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: ⚠️ Important ⚠️ Class, gather round -- we have some things to discuss. I'm not angry, just... disappointed. *dramatic music*

First off, I want to address something with asks: as I've stated before, there's no certain amount of time that any one request will take me. Sometimes I'm more inspired by one than others, and sometimes I legitimately lack the time or brainpower to write a piece that holds true to my standards.

Please, refrain from messaging me multiple times about a request. Once is fine, especially if it's been awhile since you first asked, but I'm doing my best to give you starving fans the content you wish to see, and that takes time.

To those of you who continue to be patient with me: I sincerely appreciate it.

Secondly, I hope you enjoy this. ♡ Happy Reading ♡

PS ~ Anon, I still love you. Now enjoy this fic or you're grounded.

PPS ~ It gets better as it goes on

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

"Thank you," you politely say to your driver, handing him some money before stepping out of the sleek black car and onto the sidewalk. The bottoms of your shoes crunch lightly as they come in contact with the concrete, steadily announcing your course towards the performance hall. 

You let out a breath as you stand in the elevator, alone with your thoughts in the small space as it ascends. 

Your hands nervously palm the fresh bouquets of flowers you purchased on your way here -- the girls just finished a comeback stage, so you've decided to surprise them and show your love. You spent time picking out a personalized batch for each of them, making sure to mix their favorite colors and types, but you went even further for Rosé: you hand picked a larger, special array, choosing them based on their meaning and how much you think she'll appreciate them. Over the years, you've made sure to note her favorite ones; that came in handy tonight, and the florist assisting you definitely appreciated your attention to detail. 

Too chicken to go to her first, you decide to bring the other girls their gifts now and save Rosie for last. All of them are unwinding independently in their dressing rooms right now, enjoying some much needed alone time before coming back together later to celebrate. 

"Jisoo-yah!" You sing-song, rapping lightly on the door. It's slightly ajar, but you still knock out of respect for her privacy. 

In an instant, the door swings open to reveal a very happy unnie. "Y/N! I've missed you!" She nearly shouts, pulling you in for an eager hug. A surprised noise leaves her lips as her hands come in contact with the bundle behind your back, crinkling the plastic slightly in her excited state. 

"I got you a present," you say, smiling softly. Jisoo can feel the way your cheeks raise up, brushing against the skin of her neck as your head rests there, and her heart melts. After pulling out of the embrace, she wiggles her eyebrows at you.

"Well? Let me see!" You do as she asks with a chuckle, pulling her bunch out of the hold of the rubber band that's keeping them all together. "I got your favorite." You grin, sticking them out for her to see. Her eyes widen at the sight, and she's touched by the kind gesture. Flowers aren't particularly unique in terms of what companies and fans send them, but seeing the effort you put in makes it incredibly special. She couldn't be happier. 

"Y/N, you're the best." She presses a small kiss to your cheek as a thank you, and invites you in right after. Jisoo considers you to be one of the closest friends she has, so being apart hasn't been easy on her. You're the only person she's okay with venting and crying in front of, and she's been needing that lately. Sensing this, you pull a chair up to her vanity and let her fill you in on all the mayhem you missed out on during your time away, holding her hand for reassurance. When she gets a little frustrated, you rub her back gently, telling her to take her time. 

Jisoo is beyond thankful for you, and that becomes more and more apparent the closer you two get. Times like these hold a special place in her heart and remind her of why she loves you so much. You truly are a great friend to have, and there's no one she'd rather have in her corner. 

----

"Incoming! 3...2...1…" You call out, standing in front of Lisa's door, ready to knock it down and barge in. The greeting is an inside joke between the two of you, though neither of you know where its origins lie. 

"Yah! Hold on!" She shouts, nearly tripping and falling from how quick she rushes to the door. You laugh at the sounds of chaos coming from inside, wincing slightly when a thud rings out. Hair slightly disheveled, she opens the door with a huff. "This had better be good, because I almost died." 

Wordlessly, you reveal her present and smirk as the halfhearted scowl on her face disappears completely, giving way to a dopey grin. "You remembered?" She asks quietly, running her fingers over the petals of her all-time favorite flower. The fact that she sounds so shocked makes you sad -- not many people take enough time to notice the little things. They'd rather focus on profiting off of the girls' talents than actually caring enough to get to know them. 

"Of course I did, Lisa. You're one of my best friends; how could I forget?" The maknae pulls you in for a meaningful hug, allowing the gesture to tell you all the things she doesn't know how to express. She's not always the best with her words, but she makes up for it with her actions. 

"I really love you, dork. You know that?" She asks as she pulls away, ruffling your hair lightly. She cracks that smile that seems to make the world stop, and you just shake your head. 

"You'd better. Your flowers were the most expensive!" You tease, dodging her when she reaches out to grab you for that one. 

"Get back here!" She shouts, chasing you down the hall like a 5 year old, planning to get her revenge. 

---

"Jendeukie, open up!" You squeal, pounding on her door while throwing a look over your shoulder. Lisa is dangerously close, ready to tackle you as she continues charging down the hall. 

"Y/N?!" She exclaims from the other side of the door, clearly not expecting you to be here. 

"Hurry!" You can hear footsteps eagerly rushing towards the door, and just as she opens it, disaster strikes. 

Lisa's arms wrap around your waist, pushing you forward and right into Jennie. The three of you fall into her dressing room in a messy heap, limbs splayed in various positions as you yell together on the way down. You manage to keep the flowers out of harm's way, thankfully, and your arm remains stuck out just in case Lisa tries anything else. 

"Hello to you, too, Y/N." Jennie groans with a chuckle, the words coming out a little strained from all the weight on her. Lisa stands first, pulling you up right after, and you turn to help your best friend up as well. 

"I sure know how to make an entrance, huh?" Your lopsided grin makes Jennie weak in the knees, much like it has ever since she met you all those years ago, and she has to fight to contain the blush that rises to her cheeks. After bantering with Lisa for a few more moments you eventually push her out of the room, shoo-ing her back to her own in order to give yourself some one-on-one time with Jennie. 

You stick your tongue out at the maknae one final time before shutting the door and turning around, finding a very soft looking Jennie peering back at you. Her cheeks are pulled back in her signature gummy smile, and the fluffy sleeves of her Chanel sweater engulf her small hands as she cradles her face in them. 

Perhaps, if circumstances were different, you'd be hopelessly pining for this 5'4" angel instead of Rosé. Love knows no logic, though, and you're stuck chasing after a certain Australian beauty that never seems capable of giving you the time of day.

"I missed you," she pouts, pursing her lips adorably as she steps forward to wrap her arms around your shoulders. You pull her in and pick her up with a spin, smiling into her neck when she giggles in your ear. 

"Well, I'm here now. And luckily for you…." you start, allowing for some anticipation to build, "I come bearing gifts. Well, a gift. Singular." Jennie chuckles at your rambling -- it's one of the traits she finds most endearing about you, and she always hates it when people cut you down for it. It's adorable in every way. 

"Oh?" She asks, intrigued as she raises an eyebrow -- she's keeping the act up for you, of course, too fond of the cute smile on your face to tell you that she already knows what it is. You hand over the flowers with a little jig, too excited by how happy she looks to contain yourself. 

"They're beautiful, Y/N." She stops herself from adding a, "just like you," to the end of the phrase, wishing she was able to say things like that. You deserve to be reminded of how special you are everyday, and she knows her bandmate fails to do so. 

"So, what've you been up to?" You amble over to the couch that's tucked away in the corner of her dressing room, plopping down onto the cushions with a small bounce. Rosé's flowers lay beside you, and Jennie eyes them. 

"Same old, same old," she says, finally looking back at you with a tiny grin. "Practice for the comeback has kept us really busy lately, and somebody hasn't been there to tell us jokes at 3AM and keep us going." She playfully rolls her eyes, pretending to be annoyed. 

"My most sincere apologies," you hold a hand over your heart in mock regret, bowing your head with closed eyes. "On the bright side, though, I'm back in town for next month or two. I finished the business deals we had to handle abroad, so now I'm all yours." 

She knows you didn't mean hers, but that doesn't stop her from pretending. 

A happy noise of approval slips past her lips, and she claps excitedly. The sight reminds you of some of the childhood videos she's shown you, the two looking eerily similar to one another. No matter what may happen in her life, Jennie will most certainly remain that innocent young girl at heart, getting scared by everything that moves and loving with her all. She's an amazing person to know, and part of you feels sorry for everyone who'll never get the privilege of knowing her personally -- after all, everyone deserves a Jennie Kim in their lives. 

"Are you celebrating with us later?" She asks from in front of her mirror, now brushing her hair to busy herself. She runs the risk of making her feelings too obvious if she doesn't keep herself occupied. 

"I was planning to, yes. But that might depend on Rosé." You inform with a nervous chuckle, an anxious smile playing on your lips. When you look up and find her brows furrowed, you elaborate. 

"I'm gonna try to ask her out today when I bring her these flowers." You lightly chew your bottom lip out of habit, rubbing your hands together. The mere thought of such a task is daunting, especially with your not-so-perfect track record when it comes to her. You still try to cling to what little hope you have squirreled away in your heart, wishing with all your power that your sweet present will convince Rosé to at least give you a chance. 

Distracted by your thoughts, you don't notice the way that Jennie's face falls. Her heart is breaking in silence, splintering into pieces far too small to put back together. She knew this day would come eventually, given that you're a determined person and head over heels for Rosé, but that doesn't mean she was prepared to find out like this. The lovesick glimmer in your eye hurts Jennie even more, knowing that you're probably imagining what it would be like for her to say yes to you. This whole time, Rosé has been stringing you along -- giving you just enough hope to keep coming back to her, using your devoted acts of kindness selfishly -- and Jennie would do anything to make you see that. You don't deserve what she puts you through. 

"...Earth to Jennie!"

The brunette snaps back to reality and clears her throat, attempting to gather her thoughts again. 

"Sorry, just got lost there for a second." She says, looking back into your eyes after a moment. A curious look plays in them, and she can practically see you debating on whether or not to question her further. She lets out a quiet sigh of relief when you accept her answer, choosing instead to smile at her. 

"It's alright. But what's not alright, is that I've been sitting here for 5 minutes and you haven't come over to cuddle me. I mean seriously, a girl's gone for forever and her best friend doesn't bombard her with love?" You shake your head with an amused smile, throwing your hands in the air. 

Oh, the things she would do to change that title. 

Successfully suppressing the pang of longing that runs through her, Jennie quips back, "A month and a half is hardly forever, Y/N." 

"It felt like it, though. I missed seeing you." 

She finds you pouting, your arms folded across your chest like a toddler, and her heart melts. Any amount of time without you is too long for Jennie's liking, and she's happy to know you missed her as well. 

"Fine, I guess I can spare some cuddles." She pretends to be put out as she approaches you, really playing the part by huffing and looking uninterested. Inside, though, she's celebrating. She can't wait to hold you close again, even if it may lead to her hurting herself with the what-ifs and scenarios that play in her mind. 

"Yay!" You shout, pulling her into your lap before laying your head on her shoulder. Her heart beats rapidly at the proximity, and she prays to every higher power in existence that you don't notice it. 

She relaxes after a moment, releasing the tension from her muscles as she sinks into your embrace. It's warm and comforting, and she never wants you to let go. Her head rests on top of yours, and she's content just running her hands through your hair, feeling your calm breaths against her skin. 

She's so in love it hurts. 

-----

This'll convince her, you whisper to yourself, attempting to sound confident -- key word: attempting. If there's one thing you know about Rosé, it's that she loves to be difficult with you. You caught feelings for her years ago when you were first introduced to each other at a company event, and ever since then you've done nice things for her nonstop, hoping that she'd fall for you with time. The longer you wait, though, the more discouraged you get. Regardless, those times that she appreciates your efforts make up for all the rest, and you'd gladly take 100 instances of the "bad" in order to have even just one of the "good". 

After taking a deep breath, you knock on the door a couple times.

A sigh can be heard, sounding like a complete 180 from the reactions of the other girls. The subsequent footsteps are heavy -- like she's dragging her feet, not even wanting to get up in the first place -- and they work to dishearten you a bit. Nevertheless, you imagine how happy she'll be when she sees the surprise, and a small smile makes its ways onto your lips. All you want to do is brighten her day, if only for a moment. 

An indifferent expression rests on her face when she first opens the door, likely expecting someone else to be standing in your place. Not much changes when she realizes it's you, though a sliver of a smile does quirk up at the corner of her lips. 

"Hiya Rosie," you greet sweetly, unable to contain how wide your smile grows at seeing her again. She makes you feel like a giddy school girl, and you can't decide if you love it or hate it. 

"What's up?" She asks, more out of common courtesy than anything else. Her body leans against the doorframe, her left arm resting behind the door. She didn't throw it open or invite you in like the other girls, so that tells you that she probably doesn't want visitors. 

When you take too long to answer, she asks dryly, "Are you just gonna stare at me?" Her voice is laced with a slight undertone of annoyance -- one that makes you shrink down a bit. You can practically hear how exhausted she is, and part of you feels bad for disturbing her with your presence. 

"N-no, sorry." You curse yourself for looking like a fool. "I got you something that I think you'll enjoy." Her eyebrows raise slightly and you can tell she's intrigued, even if she may try to deny it. 

"Here." You declare, nervously fixing the plastic as you hold the bundle in front of you. You want it to look perfect for her. 

"I, uh, hand picked it." 

"Thank you, it's lovely." She says politely, taking them from you and bringing them up to her nose. She admires the gentle, pleasant scent of them, and smiles appreciatively at you.

You blush under her gaze, slightly tripping over your words as you respond, "Of course, I'm glad you like it." 

Now, the part you dread: when the conversation dwindles down, threatening to end entirely unless you step up to keep it going. 

"Well, how've you been?" You cringe at the overused question, but you're willing to employ it in order to hear her sweet voice for a little longer. 

"Look, Y/N, I really appreciate the gift and all, and I'm really happy to see you again, but I don't feel like talking right now. I just want to enjoy myself for a little bit." Her denial makes you scrunch your face up, embarrassed beyond belief as her words sink in. You should've known that flowers wouldn't suffice. Perhaps that last line stung the most -- you try not to read too far into it, but the idea that she doesn't enjoy herself when talking to you nags at your heart. 

"Yeah, yeah. For sure." You scratch the back of your neck, awkwardly taking a step away from her door and back into the hallway. 

"I'll see you at the get together later though, right?" You ask, kicking yourself when you realize how hopeful you sounded. You have to get better at hiding it. 

"Sure," she nods, sending you a smile and little wave before saying goodbye and shutting the door. 

Well, that was a bust. Damn. Back to the drawing board, it is -- though your ego will need a few hours to recover. 

---

"Lisa, I swear to god, if you come near me with that I'll punt you across this room." 

Your very serious, totally-not-exaggerated warning evidently worked against you, because the maknae soon raises her head to look at you, grinning like a maniac. Frosting from the cake she just messily cut into covers her hands, looking threatening as she wiggles them at you. 

"I mean in!" You shout as a last resort, slowly backing away. You accidently bump into Jennie in the process, but you fail to realize that it was part of the plan all along: she and Lisa are in cahoots. When the maknae lunges, swiftly striding across the room towards you, you attempt to move out of her path and get somewhere safer. Steady hands on your waist keep you anchored in place, though, and you try to fight them. 

"Jennie?! Let me go, she's right there!" You squeal, trying to pry her fingers off of your hips one by one. She merely laughs, whispering a sorry into your ear right before Lisa's hands run across your cheeks and neck. You squirm, leaning further back against Jennie to evade the younger girl as she does her worst. 

Now, practically having a face mask of frosting, you step away from the girls and glare at them. 

"Bullies, I tell you." You say to Jisoo, groaning when she busts out laughing. It doesn't take a genius to know that you look a mess, and you'd probably laugh at yourself if the roles were reversed. The others soon join in, and a chorus of belly laughs fill the air around you. 

"Go ahead, laugh it up," you tell the girls, nodding your head, "Just wait til I get my revenge. I'm coming for you, Manoban." You point a finger at her as you exit the room, grinning when you hear the oooo's that they let out at your threat, and you make your way to the bathroom at the end of the long hallway before you.

On your way back, you hear Rosé's voice filtering in from one of the lounge rooms that branch off of the main corridor. Intrigued, you stop walking and listen in. 

Big mistake. 

Your ears perk up when you hear your name roll off her tongue, though her subsequent sentences crush your spirits. 

"...I know, right? She's honestly so annoying. Like earlier, I was finally getting cozy after our performance and then she just showed up."

Too shocked to leave now, you stay where you are and try not to let her words hurt you too much. She listens to the person on the other end of the line, laughing at something they said. That sound -- one you’ve grown to love more than anything else in the world -- is turning into something you hate. It feels like she's laughing at you; which, in hindsight, she probably is. 

"Exactly! She had flowers for me, as if I don't get those almost everyday already, and I guess she really thought that that would win me over. It was sweet but, c'mon, you know?"

Every insecurity you have is nagging at you, and you can't stop the few tears that roll down your cheeks at her brutal honesty. She's really hurting your feelings, and you can't help but want to call her out for it. So, you do just that: you step into the open room, one that lacks an actual door, and say, "Next time you wanna talk shit about someone, maybe you should make sure they're not around to hear it." 

Her smile falters slightly, and she spins around to face you. A hint of guilt plays on her features, but you're sure it's only because she got caught -- she definitely meant everything she said. 

"Y/N--"

You don't stick around to listen to what she has to say. Her change of behavior surprised you, and you can't trust that she's even sorry for it. 

Your pace quickens as you hear her voice become clearer -- she's in the doorway now, calling after you, but you don't even turn around. The salt of your tears greets your tongue, and you're once again reminded to wipe your face as you rush down the hall, rounding a couple corners and darting past countless doors on your way. You just want to get out of this place and be alone. 

A new voice slows your strides as it greets your ears, feeling like a security blanket in its gentleness. It's Jennie. "Y/N? Why are you crying?" She came to look for you when you took too long to return from the bathroom. 

You're far too embarrassed to look at her, so you simply sniffle and raise a hand up in her direction. "Don't worry about me, Jen. It's not important." 

"Hey, yes it is. You're upset and that matters." She steps towards you, saying the words that you had no idea you needed to hear so badly. Your heart aches, still shocked by the fact that Rosé would say such things about you. You thought you were friends, if nothing else, and yet that's never felt further from the truth than it does right now. 

When you don't move away, Jennie takes that as a sign to bring you into her arms, cradling your head against her chest. The kind act hurts your heart more for some reason, and you want to pull away. Jennie senses this and decides to rub soothing circles on your back, her warm embrace comforting you as she says, "I don't know what happened, Y/N, but I'm right here. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, either, but please don't leave like this. I hate to see you upset." 

Something about the way she's holding you, so close and tenderly, is comforting beyond belief and you can't find the desire to leave anymore. 

"Can we at least go to your dressing room? I don't want everyone to see me like this."

"Of course, sweetheart. Come on." 

Sweet phrases of reassurance are whispered to you as she leads you away, keeping you safe from prying eyes the entire time. Jisoo appears in the doorway of the party room, raising a concerned brow when she sees the two of you approaching. Jennie shakes her head at the unnie before she can utter a word, giving her a silent answer as she uses her eyes to communicate what's happening. Jisoo eventually understands, and she offers a sympathetic nod when you pass by.  

-------

7 Months Later

"Hey Jennie, do you think you can go answer the door? I'd do it myself, but…" Jisoo trails off, glancing down at the bowl of partially mixed dough that sits in front of her on the counter. Her hands continue to knead the mixture as she looks up at the younger girl, subtly sighing in relief when she agrees. 

There's more than one reason behind having Jennie be the one to answer it. 

The brunette grabs a pen as she pads her way over to the door, ready to sign for a delivery package -- that's usually the only thing they get at the dorm, considering guests are discouraged for the most part. Screw YG and their rules. 

Being a bit clumsy, Jennie accidently knocks her phone out of her own hand as she opens the door, muttering out a quiet “shit” as she bends down to retrieve it. Her eyes trail over to the stylish boots that set just a few feet away, and her breath hitches. 

"Hi baby." You greet with that healing smile that she's missed so much, peering down at her with a look in your eye that makes her heart trip and stumble over itself. 

"Y/N!" She shrieks, jumping up from the ground and right into your arms. 

"Uumph--" you let out in surprise, making sure to catch her and prevent her from falling. Ever since you two began dating a few months ago, leaving has become harder and harder. Jennie is beyond thrilled to have you back again, and she tries not to think about the next business trip you'll have to take. It's a methodical rhythm -- a month or two abroad and the same amount back home, then you're left to repeat the cycle over and over. Both of you hate it, and you'd much rather spend all your time with her instead. After all, ever since the incident with Rosé all that time ago, Jennie has steadily worked her way into your heart and become someone you can't live without. You were close before, but you've reached a new level now -- and that's about the only thing you can thank Rosé for. By hurting you and showing you how little she cared, she effectively pushed you right into Jennie's waiting arms.

"I'm so happy you're home." She says with a sigh, truly grateful to have you in her arms again. You wrap your arms tighter around her waist and sway a little bit, both of you content with just holding each other for a while longer. The weather outside is dazzlingly perfect; signs of summer apparent in everything around you. Birds chirp their looping songs as they fly through the air, feeling the sun's gentle heat on their wings all the while. 

You move your head enough to be level with hers, bringing her in for a long-overdue kiss. She smiles into it, cupping your cheek with one of her hands as she languidly moves to deepen it. 

Rosé should've stayed in her room. She should've ignored her stomach's incessant grumbling for a snack; but she didn't. 

She gave in, and now she's stuck, rooted in place as she watches Jennie kiss you, the one that got away. It's like watching a train wreck: she can't look away, and part of her psyche knows she deserves this. The apple in her hands is the only thing working to distract her, and she grips it tightly within her clutch to comfort herself. You look good -- so good -- and Rosé doesn't know whether to be happy or not. She knows she didn't treat you right -- then or ever -- but for some selfish reason that she doesn't dare give voice to, she wants you to still be hurting. She wants you to be suffering like she is now, crying into your pillowcase at night when she crosses your mind. She wants you to miss the good times, though there may not have been enough of them, and she wants you to want her again. 

You've turned the tables on her, and she doesn't know how to cope. 

She realized what she had once it was gone -- once you were gone, too busy falling in love with Jennie to pay her any mind anymore. She misses how devoted you were to her and how much care you put into everything you did; she misses the consistency that you offered; she misses every sweet thing you ever did for her. Hell, she even misses hearing you ramble and seeing you blush when all she did was smile at you. 

But you're gone now, destined to be with her member when all she wants is another chance. She'll never get it, certainly not after everything she's put you through, and she resents herself for treating you so badly. All you ever did was care, and she was too self-centered to give a crap. 

She deserves this. She deserves to see you happy with Jennie, happy in a way she could never make you. For you, she deserves to hurt; to silently cry in her room when she hears the two of you on call, laughing about whatever new thing you experienced that day. Because it wasn't just the one instance of pain she inflicted on you; it wasn't just that one night at the performance hall -- it was a steady build up of rejection and half-assed excuses, and even she can't blame you for getting tired of it. She wishes she hadn't been so stupid to deny you. 

What's worse is that she's actually fallen for you now; she imagines what could've been, what would've been, had she given you an honest chance. She's never tried to deny how gorgeous you are -- that's a given -- but now you're bruisingly beautiful, shining with the happiness that Jennie's worked hard to instill in you again. Shining with the love you hold for that 5'4" angel. 

Maybe, if circumstances were different, you'd be in Rosé's arms right now. Perhaps in another life. 

---

"Do you want to come in? Jisoo's working on some dessert for the lunch we just made. We can heat you up a plate in the meantime…" Jennie trails off, hoping to persuade you. She knows it's risky, considering the tension that feels almost tangible anytime the three of you are together, but she doesn't want to let you go so soon. 

"I don't know…" The uncertainty in your voice is clear, and Jennie watches as a slight grimace crosses your features when you look past her and into the dorm. Luckily Rosé had already found the will power to move to the dining room, so you're spared from seeing her just yet. 

"If things get weird or uncomfy we'll leave, okay? I promise." She says, knowing she's convinced you once you give her a little nod. 

"Okay. But I'm only doing this because I missed Jisoo's cooking." A playful glint shimmers in your eye as you quirk your head to the side, teasing her. 

"Hey!" She groans, pushing your shoulder as the two of you walk down the little concrete path that leads to the front door. "I'm kidding! I missed Lisa's jokes, too." 

You laugh at the gasp she lets out, and you make sure to turn around and press a kiss to her temple to stop her from pouting. 

--

"So, Y/N, where did you go this time?" Jisoo asks, leaning against the marble island of the kitchen as she pops a piece of tanghulu in her mouth. The crack of the sugary coating pulls your attention away from Rosé, where it had momentarily been -- she looks awful. Bags rest underneath her eyes, her normally vibrant features crestfallen now as her gaze scans across the food on her plate. 

You look at Jisoo as you answer her. "The states. We worked with some local companies and small businesses to get more promotional material out in front of people. It's actually pretty amazing, guys -- you're blowing up over there. They love you." The girls smile at your words, feeling a sense of accomplishment swell within themselves. Back when they were trainees they never imagined that they'd end up this far, and yet here they are, seeing their dreams come true, day after day. 

You're just happy to be along for the ride. It's not easy by any means -- people often crack under the pressure and get discouraged by the hustle and bustle of everything that such a major operation entails -- but you've never been more thankful for a position in your life. 

"As they should," Lisa smirks, looking self-assured with the little cocky motion she does. You almost choke on the piece of food you just stuffed in your mouth, laughing at how ridiculous she looks. 

After successfully not dying, you look at her and shake your head. "Lisa, what is wrong with you?" She puts on her infamous meme face, pretending to be shocked by your question, and you cackle again. The sound makes Rosé jealous; she wishes she were the one making you laugh like that. 

Another hour or so passes with the 5 of you just relaxing and snacking together at the table, taking turns trading stories and jokes in the meantime. After finishing your dessert and complimenting the unnie's cooking skills, you make your way towards the kitchen with a groan of, "I'm so full" thrown over your shoulder. 

You begin washing the dishes, finding it only fitting seeing as they spent all that time preparing such a good meal. It's the least you can do. A smile tugs at your cheeks when you hear the door open, followed by light footfalls against the hardwood. Jennie. 

Warm arms snake around your waist as she hugs you from behind, resting her cheek against your back. Your brows furrow when you notice an unusual thing -- either Jennie grew a few inches in the last 5 minutes, or someone else is holding you. Their cheek reaches a place Jennie isn't tall enough to, and it all hits you.

It's Rosé. 

You go to shut the water off and step away, but the sounds of her quiet sniffles give you pause. "Please don't." She whispers into your shirt, bunching the material up within her fingers against your stomach. A pang of sadness pulls against your heart strings, the long forgotten feeling reignited by the waver in her voice. "Rosé," you start with a sigh, ready to launch into the practiced speech of how happy you are with Jennie now and how you've moved on. She tugs at your shirt, slowly turning you around, and you can't find it in yourself to break her heart even further in this moment. Her eyes are filled with what tears have yet to stream down her face, brimming with the salty liquid you hate to see. 

Even after everything, you can't stand to see her cry. 

So, perhaps stupidly, you allow her to lean forward and rest her head against your chest; you let her fall into your arms, sinking into the embrace she never intended to miss so much. 

It was innocent. Completely, utterly innocent, but Rosé couldn't stop herself -- not when you were there again, right in front of her, looking so good it hurt. She wrapped her arms around your neck, pushing her lips against yours in a kiss you weren't prepared for at all. Her mouth moved quickly against yours, knowing you'd be shoving her away at any moment. But she was okay with being selfish again -- she needed you then, and you allowed her to keep kissing you until you realized what was happening. 

As you go to stumble away and put distance between the two of you, the door once again opens; only this time, it's actually Jennie. Her eyes immediately dart between the two of you as she notices how Rosie's hands are still holding you close, both of your lips swollen from the kiss. All at once you realize how the situation must look, and you begin panicking. You knew this was a bad idea from the start. 

"Jennie, no. I promise this isn't what you think." You shake your head, finally freeing yourself of Rosé's grip as you take a couple steps towards your girlfriend. She takes an equal amount back, scoffing lightly at the memory of the scene she just witnessed. 

"Yeah, okay," she says, sounding anything but convinced as she makes her way towards the door. You go after her, but she holds a hand up -- after knowing her for so long, you've learned that that signal means to give her some time alone. Both of you know you'll go after her again later, but she needs some time right now. As she leaves the dorm, the heavy sound of the door shutting is the only noise that cuts through the palpable tension. 

"How could you do that?" You ask, voice small, not even turning around to look at Rosé. You doubt that she's even sorry. 

She isn't sorry. At least, not for kissing you. It felt good to have you like that, and she doesn't regret it. However, from what angle of your face your side profile offers to her, she can see how upset you are. That's what makes her feel the slightest bit guilty for her timing. 

"I spent so much time trying to get you to notice me, and now you choose to do that? You're unbelievable, Roseanne-- I'm finally happy, and what, you want to ruin that?” She takes the blows as they come, staying quiet. “If you've ever cared about me at all then you'll stay away." You set your jaw, willing the tears to go away. You've wasted too many on her, and you'll be damned to look weak right now. 

"Y/N, I-" 

"No. Don't apologize when we both know you don't mean it. You've always been selfish, Rosé." You bite back, not caring if the words cut her down like her old ones always used to do to you. Earlier, before her little stunt, you were starting to feel sorry for her; clearly though, that was yet another mistake on your part. 

You leave without another word, praying that she doesn't further complicate the situation by following after you. Jennie is the only thing on your mind as you hop in your car, having an idea of where she might be.

--

"Jennie, no. I promise this isn't what you think." 

Your worried voice replays in her mind for the millionth time, further tormenting her. She's been cheated on before, so that phrase isn't a new thing to her. 

She was always afraid this would happen. She used to lay awake at night, overthinking as usual, wondering when the beautiful thing the two of you created would ultimately come crashing down. It was too good to be true, and she curses herself for foolishly believing any different. 

The better part of an hour passes by as she sits on the park bench, reminiscing on all the memories you've made here. The idea of ending things with you and starting over with someone else sinks in, and she hates the feeling. She only wants you -- she's only ever wanted you -- and the thought that things could really be over now hurts her more than she cares to admit. 

Your eyes scan across the park, ghosting over the playground equipment until they zero in on her, sitting near the fountain that you shared your first kiss. Such a sap, you smile bittersweetly. 

You ruffle through the plastic bag that sits in the passenger's seat, moving the receipt out of the way so that you can pick up what you're really after. Returning your hands to the steering wheel, you grip it while giving yourself a little pep talk before exiting the car. You press a kiss to the present in your hand for good luck, hoping this encounter will go well. 

Water spouts from the top of the fountain, the sound growing louder the closer you get to Jennie. Her back is turned to you, and for that you're thankful -- you're not quite prepared to see how she'll be looking at you. Now just a few feet away, you say, "Marry me."

You’ll do whatever it takes to show her how crazy you are about her.

Her head whips around, completely taken aback by your proposal. She thinks that there's no way you're serious, but when she looks down to find her favorite flavor of ring pop in your hand, her eyes widen. You're sick of wasting time, and seeing that she hasn't yelled at you or turned you away yet, you take advantage of the situation. 

"Marry me, Jennie," you repeat, taking small, careful steps towards her until you're right next to the bench. "She kissed me, but I tried to push her away. I told her that you're the only one for me." 

She blinks, taking in your words as she notices you nervously toy with the plastic wrapper of the candy. She knows you're telling the truth; you're a terrible liar, and you wouldn't be here right now if you didn't want her back. If you wanted to choose Rosé over her, you had the perfect opportunity to do so back at the dorm.

But you don't; you want Jennie, and now you're standing in the middle of your favorite park, proposing with a piece of candy to prove that to her. The things you do for love. 

"It just scared me, Y/N. Seeing her wrapped around you like that--"

"I know, baby. I know. But I promise I didn't want it, and it meant nothing to me. I'm so in love with you, Jennie Kim." 

She smiles at the dopey grin on your face, seeing how smitten you are. 

"Okay," she answers back, yet again looking at your hands. 

"Is that a yes?" You ask, slowly beginning to tear open the wrapper. 

"Yes, dummy. I'll marry you." She declares, nodding her head with a laugh at how slow you are sometimes. 

"Yay!" You shout, stepping forward to pick her up in your arms. You set her back down with a smile, slipping the ring onto her finger as your heart soars. 

Jennie kisses you, letting the action convey all the emotions she's been through in the past few hours. "I love you." She sighs, resting her forehead against yours. 

"I'd surely hope so, jagi," you smirk against her lips, giggling at the squeal she lets out when you playfully pinch her side. Her kisses are replacing all traces of Rosé, and she's comforted by the fact that you'll so adamantly choose her, everyday. 

With a smile, Jennie realizes something: never again will she be forced to dream of having you in another life -- her wishes came true, and now she'll have you in this one, always.

[eclipsedpascal]

You Deserve This

Andy Dolan x Female Reader

GIF by @kissxmedeadly !!

“The reader asking Andy about his kiddo (let's pretend is a lil boy 🤣) and him being very emotional about it and the reader who truly loves him conforts him 😭❤️” - anon

Please read the warnings!!

Warnings: use of drugs (weed), smut, oral (female receiving), slight public sex, slight angst, mentions of rehab, mentions of suicidal thoughts, a lil bit of crying and VERY slight Eden spoilers, but thats only if you don't want to know anything AT ALL, so basically none? idk lmao:)

Notes: hi! So this is my first Andy fic, I wrote it very quickly last night after a sudden burst of inspiration and it doesn't make too much sense, also it’s kinda cheesy? I don't think I've ever written anything this angsty or soft before, but i’m trying to be more in touch w my emotions nd this is my way of doing that, so hopefully i'll do more things like this soon:) also if you’re interested, the title is one of my favourite songs by Men I Trust that I just thought fit Andy well.

Word count: 1.8k

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The warm, dancing breeze washed over your skin, plucking up your many goosebumps and blowing the rainbow coloured sea of petals that decorated the large garden from left to right. The bittersweet mix of their fragrances and Andy’s blunt rushed to you and filled your scrunched up, wrinkled nose as you let out a loud laugh. The vibrant expanse of fluffy grass felt close to a mattress underneath you, cradling your form whilst you laid amongst the greenery and watched Andy ghost a deep inhale of the blunt he had balanced precariously between two fingers. He flopped his arm across the gap between you and offered you another toke, the dopey smile spread over his features making you laugh even more.

“What’s so funny? Hmm?” He questioned you jokingly, rolling onto his forearms and bringing his face to hover just above yours as you brought the blunt to your lips. You couldn't hold in your laughter, your drug hazed state and the breeze that pushed his brown curls to tickle your blushing skin only exaggerating your amusement further as you choked out clouds of smoke.

“What??” He joined in laughing, finding humour in his own confusion and finding your laugh infectious. His lips found your own in a sudden yet gentle kiss which you gladly embraced, still not managing to fully compose yourself as you giggled into his open mouth.

You did your best to pull back from the kiss, but were reminded you didn't really have anywhere to go when you felt a blade of grass flutter against your ear. “It’s just.. your smile.” You rested your blunt carrying hand on his cheek as you spoke, feeling your heart swell when he pulled an overdramatic expression of insult at your reply.

“What’s so wrong with my smile?!” He half faked offence, not understanding what you could possibly find so amusing about it as you giggled more and more. “What’s wrong with it?- is it my lips? ‘They not good enough for you baby?” His thick accent aided his voice, making him sound even more attractive than he already was as he joked with you.

“Noo! it definitely wasn’t your lips, cause I love those.” You gripped his locks a little firmer, biting your lip as his stare changed from one of curiosity to one of want.

“Oh yeah?” He leaned back down and kissed you again, but this time rougher, the weed made you feel as if his lips were slowly melting into your own as it sent strong signals of lust through your body. He put all his weight on one arm, lifting the other and groping your waist with it whilst simultaneously moving to trail wet kisses down your neck.

His touches were deep, yet executed so delicately it convinced you if he was any rougher, you might just break. He opened the buttons of the flowing shirt you wore; one you had stolen out of his wardrobe that morning. He moved his head further down your chest to your stomach, mouth racing in slow motion to reach you were he wanted to most.

Forgetting to explain why you found his smile so funny in the first place, your high carried your thoughts closer towards how incredible his mouth felt on your skin, making you lean into his touch and let out a few small mewls.

As he reached your panty line, he tapped your hip, signalling for you to lift them so he could take your shorts off. He slid them off your legs in a quick, smooth motion that had them landing on a nearby lavender bush. The garden had quite a large variety of blossoming shrubbery and many clusters of beautiful flowers, it was probably down to the bi-weekly gardeners Andy had hired. You had known they were expensive and after spending so much time like this, lazing around, surrounded by the expensive home’s nature, you were beginning to understand why he had hired them.

You returned your gaze from the dangling shorts, back to the man nestled between your bare thighs. His beard was scratching at your skin in the best way possible as he laid small kisses over the thin fabric that covered your cunt. His hot breathe felt like fire as you wriggled and squirmed below him, just wanting some kind of contact from him.

He used two fingers to peel your panties to the side, groaning at the site of your glistening folds before kissing your clit gently. His tongue started swiping across your cunt slowly, taking all the time in the world to make you feel as good as he knew he could. You moaned loudly, grabbing at his hair once more as he sucked on you deeply.

“Mr Dolan?” You were interrupted by a throat clearing before hearing a man speak; one of Andy’s many servants you guessed. They had never seemed to leave the two of you alone whilst you had been staying there. No matter how big his home was, you always seemed to find another at every corner.

Andy looked up to the man with question and annoyance, raising an eyebrow at him as he wished for him to just hurry up and leave so the two of you could continue with your escapades. “It’s the phone for you Mr Dolan. Your son.”

Andy quickly rose from his place below you, his mind abandoning all thought of the act he was just partaking in as he jogged past the glass doors of his home, wanting only to speak to the young boy.

You sat up slightly, doing up a few buttons of your shirt and laying your crossed legs to the side of you as you held yourself up with your arm. You watched him as he scrambled into the house after his servant, little red marks from where he had been lying in the grass next to you were noticeably imprinted on the skin of his left arm, the one he had been leaning on, and his open shirt was flowing behind him with the speed he was moving.

You looked down to the flowers on front of you, picking a single daisy that bore tinted, pink tips on the end of each slim, white petal, twirling the stem around between two of your fingers as you listened to the breeze pick up. You could feel the mood of the air change as he left, the wind feeling more cold an irritating than once before as you pondered the call Andy was having.

You knew how desperate he had been to speak to his son again. It had been months since he had spoken to him without his ex-wife being the messenger. He missed him more than he knew to describe.

His recent divorce had been what had fuelled him to return home to Eden; hoping to find solace in the paradise he knew so well after feeling as if he had lost himself entirely. Spending too many years constantly playing other people had taken more of a toll on him than he had realised, that was until he was sent to rehab. After getting out, he felt as if staying in Eden was the only way for him to climb out of the dark hole he had managed to find himself in. Unfortunately, this journey of finding himself had meant making the decision to leave his son behind in Los Angles. Something he didn't like to speak on much.

When you had first met him in rehab however, he had been extremely open about his life, telling you how anger was the only emotion he could really feel anymore. Explaining that if he wasn’t at least the slightest amount intoxicated, he didn't think he couldn't go on with living; especially after the recent downfall of his career being showcased for the entire world to see. It was dark stuff, but you understood each other. That’s a big part of what made you grow so close.

You picked off petal after petal from the daisy, watching its beauty fade with each pluck and letting each one slowly blow into the breeze, creating a tragic stream as they blew away from you and down to the not so far off shoreline. As you plucked the last petal, you admired the daisy, still glowing with pollen and beaming in the sunlight despite have lost so many important parts of it. You stuck it into your shirt pocket and fell back down to lay on the grass as you waited for Andy to finish his call.

It had been maybe ten minutes you were lying with your eyes closed, enjoying the heat that beamed down from the clear, Australian sky when you finally heard the slow footsteps that you knew to be Andy’s, pattering along the grass. You shot up from where you lay to see the dopey-smiled man who had left you in the garden just fifteen minutes before, only to be faced with a red-eyed, teary one.

“Andy what happened? Are you okay?” He fell down onto the grass besides you, staring at you but completely wordless. You felt as if you could see into his soul. He was feeling so many emotions he hadn’t even been able to grasp at in so long. It was overwhelming him and you knew it. You reached out to stroke is cheek, concern running through you for the man that you had grown to love so dearly over the past few months.

He looked up “She’s gonna let me see him. T-They’re coming over next month.” A tear fell from his face as he smiled harder than you had ever seen him smile before. He was finally going to see his son after all these long months and you couldn’t have been any happier for him.

“Really?! That’s amazing, oh my god!” You moved forwards, wrapping your arms over his large shoulders and squeezing him in a hug so full of love it was palpable. “You really got to speak to him this time?” You questioned him once more before pulling away from his grasp, thinking back to the many times his ex-wife had promised he could speak with the boy but decided at the last minute he wouldn’t get to.

“Yeah!.. he uhh,” He took in a shaky breath, chuckling with joy as he recalled hearing the young boy’s voice so filled with excitement and energy over the phone. “He said he couldn't wait to meet you! You know, when I told him about you.” He stumbled over his words, running a hand through his hair as he shook with nerves, doing his best to calm himself.

In that moment, you felt your love for him soar higher than it ever had before. You were so proud of the progress he had made, and you knew his son would be too. “And I cant wait to meet him either.” You rested your forehead against his, the two of you enjoying a stand still and bathing in the happiness you both felt in the beautiful moment. The sound of the ever present breeze occupied your ears as the laughter emitting from two of you joined it, echoing a song throughout the garden that wouldn’t be forgotten any time soon.

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Thank you sm for reading!!🥺💗

Tags: @celestialrequiem @ntxoza @dark-mei-rose @sojournmichael @blakescoven @ritualmichael @ghostangels @fernfiction @ferndolan @brattylovee @7-wonders @angelicmichael @melodylangdon @brooklinn13 @kitty4860 @lavenderahs @michaellangdonstanaccount @9layerdevilfoodcake @chicaluna2410 @plymptxn-reborn I've just tagged anyone who I thought might be interested as per usual, but if you would to be removed feel free to let me know!! you can also lemme know if you would like to be added to the tag list too:)

[ssahotchhner]

i’ll crawl home to her (LRPD part two)

PART ONE

hello again! thank u all again for paying attention to my first work! this has been a lot of fun for me to write the last few days. please feel free to send me any requests. if anyone was curious, the title of the first part was the title of a song by hozier, the title of this part is taken from another hozier song: work song (: i hope you guys like it and thank you again for reading!! pairing: hotch x reader

words: 7k

warnings: again, usual cm stuff, rape mention, kidnapping, knives, guns, bombs, cursing, some smut

chat with me!

You’ve been laying on your hotel bed, staring at the ceiling for hours. You thought you’d be sad, upset with yourself, but instead you’re angry. After you’d been stewing in it for a while, you stand and leave your room, ignoring the digital clock at your bedside that tries to remind you it’s nearly 2AM.

You storm all the way down the hallway until you’re outside Aaron’s door, knocking aggressively with no reprieve until the door opens. You ignore the feeling in your stomach at seeing him shirtless with pajama bottoms hanging low at his hips, his hair mussed from sleep. You feel a pang of guilt at waking him. You storm past him before he can invite you inside.

“Take back the suspension, now.” You demand, spinning to face him.

He slowly closes the door, “Agent, it’s 2AM. Have you slept?” He looks you over, answering his own question, “You haven’t slept in over 48 hours, we can talk about this in the morning.”

“Why are you punishing me for something I didn’t do?” Angry tears entered your eyes.

Hotch looks exhausted as he pulls a shirt over his head and sits on the edge of the bed, “I’m not punishing you--”

“Well it sure feels that way. What, you couldn’t stand to be around me, working with me anymore because of the other night so this is how you get rid of me?” The tears overflow, pouring down your cheeks, “Is that it then?”

He shakes his head sadly, “You know that’s not true.”

“Then what?!”

He takes a breath, “I can’t have you working in the field right now knowing you lied during your psych eval and you know that. You put yourself and the team at risk when you’re out in the field, keeping things from all of us.” You start to protest, but he holds up a hand to stop you, “When we get back, you can go through another evaluation without lying. And then, if you pass, you can have your gun and badge back, no questions asked.” You’re quiet and he has to ask, “Why did you lie?” He can’t hide the hurt in his voice, “You could’ve told me.”

Your face crumples, “I lied because I didn’t want you to look at me like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like a victim. Like damaged goods. Broken.”

He finally stands to come over to you, “I’ve never thought that, not for a single moment. I think you’re incredibly brave, stronger than you know.” He takes your face in his hands and gently tilts it up until you’re looking at him and brushes away your tears with the pads of his thumbs, “This doesn’t change any of that.” 

You push him away and his arms fall to his sides again, “Then why do you keep treating me like an inconvenience?”

He decides now he should finally be honest with you, “Because the way I feel about you scares me, it’s inappropriate and I don’t know how to handle it. Haley’s the only woman I’ve ever been with, I don’t know how… I didn’t know if you even wanted me.”

You manage the smallest of smiles, “Thought you were supposed to be a profiler.”

He smirks and looks down, relieved that you’re finally, finally not upset with him, “I’m not good at profiling when it comes to you.”

“Well?” You ask and he looks back up at you again.

“Well, what?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me?”

“Ask you what?”

You smile, “If I want you.”

He smirks again, his brown eyes looking you up and down as he walks to you until he has you backed against a wall, “Do you want me?” He whispers in your ear, his breath against your skin sends chills down your spine.

You can only nod as he pulls back to look at your face and then his mouth is on yours. Soft and gentle at first, but then as his hands explore your body, his lips become needier, more insistent. You moan softly when he begins kissing and biting your neck, hands traveling lower until he’s rubbing you over your pants, “Is this okay?” He sounds so calm and in control, unlike the breathy mess he’s made you.

“Yes,” You say and bring his face back to yours.

He pulls away to look in your eyes, “I can stop, if you want.” 

“No.” You say quickly, “Don’t stop.”

So he carries you to the bed, carefully removing your clothing as he kisses you all over. Soon, you’re both naked and he lays on his side, pulling away a bit as his eyes roam over you. “What’s the matter?” You say.

He shakes his head and runs his fingers along your shoulders, “Nothing, you’re perfect. I just want to look at you.”

You smile and run your hands down his chest, then back up to his shoulders, pulling yourself closer to him. “We can go slow,” You murmur and then slide a hand between his legs as he nearly gasps, “If you want.” You pump him once, twice, and he’s practically growling at you, quickly flipping the two of you so he’s kneeling between your legs.

He slowly pushes himself inside you, burying his face in your neck. You feel his smile against your skin when you moan with pleasure at being filled up. He thrusts slow and gentle, his eyes locking on yours, half to make sure you’re still okay and half for his own pleasure. It’s bliss watching how your mouth parts open that little bit, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head. Everything you do drives him absolutely crazy. Watching you and hearing the sound of your moans that he had imagined so often when he was alone is what sent him over the edge, and just like that you think it’s over. But just moments after finishing, he slides out of you and whispers, “Your turn” before his face disappears between your legs.

All you can really think as his mouth makes quick work of you, digging his fingers into your thighs and sneaking glances at you, is how you’re ever going to be able to work with him again without thinking of this. It’s that sight, the sight of your boss, normally so dominant, submissive to you now as he lays between your thighs, has that knot in your stomach unraveling as your back arches.

Once you’ve ridden out your high, he climbs back up next to you. You both lie on your backs, out of breath next to each other. When you both catch your breath, Aaron immediately pulls you to him until most of your body rests on his chest. He presses a kiss to your forehead, “I can’t tell you how long I’ve thought about doing that.” He says.

You smile, “Me too.”

“Really?” You can tell from his tone you’ve fueled his already inflated ego.

“Yeah, Aaron, everytime you roll up your sleeves, or shoot a gun, or wear a bulletproof vest,” You let out a low whistle and he laughs. You smile again, “I’ve missed making you do that.”

You’re both quiet for a while and you would think he was sleeping if not for the way his fingers kept stroking your arm, “Aaron?” You say after a while.

“Hm?”

You hesitate, knowing that once you say this you can never go back. But, you spit it out, “I love you.”

His hand stills on your arm and the silence feels so loud, you can hear your own heartbeat, “You should get some sleep.”

You’re glad for the darkness so he can’t see the pain on your face, or notice the way your heart shatters. You have no right to be upset, you know this, and yet… You turn away from him and you feel the bed shift as he does the same. And once his breathing evens out, you dress and sneak out to head back to your hotel room. You think he’s asleep, but he’s not. He’s too busy beating himself up for not saying it back to you when he knows he feels it.

Quickly, you pack your suitcase all while brushing tears from your eyes. You book your own flight home, not able to bear the jet ride home. Not only had you been suspended, but you’d been so vulnerable with your boss and he had rejected you. 

You send a quick text to JJ to let the team know you won’t be on the jet and ignore all the texts that follow asking you what’s going on. Aaron doesn’t bother contacting you. Why would he? He knows why you’re not here.

He’s quiet and resentful the entire plane ride back and everyone knows better than to ask him what was wrong.

***

When you get back to your apartment you immediately head for your bar cart, pouring a heavy amount of tequila over ice and chugging it back. You knew halfway through you would regret it, but you finished anyway. Then, you carefully locked your door and headed to the shower. 

***

“Maybe we should go check on her.” Penelope was telling JJ and Emily two days later at the bullpen. “She’s still not answering her phone.”

Aaron feels incredible guilt overhearing this conversation. He had eventually tried to call you as well to no avail. He was starting to get worried, but he wasn’t sure if he should be the one to go. It would be better if the rest of them went.

“What happened with the two of you that night?” Rossi comes to stand next to Aaron.

“Nothing,” He lies, “She’s still upset about the suspension I suppose.”

“I know she went to talk to you that night, Hotch.” He adds at Aaron’s look, “She’s not the only one on this team with insomnia. She didn’t leave again for hours and then she bought her own plane ticket. What did you say to her?”

He sighs, “It’s not so much what I said, but what I didn’t say.”

***

There’s a knocking at your door, you think. It’s hard to hear it over the record player that’s blasting the saddest songs you know of. But, sure enough, definitely knocking. You have half a mind to bury yourself under your weighted blanket and go back to sleep. You’re sure it’s Penelope’s voice you hear outside though, and how could you ignore her?

Reluctantly, you drag yourself out of bed and to the door. Swinging it open, you see Penelope, JJ, and Emily, standing at your door with takeout and several bottles of wine. There’s also a vase of red roses which causes you to frown, “Roses?”

“Oh, not from us,” Emily says quickly, “They were just sitting out here when we got here. Can we come in?”

You wish you could say no to them, but you know it’s your own fault that they’re here. After all, you hadn’t answered anyone’s calls or texts for two days. You step aside and they file in. You pick up the vase of flowers and bring them inside. They’re wilting a bit, meaning they had probably been waiting outside for you for at least a day. You set them on a table, knowing your colleagues are watching you closely and pluck a card from the flowers.

I’m sorry. -A

Wordlessly, you toss the card on the table, pick up all the roses and plop them in the trash. Nobody says anything and you pretend to ignore Penelope as she puts new water in the vase and then carefully takes the roses out of the trash and back in the vase. “Hotch?” JJ asks as you climb back in bed. Emily turns off the music.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You say quietly. 

“That’s okay,” JJ says, sitting on the edge of your bed, “Can we talk about why you’re not at work, then?”

“I’m suspended, you guys know that.”

“Hotch said if you did another psych eval you could come back.” Emily says. 

Penelope has scooched herself next to your head and tries to run her fingers through your hair, “Oh, honey, when was the last time you brushed your hair?”

You swat her hand away, “I won’t pass another psych eval.”

Penelope gets off the bed to find a hair brush. “If you tell us what really happened… with Bobby Tiller…” You flinch when JJ says his name, “We can help you through it.”

Penelope’s back and starts gently working her way through your tangles. You sigh, “Penelope can’t handle hearing about that kind of stuff.”

“If it’ll help you, yes I can.” She says quickly.

You frown, “Garcia--”

“I know what you guys deal with everyday. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t let you guys unload on me about it every now and then?”

You squeeze her hand, she was so good. “I’ll need some wine first, then.”

***

“A sexual sadist, where would he keep them?” You murmur to yourself, “He’s stayed in his comfort zone this whole time,” You make a circle on the map around the places where the victims were taken and then dumped, all within a five mile radius, “He needs somewhere no one would hear their screams…” You take out your phone and dial Penelope, “Garcia, can you triangulate the location of the last three body dumps and tell me if there’s any sort of abandoned building in the middle, maybe a church? A warehouse?”

“Can I?” The sound of her rapid typing fills your ears, “Y/N, you wound me so.”

You smile, waiting for her answer. “Bingo, you genius girl. There’s an abandoned factory right in the middle, sending you the address now.”

You’re already grabbing your coat, “Don’t tell anyone, Penelope, but you’re my favorite person on this team.”

She laughs, “Should I call you some backup?”

“No time,” You’re running to the SUV outside the police precinct now, “I’m the closest, everyone else is spread out. If I wait for them, the other girls will die.”

“Y/N, you can’t go there by yourself, I’ve seen those bodies, those victims--”

“Garcia, I’m fine, I can handle myself, just tell the team where I’m going.” You hang up before she can argue further, plugging in the address she gave you to the GPS in the car.

***

Aaron’s phone rings on his way back to the police department with Derek in the passenger seat, “Garcia, what’ve you got?”

“Sir, I’ve just sent an address to everyone, you have to go there now.” The panic in her voice has Hotch immediately making a U turn without question.

“What’s going on?” He demands as he drives, turning on his sirens.

“Y/N figured out where he’s keeping the girls, she left without backup,” Both Derek and Aaron visibly tensed at this news, “I told her I’d call backup and not to go without it, but she insisted there wasn’t time.” Garcia was nearly on the verge of tears.

“You did what you were supposed to do, baby girl, we’ll go get her.” Morgan reassures before Hotch hangs up and immediately calls you.

“Y/L/N.” You pick up on the third ring. You had considered letting it go to voicemail, knowing Hotch was going to order you not to do what you were about to do and knowing you were going to disobey him.

“I’m ordering you to wait for backup before you go in there.”

You sigh, “You know if I do that, they’ll die.”

“They might still die and you’ll just be another body to add to the pile.”

“Or I might get there in time.”

“This is not a request, it’s an order, agent. We’re on our way.”

“Would you wait?”

“Excuse me?”

“If it was you sitting outside where there might be two girls still alive inside, would you wait?”

He’s quiet for a moment, “I don’t fit his victimology the way you do.”

“I don’t recall ‘armed FBI agent’ being included in the victimology.”

“Don’t do this.” His voice is a desperate whisper and it’s almost enough to get you to stop.

“Just drive faster.” You say and take the phone away from your ear, hearing your boss yell your name until you hang up.

But you didn’t make it to the girls. He was waiting for you, you didn’t even have a chance. He came up behind you only moments after you hung up with Hotch and hit you hard enough on the head to knock you unconscious.

He had your hands tied and packed you away in his pickup truck, driving away long before Hotch and Morgan arrive on the scene.

“Hotch!” Morgan yells, as Aaron’s running back from the building. You weren’t inside. Morgan shakes his head when Hotch meets his eyes, “He’s got her.” He says resolutely, pointing to your badge, gun, and cellphone that lay in the dirt by the tire of your SUV. “She didn’t even make it inside.”

Aaron’s head is spinning, only moments away from losing control. He has you. “Hotch, keep it together, we’ll find her, okay?” Morgan says quietly.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Morgan!” He shouts, “A sexual sadist has her right now--”

  “And you’re wasting time letting your emotions get the best of you, man! Come on now, look-- LOOK!” Derek directs his attention to the dirt road, “He couldn’t have gotten far with her, look at the tire tracks. Let’s go, we’ll call the team on the way.”

They drove only two minutes before they couldn’t decipher the tire tracks anymore, Hotch bangs on the steering wheel, cursing before dialing Spencer, “Reid, where else would he go? He knew we were coming, where would he bring her?”

“I-- I don’t know, somewhere he’s familiar with, he could have had a backup location, it has to be nearby. If he knows we’re coming he knows he won’t have a lot of time with her, he’d want it to be close so he could--”

“That’s enough boy wonder, call us when you have an address.” Morgan says, taking the phone from Hotch and hanging it up. “She made the choice to go, she knew what she was doing. She’s smart, she’s resourceful, she’s gonna make it.”

Hotch ignores him, only drives further. His knuckles turn white with how he’s clenching the wheel, just barely keeping his anger in check. If he has to find your body, he doesn’t know what he’ll do.

***

When you wake, you’re only aware that you’re being carried. You do a quick assessment while pretending to be unconscious and find your hands tied. The weight of your gun is missing from your hip. You’re still outside, you can tell from the wind and the sun, but you won’t be for long. Your guess is this will be your last shot to escape.

You count to ten and then you roll from his arms. You’ve surprised him and you’re able to kick up at him once you’ve fallen, hitting him in the groin. With your hands tied, you struggle to get to your feet, but you do and you run like hell, looking for a road.

Your head still hurts from where he hit you and you’re dizzier than you would like, so eventually he catches up to you again. You can no longer deny your human instincts and you scream, hysterical as he tackles you. “Aaron!” You yell, “I’m here! Help!”

To your horror, the unsub only laughs, “Will you shut the hell up?”

And then he chokes you, not to kill, but to get you unconscious. It works. And then he drags you to the bunker.

***

“If this call isn’t to tell me where she is, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Hotch, we talked to the unsub’s parents, they talked about an abandoned bunker just a mile south of where he was holding the girls. He used to go there when he was a teenager, probably to do drugs or kill animals.”

Hotch is already swinging the car around, “Give me an address.”

***

When you wake again, first everything’s only white. Then, you see his face. 

“I can smell the fear on you.” He smiles.

You manage to keep your face neutral. What would Emily do? Hotch? Spencer? “I’m not afraid of you.” You manage, and to your own surprise, your voice doesn’t shake.

“You know what I am,” He traces a knife along your face, “What I’ve done to those women. You more than anyone… You should be terrified of me.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“That’s alright, sweetheart.” He rips the buttons of your shirt loose and you try not to flinch, “We’re just getting started.”

***

“Morgan, take the back, I’ll take the front.” Hotch orders, “Prentiss, you’re with Morgan, Reid you’re with me. Let’s go.”

From the profile, they all knew he was planning on being caught. He would come quietly. All they could hope was that they got to him before he finished his final job. You.

They entered quietly, but they could hear soft crying deeper in. Alive, you were alive. Hotch and Spencer carefully cleared each hallway until they got to the room you were in. The unsub had you pulled to his chest, your clothes ripped and barely covering you. You were whimpering, tears shining on your cheeks and it took Aaron absolutely everything not to abandon protocol and tackle him.

Instead, he points his gun steady, “Bobby Tiller, it’s over, drop the knife.”

“Why?” He says, smiling, “Why shouldn’t I kill her in front of you?” His smile widens, “You’re Aaron, aren’t you?” He laughs now, “She cried out for you. Outside. Where were you, Aaron?”

Aaron’s restraint is hanging by a thread, he tries not to let this information get to him. “I said put it down!” He yells.

At that moment, he sees Morgan and Prentiss coming in from behind, guns raised.

“I bet it would just destroy you to watch me kill her, I can see it in your eyes. Wouldn’t that be a fun way to go out? I would win.”

“You haven’t won anything, you either die here or you rot in jail.”

“Exactly, which means I have nothing to lose by killing her.” He was done talking, was about to slit your throat when a shot rang out from behind. It was Morgan and he had hit Bobby square in the back. 

You fall forward, hyperventilating a bit as Spencer rushes to you, pulling you into his arms and telling you it’s going to be okay. Hotch watches you, but keeps his distance, careful not to let the enormous relief he feels show except in the way his shoulder slump forward. “I need a medic.” He relays to the backup that’s on its way here and then he walks out of the bunker, letting Morgan and Reid help you out.

On the plane ride back, he sits by you as you look out the window, “Are you alright?”

You spare him a glance and then gaze back out the window, “I’ll be fine.”

He’s quiet for another moment, not wanting to ask what he has to ask. “Did he…?”

“No.” You answer quickly. “He didn’t have time.”

A small victory, he knows, but a victory nonetheless, “You’ll have to undergo a psych evaluation before I can allow you back in the field.”

“I know.”

“Take at least a week off and then we’ll schedule the evaluation and if you’re cleared you’re welcome back whenever you’re ready.”

You nod, “Okay.”

He lets a few minutes pass before he says anything else, “Was he telling the truth? Did you call for me by name?”

You shrug indifferently, smiling, but he can hear the tears in your voice, “I knew you and Derek were probably nearby. We were still outside and I could see the road. So I tried. That’s all.”

He chews the inside of his cheek, fists clenched beneath the table between them, “I’m sorry.”

You’re already shaking your head, “Don’t do that. You got to me in time. It was my decision to go inside.”

He nods, “And if you hadn’t shown up, those girls would be dead.”

You manage a smaller smile. Bobby Tiller had had to abandon the other girls when you showed up so Morgan and Hotch were able to call them an ambulance before they left to find you. “I know.”

“I would have done it.”

“Hm?”

“You asked me before you went if I would’ve gone in alone. I would have.”

You smile again, but your eyes are sad, “I know.”

***

“But he did, rape you, didn’t he?” Emily said quietly.

There were silent tears streaming down both yours and Penelope’s faces. You nod, “Yeah. It didn’t last very long, but yes he did.”

“Did he… Did he torture you the way he did with the other women?” Emily has to ask, has to know if you’re hiding anything else from them.

You’re already shaking your head, “No,” And at Emily’s insistent stare, you repeat yourself, “No, I swear. He held me at knifepoint while he did it which, you know, cut me a little bit,” You rub at your chest, though the shallow cuts had long ago healed, “But I swear, he didn’t have time for much else before you guys found me.”

“I’m so sorry you went through that,” JJ reaches out and squeezes your arm.

You shrug, “It’s alright. It was my choice to go in there alone, I knew what might happen.”

“That doesn’t mean you deserve what happened.” Emily says.

“I know.” You nod.

Penelope’s been quiet since she finished brushing your hair, now just mindlessly running her hands through it, “How have you just been functioning as usual since you came back after that?” Her voice shakes and you feel terrible for exposing her to this.

You squeeze her hand and shrug, “You just… learn to adapt. I knew you were all watching my every move. I didn’t want anyone worried about me and so I made sure they had nothing to worry about. Until this case.”

“What happened in the interrogation room that had Hotch so shook up?”

“Well,” You sighed, “I played the role of potential victim, made him like me, forgot he was uncuffed and egged him on until he tried to strangle me.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” Penelope chided.

“You could pass another psych eval.” Prentiss said, “You seem to be coping better than most people.”

“I have nightmares.” You admit, “It’s why I don’t sleep on the jet anymore. I don’t want any of you to see that.”

“We’ll help you through,” JJ says, “If you want to come back you should come back. The team needs you.”

You scoff, “You guys don’t need me.”

“Excuse me, fairy queen of the universe, but you don’t get a say in that.” Penelope tugs on a piece of your hair.

“We miss you.” JJ says sincerely.

You sigh, “Okay. I’ll, uh, go see Hotch tomorrow.”

“There will be black SUV parked here if you haven’t gotten your butt in the office by 10AM, understand?” Penelope teases.

“Yes, yes, now everybody out of my apartment so I can sleep.”

The girls laugh on their way out and when you close the door you sigh and lean your back against it, only to see the roses sitting on your table again. You chew on your lip for a moment before shutting off all the lights in the apartment and climbing into bed. You would deal with Hotch tomorrow.

***

You ignored the whispers of your colleagues as you walked into the bullpen, marching straight into Hotch’s office and closing the door behind you. The smell of his cologne filled your nose the farther you walked into his office. You tried to ignore the memories it triggered.

He looks up and for a moment he looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“Y/N.”

You smirk, “Bet you thought you got rid of me.”

“You cut your hair.”

It was true, you had decided to give yourself bangs in a fit of insomnia last night. You thought they looked cute, “Nothing gets by you, unit chief.”

He hasn’t cracked a smile this whole time and he still doesn’t, “If you want to transfer to a different unit, I can make that happen.”

You’re shaking your head before he can finish, “Regardless of whatever happened between us, this team is my family. I don’t want to work anywhere else.”

He watches you carefully, “Then it’s time for your psych eval, I can have someone meet with you in an hour. In the meantime, I’m sure the team’s missed you, you can go chat with them.” He looks back down at his work, not waiting for you to leave.

“Thank you for the flowers.”

He looks back up, “I thought you maybe threw them away.”

“I did, actually, Penelope took them out of the trash. So on my table, they stay.” He almost laughs. “What are you sorry for, Aaron?”

His jaw clenches when you say his name. “For your suspension, for humiliating you in front of your colleagues, for crossing a line with you that I never should have even toed.”

You nod slowly, “So you regret it. What we did.”

Hotch glances out the window of his office, making sure no one’s around, “I… regret hurting you. Not what we did.”

“Spencer thinks you’re in love with me, you know?”

He frowns, “Does he?”

“He said you lost your mind when I was taken. I told him you would act that way had any team member been taken, but he insisted that it was different.”

“Is that all, agent?” He says after staring at you for a moment, dismissing you.

“Yes, sir.” You swallow, “That’ll be all.”

And just like that he’s back to his paperwork. You try to tell yourself it doesn’t bother you, but your heart aches all the same as you leave his office and head towards your colleagues. Spencer is the first to run to you, making you smile as he crushes you into a hug and catches you up on everything you’ve missed. Everyone talks to you for a while, but then they soon get back to work. “Did you talk to Hotch?” Emily asked when everyone had gotten back to their work.

“Yeah. We talked.” You say flatly.

“I don’t like that tone.”

You shrug, “Maybe he doesn’t love me or maybe he’s not ready, but he won’t tell me which, so. It doesn’t matter, it’s probably better this way.”

Emily doesn’t tell you, but she’s noticed that since you left his office, SSA Aaron Hotchner hasn’t stopped watching you. He was definitely in love with you, it was just a matter of time before he admitted it.

***

You passed your psych eval and practically skipped to Hotch’s office to get your gun and badge back. When he saw you walk in, he immediately reached into his desk drawer to retrieve them for you and placed them on his desk. “I’m thinking about requesting a transfer.”

“Hotch, I already told you, I don’t want--”

“Not for you, for me.”

You pull your hand away from your gun and badge as if you’ve been burned, “You can’t.”

“It’s irresponsible for us to be working on the same team together like this.”

You shake your head, “If anything we make this team better for it, you can’t…” You let out a shaky breath, “I swear, Hotch, I’ll never cross that line again if it means you staying--”

“It’s not you I’m worried about.”

The world seems to sort of tip on its axis, “What are you talking about?”

“Do you even understand how difficult it is to be in this room with you right now and not touch you?”

You stare at him as if you’ve never seen him before. Slowly, you sink into the seat across from his desk, “Hotch, you can’t leave. The team needs you.”

“They’ll be just fine without me.”

“I need you.” You’re staring at his desk, unable to meet his eyes after the admission, “Please don’t take away one of the only things in this job that help me to cope with what we see everyday.”

He’s quiet and you risk a look at him. He’s watching you and you swear he’s looking at you tenderly, but it’s only for a moment before his usual stoic mask falls back into place, “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, agent. JJ should be briefing us on a new case soon, you should go get resettled.”

You debate staying, arguing with him until he promises to stay, but you know from how vulnerable he’s been with you already that you’re on thin ice. Reluctantly, you take your badge and gun and leave his office.

***

You’ll admit it, you’re distracted as JJ debriefs you all in the conference room. This time, it’s a serial bomber and you hate to say it, but you’re relieved to not be dealing with a sexual sadist again. Bombs are Morgan’s specialty, so he speaks through most of the debriefing.

“Everyone, get your things together. Wheels up in twenty.” Hotch says before leaving the room.

“Y/N.” You look up to see Derek watching you, “What’s going on now?”

You tense at the hint of annoyance in his voice, but he should be annoyed. Yours and Hotch’s personal relationship has thrown this team for more than a week now. You clear your throat, “Hotch is thinking of transferring out of the BAU. Because of me.”

The room goes still, “He can’t.” Reid says first.

You can’t meet any of their eyes. This was all your fault.

“I’ll talk to him.” Rossi says quietly and leaves the room.

“If it comes to that, I’ll resign first.” You try to assure them, “I won’t let him step down.”

“We need both of you on this team.” JJ said firmly.

You nodded, but you knew it wasn’t true. Aaron was more essential to the BAU, it wasn’t a secret. He knew everyone’s strengths and weaknesses better than they did. His authority was able to demand respect and admiration, while also being a friend to everyone here. He couldn’t be replaced.

Rossi and Hotch sat in the back of the jet, voices low as they argued back and forth. The rest of the team pretended to not eavesdrop, but you were just watching Aaron. He was stressed, more than normal when working a case. You hated that you were the source of that. You wish you could drape your arms around the back of his shoulders, squeeze them, kiss his temple, promise him it would all be alright.

But he didn’t want that. You shift your focus to the window on the jet.

***

When the house exploded in front of you and Morgan, you kept running until he grabbed you, “Stop, stop! They’re gone!”

“They could still be in there!” You scream and fight against him, but he’s stronger than you.

“They’re gone, Y/N.”

You angrily push him off and walk in the other direction, feeling the need to break something. There were kids in that house.

“What the hell was that?” Hotch is fuming when you and Morgan come back to the precinct, but his anger is directed at you. The entire room goes silent, all eyes on the two of you.

“Hotch, back off.” Morgan warns.

“You should’ve gotten there in plenty of time, what happened?”

You glower at him, not in the mood to be humiliated again in front of everyone, “We got there as fast as we could, the bomb went off earlier than expected.”

“There were children in there.”

“You think I don’t know that?!” You yell now, your angry tears finally spilling over, “What, do you think I wanted this to happen?”

“Y/N, enough.” Morgan whispers harshly.

“You’re out of line, agent.” Hotch is calm again and it makes you feel crazy, how he can so quickly turn off his emotions.

You shake your head and walk by him, “This is bullshit.” You mutter.

You expect him to continue yelling at you, but instead he puts a forceful hand on your back and ushers you into a private room, “Is there a problem, agent?” He asks once he’s closed the door.

“Me?” You raise your eyebrows, “You want to know if I have a problem? You’re the one who attacked me for no reason as if I don’t feel shitty enough already for not getting to that family fast enough.”

“Why did you tell them about the transfer?”

“Oh,” You nearly laugh, “Oh, is that what this is about?”

“It wasn’t your place.”

“Oh, it wasn’t? What was it you said to me about keeping things from the team? It puts us all in danger.”

“This is not the same and you know it.”

You scoff and throw your hands up in the air, “Well, lesson learned, I guess you shouldn’t tell me things anymore. Can I go now?”

He’s watching you with his arms crossed. He knows he should apologize, but he can’t bring himself to. He nods and you leave the room, slamming the door on the way out. He watches Prentiss reach out to you and you brush her off as you storm out of the precinct. He wishes he would stop doing things to upset you, but for some reason he can’t seem to stop himself.

***

You avoid him the rest of the day and after finally calling it a day at nearly midnight, the team heads back to the hotel. You spend the night making coffee and going over the suspect list when there’s a knock on your door.

You open it without checking the peep hole, thinking it has to be Spencer or Emily, wanting to talk about the case. Instead, Aaron stands at your door. His suit jacket and tie are missing, but otherwise he’s still in his work clothes. “May I come in?”

You take a step back and wordlessly allow him inside before closing the door behind you. “You should really check who’s outside the door before answering.”

“Did you come here to lecture me, sir?”

He glances around the room, “You should be resting, not working on the case.”

“Yes, well, someone reminded me today what a terrible job I’ve been doing so I’m trying to make up for it.”

His eyes dart to yours and you think you see shame there, “I didn’t mean what I said earlier, I’m sorry. I know you’re doing your best--”

“Well obviously, my best isn’t enough.” He opens his mouth to argue, but you stop him, “Do you need something, sir?”

He sighs and shakes his head, looking at the floor, “It’s… driving me insane being around you and knowing how we left things.”

You sigh and turn away from him, “I don’t want to talk about this, Hotch--”

“Please stop calling me that.” He says breathlessly.

The desperation in his voice makes you turn back to him, “Aaron,” You say slowly instead, “I shouldn’t have said what I said to you, I understand now that you don’t feel the same and that’s fine, I can deal with it--”

“The problem is that I do feel the same and I have felt that way for longer than I care to admit.”

You frown, “Then… why?”

“I don’t want to ruin your career and I worry that this would. You’re a woman in the FBI, there are men in the bureau who would… tear you apart for being romantically involved with a superior.”

“So what? I’ll prove them wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time a man in the bureau underestimated me, but you know that.”

He sighs, “Yes, I remember when you applied to the BAU. You were from Hostage and Rescue, the only woman there at the time and they practically benched you. But you knew you were more than capable.”

“I’m not afraid of them, Aaron. Now say it to me.”

He steps close to you, his proximity overwhelming all of your senses, “Are you absolutely sure about this?”

“I’ve never been more sure.”

“In that case,” He brings a hand to your face and you lean into his palm, “I’m in love with you.” He gives you that small smile, the one where his eyebrows relax for once, out of their permanent scowl.

You smile, but you don’t answer, giggling a bit when he leans in to kiss you. “I like the new hair, by the way.” He says between kisses. 

You hum contentedly as he runs his fingers through it, “I love you, too, Aaron.”

He stays in your hotel room all night and this time, neither of you sneak out in the middle of the night.

***

You and Aaron aren’t overly affectionate in front of your colleagues, but they notice the change between you immediately as you board the plane. When you sit next to him while still in discussion with Emily, he looks at you and smiles. And then, when you finally fall asleep on the jet, your head rests on Aaron’s shoulder. If your colleagues look under the table in front of you (they do) they’ll see Aaron’s hand resting on your thigh. 

Emily is shaking her head at Aaron while you sleep, “What?” He asks without looking at her.

“Nothing, I’m just happy you guys finally figured it out.”

“Agreed,” Spencer interjected, “I was beginning to think you’d kill each other first.”

Aaron simply chuckles and kisses your forehead when he thinks no one’s looking. “Hotch,” Morgan says and Aaron looks over, “I know you’re my boss and all, but you ever hurt her we’re gonna have to fight it out, you understand?”

Hotch only smiles again, “I would expect nothing less.”

Nobody notices how you’re also smiling, quietly faking sleep as an excuse to cuddle up to Aaron.

[letarasstuff]

When everybody turns into an oracle

Summary: Nothing puts more pressure on you than other people teling you your grade will be perfect, because behind that stands so much more than a number on a sheet of paper. Same goes for Spencer's daughter.

Warnings: School, grades, angst (there is fluff and a badass moment), fear of failure/disappointing someone

Wordcount: 1.5k

✨Masterlist✨ __________________________________

“I really pooped this quiz. What about you, (Y/N)?” Before the teenager is able to answer, another classmate comes up from behind the two. “She’ll get a 100, like always.”

“I-I don’t know. Question two and three really got me there, I’m just happy to pass it.” The little group of people around her groans.

“You always say that.” “And get a perfect score”, the first one adds, “Just stop to make us look bad, because we really do have to worry about passing this class. What do you have to worry about? Getting straight A’s like that. I really want your problems.”

(Y/N) just keeps it quiet. She stopped a long time ago trying to defend herself. ‘I am on my way to the BAU’, she shoots a text to her father and exits the school building. Today she doesn’t take the train. There are too many noises and all she wants is some peace.

The words of her classmates echoes through her head. Yes, she always has a good score and she intends to keep it up. She is just doing her best, right? Her problems have to be still valid, don’t they?

“Ahh, Wonder Baby. I thought you forgot about us and decided you are too cool to hang out with us”, Derek calls out after her as soon as he spots his godchild. “Nah, Uncle Derek. Nobody can be too cool to hang out with you. I just hadn’t had much time because of school work. But there are only two weeks left before spring break starts and the only thing I have to do now is waiting for my results.”

“Right, Spencer told us you are stressing yourself out about those. Your last quiz was today, wasn’t it? The one you dread the most apparently?” Emily joins the conversation. “Uh, I did. But don’t get your hopes up too high, I really don’t have a clue what I did there. The grade can range between passed to 100.”

“Naw, Smartypants, you say that every time. What are you afraid of? Telling us you are real smart? Don’t be humble, we work with your father. We know how to handle geniuses.” Derek isn’t exactly helping her with that. (Y/N) just turns red and tries to change the subject. “Uh, no. Another thing: Where is Dad?”

“Spencer went to pick some reports from the M.E. in D.C. who helped us on the last case. He should be back in half an hour. But Penelope wants to see you, something about trying new vegan cookies she baked last night”, JJ informs (Y/N) as she passes the group to drop some files off.

For the remainder of the day the teenager hides out in the lair, blocking any human reaction out with her earphones. She just can’t handle any more insensitive stuff like earlier. Later her father picks her up to go home together.

“So, Emily told me you didn’t do well on your test today? Do you wanna talk about it?” He asks, choosing his words carefully as he prepares dinner with his daughter sitting at the kitchen table and watching him. The doctor knows the pressure created by asking his daughter about school related topics.

“I don’t know. Everyone keeps telling me I’ll get a perfect score and I think it’s admirable that all of them turn out to be able to look into the future. How do they know better than me what I get?”

It’s months of pent up stress and anxiety finally making its way up to the surface. (Y/N) tries to fight the tears down. “I really don’t understand this. I get asked how I did, I tell them I don’t feel good about the test and then they talk over me every single time. And when I say I don’t know it, I say it to not get anybody’s hope up high. I don’t want to disappoint anybody.” Finally tears stream down the teenager’s cheeks.

“Oh Sweetheart”, Spencer makes his way over to her and engulfs his daughter in a hug. “Shhh, don’t cry. I know it’s incredibly difficult to live up to their expectations, but you don’t need to. You don’t need to impress them, because their opinion doesn’t matter. Neither your classmate’s, your teacher’s nor the team’s. Not even mine should be important to you. Also, it doesn’t matter what you do, I’ll always be so proud of you, words can’t even describe it. There is literally nothing you can disappoint me with. You pushed and still push through so much crap and still you don’t fail to amaze me. You can never fail to amaze me. You can fail any class and become a professional card counter, I’ll still be proud to be your father. Please don’t cry over something you shouldn’t care about.”

They remain like this for several minutes, grasping each other until (Y/N)’s tears eventually die down. “I just want to be something more than just the smart girl with the good grades. I don’t want to feel like a two dimensional side character in a show, only there to provide the main characters with knowledge. I don’t want to be Velma, River Song, Frozone or Domino from Deadpool 2. I don’t want to be overlooked like this anymore.”Finally talking about her deepest insecurities lets her feel like a weight is lifted off her shoulders.

“And you are so much more”, Spencer encounters, “Some people just choose to ignore it, because you are so much more than their small brain with a low capacity is able to comprehend. They just pick the trait they understand the easiest. But never stop being you. Stay loud, stay complicated and, if you want to stay, uncomfortable for them. The right people will take the time and effort to get to know the real you, not just a copy others think you are. I know, it takes a great amount of patience to wait for them, but it’s worth it in the end. You hear me?”

(Y/N) looks up at her father, a small smile forming on her face. He would walk to the end of the world if it means to see it. “I hear you, Dad. Thank you so much.”

This night the teenager doesn’t get a lot of sleep. There are many thoughts that want to be, well, thought through. Still she wakes up and goes to school with a new amount of confidence.

This sadly only lasts until her first period. The teacher, one who is typically known for grading student’s work pretty fast, gives back yesterday’s quizzes. A small tumoult ensues as everyone compares their scores with each other.

(Y/N)’s anxiety rises into the unmeasurable until her teacher puts down her worksheet without a word. Confused she looks at the B- sitting at the dotted line, where the grade is supposed to be.

Now, a B- isn’t bad or anything, but she spots several answers her teacher didn’t tick as right or wrong. He must have oversaw them. Deciding to ask him about it after class, she puts it away and focuses on the material he is teaching.

So there she is, waiting for other classmates asking their questions regarding the quiz until it’s her turn. Meanwhile her lab partner Masey comes up to the teenager. “And, how did you do?”

“Uh, I got a B- bu-” “Oh my god, I’m better than the class nerd. I’m better than The Brain. Casey, I got a higher score than (Y/N)! I think you, too! Wow, I didn’t know I’m that smart. But no worries, (Y/N). I can explain this unit to you later, so you can do better next time.” This is the final straw for her.

“Hold on a sec, Masey. I’ll get that A, because Mr Harries didn’t see some of my answers. And just for your information: I didn’t ask you about your grade last time, because I knew you would poop that one after trying to explain it to you for four times while I got another A. Like every single time until now. Stop trying to appear cleverer than you are, it doesn’t suit you as much as these pants don't, because they are at least two sizes too small.”

The line finally moves up and (Y/N) is able to show Mr Harries his mistakes. He apologizes profusely, admitting that he maybe was too tired to grade these last quizzes and rewrite the B- to an A.

With her head held high she walks past her classmates, a content smile on her face.

It may be a long road to accept that you can’t be perfect and your grades don’t have to be, but forget this for a second and appreciate the feeling you get proving someone wrong like this.

Taglist:

All works:

@agentshortstacc

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl