#anyways this is the first time in genuinely excited to play again. rip my studies i gotta grind on the hunderd family!!

[queen-haq]

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 17

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 17

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3300 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost…

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9   Part 10   Part 11   Part 12   Part 13   Part 14   Part 15  Part 16

Part 17

Billy couldn’t stop gawking at you, wondering how it was possible you grew more beautiful each time he saw you. The red wrap dress you were wearing accentuated all your curves, and it took every bit of willpower he had not to rip it off of you and fuck you senseless right then and there. Unfortunately, he had to behave himself. Caravan was a pretty bouji place that had recently been labelled as one of the hottest restaurants in Manhattan and he had to pull a few strings to get a last-minute reservation for tonight. But seeing the smile on your face when you realized this was where you were dining had been completely worth all the hassle.

As the hostess guided the two of you to your table, he noticed a few assholes at the bar admiring you from afar. Immediately he snaked his arm around your waist to draw you in closer. You were his. If he could he’d pluck out every one of those fuckers’ eyes so they never made the mistake of looking at you again. Better yet, he’d keep you locked behind closed doors. Of course you wouldn’t agree to anything like that because you were too goddamn independent for your own good.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, taking a seat at your designated table.

Billy’s attention returned to your face as he followed suit, his gaze inhaling you in. “You look too hot. Too many assholes staring at you,” he grumbled.

The worried look on your face was replaced with a beaming smile, one that made his cock twitch.

“You’re being ridiculous” you remarked, scanning the menu.

His eyes drifted down to your chest, the swell of your soft, supple breasts just begging to be kissed and licked by him.

“Stop staring at my boobs, Billy,” you chastised even as a small smile graced your lips. “This is a proper first date. You can’t just ogle me like that. You have to behave like a gentleman.”

He quirked his eyebrow. “Sweetheart, I’ve never been that.”

“Well, try,” you ordered.

The waitress came by with the bottle of red wine you’d requested and poured some in both of your glasses. He noticed the redhead giving him a friendly smile, her green eyes lingering on him for a second too long. Fine, yeah, she may have been hot but she wasn’t you. No one was. So while he would have happily slipped her his number in the past, now the idea of being with someone who wasn’t you no longer excited him.

Once she left, he took the opportunity to move a few inches closer to you. What he really wanted was to get on his knees and bury his head between your legs, but something told him eating you out in in the crowded restaurant wouldn’t go over very well with you.

“I think she likes you.”

Hand propped on the back of your chair, he started playing with your hair. “Who?”

“Our waitress. She didn’t look at me once, her eyes were on you the entire time.”

He leaned in, ecstatic at the thought of you acting possessive. Even though you’d confessed to having feelings for him, Billy still worried you were ready to bolt at any moment. To see you jealous meant you genuinely cared and he didn’t have to worry about you leaving him. “She’s not my type. I have my eyes on someone else.”

You made a show of looking around the restaurant. “Oh, is Madani here too?”

“Funny,” he retorted, taking your hand in his.

“Your ginger’s lucky. I’m dressed way too nice or I’d take my knife and stab her with it.”

He smirked. “You’re vicious when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous. I just don’t like bad service.”

“Bullshit.”

“Billy, you’re hot. You know that. All the women here are checking you out. If I freaked out every time someone did that, I’d have a breakdown.”

He wanted to destroy the fucking world at the thought of someone even looking at you but apparently you were simply ambivalent about him. “So it’s that easy for you? Your brain tells you to turn off a feeling and your heart just does it?” Even to his own ears he sounded bitter. “Guess you’re not all that invested in me.”

Your eyebrow quirked up, apparently surprised by his edgy tone. “Do you want me to go nuts?”

“Just want you to give a damn.”

“You think I don’t?” you snapped. “Every time she looks at you I want to tear her hair out. Even though the rational part of me knows she’s probably just flirting with you because it’s part of her job or she’s hoping for big tips. Or maybe she really does want to fuck you. Either way, I want to punch her across the face. Happy?” You gulped down your wine.

Grinning, he squeezed your hand. “Then why not just tell me that? Why act like you don’t care?”

The agitated expression on your face was replaced with tenderness, your eyes soft. “Just because I don’t have a jealous fit doesn’t mean I don’t care. I just…” You exhaled a sigh, and he sensed this was difficult for you. “I express my emotions differently than you.”

“I noticed. You put on an act while holding everything in.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“But I want you, the real you, not the version everyone else sees.”

“It’s not that easy, Billy.”

He brought your palm to his lips. “I’d never told anyone about my mother.”

“You didn’t tell me either,” you pointed out.

“You found out anyway, and I’m so fucking glad you did. Otherwise I wouldn’t have realized I could be real with you.” He placed a tender kiss on your skin. “I don’t want to hide anything from you, Y/N.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Then tell me about William Rawlins.”

Your request gave him pause, his eyes roaming over your face. He’d taken painstaking measures to keep his partnership with Rawlins a secret yet you’d discovered it. “What do you want to know?”

“He gave you a lot of money.”

“I earned that money,” he said in a defensive tone. “He and I were partners for a while. Then he died.”

“You went to a lot of trouble to hide your connection to him.”

“You found out about it though.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I’m good at what I do.”

“Yeah, too good,” he muttered. He released your hand, watching you intently. “So what do you want to know?”

You leaned in closer, your voice barely above a whisper. He was momentarily distracted by the sensation of your tits pressed against him but he forced himself to concentrate.

“What happened to Rawlins, did you have anything to do with it?”

Billy took a swig of his wine. “Why do you think that?”

You quirked your eyebrow at him. “Knifed by someone in the parking lot. They never found the guy who did it.”

“He had a lot of enemies,” he pointed out.

“Okay, so maybe I was wrong.”

He studied you for several seconds, trying to decide if he should take the leap or not. “You’re not wrong.”

Realization dawned on your face as the truth set in. “Why did you do it?”

“You sure you want to know?”

“I’m asking, aren’t I?”

So he told you, about Operation Cerberus, his role in it and the money he earned, how he’d eliminated Rawlins a year ago when the prick plotted to take out Frank and his family. To this day Frank didn’t know about Billy’s partnership with Rawlins or how close he came to dying and he intended to keep it that way.

Throughout his confession his eyes were glued to your face, gauging your reactions. The part of him determined to do anything to be a success, the one who didn’t let society’s morals get in the way of his ambitions, would never be accepted by his closest friends. Despite the myriad of reasons to have kept that side of himself hidden, he didn’t want to do that with you. Because as risky as it was to be so open with you, it was also exhilarating. There was no one in this world he’d ever been this honest with and that kind of intense connection with you was addictive. He wanted you to know everything about him, all of the dark and vicious thoughts that ran through his head, the burning ambition that kept pushing him forward. He wanted you to know him inside and out and he wanted the same from you.

Before he could prod you to speak your mind the server came by with your dishes, setting your meals on the table. The redhead took her time, all the whilst your gaze was focused on the table, avoiding his. Billy’s heart started to pound in his chest, he was suddenly filled with doubt. Had he made a mistake in telling you the truth? Did he just completely fuck this up? Every second the goddamn redhead lingered at the table felt like an eternity when all he wanted was to shake you out of your stupor.

The second the server left, he moved in on you. “Are you gonna say something?”

You finally looked at him, your forehead burrowed. “We need to do a better job of hiding your history with Rawlins. I found it, that means someone else can too.”

“You gonna help me with that?”

You shook your head ‘yes’. “Yeah, I have to. You need me.”

“What I did doesn’t bother you?”

You exhaled a heavy sigh. “Of course it does, but there’s nothing I can do about it. You’ve seen me at my worst and you didn’t judge me. I won’t do that to you either. Besides, when the universe deals you a shitty hand you’ve got to find other ways to even out your odds.”

A strange feeling of warmth flooded over him, compelling him to angle forward and kiss you on the lips.

You pulled away a second later, smiling at him as you rubbed the corner of his mouth. “This lipstick isn’t kiss-proof.”

“I don’t care.” Wicked visions of you flashed through his mind. Your bold red lips wrapped around his cock, sucking him off the way he liked it. His cum spread over your tits, your neck, your lips. The taste of your sweet, delicious cunt on his tongue as he fucked you with his mouth. The heat of your tongue against his as he rammed into you over and over-

“Stop looking at me like that,” you warned.

“Then stop looking so hot,” he snarked.

You smiled, biting down on your bottom lip.

It blew his mind how sweet and shy you were when he paid you compliments, like you didn’t expect that from him. Obviously he needed to fix that, because you deserved to know how insanely beautiful you were all the time.

“Has Anvil been okay without Rawlins?” you asked, taking a bite out of your butternut squash ravioli.

Swallowing his steak, he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “It was tough for a while but we’ve been doing pretty well the last few months.”

“You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished, Billy. You took a big risk going into business for yourself and you made it work. That’s amazing. I could never do that.”

Billy’s insides radiated with happiness. Other than Curtis and Frank he never really had people who genuinely believed in him so to have you cheering him on was exalting. Especially considering you were great at what you did and he had so much respect for you.

He poured himself and you more wine before reaching for your hand again. “I think you could. You’d make a shitload of money if you freelanced.”

You shook your head ‘no’. “No way, I’m too much of a coward to take a risk like that.” You took a sip of your wine. “Plus I get to go to Paris for work.”

“Or you could go to Paris on vacation and not work.”

“Then I’d have to pay for it,” you pointed out, grinning. “When you grow up the way I did, you learn to appreciate free things.”

Your enthusiasm was infectious, he couldn’t hep but smile back. A part of him was hoping this would be the perfect opening for you to talk more about your childhood, about everything you went through, because he desperately wanted you to trust him as much as he trusted you with his secrets.

“I’ll be there for two weeks,” you continued, oblivious to his disappointment. “We’re going to scout out locations for the new branch and-”

“We?” Billy interjected.

You cast him a quick glance. “Roger’s coming with me on the trip.”

The jealousy that struck him felt like a swift kick to his gut. Images of you and that goddamn bastard traipsing around and enjoying romantic date nights in Paris assaulted his mind. Agitated, he pulled his hand from yours. “I bet that fucker can’t wait to be alone with you.”

“Billy, come on. You can’t be serious.”

“How would you feel if I took off with someone who wanted to fuck me?”

“First of all, he doesn’t want me.”

His jaw clenched with frustration as he glared at you. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s thought about fucking you.”

“Even if he does, I don’t want him.” You reached out to cup his face, your voice so soft and tender in your attempts to placate him that he momentarily forgot how upset he was. “You really think I’d jeopardize what we have for a fling with Roger? I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then don’t go. Turn him down.”

Irritation flickered over your face, he could tell you were done coddling him. “Billy, you have no right to ask me that. I’d never interfere with your work.”

Underneath all that jealousy he knew you were right. As much as he despised the idea of you going away to Paris with another guy, he couldn’t demand that you not go on work trips. If you did that to him, it would annoy the fuck out of him. Yet despite his rational side recognizing he was asking for too much, he couldn’t help but feel bitter. “That asshole’s gonna make a move on you, I know it.”

“What if he does? What do you think is gonna happen?”

Hs eyes met yours, urgently seeking some kind of validation from you. “You tell me.”

“Do you think I’m going to sleep with him?”

He flinched. “Don’t talk about fucking another guy, please. You’re gonna make me lose my appetite.”

You took his hand and placed it over your left breast, probably to distract him from all the disgusting images that were running through his brain. “I wanted you so badly and even then it took me like a month to fuck you. Trust me, I’m not going to sleep with him when I’m not even attracted to him.”

Spotting the earnestness in your eyes, the knot in his stomach finally loosened. Roger may have had a hard-on for you but Billy knew you felt nothing for the fucker. He’d noticed that even at the night of the gala. So that meant he had to trust you, there was no reason not to. “Call me every night when you’re there,” he grumbled.

“Every night? You’re probably going to start blocking my calls,” you laughed.

He booped your nose. “Every. Fucking. Night.”

You beamed. “Fine.” A wicked glint flashed in your eyes, a seductive smile on your lips as you slowly moved his hand lower, his fingers now on your nipple. “Hey, just ���cause you’re not there with me doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.”

He stroked your nipple over the fabric of your dress, enjoying how the nub hardened under his touch, the way your breath hitched in your throat when he continued his ministrations. With his other hand he tucked your hair behind your ear, whispering to you. “Phone sex is alright, but nothing beats this.” His tongue curved along the shell of your ear, and you trembled against him. “Right?”

The waitress seemed to come out of nowhere this time to ask how your meals were, and you jumped back. Disappointed, he sighed.

“Food was great. Thank you,” you replied, smiling stiffly at the redhead.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Privacy would be great,” Billy muttered.                                                            

You kicked him under the table. “Dessert menu?”

“Sure. I’ll bring it right over,” the waitress said, taking your plates away.  

“I’ll give you all the sugar you want once we get outta here,” he murmured seductively, caressing your thigh.

You giggled, rolling your eyes. “That’s a terrible line!” You took his hand and removed it from your thigh. “Billy, I’m not sleeping with you tonight.”

“Why not?”                                                      

“Because it’s our first date and I don’t put out on the first date.”

“Now that’s a terrible line,” he fired back, mimicking your earlier tone.

“Also, we already had sex this morning.”

“So? I’m greedy. I can’t get enough of you.” There was that shy smile of yours again, and he reached out to give you a sweet peck on the cheek. “You blush every time I tease you.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, it’s adorable.”

Your cheeks grew even more red. “I’m not used to it from you. A part of me still thinks you’re bullshitting me.”

Billy stiffened. “Really?”

“I know you’re not playing me,” you reassured. “It’s on me, not you. I just have a hard time accepting when good things happen.”

The waitress came by with the dessert menu. He briefly glanced at it before ordering a slice of pecan pie while you ordered a piece of chocolate cake.

As soon as the redhead left, he broached the topic with you again. “I’m not gonna hurt you, babe. You have to believe that.”

You didn’t look at him, your eyes fixed somewhere on his chest. “I do. You were so pissed off at me last night. I honestly expected you to hit me because you were so angry. But you didn’t.”

It made him sick to his stomach that you actually thought him capable of hitting you. It hadn’t even occurred to him that you would worry about that, but of course you would. With your childhood it made perfect sense, he was just a fucking idiot who hadn’t realized how much it still impacted you. “I’m never gonna lay a hand on you. I swear.” His eyes locked with yours, hoping you can sense how much he meant those words.

“I believe you.”

His voice was insistent, his gaze boring into you. “Why did you think I would?”

Your eyes wavered from his eyes to his lips for a long time, the atmosphere thick with tension. Your facial expressions ran the gamut of painful emotions, from uncertainty to fear to sheer panic.

It finally sank in that maybe the reason you were keeping the truth from him had noting to do with if you trusted him or not. Maybe you didn’t want to be assaulted by memories from the past that caused you so much pain. The last thing he wanted was for you to experience that hell again. Regretting his demanding tone, his hands caressed down the length of your arms. “You don’t have to tell me, It’s okay.”

Your eyes brimmed with aching vulnerability as you looked up at him. “I want to… I just… give me some time, okay?” You pressed your lips against his, giving him the softest, sweetest kiss. “I’ve been looking forward to tonight for so long, I don’t want to ruin it, you know?”

His heart felt full, his mind reeling with wonderment at the thought of you truly reciprocating his feelings. His arms wrapped around you as you sank into him, burying your face in his chest. His fingers stroked the back of your hair, murmuring soft, soothing words to you. Somewhere in the distance he heard the server’s voice trying to interject, but he didn’t give a damn.  He was yours and you were his and nothing was going to ruin that. Nothing.

Part 18

A/N - I realize not much happened in this chapter but I just reallly wanted to write a dialogue heavy part where they simply get to know and enjoy each other. I think they’ve earned some fluff. LOL.

As always, thank you for your kind words of encouragement. Please let me know your thoughts.

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[awakeshedreams]

sugar and spice ( 1 )

pairing : resident bad boy!jjk x model student!reader

setting : highschool!au x stepbrother!au

summary :

a messy highschool!au x stepbrother!au where model student reader who has quite a few dirty little secrets sees her world take an unexpected turn when her mother comes home one day with an engagement announcement, to the father of none other than the school's resident bad boy.... Jeon Jungkook.

genre : smut, for laughs, kinda pornish, slow burn with collosaly overwhelming sexual tension

rating: soft m ( for now ) due to adult content

warnings : unconventional relationship of sexual nature, tropes and clichès, teenagers partaking in porn-esque activities, made up things with made up people happening in a made up world, don't like don't read XD

wordcount : 2.3K

a/n : i've been fighting in a long standing war and I have lost. the man known as jeon jungkook had his foot on my neck for years and today, I have finally submitted to my fate and surrendered to his reign.

yes. after a hundred years, i'm writing again. specifically, writing for bts. particularly, writing for jungkook. its been a long time coming.

life just took over and I transitioned into an adult and kind of grew out of the state of mind I was in before. but. sigh. jeon jungkook has been tormenting me the whole time. it was only a matter of time before i relapsed honestly.

so here I am again. in mind, body and spirit, a different person from who I was before but still the same in the sense that with the way bts have my whole heart, jk will always be the demon in the corner of my room that I invite to bed for a cuddle even though it's (probably really) not good for me.

do not misconstrue. I love him more than I can say. but. sigh. he has me in a chokehold, loves. please try to understand where I'm coming from.

anyways, enough with this ranting. you all came here for the nitty gritty so let me not hold you hostage with my dilemma rambling any longer. here's to the first bts fic i've posted in literal years. introducing- sugar and spice.

1 2

Unless they told someone, no one would have been able to guess it.

At school they were complete strangers.

She was the nice head girl with a clean record, all smiles and straight A’s. He was the mysterious bad boy with a track record, all tatted up with bruised knuckles.

She wore plaid skirts with neat pleads in them and pastel sweaters with bows at the collar. He wore jeans with rips in them and leather jackets with studs.

They couldn't have been any more different.

As far as anyone was concerned, they existed on two extreme ends of a vast spectrum.

What they didn't know was that they shared a dirty little secret.

.

You were a girl with many dirty secrets.

For instance, you used to sell nudes online. It was a side hustle you did.

Not because you needed money.

Your mom was a renowned doctor so there was more than enough of that in your life.

Not because you needed validation from people online either.

Even without the constant compliments and the praises you knew you were visually blessed with a pretty face and a nice body too.

All things considered, you simply thought you had a nice pair of tits and you took pictures of them sometimes.

Posting the shots you snapped online came much later when you heard about this website where people were getting paid crazy money for posting racy things.

‘It’s just so degrading…’ It was one of your friends, June, who sneered, pretty nose scrunched up. She fixed her long ponytail and rolled her brown eyes while looking in the mirror at her locker. ‘Who would do such a thing, am I right?’

She said this, but June was the girl who has slept with more boys than she could count on her two hands. And those were the ones she told you about.

Like every other time, you said nothing. Even when it carried on to lunch with the rest.

‘Pretty desperate if you ask me.’ Mei the stellar track runner shrugged casually as she stretched her limbs like routine.

‘Where are their parents?’ Nina the library nerd shook her head in disapproval as she fixed her glasses so it sat right on the bridge of her nose.

‘Um… I don’t think it’s … appropriate… to talk about ….’ Kiko the one who always carried a cross and bible around mumbled into her sleeve.

All your friends spoke of it in derision and repulsion of course. This was a school for proper children so they were proper girls. At least they were supposed to be.

Regardless the conversation sparked a curiosity in you.

So you made an account and uploaded your first picture. Nothing bizarre. Just your tits in a pretty lace bra.

You made sure to keep your face out of the frame because that was the smart thing to do and you were nothing if not the smartest student in school.

In all honesty, you weren’t expecting anything out of it. In fact, in between work with student council and tutoring your juniors with finals right around the corner, you even forgot about it for an entire month.

It was by a complete whim that you decided to open the app while you’d been unwinding at your desk following a tedious day at school.

To say you were amused by the response you found waiting for you would have be a grave understatement.

You were staring at the four figure digit that now sat in your bank account.

Reading through the comment section was even more interesting.

There were all sorts of people there who had all sorts of things to say. Ranging from honestly sweet to downright dirty.

You had never been brought to tears laughing in her life before until then.

It was just so funny to see people misbehave and lose their minds over a pair of tits.

From then on it just sort of became a thing.

.

But that wasn't the worse of your secrets.

You were making a name for yourself on the crude web months later.

The next step was naturally to move from making taking pictures to making videos. Since you was already in too deep you didn’t see why not.

So you upgraded and opened another account. An amateur one where your touched yourself for an audience.

You were no prude.

You might have never been touched by a boy before but you had touched yourself plenty times. Stress and frustration came hand in hand with being head girl. Since you couldn’t quite vent it out at the annoying troublemakers at school, this was your second best option.

Third was watching porn, but that was mostly when you were extremely bored.

But that wasn’t where that little endeavor ended.

Later on it became a lot more risqué.

.

It all started when your mom hit you with a marriage announcement.

She met a guy on her business trip who she really liked and she was convinced he was the one.

Your mom had a tragic history of being a bad judge of character.

You’ve had this conversation at least five times since you became old enough to understand that boys and girls who were just friends didn’t kiss and sleep with each other.

Most times, it felt like she was doing it because she thought you needed a dad around.

You might have once, when you were younger and your mom was too busy with work to be there. But she worked from home these days and you were soo busy with school to worry about things like that.

This time it was like she was doing it for her. You were glad.

Your mom looked genuinely happy when she spoke about this guy.

Who were you to get in the way?

.

She spent almost the whole weekend in the kitchen. It was the longest you’ve seen her in there in your entire life.

She was excited for the dinner on Sunday.

Mr Jeon was the name of the chosen man.

He was coming over with his kid. A son, his only family. His wife passed away years ago.

You wore the dress your mom picked out for you, something cream in color and off the shoulders that brushed your knees. She looked pretty in her champagne dress. It was different from the office slacks and loose blouses you were used to seeing her in.

You stood by her at the door while the guests came through.

Lifting your head from a polite bow, you found herself staring straight into an achingly familiar pair of glinting dark eyes and went completely still.

‘Sweetie,' Your mother said sounding delighted, a soft hand on your stiff shoulder. 'This is Mr Jeon and his son Jungkook.’

Ah. Fuck.

‘Jeon dear, this is my daughter. Isn’t she lovely?’

.

Dinner was a mild affair, with small talk and the occasional clinking of cutlery on fine china.

From the outside looking in, you probably looked the picture perfect family already.

Only if no-one looked close enough.

Arms crossed, tongue in cheek. Your discomfort could be detected from miles away.

The two adults were oblivious.

The dark eyed boy with the slightest wave to his nape touching, brow grazing, ear covering onyx hair sat across you though; he took note of this with a passing glance and wordlessly returned to his food.

Jeon Jungkook had a countenance that betrayed his reputation.

Even though you’ve never talked, you knew plenty about him and you were sure he knew a lot about you too.

You went to the same school.

Dressed as he was in a crisp white dress shirt buttoned at the wrist and dark tailored pants with a fine belt on, it might have been hard to tell what kind of person he really was.

You lifted her gaze from your plate to look study him wordlessly, idly twisting the noodles with your fork.

People either called him the black sheep or the dark cloud but for you, Jeon Jungkook was the school’s resident lone wolf.

He smoked in the secluded areas on campus, sometimes playing his guitar. Beat up people who got on his nerves, sometimes using his guitar. Slept in class the rare times he was there, many times on his guitar.

Being his senior, you had never seen any of any of that for yourself. But you received plenty reports weekly to come to a sound conclusion.

There was no way people hated him enough to join hands in solidarity and make this all up.

It was quite the contrary actually. He had an alarming number of fans.

On the surface level you couldn’t see why. Most times you saw him, he looked bored out his mind and honestly, intimidating.

Maybe it was the tattoos. Or the ripped skinny jeans. Or the leather jackets with studs.

Maybe it was the domineering height and fit frame and structured face.

Maybe it was the intense dark eyes or the silky ruffled hair.

Even then, you failed to see the irresistible appeal in him. All those things that made him up only added to his unapproachable aura.

Bottom line was, he was bad news.

.

You didn’t want to be a spoil sport.

But how much of a thug your mom’s boyfriend’s son was shouldn’t be something that would make her like him less.

They were both their own people. Right ?

It was just that you just didn’t want her to be shocked and devastated if something happened later. When it happened.

Yet it seemed the serious conversation would have to wait.

After dinner your mom suggested you head to the living room to chat over wine and cheese.

You stayed back to do take out the dishes.

Earlier, your mom had stood to do it instead at first.

‘Don’t bother with that, dear.’ She reached for the plates in your hands. ‘Let me do it.’

‘It’s okay, mom.’ You smiled a little. ‘This is your night. I’ll meet you in the living room.’

'Sweetie...' Your mom looked close to tears. ‘But there’s so much of it…’

‘Jungkook,’ his father's voice had cut through the moment. He was a serious man in a crisp suit with a stoic countenance. His voice was just naturally authoritarian without him trying ‘Give her a hand.’

Jungkook stood, almost robotically.

‘It’s fine.’ You said. Politely. Nicely. Tightly. ‘I can handle this much.’

You left without another word.

That had been moments ago and now you were done with cleaning.

You stood at living room entrance for a while, taking in the scene.

The two adults were exchanging moon eyes and whispering in each other’s ears at the love seat.

Jungkook was sitting on a solo seat, but he was on his phone, completely unbothered by what was happening.

Your mom seemed to think it was the perfect time to pull out the photo album right then and there upon seeing you.

It was embarrassing but at least you knew you didn’t have to worry about the pictures spreading at school.

Jungkook was looking, picking up a picture occasionally to rove over, but he wasn’t the type to do that.

He also wasn’t the type to stare but you felt his glance shifting to you and lingering multiple times.

Once, you caught his eyes and he just stared at you across the coffee table wordlessly with a curious tilt to his head, idly flipping a picture of you dressed as a knight in glitter shining armor for Halloween at eight in his hands.

Honestly, it was starting to get annoying.

But you endured. For your mom’s sake.

.

Your alarm went off at exactly ten.

As subtly as you could, you excused yourself with an apology to the guests, saying you weren't really feeling well.

In hindsight you probably should have used a better excuse.

Your mom was notorious when it came to worrying, especially when it comes to your health.

Also, you probably should’ve locked the door before undressing just for good measure since people were over.

But in the moment, you were too busy setting your camera up where you were kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed to be concerned about that.

That day you were testing out a new toy.

.

Distractedly, you took note of a couple of people asking you if that was your boyfriend’s shirt you had lifted over your tits.

You ignored them.

Couldn’t a girl own an oversized tee without getting any flack?

Trivial comments like that aside, a good majority of the audience are fawning over how wet you were and how perfect you bouncing tits look being played with.

Your head fell back and your eyes fluttered shut.

You were sitting there, knees raised to your chest and legs splayed, your gushing pussy in full display where the toy was stuffed deep into her tightness, vibrating pleasantly.

‘I’m close…’ you mumbled throatily, squeezing your tits and pinching your stiff nipples in between your moving fingers. You moved your hips move faster, feeling the toy buzz against fluttering walls. You took a hand off one of your tits to rub at your engorged clit. ‘Fuckfuckfuck…’

Deep in your high, you didn’t hear the door open and close with a foreboding click.

You only heard your name being called by a deep, smooth voice through the heady haze.

Instantly you stilled.

When you snapped your head to look over her shoulder Jungkook was there, hands in his pockets, leaning against your doorframe with his sleeves drawn up to his elbows, muscle roped, inked skin on full display.

When he tilted his head to the side a little, appraisively, you dared to say as a quaking chill ran down your spine and your entire body felt like it was about to burst into flames, a bit of his hair fell over his face.

His eyes were like two black in the dark as he took you in, dragging his gaze up and down your exposed body languidly.

In the back of your mind, you wished the ground would part and swallow you whole.

‘Your mom,' he starts, capturing your attention wholly, dark gaze finally flickering to your face, his voice suddenly lower, hoarser. ‘She sent me over to check on you.’

It took you a moment to realize where you were, who you were, who he was.

It was like a bucket of cold water had been dropped over your head.

Jeon Jungkook, the school's resident trouble maker, soon to be your step brother, just walked in on you fingering yourself in in front of a recording camera.

Well. Yeah.

You gulped.

You were royally fucked.

depending on the response I get I might ( most probably will ) delete this. not because I'm ashamed of my work. because I'm embarrassed of myself. I really swore to never write again and here I am. sigh. yes, I have seen my previous works and noticed just how terrible they were and this is a big reason why. so sorry for putting you through that. a million apologies.

also, that's right. I have adopted a new style which might not be to everyone's liking. another reason why.

anyways, if you liked this filth ( i know it seems mild but I can tell you it's very likely gonna get worse ) please idk uh... fuck this isn't ao3. hm.

like and drop by in the ask box if you liked it and want to see more. it makes me happy. its like serotonin fuel to me.

have a nice day. see you next time ( maybe ). stay fresh. yeah. 💜💜.

[arcade-writing]

How about trans Jayce with Viktor and the reader as mermen, and they spitroast Jayce and fill him up with eggs until his belly is huge and round. Ooh and merpeople being bigger than humans so there's size difference (ie huge dicks)

I will admit - I tend to avoid the Ovi kink. I've seen art but never fanfics and I don't know why but as soon as I got this ask I was like "could I actually write this?"

Because I'm very much lacking in knowledge of its content and what people like about it but I've tried my best and I can only hope it was good!

I genuinely had so much fun writing this. It was so different yet familiar! It was cool to get an ask like this

Deep blue sea

🍋 NSFW

Pairing: trans!Jayce X mermen!Viktor & reader

Warning: oviposition, Spit roasting, stomach bulge, tentacles, monster fucking, size kink, AFAB body for jayce, threesome, nipple play, breeding kink

For context this kinda like omegaverse in a way. You're an alpha and Viktors an omega. That kind of dynamic but Viktors infertile so he cannot take your eggs and start a family but you'd still hit that regardless because it's Viktor

You both like jayce and due to jayce being human he has no way to fertilize the eggs either so there's no like Mpreg in this. And again neither of you care if he can make a family - y'all just wanna fuck jayce. It's just - eggs and fucking

I don't know! I've never written something like this before! Do you need this context? No but I wanted to share it anyway!

It was mating season. Anyone knew not to stray too far from Zaun's docks. Mercreatures of big and small lurked within those waters. You were damning yourself if you tried. Either you'd get feasted upon to feed their young or attacked as they tried to prove their strength.

Afterall humans were one of the mercreatures greatest enemies. To beat one is a great display of strength. Perfect to impress a new possible mate.

But jayce was a curious mind. Having contact with two a few months ago. They strayed too far from Zaun and ended up in Piltovers water. He, at first, was fascinated. Trying to study but then as your time together grew more and more. Your relationship shifted. Feelings stirring and longing touches began.

But yet he was still surprised when you both requested him to meet at your usual hang out. He understood the dangers but he cares about the both of you. If you needed him during this time for any reason. He was going to make sure he was there. Even if it meant it was protecting you from aggressive merfolk.

He almost slipped as he trudged through the rocks. Water slapping on them as the water levels rose. He kept a steady footing as he ventured down to the cave near by. Peering inside to find you and Viktor among a nest.

Viktor was laying down. Still whilst you hovered over him. Your head snapping towards the entrance of the cave, flashing your fangs believing he was an intruder.

Once you realized it was your friend you quickly sat up. The water blanketing both of your tails. Jayce waved awkwardly as he entered. He's never been this close to your kind during this time. What you'll do was unpredictable. But he trusted you. He trusted Viktor.

"Is Viktor okay?"

At the sound of his name his eyes fluttered open. His cheeks were as red as he squirmed. His sleek maroon tentacles wiggling against each other. As if trying to find something. You made a clicking noise as you nuzzled up against your friend.

"Hes in heat." You purred. Caressing Viktors webbed hand.

"oh- oh, right." He slowly knelt down. Wanting to be more at level with you two.

Jayce was a big man. But merfolk were feared for a reason. They were huge. Even the smallest breeds were bigger than him. Legend had it that were ones as big as mountains. Those who could cover yards of sea bed as they roamed.

He never really felt intimidated until now. Knowing you were both large creatures that could easily rip him apart. Yet apart of him; it grew excited. Knowing either of you could easily over power him.

You grabbed jayces jaw. Making him look at you.

"We wanted you here for a reason."

The smaller man let out a noise of surprise. Tentacles twisting around him as Viktor used that to prop himself up. A dazed look in his eye as he leaned against him. Both of you were nuzzling into his neck. Hands trailing down his chest and back.

"You can say no, but both of us wanted you to be our mate."

You both Stilled. Viktor loosened his grasp on his body. Jayce knew he could easily walk out but he didn't. He wanted to do this. He wanted to be with you two through this.

"I'll be it-!"

You grinned. Fins stretching out with an excited flutter. Viktor peppered his cheek with kisses as he let out a low hum.

"You didn't even 'tink about it, are you that excited?"

"Maybe I've thought about this before." Jayce sheepishly admitted.

You tilted him towards you. Moving behind him. Whilst Viktor stayed Infront. Your hands roaming over his side's meanwhile Viktor popped open his shirt. Barely undoing any buttons before it was ripped off him. His tanned cheeks were now red as his pants were stripped from him. His shoes were already long gone on his journey here.

Your fingers curled against his sex. Gathering his wetness as you chirped in approval. Viktor made quick work getting jayce in position. Putting him on his hands and knees. Sitting up almost as if he was a dog but still sticking out his ass. It was abit awkward but he could manage.

All he could focus on was the cold tentacles wrapping around his limbs. Keeping him in place as they sucked on his skin. Leaving circular marks with a wet pop. He shivered as you kept stroking him.

"You're going to be our perfect mate." You purred.

Pressing two large fingers against his hole. Jayce let out a shaky breath as he tried to relax. It was a tight fit, you were slow in your actions. Not trying to force further in. Only easing him in as you slowly as you could.

Viktor was helping him relax. Two suctions on his sensitive nipples made his back arched. The sensation was new. Strange. But wasn't uninvited. One tentacle slivering up his thigh, feeling the slimy end against his clit. He gasped as a suction replaced the end. Sucking his clit whilst you stretched him open.

"So excited, do you want to be bred, Pretty boy?" Viktor teased.

Jayce nodded. His tongue Rolling out as his eyes crossed. Grinding against the both of you as he felt himself clench.

"use your words." You spoke up. Your fingers moving faster as you added a third.

"Yes- breed me- please."

The suction on his clit became more passionate. Overwhelming his every sense as he began to see stars. His climax storming towards the edge as his stomach twisted. Moaning out as he grabbed onto your wrist. Using it to ground himself as his other hand was on the floor.

"You're going to look so pretty filled with my eggs, baby boy, is that what you want? To take my eggs?"

Jayce was far too blissed out to care. Nor did he mind. Never did he think he'd react this way but he was. Whining and clenching around your fingers. Chanting out whimpers of pleas and 'yes'.

"Don't look so envious, V, there's still time to stuff you too."

Viktor looked bashful as he smirked. Glowing with a sense of pride as he leaned down. Melding his lips with jayce, muffling his moans as he used his free hand to rub his slit. The head of his cock peeking out as he groaned.

You almost doubled over as you felt jayce cum on your fingers. He immediately whined when you took them out. Using your slicked up hand to rub your growing length as one long tentacle wrapped around your shaft. Sucking at the head whilst you pumped.

"Ah- Viktor- good boy."

Your cock began to swell as you felt an egg slid up with each pump. Viktor moved his tentacle, using it wrap around jayces thigh. Spreading his leg more as you inserted yourself inside.

Jayce jumped at the massive size prodding against his hole. Just processing the other cock smacking against his cheek. Viktor leaned back as he guides jayces head, gripping his hair as he thrusted his slivering cock inside his mouth.

Everytime he bopped his head he was thrusted forward as your hips met his. He gagged around Viktors cock. Grinding against yours as he moved your hips in sync with your deep thrusts.

Jayce moaned as he felt something pump into him. One by one more eggs filled his cunt as you fucked into him. His tongue swirling around Viktors cock as he eagerly sucked.

He could feel his stomach bulge as he was completely stuffed. Viktor whined as he rutted against his face. Watching you pound into jayces hole with a feral expression. Eyes blown out as you bared your teeth. You had one thing on your mind. One desire. One goal.

You were a spectacle. It was enough to push Viktor to the edge.

Viktor hunched as he let out a high pitched moan. Cumming deep into jayces throat as he clutched the man's hair. Jayce greedily swallowed as he felt it rush down his throat.

It wasn't long until you were finally releasing your load deep inside jayce. Slumping against him. By now the water was up to jayces chest. He laid on the rocky floor as Viktor nuzzled up against him. You rubbed his round stomach as you admired your work.

Jayce just laid there. His hole fluttering as he clenched around air. So full yet so empty. Panting as you pet his hair. He held you both close as he felt his lower half twitch. A pain scorching through his pelvis.

"What-"

"Sssh, Jayce, it's okay - they're gonna come out, it's okay."

"isn't that-"

"It's fine, just relax." You cooed. your voice soft and gentle as you scratched his scalp.

Viktor rubbed his thigh as he kissed his neck . Whispering words of praise as the eggs began to slip out. They weren't that big but there was so many.

You both soothed and encouraged him as he finally emptied out. Your cum leaking out and washed up by the ocean. The cold water felt nice against his scorching skin. His body limp in your arms.

"Can we go again?"

[bakatenshii]

Flushed

Dabi x Reader (BNHA)

word count: 5.1k

TW: 18+, smut, dub/noncon, drug use/abuse, corruption, virginity, (mild) blood

A/N: I am 12 days late for Sunny’s birthday, but my heart beats for one person and one person only— the light of my life, my wife @blahkugo​, who wrote me two (2!!) Shig fics for my bday Charity & Sludge, that I reread on the daily like the morning news. Cheeky shoutout to @thisisthehardestthing​ for writing one iconic sentence in here that I would have framed if I could. 

flushed

/fləSHt/

(of a person's skin) red and hot, typically as the result of illness or strong emotion.

cleanse (something) by causing large quantities of water to pass through it. 

Dabi doesn’t prowl for prey, he’s not on the lookout for fowl to take home for dinner. No, they come to him. It’s easy, always so obvious, he plucks them out like chicken in a hen house, ripe for breeding. 

It wasn’t hard to spot a desperate girl burning out, Hell, the campus’ full of them. But you had something more, something fun, something that made his lips quirk up and his dick twitch— you were uncorrupted. 

He can just tell, despite the airs you try to give, the aura of a virgin’s akin to an omega in heat to a starving alpha. Sweet, honeysuckle, the tiny flinches when a man gets too close, the breathy lilt in your voice when they propose something too risque; he inhales it all, commits it all to memory like you were desperately trying to do as you chewed on the tip of your pen and scratched out lines on the book in front of you. 

He didn’t need to push, you were already teetering the line, but he did it anyways— because it was fun. 

It was elating to watch you stumble into class the next day, eyes dark with sleepless anxiety, misery painted into every crevice of your features while your notes were tucked neatly into the drawer in his room. Really, you shouldn’t have left them so open on the lecture hall table, it’s like inviting a robber home and cooking him a three course meal. 

Finals season marked the end of your social life, and the beginning of Dabi’s career. It was almost boring, the repetitive nature of his job; too easy, too simple, a mockery of the entitled bookworms who look down on scummy repeaters like him. But the entitlement is what fuels him, over-achievers fearing for two simple digits on a crumpled sheet of paper as if it’s worse than death itself.

He thrives off of their stubbornness to accept anything below perfect; the hilarity of it all, the irony that their insurance to achieve higher standards than that of a scum like him only fuels his lifestyle, bringing him deeper down the depths of degeneracy. 

He sat behind you closer than usual, spoke a lil louder than usual, dropped in the most nonchalant comment about a study drug kids are crazing over these days. He watched as you flinched, hands stopped moving to listen in to the spiel he was spewing, the fishing hook he was dangling in front of you. 

A magic pill, one that’ll help you concentrate, kill any sleepiness, get you buzzed for hours on end— best of all, it’s totally legal, he gets it from a pharmacist, scout’s honour. 

That’s what he told you when you turned around to him at the end of class, whispering in hushed fear, nerves bouncing off your skin in goosebumps on your exposed arms.

Why he’s selling it? Because he needs some extra cash, he said. He knew you didn’t believe him, but he knew you were desperate enough not to care. 

When you met him in the dead of night at the empty carpark of his building, he knew he’s got you; hook, line, and sinker. No self-respecting girl would meet bottom-barrel trash like him in a deserted location at half three in the morning, no, you were untainted, but you weren’t pure.

He didn’t need to know it worked, doesn’t matter what your test results reflected, all that mattered was that you came back to him a few weeks later, met him at the same dingy carpark, hands trembling slightly less this time. 

He pretended to scold you, reveled in the way your lips curled into a soft pout, and warned you that tolerance builds fast. Do it in moderation, he had said— he’s the world’s biggest hypocrite. 

You came to him only a week later this time, and Dabi had pretended to be shocked. He wasn’t, he gave you a lower dosage the last time, there was no way you’d have been satisfied. Microdosing leads the unsuspecting to addiction, the one fact he learned from school. He lectured you, asked you if you’d built up tolerance too fast, if you wanted to try something different?

He watched as your eyes lit up, pupils dilating in excitement at the promise of something different, something better. It really was too easy. You were too easy. 

That night he invited himself over to yours, said he’d wanted to make sure you didn’t have any side effects. It was new, after all, and it was stronger. He’d sit there and be quiet, he promised; it was all out of the kindness of his own heart. 

It was almost embarrassing how eagerly you’d lie to yourself in hopes of a better grade.

Dabi wasn’t gonna do anything to you that night, trust takes time to build up after all. Besides, it’s no fun to pounce on the prey before they started running. You studied the nonsensical scribbling on annotated novels, he studied your tiny movements, twitches, nervous habits; etched them into his brain for future use. 

A too-long breath, a gasp, a clench of the fist signaled your come-up. He timed it, approximately thirty-five minutes for the initial peak, then smaller spikes at half hour intervals, totaling in four hours before you came down. Impressive, still, considering he’d given you the same dosage as the first time. 

He stuck to his words, staying quiet only until prompted, offered you water every once in a while, really, he deserved an Oscar for playing the best supporting dealer. It only took two more sessions before your tolerance peaked again, calculated and timed to perfection right before the next assignment.

The beauty of seeking out an English major was that they’re always searching, reaching into the void for any type of inspiration to translate into eloquently formed words. The beauty of seeking out you, was that you were already in too deep, hooked by the lil pills and plunged into the bottom of the ocean. 

Your grades rose while your inhibitions sank, a dramatic irony, isn’t that what they called it?

It’s cute, really, he only had to give you a nudge this time. Asked you how your assignment was going, played the sympathetic friend, and offered you something completely new, completely different. ‘Have you ever tried 2CB?’

Silly question, rhetorical, almost; of course you hadn’t. Innocent sweet girl like you never would’ve even touched weed, much less a hallucinogen. But he poses it to you in an eager tone like he’s genuinely waiting on an answer, like this isn’t just one big game to him. He laughed when you said no, asked him what it was— do you want him to show you?

You trust him, don’t you? He’s helped you through your exams, supported you through your assignments, honestly, he deserved a pat on the back. Don’t tell him you didn’t trust him, come on now, that’d break his heart. 

He didn’t expect you to put up a fight, but you gave in almost too easily, guess those lil pills really did migrate and nest in your bloodstream. 

The safety of your own dorm room was always granted to you, a faux-sense of security to veil you in, shield you from the true depth of depravity you’ve sunken to. He held you underwater in a net, ensuring you that he’d pull you up whenever— ‘just say the word.’

The net had long been cut, he’d admired the way you’d comforted down there, paddling aimlessly in hopeful conviction. 

It’s become routine, almost. Dabi lets himself in easily, settles into the couch across your desk, pulls out a baggy and passes it to you. “A psychedelic,” he explains, “you’ll see colours you’d never seen, find beauty in everything, an artist’s best friend,” if he does say so himself. 

He watches you pop the lil pill in your mouth, follow the stream of water pour down your throat, traveling the rips and divots of your tongue, before it drops down your throat into your bloodstream with a bob of your larynx. You’re so pliant, so obedient, he reminds himself to thank your parents for grooming such a cute lil doll.

You let out a loud gasp an hour and a half later, and he watches your fingers curl into themselves; and for the first time he speaks unprompted. 

“You good?” It’s almost genuine; the curiosity, at least. He wants to know how articulate you are, needs to know how deeply submerged your consciousness has become. 

He watches as you meet his gaze, little tongue dashing out to wet your lips, and nods once, twice, slowly. You shake your head almost immediately after, croaking out an, “I feel ill,” before pushing meekly at your desk to stand your body up. Cute, weak.

Just how he likes them.

He reaches an arm out to you, pulling you into his chest easily and nests your head into the crook of his neck. “Nauseous, aren’t you?” You nod, and he smirks. “Don’t worry princess, it’s just a rough come-up. I’ll make you feel better, I promise.” 

It’s almost believable, how sickly sweet he sounds. Too many sitcoms accumulated in recycled dialogues to woo girls in any situation; mix and match, simple yet effective. 

He can feel the restless rise and fall of your chest pressing against his, short quick pants as if gasping for air, a small hand scraping at his arm; yeah, you’re definitely coming up. 

He picks you up and nestles you into your own couch, so easily as if handling a ragdoll, then walks to the kitchen and pours you some water. The perfect friend, the perfect support, the perfect dealer. You’re so vulnerable, so exposed, you don’t even know it; it makes his brain fog over with carnal desire to pounce— but he doesn’t. Not yet.  

He lays back on the couch with you, arm snaking around your shoulder to coax you into a subdued euphoria. All the words he’s garnered throughout the years of fishing for his next meal come bubbling out so naturally in practiced scripts, “It’s okay princess, it’s a stronger pill. It’ll make you feel better, I promise.” He’s promising a whole lot, tonight. 

“Hey,” he tips your face to meet his with all the tenderness of a lion stalking its prey, “I’m here, right? You trust me, don’t you? I’ve never let you down. I’ll never let anything happen to you.” 

It’s hard to force down the gagging noise on cue with his disgustingly fake, rom-com lines, but the way he can feel your body loosen, relax, and mold into his tells him he’s close. So close. 

This is the best part, this is what he’s good at; the last stretch of patience while stalking his prey, with footsteps so light, treading so carefully, until the air slows down around him and he can taste your scent wafting through the air.

It happens in an instant, a whole-body jolt as you tense up, euphoria announced with a sharp gasp. The smile that crawls up his face is nothing short of sinister, predatory, but he knows you don’t notice. You can’t. Your eyes are strewn shut, basking in the high, and he takes the moment to swallow the pill he’s held under his tongue. 

It’s no fun to tripsit, he doesn’t get anything out of that, and Dabi doesn’t do things for free. He feels your head fall back onto his shoulder, short breaths warming a ripple of goosebumps up his neck, and watches as you push your heavy lids open to gaze at the ceiling.  

He can feel your giggles reverberating through his chest before he hears them, innocent, pure, unsuspecting. He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, because virtuous girls like you like to be treasured, made to feel special, safe— he can make you feel safe; no one’s told him not to play with his food before he eats it. 

He watches as you flutter your eyelids at him, sigh into his touch, really, you’re the textbook prototype, he doesn’t even need to adjust his tactics. “You feelin’ good?” A hot breath into your ear, and he revels in the way your lips pout to let out a soft sigh. 

Funny how differently you react when you’re high out of your mind, maybe it’s the drug, or maybe it’s just Dabi? You’ve always wanted a bad boy like him, didn’t you? Good girls like bad guys; it’s textbook cliché, and you’re the blueprint. 

He doesn’t wait on an answer, he knows it: you’re feeling good, great— divine. He’ll be right there with you soon, he promises.

“Tell me what you see, princess,” Dabi’s not listening when a cascade of nonsensical descriptions come bubbling out, he doesn’t care. It’s all to get you to keep talking, shift your attention elsewhere while his hand slithers down your arm to play with the hem of your shirt.

At the first brush of his finger on the bare skin of your waist, he feels you purr into him, eyes rolling back in bliss. It’s his cue to give you more, invitation for him to snake his other hand up your naked thigh and knead the flesh gently. 

Gentle does it, he’ll bring you higher as you go. 

He ghosts a breath just under your ear, nipping at your lobe, and admires the full body shiver tumbling through. Moans, loud and needy, come panting out past your lips and echoes off the walls before bouncing back to him. He lets you symphonize short breaths and whiney pleas with each lick and suck traveling down your neck, painting blooms of purple and red as his hand travels dangerously high. 

A firm grip is all the warning he gives you before he tucks his fingers into the crease of your thigh, laughing almost at how obediently you spread your legs. What happened to that pure, innocent girl? Guess under all that laid a dirty whore, just like the rest of ‘em. 

It was slick, so wet, pussy dripping past the delicate lace and drooling over his fingers. Lace, befitting of a slut who lured him in with the fake charms of a virgin. He slides a finger down your slit, gathering up all the juices before presenting it to you. 

“What do you see?” He holds up his finger, slick dripping down like syrup, and watches your pupils dilate in effort to focus. He can see the way your lips part, string of saliva connecting the two soft molds, before gasping out, “melting ice cream.” 

“Want a taste?” 

You clamp over his finger before he even asks you to, sucks on the digit like it’s a melting ice lolly, before your eyes shoot open and mouth twists in disgust. Of course it doesn’t taste nice, normal food isn’t even edible when you’re rolling like this. You’re sticking your tongue out, in an attempt to air out the taste, or maybe you’re just a dumb dog, a dumb bitch, he’s not sure. He doesn’t really care. 

The same hand, now slick with saliva, grips your chin and crashes your lips into his. His tongue finds yours first, tip licking up the crevice of yours lolling out, and he sucks it into his mouth like it’s a crime for it to be kissing the air. 

There’s no modesty, no gentleness, his tongue pries your lips open, and he feels the weakest form of resistance before he’s thrusting the muscle down your throat. He lapping over the back of your teeth, traces over each bump and rugae on the gummy sides, and snickers at your shit attempt to kiss him back with your slack mouth drooling out the corners. 

He feels a pawing at his arm— your hand meekly grabbing at the sleeve of his shirt to bring him in closer, press his chest into your soft tits, crowd him into you more, more, more. 

It’s cute; it’s stupidly desperate. 

He gets it though, it’s no worries. Human nature is all it is; the desire to climb higher and higher— he wonders if he can get one out of you before the pill hits him. 

There’s no gentleness in the way his hand slots between your legs and cups your dripping cunt this time. He wishes he has more time to admire the way your legs quiver and twitch with every firm pat against your clit, but he’s on a time crunch. There’s so much time to spare, he can play with it all he wants later.

He can feel your needy moan vibrate through his lips and reverberate straight into his brain, sloppy mouths working simultaneously together and against each other as he rips your panties and shorts off in one go. Any self respecting girl would shut their legs in shame, in embarrassment, any attempt to protect their dignity, but you don’t. He doesn’t let you, anyways. 

A hand moves under your shirt to roughly grip at your tits in the same breath he sinks a finger into your sopping hole. Inhale; squeeze, thrust, exhale— you moan. It’s tight, as tight as a virgin pussy should be, but not too tight that it fights against the foreign digit ramming into it at a relentless pace too rough and quick to befit an unexplored hole. 

He can feel the pulsing around him, gummy walls milking his finger for all its worth, and he digs his palm into your swollen bud; it’s all he needed for you to come undone. You don’t squeal, you don’t scream, the 2CB in your system rendering you incapable of anything except long breathy sobs of his name. 

His finger pops out with a wet squelch, and he brings it to his mouth to taste it; tarty, thick— he’s still sober. You’re blubbering out drivel about the stars you saw, the colours swirling around at the peak of your euphoria, you think you saw God— is Dabi God? 

Dabi had to laugh, pat you on the head with his hand covered in syrupy slick, watch it leak and clump your strands of hair. He picks you up with your shorts and panties drenched through dangling at your ankles, and walks you to your bed.

You don’t notice, still basking in the afterglow; he knows this. Not that you’d push him off, tell him to stop. Not in your state anyways. You couldn’t even if you wanted to. 

He drops you once the bed’s in frame at the same time he feels his pulse rise, heart palpitate, and a wave of nausea threatens to bubble over. It doesn’t; he doesn’t let it. An experienced veteran would never. It’s a welcomed sensation, one he’s all too familiar with, and he gives himself a brief minute to breathe it in, savour it, before glancing back down at your limp body on the bed. 

Is it your body? He can trace your silhouette from the dip of your waist, the full of your hips, something glistening, gleaming in the light— your pretty little virgin cunt. His eyes roll back at the next inhale before he finds himself landing on the bed on top of you, forearms digging into the soft mattress of your bed. 

He hears your voice singing into his brain, soft lulls of his name stringing out in DabiDabiDabi— the desperation and need shooting straight to his cock, he doesn’t even need to look down at your soft pliant body, welcoming him, inviting him in. 

“Feels good, yeah?” His voice comes out rougher than usual, low and strained, and laughs at how eagerly you nod, watches your chin catch the air and paint strokes of colour following the route it takes, “Who makes you feel this good?” 

He knows, he knows because it’s all you’ve been able to say the past while, the only word on your mind that you can even blubber out— 

“You, Dabi,” your pants grow heavier; his pants grow tighter, “it’s you Dabi, please—“

A hand reaches up to cradle his cheek, your soft, uncalloused, hand, and he grips it by the wrist before bringing it up to his face. He traces every line that curves and meets on your palm with his tongue, letting it be covered entirely with drool before wrenching it down under his joggers and into his boxers to cup his aching erection. 

His hips rut into your palm almost immediately as a knee-jerk reaction, every hump into your tiny hand has him panting into your face, sweat beading at his temples. His tongue drops down to lick at your lips, asking for entrance, begging for access. Your lips might’ve parted just a fraction, maybe just to let out a breathe, but Dabi takes it as permission to thrust his tongue in and prod at your dormant one.

He can feel you gag at the sudden intrusion, throat convulsing to push back the unfamiliar slimy muscle, and he briefly considers yanking your hand out and shoving his cock down that pretty little mouth of yours. 

But he doesn’t, because he doesn’t have the patience. He needs it urgently, needs your tight virgin cunny stretching and agonizing over his overbearing size, needs to feel the flutter of the gummy walls with each thrust; he needs it bad, he needs it now—

Your hand is wrenched away as he yanks both waistbands down to his thighs. He looks at you, eyes blurring through kaleidoscopic vision, and makes out your disoriented gaze staring back at him. Disoriented with toxins, disoriented with need, lust, desperation— a hand reaches behind Dabi’s neck and pulls him back down to crash bruised lips together. 

It’s all the invitation he needs, not that he needs it, no, what he needs is to sink his painfully hard cock into that sweet, sweet cunt of yours. There’s a faint squealing coming from underneath him, and he thinks he can feel nails digging crescents into his nape, but all he can feel is your warm, wet walls clenching around him. 

There was no need to prepare you for any longer, there’s no point if he doesn’t stretch your virgin pussy out with his own cock; it’s wasted on fingers, his fingers don’t deserve to feel the way you walls quiver and contract around it. The pitched cries stop eventually as he feels your body go pliant and soft, and he has half a mind to realize you’re probably starting to come down soon.

He doesn’t wanna deal with that, you won’t be sober for another few hours, but you’ve peaked already, and not with him; that’s not fair, that’s no fun. His cock stills inside you with half still unsheathed and he reaches down into his pocket to take out a baggy of powder. There’s a spoon in, thank fuck, and he feeds a small bump right up to your nose. 

“Inhale,” he slots it right up your nostril, “it’ll make you feel good, didn’t you feel good?” Your head lowers to nod, bumps the edge of the spoon right into the cartilage of your nose, and inhale. Good girl. 

The baggy is tossed haphazardly before he’s working his dick into you again, cockhead pushing through the doughy walls in search of that pocket at the end of your pussy.

You don’t struggle anymore, instead clinging onto his shoulders and carving half-moons into the flesh. It hurts a lil, and Dabi doesn’t like it when it hurts, not when he’s the one hurting.

He snatches your hands off him and pushes them above your head, into the plush forgiving mattress. His teeth are back on your neck, biting over the ripples of purple and green and red and blue, reveling in your cries and moans that come out in symphonies. 

It feels good, great— divine, it’s what he deserves for bringing you to Nirvana. He’s basically your muse, after all, how can you truly describe rapture without experiencing it first? 

He can hear your moans ringing out from underneath, can see them traveling in the air in hues of reds and pinks and reds and reds— there’s red on your bedsheets, of course there is. He forgot that’s what comes with a virgin cunt; blood, mixing with the translucent coating his cock, dripping down and painting the crisp white sheet red, drifting into the air and congesting the whole room with red. 

He inhales the colour, sucks it into his lungs, and uses it to fuel the pistoning of his hips. Your breaths turn to pants, turns to sobs of his name leaving your lips again, and he thinks you look good, so good, taking his cock like this. You should thank him for bringing you to your second orgasm. 

Just look at you, crazy isn’t it? Crazy what a lil pill can do. But he’s got something better, something so much better, something that’ll bring you to a new dimension. You want that, don’t you? C’mon don’t be shy, Dabi will bring you right there, don’t you worry.

There’s still the faint cries from your orgasm when he flips you over and pushes your face into the untainted sheets. He watches as your hands sprawl up to grip and grasp at something, anything, and his hands ease up on the hold on your skull for a second to let you wheeze and greedily gasp for air.

He flickers a trail of blue down your back, watches the flames dance and rage in a mirage, every bouquet indented by the ligament of each tender rib, and there’s a faint scream. The pitch rises with the flames, taunting it to go higher, faster, paint murals in every swell of your back until he can’t see anything except ash coal char. 

Dabi blinks, squints his eyes as he throws his head back to focus on the paint chipping on the ceiling. It cracks and crinkles, shying away from his pointed glare, before he sucks in a deep breath and looks back down at you. 

There’s no ash, no char, only warm tanned flesh, pressed flush against the pristine white sheets underneath. It burns against the pads of his long fingers splayed out across your back, and he winces in annoyance at the irony.

You don’t seem to notice his pause, too fucked out or fucked up to register what’s going around you probably. A mixture of both; Dabi can’t really remember what he’s given you or how long he’s been there. 

He can’t decide if he wants to stay there anymore,  can’t make out the pros and cons of either. He counts them off with each painful yank of your hair, each harsh thrust into your abused virgin cunt— it was that, wasn’t it? 

He was there because he sniffed out a cute lil virgin, one so untainted and untouched, one begging for him to corrupt. He’s not known to be very generous, but sometimes he gets into one of those moods; it can’t be helped when there’s a desperate doll waiting to be torn apart. 

He knows what you want, can read you with his eyes closed— you don’t need eyes to feel the pulse of a greedy cunny; it clenches with every slap of the face, damn near clamps down entirely as his slender fingers slither around to the front of your throat.

Two fingers shove past your lolling tongue and yanks your head back by the digits hooked on the corner of your mouth. There’s drool, and spit, and so many fluids coming and entering all at once— and then you’re coming, again, probably, for the third time that night. Fourth? 

It’s methodical, straightforward, he reads the instruction manual once, maybe twice if the first one’s a bit faulty, and he’s got it down to muscle memory.

At the sound of heaving he looks back down again, admires the feel of two of his fingertips fucked straight into the back of your throat, and pushes down on the rugged gummy wall. You gag, and he laughs. It’s cute, so cute, you’re real cute, you know?

“Such a good lil whore aren’t you?” He digs his nails into the flesh of your hip and rams his cockhead until he can feel the kiss from your puckered cervix. “All fucked out of your mind, bet you can’t even hear me, can you?” 

He watches as you gurgle out words past his fingers wedged down your slack mouth, and choke on the pools of saliva drooling out. It’s the funniest sight, fascinates him to death, really. 

A slap to the face might bring you out of your daze, so he slips his hand back out of your sloppy mouth and revels at your body propelling forward straight into the headboard. He grasps at the tips of your hair and wrench your body back towards him before any satisfying impact could sound out. It’s a shame, but concussions are not in his agenda. 

“Been fucked so loose, filthy slut can’t even keep your body up,” he rolls your hair around his hands and yanks back until your skull meets his chin; it’s excruciatingly painful, probably, and that’s why it’s the best. 

It’s the perfect way for your mouth to fall open naturally, to scream, squeal, fluster around in attempt to be freed from the position— it creates the perfect hole for him to spit in. He watches as your face contorts in disgust, tongue pushed out to let his spit drool out the sides, but that’s no fun, not very nice of you, is it?

“Swallow,” he assists you with an extra hard thrust, and you choke on the moan coming out. His hand comes forward from your hip to rest under your chin before pushing it up so it clamps shut, “I said, swallow.”

Your eyes flood with tears that waterfall down your face, and God, he thinks you look the best like this— wrecked on his cock, body littered in purple and red, covered in sweat and blood and cum; his perfect lil cocksleeve, just for him. 

It’s emotional, almost— religious, even, he can feel the palpitations in his heart thumping against his chest echoing off the headboard banging against the wall, and lets the euphoria consume him, wash over him as he coats your walls with hot ropes of cream and white, hips stuttering with your greedy cunny fluttering and clenching around it, milking and sucking in his cock in deeper, deeper, more.

He thinks you might’ve cum, might still be cumming, but all he can hear is the Messiah calling for him, choir singing lulling him into an infinite jubilation; he closes his eyes to bathe in it, let himself be cleansed and washed over with ecstasy. 

When he pulls out, your body flops onto the mattress, and he watches as white dribbles out your quivering hole, mixing with the red on the sheets, creating a puddle of pink and magenta, before passing out in the fuschia.

[honeypiehotchner]

winter love (all i want for Christmas is you) -- Hotch x Fem!Reader

Hi hi hi!! I have literally been writing this on and off since September, and now I finally get to share it!! A few quick things: this fic has very much Hallmark vibes but does have a good dose of angst too; for the sake of this fic, Aaron was born and raised in Virginia; and Jack was never born (sorry buddy!).

I listened to Michael Bublé’s songs “All I Want for Christmas Is You” and “Cold December Night” a lot while writing this, so feel free to play those while you read! xx.

(The gif is from google because once again, my gif search is broken on here because apparently this post is too long?? Rip me)

Summary: You’ve returned back to your hometown after leaving to get your education, but you didn’t expect to run into your childhood best friend (and first love). 

Word count: 9.4k

HOTCH MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

If you told yourself a few months ago that you’d be moving back to Virginia, you would’ve scoffed and probably laughed -- loudly. Your mom, on the other hand, would’ve been elated, and swore she knew it.

Like she’s doing now.

“I’m just so excited to have you home again,” she gushes, helping you carry boxes of your clothes up to your old childhood room.

The room needs some work, like taking down all these embarrassing posters and changing the sheets to something not so cringe-worthy (thankfully, it’s a full-size bed instead of the old twin you grew up sleeping on). But it’ll be fine for the time being. It’s not like you’re going to find an apartment right before Christmas, or that you even want to. It’s been a while since you’ve spent a full Christmas season with your mom.

You’ve been studying out of state for the past six years, working to get your masters and doctorate degrees — which you’ve completed. But now you need a job and a new start, which is why you decided to come home.

You’ve missed Virginia a lot more than you’ll admit. It’s hard not to miss your hometown when you’re gone from it for so long.

“We need a Christmas tree,” you say, as you come back down the stairs. “Christmas is next week, how do you not have a tree up yet?”

“I wasn’t going to get one without you,” your mom says like the fact should’ve been obvious to you.

You laugh as you plop down next to her on the couch. “I know. We should go tomorrow.”

“Whenever you want to,” she smiles, squeezing your arm. “Have you been to your coffee shop yet?”

“My coffee shop?” You raise an eyebrow. “Since when has it been mine?”

“Since you practically lived there during high school,” your mom counters.

She has a point. “Well, no, I haven’t. I just got here.”

“You should go.”

You raise both eyebrows this time, turning your entire body to face her. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you trying to get me to go back there?”

“Why don’t you want to?”

You give her a look. “You know why.”

“I don’t.”

She does. She knows exactly what happened there.

“I’m not repeating it,” you mutter. “And I’ll be finding a new coffee shop, thank you very much.”

“Oh, you can’t let one bad experience stop you from going there!”

“So you do remember!”

“How could I forget? When you were a wreck for months after. I still never forgave him for that, you know.”

You shake your head, settling back against the couch pillows. “It’s been long enough now that I think forgiveness won’t hurt anyone.”

You say that, and yet you don’t want to step foot in that shop ever again.

+++

It was the summer before your junior year. Aaron was a rising senior, so there was the weight of it being his last year already hanging in the air. Especially when he was already looking at a pre-law track for college — meaning he’d be insanely busy after graduation with not much time for you.

Unfortunately, you didn’t realize that his being too busy for you would start before then.

You were a year younger — technically almost two, but the way your birthday fell, you were only one grade younger — but that didn’t stop Aaron from being your friend. At first you thought he had ill intentions (as most older boys in high school did), but he didn’t. He genuinely enjoyed your company, and you genuinely enjoyed his.

More than genuinely. You say now that you don’t believe in love at first sight, but you know that’s because it already happened for you, and you believe it to be a one-time deal.

That one time was when Aaron sat across from you at the lunch table.

You were alone and reading a book. You were a freshman then, and being an extra year younger didn’t exactly help in the whole making friends department. Especially when a lot of your peers were already aware of your age.

But Aaron wasn’t aware, nor did he even care.

He saw that you were alone, and reading, and he decided to sit with you. He wanted to read too, anyway, but he knew he didn’t always like being alone when he read. Something told him you were the same way.

He was correct.

It took almost the entire fall semester before either of you said one word to each other. Sometimes you’d be too engrossed in the book you were reading to even notice he’d sat down in front of you. And when you would finally notice, he would be the one with his nose too deep in the book to notice.

But eventually, you started sharing book recommendations.

Which eventually turned into helping each other with homework. You were always better at math and Spanish than he was (you were already in the sophomore levels of these classes as a freshman), but he was always good with history and English. He must’ve noticed you were in freshman English and history, but he never commented on it — at least not in a way that said he was bullying you.

That winter break was when you started going to the coffee shop together. It was within walking distance of the high school, so the two of you would go at the end of the day until your parents could pick you up. Sometimes your mom would drive him home, or vice versa.

And when Aaron got his license, he’d drive you both there and drop you off at home.

The two of you were inseparable. Almost literally.

Until Aaron met Haley.

Haley was in theatre. She was everything you weren’t. Aaron’s age, pretty, funny, outgoing, and worst of all: popular.

You watched your best friend fall in love.

And that wouldn’t have hurt as bad as it did if it wasn’t Haley he was falling for.

You kept your feelings for Aaron quiet, even to your mom — though you found out later that she always knew. You had almost thought he felt the same, or that he might be beginning to, and then suddenly he was talking about some girl named Haley.

Only she wasn’t just “some girl” to him, or even to you. Everyone knew Haley Brooks.

Slowly, your lunch table conversations were less about what the two of you were going to do the coming weekend, and more about Haley. How he was going to get her to notice him (join theatre, even though he never liked theatre before her). How he was going to ask her on a date (it wouldn’t be a date at first, just dinner after theatre rehearsal, that ended up being with the entire cast, but he sat next to her). How he was going to win her over (he brought flowers to the first performance and surprised her backstage). How he was going to ask her to be his girlfriend (that was the same night as the flowers, completely unplanned, but she said yes).

How he thought he might want to marry her one day.

The last hurt most of all. He confessed it to you one night out of the blue as he was driving you home after school. You knew you could handle him being in love with someone else. Some sick part of you knew — or hoped, rather — that the relationship wouldn’t last. What high school relationship lasts longer than a few months, anyway?

But when Aaron fell for Haley, he fell completely. And hard.

He started cancelling plans with you to spend time with Haley — before they were even dating. When they were dating, he stopped making plans with you altogether.

Then came the summer before his senior year.

It had been months since you saw him last. You had a new lunch period the second half of the year because one of your favorite teachers asked for help during the period, which meant you didn’t have lunch with Aaron — but you don’t even think he noticed.

June came and went. The two of you barely saw one another, barely talked when you did. But when you did, you clung to those moments like they were your only lifeline. In a way, they were.

July finally came and he actually made plans to see you. He said he wanted to get coffee again, catch up, hang out for a few hours, sit in silence, even, whatever you wanted. You were excited.

Some part of you thought that he had broken up with Haley — wishful thinking, but you were sixteen and in love, what else were you supposed to think?

But he hadn’t broken up with her. They were very much in love. You know. You witnessed it.

Apparently, Haley didn’t like the idea of Aaron getting coffee and lunch alone with a female friend. So, she took it upon herself to tag along.

You saw them sharing a kiss through the window, Aaron’s back facing you. When they pulled away, Haley’s eyes caught yours, but she said nothing to Aaron, just pulled him back in for another kiss.

You didn’t go into the shop that day. And you haven’t since.

The last time you saw Aaron was the day before he moved to college. He was stopping by to say goodbye to you.

You were reading a book in your room, and your eyes caught the movement on the driveway. You told your mom to say you weren’t home.

You watched him leave from your bedroom window, hands stuffed in his pockets.

+++

You heard that Aaron and Haley got married. Not because you wanted to hear, but because your mom told you. She probably meant well, but you drank an entire bottle of wine that night. You weren’t even 21 yet at the time.

Of course, it’s been years since then. You’re all fine now, and you’ve got the student loan debt to prove it.

But even with three degrees, job hunting can be a bitch. Especially this time of year.

You need coffee.

You blame the fact that this coffee shop is the best one around. And the fact that it’s Christmas season, meaning they have your favorite drink again.  

Dark chocolate peppermint mocha. It’s a godsend. And you haven’t had one in years.

Well, you have. But they haven’t been from here. They haven’t had this shop’s specially made peppermint whipped cream, or the peppermint stick that can be used to stir.

You hate how much you have to psych yourself up before you walk inside. You don’t even know where Aaron is these days or what he’s doing. He could be halfway across the country for all you know.

So, with that fact in mind, you walk inside. You embrace the familiar sight and smells, remembering what it felt like the last time you were here.

You move toward the counter, falling in the short line to the register. And your stomach flips when you see a familiar face standing in front of you.

Well, his back is facing you, so you don’t see his face, but you know it’s him. There’s this thing about first loves. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since the last time you’ve seen them. You’ll always recognize everything about them. The back of their head, their shoulders, their hands, the way they walk.

Their voice. Even if it’s deeper than the last time you heard it.

Maybe he won’t recognize me.

But what you don’t know is that no amount of time could pass to make you unrecognizable to Aaron.

Or that he saw your reflection in the glass case next to him when you got in line, and he’s been internally trying to figure out what the hell to say to you since.

If it hadn’t been for his voice, you wouldn’t have recognized Aaron at all. A black coffee? That’s it?

The barista pours it and slides it over to him before he’s even done paying. He’s at a coffee shop -- this coffee shop, and he orders a black coffee?

Who is he?

You step up to the register as he steps away, and you swear you see him looking at you through the corner of your eyes. But you must be seeing things because why would he do that?

You focus on ordering -- a medium peppermint mocha, complete with the whipped cream and peppermint stick. After paying, you step to the side to wait for your coffee.

You nearly knock right into Aaron, but you stop yourself, well aware of his presence.

Another thing about first loves: you’re always painfully aware of their presence.

“Hi,” he says, awkward and fumbling even though it’s only one word. He’s wearing a stuffy suit and tie, which seems odd, but you’re positive that’s just normal lawyer attire. He probably lives in a suit these days. His hair is shorter than it used to be and he looks older, but so do you. Despite all of this, he’s still Aaron. He’s still the same Aaron Hotchner you fell in love with at sixteen.

“Hi,” you return the awkward smile, tugging on the strap of your purse. After a beat, you nod toward his drink. “Black coffee, huh?” You try to tease. “Who hurt you?”

He laughs loudly then, shoulders and head shaking. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, Hotchner,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around yourself.

The conversation dies for a moment, so you busy yourself by looking at the different cakes and pastries in the glass case. You probably should’ve gotten one, but maybe another time.

Another time. Fifteen minutes ago you wouldn’t be caught dead in this shop and now you’re already thinking about another time.

“Are you busy?” Aaron suddenly asks, prompting you to look at him with furrowed brows. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” you smile gently, knowing you might regret this later. But it’s been over a decade since you’ve seen him last. One coffee won’t hurt.

And I’m over him, you remind yourself, no matter how untrue it might be.

Once you have your peppermint mocha -- finally, you think, it’s been too long -- you walk with Aaron to find a table. A lot has changed about this shop, but one thing that hasn’t (because there isn’t much that can be changed) is the seating.

Aaron leads you to your old table. The table the two of you practically lived at.

It makes your heart warm and ache all at once. The drink you decided to order isn’t helping matters either.

“So…” You pause, shifting in your seat. “What are you up to these days?”

“You stole my question,” he jokes.

“Tough,” you smile into your drink. “I asked it first.”

He chuckles, but answers anyway. “I’m working for the BAU now.”

“The B-A-What?”

“The-- FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Your eyes widen. “Did you… Did you really just say you’re working for the FBI?”

“I think so,” he says. “I’m the unit chief.”

“You’re the-- Okay. So, you don’t work for the...the BAU, they work for you.”

“We’re a team,” he offers.

“Said every boss ever,” you quip, taking a long drink of your mocha. You take the peppermint stick in between your fingers and stir, eyebrows furrowing down at the swirl of coffee and whipped cream. “So...what do you do exactly?”

He opens his mouth to answer, then stops, hesitating. “Do you really want to know?”

You give him a look. “Of course I do.”

“It’s not great.”

“Aaron, just tell me, or I’ll start reciting my dissertation word for word.” Your statement stuns him to silence, so badly that you almost laugh. “That’s boring. Working for the FBI can’t possibly be boring.”

“Oh, it’s never boring, that’s for sure,” he mutters. “We profile serial killers.”

“You what?”

He laughs. “We look at their behaviors and crimes and build a profile, what they might look like, their age, that stuff.”

“Intriguing.”

“I can’t believe you’re interested.”

“I can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t be,” you counter. “You know I thrive off this stuff.”

“I remember,” he says quietly.

And just like that, you remember, too.

It’s so easy to forget about all the hurt he caused, all the pain he left behind. Especially because you know he never intended to hurt you. He would never do that, not to you, not on purpose. You never told him how you felt. It’s not his fault he couldn’t read your mind.

“Well, you’ve got a doctorate,” he says, shifting the conversation. “What else are you up to?”

“How did you know it’s a doctorate?” You raise an eyebrow. “Are you profiling me? Did I use that correctly?”

“Yes,” he smiles. “And no, not intentionally. You said you’d recite your dissertation. Those are normally written to get doctorate degrees. You always wanted one, I assumed you met your goal.”

“You assume correct,” you nod. “I’m back to start job and apartment hunting, but after the new year. I wanted to spend some time with my mom.”

“How is she doing?”

“She’s good, she--” You pause, shaking your head with a laugh. “She actually brought you up yesterday.”

“Me?” Aaron looks genuinely shocked.

“Yeah, you,” you knock your foot against his leg without thinking, but you pay no mind, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to it. “She’s actually the one who put the bug in my ear to come here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I haven’t been back here since…”

It takes him a moment, but he nods slowly. “Right.”

“Yeah,” you draw your legs closer to you on instinct. “But that was a long time ago. How are you and Haley?”

You don’t expect the way his face falls. You glance down at his left hand. No ring.

“We got a divorce a few years ago, split up about a good year before that,” Aaron explains. “She’s good, last I heard. Remarried already.”

“Wow,” you murmur, not knowing what else to say. “What-- I mean, what happened?” When he hesitates, you backpedal. “Sorry, I shouldn’t even ask, it’s probably a sensitive question.”

“It’s okay,” Aaron chuckles. “I don’t mind talking about it with you.”

That sends a dangerous flutter through your stomach. “Okay. Well I’m all ears.”

“Oh, it’s not a long story, it was just my job,” he shrugs. “I took the unit chief position and she was happy at first. But then, there was a period of time where we had what felt like case after case after case.” He shakes his head. “I was barely home, but I was barely in one state for long, anyway. It was a stressful time. We were everywhere at once.”

“That does sound stressful,” you frown. “Has it slowed down now?”

“Kind of, it has its moments,” he admits. “But being gone so much, it took a toll on her. She wanted to start a family, but said she couldn’t do that if I was never there.”

“But I mean she had to have known how your schedule would be with the new job, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, then shrugs. “It’s been so long now that I stopped trying to understand her thought process.”

“I get that,” you say sincerely. You understand not wanting to waste energy on something like that anymore. Sometimes you just have to give it up and have peace with the fact that you’ll never understand.

“What about you?” He asks suddenly, catching you off guard. “Seeing anyone?” He adds it quietly, like he’s shy.

Aaron Hotchner. Shy. Around you.

“Oh,” you nearly laugh at the prospect. “No. No, I’m not. Do you really think I would be if I was moving back in with my mom?”

He laughs, bringing his coffee to his lips. “You have a point there.”

A comforting silence settles over the two of you after that.

You shouldn’t feel slightly giddy that his and Haley’s relationship didn’t work out in the end. You’re over him by now, anyway. But something about being right has you fighting a smile. You smother the urge, though, knowing he probably doesn’t want to hear anyone, let alone you, say, “I told you so.”

You do feel bad for him, genuinely. Divorce is never easy for anyone, and you hate he went through that. Especially like that. Haley knew his work schedule would change. Why would she act supportive if she knew this in advance? Just sits uneasy with you, that’s all.

Of course, you feel that overprotective-best-friend nature coming back to you.

“What plans do you have now that you’re back?” He asks, keeping the conversation up, but you can tell he’s earnest — which makes you smile.

“Nothing, really. My mom and I are getting a Christmas tree later, but that’s all I have on my schedule.” You pause, giving him another look. “We both know you were my only friend in high school. Who do you think I’m going to see while I’m here?”

“Hopefully a lot of me,” he replies easily, smiling around his coffee.

And for once, you don’t hesitate to reply. “I hope so, too, actually. I didn’t think you were still around here. And I really didn’t expect you to be working for the FBI.”

“This might be presumptuous of me, but what are you doing this weekend?” He asks, quickly adding on, “A good friend of mine is hosting a Christmas party for the team, and I’ve basically been threatened to bring a plus one.”

“Threatened, huh?” You raise an eyebrow.

He nods seriously. “They won’t let me inside without one.”

You gasp comically, keeping up the act. “Well you can’t miss the party!”

“I know,” he sighs, propping his head in his hand.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to come with,” you say, still deadly serious.

But Aaron’s lips split into a grin the same time yours does. “It’s this Saturday.”

“Lucky for you, I’m free.”

He doesn’t stop grinning. “I can pick you up, if you want.”

“Yeah, I’d love that,” you say. “I should probably give you my number, shouldn’t I?”

“I was going to ask,” he admits.

You roll your eyes playfully. “I figured.”

After exchanging numbers, the two of you return to your idle conversations. Only, they’re less idle than they ever have been before.

He vents about still not understanding how people can be capable of the things he sees. How he knows that everyone is capable of unspeakable things, but it’s how they do it that still makes him stumble sometimes. And you try to sympathize, though you know you can’t. But still you tell him not to try to understand.

“You’re a good man,” you say. “You’re not going to understand it because you’re not like them.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I know that, consciously. Sometimes it’s good to hear it from someone else.”

Then he tells you it’s your turn, and again, you don’t feel the need to hesitate.

You tell him how you weren’t planning on moving back here at all. But the job market where you were didn’t...fit you, for some reason. You never felt like you belonged, and so maybe that’s why you wanted to come back here.

Because even though you left this place heartbroken, you still felt like you belonged when you were here. You felt like you belonged when you were with him, but you don’t tell him that.

Something tells you he heard it anyway, though. Being a profiler and all. Which you still don’t quite understand, but you’re sure he’ll have plenty of time to tell you in the coming future.

+++

After an hour or two, you decide it’s time for you to head back home. Partly because you need to make some lunch for yourself, and partly because you’ve watched Aaron dismiss at least three phone calls in the last twenty minutes.

But he didn’t say a word each time, so you know he won’t tell you who it is or if he needs to go. It makes your heart warm at the thought that he wants to spend more time with you, but if it’s his job, then he needs to go.

He walks you to your car and you hug him around his neck, unashamedly taking a deep breath of his cologne when you stretch up to wrap your arms around him. He didn’t wear cologne back in high school. But this one smells good.

You mentally prepare yourself on the way home for the amount of questions your mom is no doubt going to ask.

You’re supposed to be going to pick out a tree with her today, which means you were supposed to be home a little earlier than this, which means your mom probably already knows what happened and you won’t even get a chance to explain yourself.

In the end, your prediction was correct.

“How was your peppermint mocha?” You glance over to the couch and find your mom sitting there, idly reading a book.

The question is as directly indirect as they come. You raise an eyebrow and kick the front door closed (yes, she asked before you even stepped foot inside the house). “It was good,” you reply, shrugging your jacket off your shoulders. “Why?”

“Oh, you enjoyed it for almost two hours, so I was just wondering.” Your mom fights back a grin, but she’s not doing a very good job.

You sigh. “Just go ahead and ask.”

She closes her book. “Alright, fine, I will. How is Aaron?”

There it is.

“He’s good,” you answer rather pointedly, making your way into the living room. “He’s working for the FBI now.”

“Oh, I knew that already.”

You plop down next to her on the couch. “Seriously?”

“Of course!” She cries, like it should be obvious. “Small talk happens when you see someone in the store.”

“Right,” you scoff. “Anyway, thanks for not telling me him and Haley divorced.”

She grimaces.

“Yeah, exactly,” you nod at her expression. “That’s how I felt. I bet it was just awesome of me to ask about how him and his ex-wife are doing.”

“I’m sorry,” your mom says. “It completely slipped my mind. It’s been so long since those two split.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when it happened?”

“Because I didn’t want to bring him up,” she answers sincerely. “You seemed like you had really moved on. I figured it didn’t matter, and I didn’t want to make you start thinking about him again when you had finally gotten over it all.”

“Oh,” you murmur. “Well, thank you, then, but...still. I feel like an idiot.”

“Did he seem angry when you asked?”

“No, the opposite,” you sigh. “He explained what happened and I let him talk about it for a second, but he seems mostly moved on from it.”

“I don’t know how he can be,” your mom scoffs. “She’s already remarried, you know.”

“Yeah, he told me.”

Your mom shakes her head. “I should’ve shook some sense into that boy when he came to say goodbye that day.” Then she pauses, poking your leg. “And I should’ve made you say goodbye to him. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

“I didn’t wanna talk to him,” you shrug. “We barely had all year, anyway. And one goodbye would not have stopped him from going to college and marrying Haley, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.” She sighs. “It’s fun to think about, though.”

“Well stop thinking about it,” you mutter. “We are friends and he’s probably seeing someone by now. I don’t even know how long I’ll be here, so.”

Your mom raises her eyebrows. “I never said anything about what you guys are now.”

Damn. Caught. “I know, but I’m just...catching you before you do.”

“Mmm, more like catching yourself.”

“Shut up.”

She lightly hits you with a pillow. “Don’t say that to your mother,” she jokes. “Especially not when I’m right and you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Are you ready to pick out a tree?”

“Of course,” she replies. “Just let me find my shoes.”

While she’s getting ready -- because “finding her shoes” really means fixing her hair and makeup and changing outfits a couple times -- you get a text from Aaron.

Aaron: It was nice catching up with you today

You smile and type your reply. Ditto. We should do it again sometime.

He doesn’t reply, but you figure he’s busy at work, anyway. And you’ve got a tree to pick out and decorate, so you’re technically busy, too.

You try not to think too much about it.

+++

And truthfully, you don’t think much about it, until Aaron finally replies. It’s hours later when you’re decorating the freshly-cut Christmas tree in the living room, with Michael Bublé’s Christmas album playing through the stereo speakers. It’s just like when you were younger.

You check your phone and see that it’s Aaron texting you back, but you pocket it before reading the message. You’re busy.

Your mom notices the change on your face. “Everything alright?” She asks as she places a snowflake ornament on one of the smaller branches.

You nod without thinking, hating yourself for even feeling what you’re feeling right now. A glittery red ornament hangs from your index finger as you try to find the right branch to hang it on -- and while your mind wanders all over the place.

“Clearly not,” your mom replies. “But alright.” She turns and reaches into a different box, picking up one of the golden jingle bells that she always hides deep within the tree each year. When you were younger, she’d hide them without you seeing, and then on Christmas Eve you’d have to search the tree for them before you could open one present before going to sleep.

You snort a laugh, always loving her way of getting you to open up: sarcasm. “It’s just Aaron.”

“Aaron?”

“Texting me,” you explain, looking down at the glitter coating your fingertips from the ornaments.

“Aren’t you going to reply?” She asks, grabbing another jingle bell.

“Technically he’s the one replying from earlier today.”

“Okay…”

You sigh. Time to cave. “He invited me to a Christmas party this weekend.”

Your mom doesn’t even try to hide her excitement or her wide grin. “Really? That’s great!”

Is it? You want to ask, but you stop yourself. “Yeah,” you shrug. “I guess so. It’ll be nice to hang out with him more.” You pause, finally hanging the small glittery red ornament on the tree that you’ve been idly holding for the past two minutes. “Apparently a friend of his is hosting it and basically told him he wouldn’t be allowed inside without a plus one.” You chuckle quietly, knowing Aaron had to have rolled his eyes when his friend told him that.

“So it’s...a date, then?”

“What? No,” you shake your head. “No, no. Not a date. He didn’t phrase it that way.”

“Sweetheart, plus one implies date.”

“Who says?”

“Everyone!” Your mom laughs. “Bringing a plus one to a wedding is usually a casual date, if not bringing your significant other along.”

“This isn’t a wedding, it’s just a Christmas get together.”

“Same difference.”

“Well, I think you’re doing that thing again where you try to plant seeds in my brain for things that are unnecessary,” you raise an eyebrow at her when she avoids eye contact, so you know you’ve caught her red-handed. “All that aside,” you sigh. “I’m over him. It’s been so long. If something was going to happen, it would have already.”

“Whatever you say,” she shrugs indifferently, grabbing the final jingle bell to hide in the top of the tree. For a brief moment, you wish you hadn’t been watching where she hid them, so you could do the search on Christmas Eve one more time.

+++

You bump into Aaron one more time, two days later, at the same coffee shop.

“Back for more?” He teases as he slides into the seat across from you, another black coffee in his right hand.

You’re sitting at the table the two of you call home with yet another peppermint mocha sitting in front of you and your laptop. More job hunting is the task for today, even though you’re ready to give up and just pick it back up after the New Year. It’s not like your mom is making you pay rent, and you have enough in savings to help with groceries (without her knowledge, of course, because she refuses to let you pay for anything) and buy your own coffees. But, you decided to give it one last go today.

That is, until Aaron slid into the seat in front of you. Now, you close your laptop and place it back in your bag. “Just needed some fuel for more job hunting,” you grin. “What are you doing here?”

“I took off for lunch for once and thought I might find you here.”

“Oh?” You raise your eyebrows. “Were you seeking me out, Hotchner?”

“Maybe a little,” he admits with a shy smile. “Are you still good for tomorrow?”

“As long as you are,” you nod. “What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at five, if that’s good?”

“Perfect,” you smile. “Are you ready to introduce me to your friends?”

“Depends,” he exhales exasperatedly. “Are you ready to meet them?”

“They can’t be that bad.”

“They might be. If you aren’t used to them.” He pauses. “They don’t know you’re coming, by the way.”

“What?” You almost laugh. “Why not?”

“I told them I was bringing someone, but I didn’t feel like hearing it all week about who I was bringing.” He pauses again, like he’s holding something back, and then he lets it out. “They know all about you.”

You blink. “They do?”

“Yeah,” he smiles gently. “I talk about you all the time.”

“No,” you shake your head. “No you don’t. There’s no way.”

“You’ll believe it tomorrow,” he chuckles. “I’m sure they’ll try to embarrass me.”

“I-I mean...what do you even say about me?”

He shrugs. “That you were my best friend in high school and...that I missed you and wondered what you were up to these days, and how we used to hang out here.” He looks around the shop, then back to you and your bewildered expression. “What?” He laughs. “You didn’t talk to your friends about me?”

“No, I did,” you laugh quietly. But I said different things. And most of the time I was crying because I missed you, especially my first year of college when my roommate tried to get me to go on a double date with her boyfriend and his roommate, but I refused and had to confess that I wasn’t over you and that you broke my heart, and I was such a mess that she brought ice cream and chocolate back after their date.

But you don’t say any of that. Obviously.

“I just didn’t expect you to even...think about me, I guess,” you finally spit out, still shaking your head. “I mean...we haven’t talked since high school, I figured you’d forgotten or moved on, at least. Especially since you had Haley.”

Aaron’s expression softens and turns sad, quickly. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I didn’t know you thought any of that.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” you wave his worry away. “It’s years ago. Water under the bridge.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. Then, he says, “Haley was jealous of you, you know.”

You immediately look up from your mocha, your eyes wide in shock. “She was what?”

“Oh yeah,” Aaron laughs. “Devastatingly jealous of you. She swore we were dating or that I was in love with you or something.”

Or something. “Wow,” you chuckle, trying to mask your hurt as much as possible. “Why did she even think that?”

You know why. You know exactly why. Because before her, you and Aaron were attached at the hip. You sat together during lunch, walked each other home, hung out at the coffee shop, went to school functions together (well, you’d actually go with a big group, but you two always ended up together anyway), and so on and so forth. Anyone would’ve been an idiot to not assume you two were dating.

“We were so close,” he shrugs. “She said she was so surprised when I asked her to be my girlfriend because she swore I was dating you. She actually asked me that, when I gave her the flowers. She said, “What about Y/N?” And I said, “Y/N? She’s just my best friend.” And she didn’t believe me.”

“That’s so crazy,” you say, but you’re really thinking back to that day you and Aaron had decided to meet up here and hang out after so long. When Haley crashed the hangout. When she locked eyes with you and smirked before pulling him back in for another kiss.

She was jealous. She was jealous and she knew exactly what she was doing that day.

Aaron’s phone starts ringing and he sighs heavily, pulling it out. He almost declines it, but then stops himself. “It’s the boss,” he says. “My boss. I’ve gotta take this. I’ll text you later?”

“Sure,” you smile, knowing he might forget or get too busy to think about it. But that’s okay. “Good luck with the phone call.”

“Thanks,” he chuckles. “I’ll need it.” And then he brings his phone up to his ear. “Agent Hotchner,” he says, and you hate that you find it so hot.

+++

You almost cancel with Aaron a dozen times before 2p.m.

You blame the conversation the two of you had yesterday. For some reason, the thought of Haley being jealous of you had never crossed your mind. Because to you, it was so obviously the other way around. Of course, you weren’t vocal about your jealousy, but you were certain she knew. Not that it was the other way around.

Old feelings have already resurfaced, which is bad enough, but the talk about Haley and about how Aaron’s friends know all about you made things worse. Especially the latter.

Why would he talk about you so much if the two of you hadn’t spoken in years? Not even years, but like an entire decade. Why would he still talk about you and think about you that much?

You have dwelled over those questions since he left the coffee shop yesterday.

But now, you have no idea what to wear, and Aaron will be here any minute. You’re assuming the attire is casual, not fancy, since it’s just a get together with his friends -- who all happen to be his team of agents. FBI agents. Because he’s just casually the Unit Chief of the BAU.

It still baffles you. He wanted to be a lawyer. Not in the FBI. God.

He’s still your Aaron. That’s what shocks you the most. He’s experienced law school, marriage, practicing law, working for the FBI, becoming a Unit Chief, divorce, and yet he’s still the Aaron Hotchner you were best friends with in high school.

You wonder if you’re still the girl he was best friends with in high school. Or if you’ve changed so drastically that he doesn’t see you that way anymore.

You take a deep breath, going back to digging through the many boxes of clothes that you have yet to unpack. You need a sweater or something. That’s safe enough, right? It’s too cold for a dress, and frankly, you’re not in the mood for wearing one, anyway.

Finally, you find the sweater you were looking for. You tug it over your head, figuring your jeans are fine enough. You’ll wear some low heels to make it look like you put in a little more effort.

Your quick thinking is to your benefit because the doorbell rings almost as soon as you’re done doing the clasp on your second heel.

But because your mom is quicker than you, she’s already opened the door and let Aaron in before you can make it downstairs. And by the time you are coming down the stairs, Aaron is sitting on the couch with your mom, making idle conversation.

“Hey,” you smile at him, resisting the urge to glare at your mom. “Ready?”

“If you are,” he nods, standing to his feet.

When he turns, you shoot your mom a look. “We’ll be back later.”

“You’re not in high school,” your mom laughs. “You two have fun for as long as you like.”

“I know,” you say. “But I also know you’ll wait up until I get back.”

“And you can’t stop me,” she replies pointedly.

Aaron laughs at the two of you, your banter just as he remembers from all those years ago. Neither of you have changed one bit.

After a final moment of bickering, you bid your mom goodbye and leave with Aaron.

In the car, you ask, “Have you told them about me coming yet?”

From the driver’s seat, he shakes his head. “No, so prepare yourself for a lot of questions.”

“I think you’re the one that’ll be in hot water, but alright,” you chuckle. “I can hear them now. ‘Why didn’t you tell us you were bringing her!’”

He laughs loudly. “That’s not a bad impression, actually.”

“Why, thank you,” you smirk. “It’s a hidden talent of mine.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm.”

The two of you share a grin as he keeps driving.

+++

After some time -- long enough that you were beginning to wonder where he’s taking you -- Aaron finally turns into a subdivision. But it’s still not what you were expecting.

You assumed FBI agents must make good money, but not this good. This is a mansion. It’s massive. There has to be at least six bedrooms in there, maybe more.

“Is your friend a millionaire or something?”

Aaron chuckles, “Maybe. Probably. Maybe more.”

“More?” Your eyes widen. “Wow.” And then Aaron pulls into the driveway. “Wow.”

He puts the car in park and says, “Try not to look too surprised. Dave won’t shut up about the house if you get him started.”

“What if I want to hear everything?” You ask, scrambling out of the car to look up at the house. “Jesus Christ.” Then you whip your head around to look at Aaron exasperatedly. “Does your house look like this?”

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “No. This is too big. Dave’s crazy for buying it.”

“He’s definitely insane,” you nod. “I mean, what do you even need a house this big for?”

Aaron shrugs. “Christmas parties, I guess.” He pauses, holding out his arm for you. “Ready to face the lions?”

You roll your eyes through a laugh, loosely holding onto his arm. “Quit being so dramatic. I bet it’ll be just fine.”

“Let’s hope so,” Aaron replies. Because truthfully, he is a little worried that they might scare you off. They have a habit of doing that.

The two of you walk up to the front door, and you try your best to act like you’ve been in the general vicinity of a house this big before. Dave must be a really good friend of Aaron’s, because instead of knocking or ringing the doorbell, Aaron twists the doorknob and walks right in with you on his arm.

“Dave’s making pasta,” Aaron whispers, smelling the air. He shuts the door gently, wanting to surprise the team as much as possible.

You sniff the air, too, smiling happily. “Smells really good. Is that carbonara?”

“Good nose,” a voice says from the kitchen.

“That’s Dave,” Aaron chuckles, walking you down the hall toward the smell.

The team’s eyes all widen dramatically and comically when Aaron Hotchner steps inside the kitchen with a woman on his arm.

“Well, hello,” one of them says, sliding off the stool at the counter to saunter over to you. He’s all suave and swagger.

“Derek Morgan, this is Y/N,” Aaron introduces you quickly, knowing the reaction your name will get.

“Hold up,” Derek pauses, glancing between you and Aaron. “Y/N? As in the Y/N?”

“I don’t know about being the Y/N, but that is my name,” you laugh. “Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Derek says, a hand over his heart to add to the sincerity. “Where have you been hiding all this time?”

“Getting a doctorate,” you shrug, only now realizing that your hand is still holding onto Aaron’s arm, but he doesn’t seem fazed by it either, so you don’t move.

“Oh, alright,” Derek chuckles. “Hey Reid, we’ve got another doctor here.”

The man in question, Reid, looks up from the book he was reading with furrowed eyebrows. “Hi.” He waves.

“Hey,” you wave back. “What’re you reading?”

“War and Peace. In Russian, though.”

“In-- Wow, okay.”

“He’s a genius,” Morgan explains.

“I see that,” you chuckle.

Aaron finishes the introductions for you. “That’s JJ, handles the press for us because none of us want to do it.”

“He’s not wrong,” JJ replies with a laugh. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You too,” you smile.

“You met Reid, his first name’s Spencer,” Aaron supplies, and Reid is too far gone in the book again to notice. “This is Emily Prentiss.”

“And I have been dying to meet you,” Emily says. “You are exactly how he described.”

“In a good way, I hope?” You laugh nervously.

She nods. “Definitely.”

Aaron points to the other woman at the counter. She’s dressed in all sorts of crazy colors with glasses that match her outfit. And before he can introduce her, she says, “I’m Penelope Garcia, technology extraordinaire. I keep them out of trouble.”

“And we love you for it,” Derek adds.

“And this is Dave,” Aaron finishes.

“It is very nice to finally meet you,” Dave says, and actually shakes your hand. “Do you know how to make carbonara?”

“Yes, actually,” you say, earning a surprised look from Aaron. “I went through a phase when I was younger, wanting to make anything and everything that sounded good, so I’ve made this a few times. My mom loves it.”

Dave loves the sound of that. “Would you like to help me?”

You practically light up inside and out. “Seriously? I’d love to!”

“Oh, here we go,” Derek groans. “He’s roped her in.”

You ignore him, slipping away from Aaron to grab the other apron off the hook by the entrance to the kitchen. You slide your head through the loop and tie it at the back in a matter of seconds, too excited to contain it.

“I almost went to culinary school, you know,” you say to no one in particular, but Aaron is listening, and so is Dave.

“Why didn’t you?” Aaron asks.

You shrug. “Didn’t seem practical.” Which isn’t the real answer at all. The real answer is you got your heart broken and needed to do a complete 180 in life, so you did. Culinary school was out. Getting a doctorate was in. You turn on the water in the sink and begin washing your hands. “What do you need me to do?”

For the next hour, you help Dave make the carbonara, occasionally answering any questions Aaron’s friends have for you.

Aaron pours you a glass of wine and sits at the counter, watching you cook. You look more at peace than he’s seen you since a few days ago when he first bumped into you again.

You catch him looking at you more than a handful of times. It feels good. Spending the evening with his friends, his team, with him. You’ve missed spending time with him more than anything else.

Dave serves up the carbonara, telling you to sit down since you helped so much already. You don’t make him ask twice.

+++

After dinner, everyone moves into the living room, scattering on the various couches and chairs. Reid has finished reading War and Peace, so the book sits discarded on one of the coffee tables.

You take the spot on the couch next to Aaron, careful not to spill your wine. Penelope sits on the other side of you, with Derek on her other side, which all but forces you to move closer to Aaron, and something about the look on Penelope’s face tells you it was done on purpose.

You’re not exactly complaining, though. With a full stomach and a fresh glass of wine, Aaron’s presence is even warmer than before. You pay no mind when he shifts his left arm, stretching it over the back of the couch and allowing you to scoot closer, your legs pressed against each other’s.

The conversation continues, and somehow the subject of relationships is brought up.

“Yeah, why was I the only one asked to bring someone?” Aaron asks. “I’d like to see all of you find a last minute date.”

Another warm rush goes through your body at the word date. This is a date. Alright then.

“I think you did just fine,” Dave says, nodding to you. “Don’t you?”

You shrug, not sure of what to make of it. “I’m having fun, so I guess so.”

“See?” Dave gives Aaron a look. “You did fine.”

Aaron gives his friend a tired glare. “Only because she happened to be back from getting her degrees. Otherwise, I would’ve been stuck.”

“Nah, man, you could’ve called Beth.”

You feel Aaron tense next to you, but you aren’t sure if he tensed up or if you did. Maybe both. Probably both. You weren’t aware there was someone else.

“Who’s Beth?” You ask as casually as possible, ignoring the heated glares Penelope, JJ, and Emily alike are sending Derek. Seriously, Derek would be dead three times over right now if looks could be deadly.

Aaron shrugs before answering you. “Her and I dated briefly last year.”

You nod slowly, trying not to seem hurt or upset or anything by this because it’s ridiculous of you to be fighting back tears, but you can’t help it.

It’s high school, goddamnit, it’s fucking high school all over again.

The topic of conversation shifts thanks to Reid being the endless supplier of random facts. One question about Russian from Emily and he’s taking over, washing the awkwardness away in two languages.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t work as well for you as it does for everyone else.

You set your wine glass down on the table and tell Penelope you’re going to use the bathroom. You have no clue where it is, but she doesn’t know that.

Aaron does. And Aaron hears the tone of voice you use.

He waits until you’re down the hall before he stands to follow you, foregoing any explanation to his friends. They already know what he’s doing.

Aaron’s suspicions are correct when he hears the front door close and sees your coat no longer hanging next to his on the hook by the door. He grabs his and only gets one arm through a sleeve before he’s opening the door, eyes searching the premises for you.

Thankfully, he finds you after two seconds, and his racing heart slows a little. You’re standing by the reindeer lights on Dave’s front lawn. Your coat is only hanging on your shoulders, something you’ve always done since high school when you were upset.

“It feels more like a blanket,” you had told him one day. “Blankets are more comforting than jackets.”

He doesn’t see the difference, but you do, and that was enough for him.

He has both arms through the sleeves by the time he’s next to you. He gently touches your arm to get your attention, adding a soft, “Hey,” for good measure.

You turn your head at the sound, having already known he was coming because you heard the front door open. In the back of your mind, you had wanted him to follow you out here, but now that he’s done it, you aren’t so sure this is what you wanted.

You wanted to ignore the feeling. Get it to disappear on its own. Survive the night, then never talk to him again. You were heartbroken, but it was better when you weren’t speaking to him. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron says softly. “Beth and I haven’t spoken since our last date a year ago. It was only three dates. We weren’t serious at all.” He pauses. “I have no idea why Derek said that. He doesn’t think before he speaks sometimes.”

You nod, not having it in you to laugh at Aaron’s small jab, even though he is entirely correct. Derek is a quick thinker with a sharp wit, but you can see how it might backfire sometimes. Like tonight.

You believe Aaron, you really do. But it’s so hard. “Did you love her?”

Aaron is stunned for a moment, but says, “No. I don’t think I did.”

“Okay.” You shake your head, looking down at the grass. “I’m just trying to figure out why Derek would’ve brought her up if...if you guys dated so briefly.”

Aaron sighs. “I don’t know.”

“And is this a date?” You blurt, finally finding the courage to get that one out. “Because if it is, I…I don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

You shake your head again, trying to find the right words, but they always seem out of reach. “Just...tell me this won’t be like high school.”

This time Aaron is too stunned to form a real answer. “What?”

“Please,” you sound like you’re about to cry and you feel so pathetic that you wish you had never agreed to come tonight. But you’re here anyway. “I was in love with you then, and I’m still in love with you now, but I can’t do that again. So if this is a just friends thing and always will be, I need you to tell me before I hurt myself all over again.”

Aaron can’t believe his ears. He swears he heard you wrong. He must have. “You were in love with me in high school, too?”

“Yes-- Wait, too? What do you mean too?” Now you’re looking at him, eyes wide in confusion, shock, every emotion possible. “Too?”

“I was in love with you, Y/N,” he chuckles, reaching for your hands. “I thought you just saw me as an older brother. That’s why I never...said anything.”

“What?” You breathe, letting him thread his fingers through yours. “Are you serious? You better not be pulling my leg, Hotchner. Don’t do that to me.” You tug on his hands for emphasis, giving him a stern look.

“I’m not joking,” he says, taking a step closer. “I wouldn’t joke about this.”

“Oh my god,” you say, disbelief a powerful thief of words. “I can’t believe… So you went after Haley because…”

“Because I heard from one of her friends that she had a crush on me,” he admits. “I did love her, but not as much as I loved you. Never as much as I loved you.”

You don’t know what else to do or say. He looks so beautiful in this light that it hurts, and now he’s saying words you never thought you’d ever hear.

“Do you forgive me?” He asks. “For breaking your heart?”

“Only if you forgive me for breaking yours,” you whisper.

He shakes his head. “I broke my own. I should’ve told you how I felt.” He pauses. “I even talked to you about Haley all the time. Is that why you didn’t say goodbye to me?”

You nod. “It sounds so stupid now, but I was so hurt.”

“I’m an idiot,” he laughs. “I’m the dumbest fool to ever walk the Earth.”

“We both are,” you correct him, taking a step closer. It’s cold out here, but he’s warm. He’s always been so warm. Like home.

And you-- you’ve always been who Aaron thinks of when he thinks about being happy. It’s always been you. A moment like this, and a thousand others. He wants them all. And to think, you do too.

His lips meet yours in a long-awaited kiss, cold noses bumping against one another, his warm hands holding your face, your chilled fingers finding their home on his neck, stealing his warmth.

From the window, the team watches, and Emily exchanges money with Derek.

[fanmoose12]

Partners

Characters: Petra Ral, Levi, Hanji Zoe x Levi

Genre: Action / Mystery / Romance

Rating: T

Detective!au

Summary: when Petra was promoted to a detective and partnered up with legendary Levi Ackerman, she felt like the happiest person in the world.But, as she soon found out, detective Ackerman she used to admire so much was actually a far cry from the ideal policeman Petra thought he was. He was rude, harsh and easily annoyed. And, in addition, he still hadn’t moved on from the death of his previous partner - detective Hange Zoe.

Chapter 13/14

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Сhapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Сhapter 7

Сhapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Beep, beep, beep

It didn't stop, didn't pause, didn't even quiet down.

Hange tried to ignore the irritating sound, tried to forget about it and return to the dark place where she was safe and warm.

Beep, beep, beep

As though mocking her, it got louder and louder, allowing Hange no respite. Accepting that this battle wouldn’t end in her favor, she groaned and forced her eyes open.

The ceiling above her was white, the walls surrounding her were mostly white too. The bed she was lying on was also white, and to her hand was attached a thin line of IV.

Huh. It was a while since she had the pleasure to wake up in a hospital.

Hange meant to continue her survey, but everything else was too blurry for her to see. Glasses. Where were her glasses?

Her hand flew to her face, touching her nose. No glasses there.

With a considerable effort Hange pushed herself up into a sitting position. She blindly reached to her left where a bedside table stood. She moved her palm all over it, there was lots of things on top of it. No glasses, though.

"The first drawer," a voice behind her helped.

Hange obediently opened it, her fingers immediately finding the familiar shape of her glasses. She put them on and sighed in content, as the world around her finally came into focus.

She turned her head to the direction the voice was coming from. Next to her bed stood another one, separated by a blue curtain. In the corner of it she could see Zeke. Their eyes met, and he gave her a weak, but unexpectedly genuine smile.

"Welcome back to the world of the living."

"Was I out for too long?" Hange frowned, trying to recall what had happened. She remembered Floch, remembered that horrible room in Zeke's safe house, remembered his brother, the erupting pain in her side as he had shot her and the dangerous glint of Floch's blade near her throat. She remembered being afraid and sorry for missing her another chance and not telling Levi how she truly felt all these years. Remembered Levi rushing in, saving her. Remembered his trembling fingers and soft touch. Remembered how he held her and refused to let go all the way to the hospital, remembered—

That was all she remembered.

"It's been almost a day since doctors operated on you," Zeke explained. "You've got your friends worried."

Hange looked to her bedside table again, gawking at the amount of gifts there. There was a box of candies from Nifa, teddy bear from Moblit, balloons from Keiji and Abel, a giant bouquet from Erwin... And a small postcard that stood at the far side. Hange picked it up, studying curiously. Her lips curled up and she giggled - the postcard was from Pieck.

"And what happened to you?" Hange looked back at Zeke. His torso was bandaged and he was unusually pale in the face.

Zeke grimaced, lifting his eyes to the ceiling. "My brother turned out to be a better shooter that I've anticipated."

"And..." Hange began uncertainly. Her fingers curled into the bedsheets, she wasn't sure if she wanted to know, but— she decided to ask anyway. "And what happened to Eren?"

Zeke sighed, pushing hair back from his face. "I took care of him."

Hange looked down, not knowing how to feel about it and what to do with that knowledge. Should she say something to Zeke? Tell him that she was sorry? Or that he did the right thing? What he wanted to hear? He probably didn't wish to hear either.

"And what happened to your eye?" she pointed her finger at a large bruise that bloomed on his face. "Was it... Eren as well?"

"No," Zeke scoffed. "That was your partner, detective. An eye for an eye, I guess," he chuckled dryly.

"Levi..." Hange's heart fluttered at the mention of him. "Do you know if he's—"

"He's been by your side this whole time," Zeke rolled his eyes. "He left just a few minutes ago. I'm sure he'll be there any moment now. He barely slept while you were out."

"Oh..." Hange couldn't help her smile. She wanted to see Levi so much...

"Jesus," Zeke groaned. "The two of you are sickening. If I spend another day watching you, I'd get cavities from your damn sweetness. Damn it, and I can't even smoke here..."

Zeke obviously meant to complain some more, but he fell silent, as the door to the ward opened. Hange turned to it with a grin that dissipated almost immediately, a heartbeat after she saw Petra's sheepish smile instead of Levi's gloomy scowl.

"Disappointed, aren't you, detective?" Zeke mocked with a shit eating smirk.

Hange discreetly flipped him off and roughly closed the curtain between them.

"Sorry about that," she mumbled, giving an apologizing look to Petra.

"It's alright," she said. "Levi is just behind the door, Oluo is distracting him while I'm here." Petra tutted, her auburn locks flying as she shook her head. "I had no choice but to resort to this. He doesn't let anyone else see you. Only Captain Erwin was allowed inside, and that too lasted just for a few minutes."

Hange chuckled, her heart swelling. Yep, that's the ridiculously protective shorty she knew and loved...

"I know you can't wait to see him, too," Petra winked, taking note of her pleased expression.

Hange flushed, but the embarrassed blush turned into angry one, when she heard a not so subtle scoff behind the curtain.

"So I will be brief," Petra sat down on a chair beside Hange, setting her hands on her lap. Her fingers twisted together in a nervous matter as stared at the floor, appearing deep in thought. After a long moment, she lifted her eyes, a small, slightly crooked smile playing on her lips. "I just wanted to thank you for... giving me strength back there. I lost all hope, thought I was done for, but you... You kinda rekindled that light inside me. You showed me what true bravery and resolve means."

"Petra," Hange smiled, reaching out to gently squeeze her hand. "I should be the one thanking you. On the night Levi and I reunited, if it wasn't for you, if it wasn't for your bravery and resolve, who knows what would have happened? Perhaps, I would have never gathered enough courage to face Levi. Perhaps, he would have never found out that I actually survived. Don't sell yourself short, you're a strong and courageous person, and have been like that long before we met. You have a bright future ahead of you. I'm excited to witness it."

Petra bobbed her head, her smile growing wider, more open. "And I'm excited to learn more from you. But as for now," Petra stood up and fixed Hange with a rather strict look.

She is learning things from Levi too, Hange thought with an amused smile.

"Rest and gather your strength. Everyone is waiting for you to come back. Someone is more impatient that the others. I need to go before that same someone rips Oluo's head off for keeping you away from him. Take care," Petra waved her hand, gifted Hange another bright smile and left.

As soon as she closed the door, Hange heard a familiar, grumpy voice.

A second later, Levi walked in. His eyes widened when they met hers. With his hand still on a doorknob, Levi stood at the threshold, staring at her with an intent look.

Hange almost squirmed under his gaze, it was too intense to belong to Levi. She wondered what was the reason for it.

But then the spell broke, and Levi looked away.

His steps heavy, he marched further into the room. He didn't head to her bed, though. Instead he stopped next to Zeke's.

"If I hear just a pip from you," he warned in a low voice. "They'll have to prolong your stay in this hospital."

Levi didn't wait for Zeke to reply and turned on his heels, taking a seat next to Hange. Crossing his legs, he just sat there, his gaze not moving away from her face.

He didn't glare, didn't scowl, just stared like Hange was the most interesting thing in this room. Her stomach turned, and she wasn't sure if she liked this feeling or not.

"Where were you?" she asked, when it became evident that Levi wasn't going to start a conversation.

Her question made him look away, just long enough to roll his eyes.

"That idiot Oluo ambushed me in the hallway. Demanded an advice from me."

"An advice?"

"On how to be a good detective," Levi answered, before Hange could get funny ideas about other types of advice. Not that Levi was knowledgeable enough to give them. "Erwin decided to promote him. Now Petra will have a new partner."

"You and Petra won't work together anymore? Then who is going to be your new partner?"

"Yeah, Hange," Levi sat back in his chair, crossing hands on his chest. "Who will it be?"

"You," Zeke stage whispered.

Levi's eye twitched.

"I told you—"

"Wait," Hange put a hand on his arm, quelling his anger. A heavy feeling settled in her stomach, a hope that was ready to get crushed. She frowned at Levi. "Can I even return to work? Technically, I'm still dead."

"Erwin is working on it. He pulled some strings, asked a few favors..."

"And?"

"He managed to restore your documents. He even kept your full name."

"He wanted to change it? To what?"

Despite the faint blush, Levi held her gaze firmly. "Ackerman."

Now it was Hange's turn to feel flustered.

"And by the way," Levi rose to fluff and fix the pillow underneath her. Hange tried to ignore the subtle tremor she noticed as his fingers moved. "You'll have to stay at my place for a while. Erwin is looking for an apartment, but since most of your stuff is already there..."

Hange couldn't help it - she started laughing. God, both of them were so hopeless.

"Aren't we moving things a little too fast?" she gave him a sly look, a flutter inside her returning as Levi snorted.

"Too fast? If you ask anyone else, four-eyes, we're moving things way too slowly."

Well... Hange certainly couldn't argue with that.

"And if you want to help things move along more smoothly," Levi sat back down, putting his hand on the bed, his fingers almost touching Hange's. "I remember you promising to tell me about your type."

Hange did promise that, she almost did tell him too, back in his office, when they received news about Petra. It wasn't the right time back then. But now...

"My type is certainly one of a kind. You have seen him, though."

"Where?" Levi grew just a little bolder, moved his hand just a little closer to Hange's.

She grinned and shortened the distance, intertwining their fingers.

"In the mirror."

The possibly sweet, tender moment was ruined by a loud groan that was followed by, "God, I never thought that flirting could be so torturous."

[stylesberries]

Love On Tour

Summary: Your parents are coming to meet him but you chose to keep it a secret.

Genre(s): fluff, a little smut

Word Count: 2.3k

Warning(s): this made me very soft, read at your own risk, peeps + mentions of sexual intercourse

You tossed and turned throughout the whole night, not being able to focus on sleep. The man next to you was desperately holding onto your body, making it hard for you to change the position you were in.

You were waiting for your mom to text you, saying that she and dad landed safely in Rome. They’d never been in Italy before. Harry was here touring with Fine Line. He’d never met your parents.

You put two and two together and thought that this was an amazing opportunity for you to finally introduce your boyfriend to your parents.

He, obviously, knew nothing about it. You knew that if you told him, he would freak out, and you wanted him to keep it together for the show and didn’t want him to get anxious for nothing. They already loved him from hearing stories you’ve told them about him.

Taking a glance at the screen of your phone, you saw bright numbers on it. 4:35 A.M.

They were supposed to land soon, so your tried your best to keep your eyes open.

“A glass of water would be great right now.” You thought to yourself, looking over to your side. Harry’s cheek was smushed into your side, and he kept subconsciously tightening his hold around you.

You carefully pulled your arm, which was squeezed between your warm bodies, and placed in on his back. Bringing your hand to his head, you started slowly playing with his curls, making sure not to accidentally wake him up.

“He seems fast asleep. If I get out slowly, he wouldn’t notice, right?” Debating, whether you should risk waking him up or just wait until he wakes up to get water, your dry mouth decides for you.

After grabbing a pillow that was laying next to your boyfriend, you started sliding out of his tight hold, gradually replacing your body with the pillow.

The bed creaked after losing contact with your body. Your eyes moved back to the bed, checking if your boyfriend noticed you missing.

As a little frown found its way on Harry’s face, wrinkles grazed the spot right between his eyebrows. You noticed his cheek being squished deeper into the pillow, and his hold around it tighten once again.

Standing by your bed in silence, you made sure to wait for a couple of minutes, to be certain that he was not woken up by you.

Turning around, taking a last glance at him peacefully cuddled in the pillows and blankets on the bed, you made your way out of your bedroom, down the stairs and into the kitchen to get yourself that long hoped-for glass of water.

Your tranquil walk back to the bedroom, now with a glass of water in your hand, was hindered by your phone ringing, echoing though the hall.

“Shit.” You muttered to yourself.

Running into the room, you hoped to be right on time to pick up the call before it wakes your previously peacefully sleeping boyfriend.

Unfortunately, you weren’t that lucky.

As you walked into your now-sunlit bedroom, the sight of your grumpy shirtless boyfriend caught your eye. He was holding your phone in one hand as it rang and rubbed the sleep out of his eye with the other.

“Mom’s callin’.” He managed to utter with a rasp in his voice.

Harry held out your phone to you, as his eyes grew heavy.

Taking your phone out of his hold, you picked up the call and heard your mom on the other side of the line.

“We landed, Y/N. Taking a taxi to your hotel in 10 minutes. People here are so nice.” She giggled in the end.

You would’ve too if you weren’t so exhausted from staying up all night to get a text from her. You started walking out of the room, to make sure Harry doesn’t hear her as well. Through your peripheral vision you could see the sleepy man fall back onto the pile of pillows.

“My poor baby.” You thought, as your mom went on about the flight and how excited she was to finally meet Harry.

“If he only knew.”

After your parents got on their taxi, they ended the call, telling you to get back in bed. To you it meant that you can finally cuddle your grumpy boyfriend.

Walking into your bedroom, you expected Harry to be sleeping. What surprised you was not only the fact that he was wide awake, but also the fact that he was standing by the window, looking outside.

“Baby, I’m so sorry for waking you up. Why don’t you go back to sleep?” Making your way to him, you watched as he slowly turned to face you. You walked right up to him and circled your arms around his waist. Positioning your chin on his chest, you looked up into his eyes. He lazily smiled down at you.

“Is mom okay? It’s quite early for her t’call, innit?”

He looked genuinely concerned, and suddenly you felt so guilty for keeping the truth away from him. It just seemed like the right thing to do in the moment.

“She’s okay, precious. Probably got confused in the time zones. We’re in a new place every week, after all.” You tried your best to brush it off. He seemed convinced.

“Oh, okay, lovey. ‘M glad she’s alright.”

You stood by the window for some time holding each other. Moments like these were the ones you longed for when he left touring with his debut album. They were the reason you were ready to study online, just to be by his side.

“He deserves to know.” You thought. He was going to meet them today anyways. “He won’t have time to get too nervous, right?” You kept debating on whether or not you should tell him the truth.

Your brows furrowed and your lips were pressed tight together. Harry took a look down at you, and his brows creased as well.

“What’s the matter with m’angel?” He gently cooed and moved closer to your face.

You were taken aback from your mental debates and smiled up at him.

“Nothing, nothing, baby. Everything’s okay.” You tried to quickly explain yourself. He didn’t seem convinced this time.

“Oh, come on. I know y’better than I know m’self. You’re in deep though, sweetie. Something’s botherin’ you. What is it?” He pushed your head into his chest and stroked your hair.

After being together for almost a year, Harry knew that you needed to be close to him to be able to speak your heart without feeling judged. So that’s exactly what he gave you.

“I won’t judge you. I promise, my love. Tell me what’s botherin’ you. Maybe I could help in some way?”

“God, I feel like a piece of shit. Why did I lie to him in the first place? He’s gonna be so mad.” Your mind swirled full of all the awful things that could happen after you told him you’ve been lying to him for two weeks. However, before your brain could stop you, your body made a sound.

“Parents.” You carefully start.

Harry focuses his eyes on you, to hear your soft voice.

“They’re here.”

Harry’s facial expression turns to a confused one. “Why are they here?” He thought.

“I wanted them to meet you.” You explain, as if reading his mind.

“What?” Harry is full-on shocked now, wondering why on Earth you hadn’t told him before.

You were afraid to let your eyes see him full of anger, so you pressed your face deeper into his naked chest.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why am I finding out just now?” Harry wasn’t angry at you. He was just shocked and confused, but in your head you thought he was in a rage with you.

“I-I didn’t want you to worry for nothing. I knew yo-you’d get anxious about meeting them for no reason.”

“What do you mean ‘for no reason’? They’re your parents. What if they don’t like me? Then you’ll leave. I can’t fucking be without you, Y/N. How do you expect me to be calm about meeting your parents?” He was now getting frustrated at you for thinking that lying to him was an answer. He was frustrated, but even now he wouldn’t raise his voice at you. You made an agreement after your first fight to figure out your disagreements in a civil way. No yelling. No throwing shit. You weren’t kids having fits. You were two mature people figuring out their shit without getting aggressive about it. That’s what made you respect Harry so much. No matter how mad he was, he always kept himself together.

“That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you. You’d get anxious, when, in reality, they already love you. You’d get nervous for nothing. I wanted you to enjoy the tour without constantly worrying about meeting them.” You tried your best to get your point across, while still being pressed against his chest.

Harry didn’t say anything for a while, probably thinking it through. His hands found its way back into your hair and started playing with it.

“What if they won’t like me when they get to know me better?” You could feel the notes of insecurity and genuine fear in his voice. You finally ripped yourself from his body and took his face in your hands, making him look at you.

“They will only love you more, Harry. You’re the kindest, sweetest, the most loving and caring person I’ve ever met. You love me so dearly, and you always put me first. What else could they ask for in their daughter’s boyfriend?”

“Could you also add the fact that I fuck you well to the list?” Harry slowly spoke up, as his lips found their way to your neck. You were relieved to hear him joking. You laughed through a moan and pressed his head deeper into your neck.

“Do you? Sorry, I think you’ll have to freshen the memories for me to add it to the list.” You tease him, knowing exactly what follows.

Harry lets out a growl and picks you up immediately, swapping your places and pressing you against the wall.

“Let’s freshen the memories then.”

Throughout the whole day, while Harry was fidgeting around, getting ready for the concert, you were texting your mom, telling her exactly how and when to get into the concert hall.

Harry was now in his make-up chair getting his hair styled one last time. He looked at one particular spot through the mirror, while you stood next to him.

“Baby.” You mentally scolded yourself for telling him anything about parents coming to the show.

Harry kept staring at the spot, until you called out for him two more times, coming closer to his face with each time.

“Yes, love?” He asked in such a way, that made you look psychotic.

“Harry, you’re stressing out again, I’m not blind, okay?” You fold your arms and sit across his lap after the hair stylist leaves you two in the room alone.

His arms automatically find their way around your waist, just as your head does in the crook of his neck.

“You’re right. ‘M stressin’ out. Can’t help it. Want everything t’go well. It’s very important t’me. It’s our future, princess.” He spoke with such adoration that it made your heart flutter.

“They will love you. Wanna know why?” You asked.

“Why, angel?” He pressed a kiss on the crown of your head and breathed in the smell of your shampoo, closing his eyes in pleasure.

“Because I’ve never been happier.”

After sending Harry to the stage, you joined your parents in the balcony. Before doing so, you made sure to give him a good luck kiss and tell him that he shouldn’t feel like he has to act differently on stage. You gave him the old just-be-yourself speech and watched him walk onto the stage.

“Y/N, you’re finally here, we’ve missed you so much, love.”

Your mom hugged you, before letting your dad to do the same.

“Yes, dear. We took it for granted when you were back home. It’s so empty without you.” Dad kissed the top of your head and smiled at you.

“The music is so nice. Makes me want to dance.”

Your heart was full of pride in your boyfriend, who was now jamming to Golden on the stage.

Throughout the whole concert, your parents only shared a couple of words, fully mesmerized by the music playing and the young man dancing and jumping around the stage.

“What a wonderful young man that is.” Your mom said.

Your mind couldn’t find any other reason to why your mother referred to Harry as “a wonderful young man” other than the factthat she had no idea who on Earth was prancing around in front of them.

“With a great sense of humor, I must add.” Your dad mentioned.

You were so close to laughing out loud at their nescience.

When the concert was over, you made sure to text Harry straight away.

You: They love you.

Harry: It’s probably just because they know we’re already dating. They just don’t want to hurt your feelings.

You: Oh, trust me. They love you.

“Dear, the concert is over and Harry still hasn’t shown up. I know he’s a sweet boy, but it’s not polite to be so late to a meeting with your girlfriend’s parents.” Your father nagged, folding his arms.

“I have to agree with your dad.” Your mother seemed just as disappointed in your boyfriend.

“I’m sure he was busy.” You didn’t want to explain further, trying your best to keep a straight face on. It was extremely hard, especially when you were passing a huge sign with ‘HARRY STYLES: LOVE ON TOUR’ written across it.

Let’s just say, your parents’ faces were priceless when they saw you go up to the ‘wonderful young man’ they were gushing about and gave him a peck on the lips.

© all right belong to stylesberries. do not repost or modify.

[azucanela]

FIRST KISS HEADCANNONS

[ft. hinata shoyo, kageyama tobio, tsukishima kei, yamaguchi tadashi]

SUMMARY: you and the boys have your first kiss and its... well its something. 

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

WARNINGS: second hand embarassment, first kiss stuff, season three spoiler

A/N: why do i always simp for emotionally unavailable men? but i like this it makes me happy aksdhkjsha

HINATA SHOYO

as we all know, hinata is an energetic baby

like really energetic, calm tf down man 

anyways there are two possible situations

hinata gets over excited after making a really good spike while practicing with you or maybe he wins a game, and he kisses you.

OR, alternatively, he is blabbering on and on about volleyball and one of his games and you kiss him and hes just like

:O

not experienced, unless you count that one girl in kindergarten. 

he is VERY eager and wants to please you so he’ll probably learn pretty fast but it takes him a while to understand what you like because hes slow

but once he gets it?

oh hes got it

Is all over you 24/7 once you two kiss for the first time

VERY affectionate, this is his love language you cannot stop him

unless you say no, he’ll get sad but he drinks his respect women juice

no matter what, when you two first kiss, he is going to be embarrassed, and instead of an orange he will be a TOMATO

he is going to apologize to you, even if you kissed him, it’ll be awkward no matter what

Y/N didn’t know what she expected studying with Hinata to be like, of course she did believe that there would be actual studying. He had started out by telling her how he could absolutely not fail his upcoming tests, or else he wouldn’t be able to play volleyball, and this turned into more talks about volleyball. And more talks about volleyball. 

It had been about an hour and they had yet to get anything done. 

The way his eyes lit up made her happy, truly. She knew how much volleyball meant to him. When she met him in middle school she saw how desperately to be on a real team, and now that he was its only natural to be excited. Maybe his passion was the reason she liked him so much.

But Y/N really needed him to shut up or else he wouldn’t be playing any volleyball and she would be stuck with his moping. His passion was pretty annoying at the moment.

What better way to shut up your crush than with a kiss? 

It had been an accident, truly. When her lips found his in the midst of one of his speeches about volleyball and how great it felt to actually be playing, she genuinely thought it was the best way to silence him. And she was right. 

She surged forwards, lips meeting his, barely giving him enough time to respond before pulling back. Y/N’s cheeks warmed as she brought the textbook up to cover her face, “we need to work.” 

Hinata’s mouth gaped open.

She kissed him.

She kissed him. 

She kissed him.

Suddenly he’s yanking the textbook down from in front of her face and pulling her forward by the shirt, lips crashing together as she falls forward into his lap with a grunt of surprise. She brings her hands to his shoulders to support herself before pulling away.

This time Hinata is bright red, “I’m so sorry Y/N! I-”

Y/N quickly realized she wouldn’t be comforting him because of volleyball as she leaned forward to kiss him again.

KAGEYAMA TOBIO

so um

this mans is either gonna be SCARY SMOOTH

this is mostly by accident, completely unintentional but wow

or you kiss him and he thinks he dreamed that stuff up and tries to like pinch himself in the midst of the kiss while you’re there like ???

will blush but only after the fact not during

has not kissed anyone or thing aside from a volleyball

when y’all kiss the first time he is gonna wanna do it again

and again

and again

hes trying to figure out what you like and hes GOOD AT IT 

very talented despite never having kissed anyone

a quick study

Would definitely want advice from his teammates on kissing, but no one in his year

they’d all bully him, ahem tsukki

aside from bb yamaguchi he’d be like “you can do this!” 

so naturally he goes to the guys who know everything about girls! 

Tanaka and Nishinoya :,)

poor bb

they’d tell him all these bad pick up lines but there are also some valuable lessons learnt from observing his seniors like worshipping the ground you walk on just as they do for kiyoko

Y/N was beginning to regret her decision to babysit with Kageyama. Sure, he was cute. And sure he was nice and adorable and awkward. And sure he was her crush, but he was also distracting and she could only watch one child at a time. He’d asked for her help, and she’d agreed, because what could possibly go wrong? 

A lot, apparently.

They’d managed to get the kids to sleep, and the baby monitor on the coffee table beside them had yet to make a noise. Kageyama had gone to the kitchen, while Y/N sat on the couch, attempting to relax after having dealt with demons that were referred to as children. She watched as Kageyama entered, two mugs in hand, “hot chocolate.” Is all he said.

Y/N smiles at him, her exhaustion evident on her face as she accepts the cup gratefully, “thanks.” She laughs a little to herself, “of course you like hot chocolate.” She mumbled, taking a sip of her drink.

Kageyama tilted his head at her in response, “what do you mean?”

She places her drink on the coffee table, “well its warm chocolate milk. And you love milk.” Came her response. 

He nods in agreement, “I suppose you and milk have something in common.” And Y/N laughs softly at this comment as he sips his milk nonchalantly. 

And then it hits her, causing her to choke on her own drink.

Kageyama didn’t necessarily know how to talk to girls, but with her, it was just easy. Like volleyball, being with her felt like Volleyball. Of course, flirting was something Kageyama had never attempted and he wanted to do it right, so naturally he went to get some advice from some of his teammates. He’d never seen Nishinoya and Tanaka look so happy. Luckily, Sugawara had stepped in before they’d done any permanent damage, and here he was. 

This was not the outcome he expected as he put his own drink down in a panic, eyes wide as he quickly came to her side, patting her back. She coughs once more before speaking, “I’m sorry what. Did I hear you right because-” She paused, realizing how close they were, his hand on her lower back now and her hand on his shoulder.

Kageyama cleared his throat, “can I.. uh can I kiss you?” 

She nearly didn’t respond, voice caught in her throat, but quickly nodded her head when she realized he was awaiting her answer. His other hand came up to her cheek and she met his gaze, nodding once more.

And then they kissed, her hand gripping his shoulder as she tried to pull him closer, though it didn’t last long as they broke apart. Y/N beamed at him, laughing happily as she threw her arms around him and buried her head in his neck, his back fell onto the couch as his hands circled her waist, pulling her closer, a soft smiling forming on his face.

Y/N brought her head up from his neck and pressed another kiss to his lips, hand finding its way into his hair. 

“Kageyama, I’m thirsty, could you get me water?”

Kageyama bolted upwards, forehead bumping Y/N’s before she rolled off him and onto the floor, grunting as she made contact and rubbing her likely soon to be bruised head. 

“Oh my god-”

TSUKISHIMA KEI

oh tsukki, honey

he’ll probably kiss you first, and it’ll be be SOFT because this mans is SOFT FOR YOU

this time around it’ll probably be you who won’t shut up and he just kinda

goes for it

or when they beat shiratorizawa and hes deemed MVP he is just so excited he just-

if you get the opportunity to kiss him first he will get SO FLUSTERED but he’ll brush it off

his cheeks are bright red but he’ll pretend they aren’t

he asks sugawara for advice 

he’s a nervous boy but will deny ever talking to sugawara ever in his life if someone brings this up

just wants you to be his partner :,)

yamaguchi bullies him into confessing calls him a whimp and hes like damn yamaguchi got a spine now? yamaguchi definitely ROASTS HIM FOR NOT TELLING YOU AJKSDH

has probably kissed like one person, he’s a decent kisser that picks up signals really well

is smooth, like screw you tsukki my heart cannot HANDLE IT

emotionally available for you and you alone!! and maybe yamaguchi

If it had been anyone else, Tsukishima would’ve told her to shut up and let him walk home in peace. If it had been anyone he wouldn’t have even been here, he would’ve turned right about two blocks ago and headed home.

But it was Y/N, and he hadn’t turned right two blocks ago, instead he’d taken off his jacket and silently handed it to her when he’d noticed she had been shivering. 

And now he was listening to her talk about how stupid their math teacher was and how she was about to fight him for taking a point off even though she had gotten the question right. Her excessive hand gestures nearly hitting him in the face a few times. 

“I’m starting to seriously reconsider coming to Karasuno, honestly this man has the audacity to question my academic ability when I’ve been at the top of his class for-”

“I’m starting to seriously reconsider liking you.” 

A noise of shock escaped her and she faltered in her steps, stumbling forward and nearly falling flat on her face had Tsukishima not caught her.

Y/N’s mouth gaped open as her hands rested on his biceps, and his on her waist, his brow raised as she looked up at him before looking away, red evident on his cheeks as she smirked. “I could say the same.” 

He scoffed, “you just tripped because I told you I liked you.” He leaned closer to her, a small gap separating them, “I’d say you still like me.” 

Y/N raised a brow, “you sound pretty confident.” 

He smirked, hands around her waist pulling her closer before pressing his lips to hers. Her hands rising up to his neck, Y/N breaks the kiss, smiling at him. “God you’re such a nerd.” 

Tsukishima simply rolls his eyes, flicking her forehead as she yelps. 

YAMAGUCHI TADASHI

rip you and him 2020

either you kiss him and he freaks the hell out

or he kisses you and immediately starts apologizing for ever being born 

either way homeboy is gonna freak out

probably kissed a girl in spin the bottle once and nearly cried because of it, but he has very little experience

would tell tsukishima he likes you and get bullied

if he seeks advice he would probably go to tsukishima even though hes just as clueless he just acts cool its a facade

tsukishima would just tell him to quit freaking out over it

“just tell her how you feel, idiot”

he would probably tell you about yamaguchi’s feelings if he thought you felt the same

would likely prefer to suffer in silence with his “unrequited” feelings, than tell you and get rejected

homie does not think you like him like that

he just doesn’t think its possible for an angel like you to like him

hes perfect and deserves everything and would TREAT YOU RIGHT 10/10 he observes nishinoya and tanaka and FOLLOWS THEIR LEAD

first kiss is definitely awkward but once hes comfortable it’ll get better i swear man his game just give him a chance

Y/N was getting tired of this. How many times had she shamelessly flirted with Yamaguchi? How many times had she practically shoved in his face that she liked him. Sure, she hadn’t said. it up front, but she figured her previous tactics would have some sort of effect on him, and they did, he got incredibly flustered, but there was no sign he understood what she was saying.

So what better way to let him know that she liked him than to kiss him? Thats about as forward as you can be? Right? Right. 

As they closed the gym together, she was wondering if maybe this was the best plan. Maybe he didn’t like her back, maybe this would ruin their friendship, maybe it was better to just... not.

Y/N watched as he locked the gym doors, turning to her, “alright, all done,” his freckled cheeks were pink as he continued, “thanks for staying behind to help me.” 

She smiled softly at him, nodding, “of course.” Y/N extended her hand to him, “shall we?” 

He looked away as he grasped her hand, trying to his the deepening red of his cheeks as she pulled him along for their walk. Or at least, what he thought was their walk, because she yanked his hand, effectively pulling him closer to her and allowing her to press her lips to his.

His brain seemed to short circuit as his eyes widened, and she quickly pulled away, “I’m sorry.” She laughed awkwardly as she stared at him, releasing his hand. “We should probably go...” She trailed off avoiding his gaze.

Yamaguchi quickly realized he needed to do something, quickly reaching forward to grab her hand, causing him to stumble and fall, bringing her down with him. He grunted as his back hit the pavement, Y/N falling on top of him, their heads knocking together causing her to groan. He opened his mouth, at a loss for words, as she pushed up on his chest, trying to get up, but he pulled her back down. “What the hell Yamaguchi?” 

He swallowed nervously, “can you- do you think you could kiss me again?” He mumbled.

Y/N’s mouth gaped open, though it soon turned into a smirk, “of course I can.”

[zimms]

an olliewicks flower shop au to soothe the soul! this is somewhat based on mine and @tingo-tango’s tags on this post. 

fields of flowers, soft beneath my heels

Ollie’s wrist-deep in a pot of soil, sweat rolling down his cheeks and sunlight streaming through the windows of Faber’s Flowers, when the shop’s bell rings and a new customer stumbles through the door. Ollie frowns slightly and hastily wipes the beads of sweat off his chin with the corner of his shirt, before plastering on his best customer service smile to greet whoever needs flowers at 7:30 am on a Tuesday morning. He mentally catalogues the possibilities; maybe they’ve forgotten their spouse’s birthday? Or maybe it’s a gift for someone at work? Maybe it’s an apology present because they accidentally cycled into a fruit stall and ruined a fresh batch of melons? 

(Okay, maybe not, but it would be a refreshing change in the cycle of constant businessmen grovelling for their partner’s forgiveness)

Ollie shakes himself from his thoughts and grins across the counter at the customer, who’s sporting a baseball cap and a t-shirt that sits just right across his broad shoulders. Ollie’s eyes track down the guy’s biceps which are a tad too big for the sleeves. Ollie consciously shut his mouth to stop himself from gaping; this guy was hot. As Ollie’s gaze roams across the customer’s face to meet his eyes, he realises three things. Number one is that he definitely shouldn’t be ogling a customer like he’s a piece of meat. Number two is that he hasn’t said anything to this guy yet. Number three is that at least a minute of awkward silence and staring has passed since the customer entered the shop. 

Ollie rips his eyes away from the customer’s face to stare at a spot slightly behind his left shoulder. “Hi! What can I help you with today?”

The guy shifts on the balls of his feet, scanning the shelves of bouquets and individual flowers. “Erm, I’m looking for a bouquet of flowers for my mom?” His voice raises at the end of his sentence, which is kind of cute, if Ollie does say so. He rubs the back of his neck and his checks flush pink. “I kinda need to apologise to her.”

Ah, a classic apology scenario. Got it. 

“What’s the apology for?” Ollie asks as he turns to the sink behind the counter to wash his hands. “Not that you have to tell me that is; it just might help as we make the bouquet.” He unravels the roll of tissue paper and cuts off a square to package the flowers in. 

Hot Guy winces. “Ah,” he says, “I kinda got into a fight in front of her the other night. She was not happy to say the least, so I figured I might as well get her some flowers to apologise for it.” 

“Cool, cool.” Ollie grins at him. “What kinda flowers do you want for her?” He gestured to the whole shop, where various buckets of flowers lined the walls, each displaying a different species. “We can get her just a plain old bunch that’s all just the same type of flower, or we could mix and match, create a nice piece of artwork that she’ll admire rather than a bunch that’s boring and all the same.”

Hot Guy’s eyes flick up from the counter and meet Ollie’s own, moving slowly up his body. If Ollie was feeling particularly optimistic, he’d say the guy was checking him out, but he pushes that thought to the corner of his mind because he’s made way too many faux-pas in the past by asking out guys that have come into the shop just for all of them to be straight. Hot Guy clears his throat. “Yeah, a mixture sounds good. I know her favourite flowers are hyacinths if that helps?”

“That’s perfect.” Ollie shoots him the most reassuring smile he can think of, eyes softening. He grabs the bucket of blue hyacinths that sit behind him. “These alright?” 

“Yeah, those are great,” Hot Guy says a little hoarsely, squinting at Ollie’s name tag, “Ollie.” Something settles in Hot Guy’s voice and he seems a bit more comfortable. 

“So, why'd you get into a fight in front of your mom?” Ollie reaches for the bucket of Narcissus behind him and waves a bunch at Hot Guy for affirmation. He nods in return. “Doesn’t seem like the best idea to me-” Ollie trails off, hoping that Hot Guy might get the hint and finally introduce himself. 

“Oh, uh, Pacer.” He coughs and the remaining tension leaks out of his posture. “Nah, a guy said something about Ma, and you know, I had to rush to defend her like the rash idiot I am.” 

Ollie laughs. “At least, it’s one of the more noble reasons to get into a fight. There’s a bit more chance of forgiveness, then.”

Pacer nods and his gaze wanders away from where Ollie is deftly making the bouquet to settle on the purple Clematis. 

“You like them?” Ollie makes a ‘gimme’ motion with his hands and Pacer passes the bucket over to him. Their hands briefly brush each other during the exchange and Ollie does everything in his power to ignore the jolt that goes through him at that brief skin to skin contact. “You’ve got a good eye; I was just about to grab them myself.”

“Yeah, my mom loves blue and yello-” Pacer cuts himself off with a sneeze. “Also, aren’t they the colours of the local hockey team around here? The Falcons?” Although he has a completely clueless tone to his voice, Pacer is studying Ollie’s reaction as if it might reveal the secrets of the universe. 

“Yeah, the Falcs! I only get to see them every so often, but they’re great,” Ollie says, doing his level best to ignore Pacer’s sudden intensity. “I was actually on the same team as Jack Zimmermann in college, which was pretty cool.”

“Really?” Pacer’s enigmatic expression becomes even more indecipherable. “That is pretty cool.” He looks slightly over his shoulder towards the street before meeting Ollie’s eyes and flashing a genuine smile at him. “I actually played a bit of hockey myself, you know.”

Ollie tries to convince himself that the bubble of excitement that rushes through him is because Pacer is such a good conversationalist and not for any other reason, like the fact that they have a couple of things in common, or that Pacer is one of the hottest guys he’s ever seen. 

(He fails.)

_X_

Pacer leaves about forty minutes later, with a bouquet and handwritten note in hand and a smile fixed firmly on his face. When Ollie goes to scrub down the counter and start repotting the plant he’d abandoned when Pacer had arrived, he spots a scrap of paper that definitely hadn’t been there before. The note is pretty cute; it’s a string of numbers and a smiley face, accompanied by a couple of lines from Pacer.

Would you like to go I would have asked you out earlier, but my tea friend always says it’s bad form to hit on workers whilst they’re on shift. Anyway, here’s my number if you want to go out some time? Call m Don’t worry if you don’t though!

- Pacer 

Ollie grins as he opens up his phone to add the number to his contacts, but pauses as he sees a Google Alert come through that he’s set up for the Falcs. The text reads, Providence Falconers acquire forward Pacer Wicks from Colorado Avalanche in exchange for a second round pick in the 2022 NHL Draft, and immediately underneath the caption, Pacer’s smiling face stares out at him. 

Pacer’s voice echoes in his mind. “I actually played a bit of hockey myself.”

Played a bit of hockey himself? Ollie cannot believe this guy. He plays in the fucking NHL and all he says is “I actually played a bit of hockey myself.” 

However, Ollie thinks as he opens up the article to see a picture of a bruised Pacer from his last game with the Avs, it would explain why he needed to apologise for fighting in front of his mom. 

_X_

Now that Ollie is aware of Pacer Wicks’ existence, he seems to follow him everywhere. Well, not Pacer exactly, but his name. 

It begins, like many things, at the grocery store. 

“Excuse me?” the cashier asks, as she’s scanning his groceries two days after Pacer first came into the florist’s. “Are you that hockey player? Pacer Wicks?” 

Ollie furrows his eyebrows. He doesn’t think that him and Pacer look that similar, but then again, Pacer’s only been in Providence a couple of days, so people don’t exactly know what he looks like yet. “No, sorry.”

The cashier purses her lips, taking a moment to study him again before ringing him up. “Huh, sorry! You guys just look really alike is all.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Ollie gathers up his groceries. “These things happen sometimes.”

(He almost texts Pacer to tell him about it, but, as Ollie looks at the clock on his phone, he realises that Pacer probably isn’t going to want to receive a message about how someone thought they looked similar mid-way through his game against the Pens.

Also, he’d have to wish him luck and honestly, as much as Ollie loves the Falcs, he wouldn’t wish them too much luck against his hometown team.)

_X_

ollie

hey! i’ve finished off that other apology bouquet for your ma!

let me know when you want to swing by and pick it up!

also i was watching the game tonight; do you need me to make up another identical one for your ma, or do you wanna come into the shop to choose this one?

pacer

thanks ol! i’ll probably swing by to pick it up tomorrow and then help make the next one at the same time?

ollie

sounds like a plan!!

_X_

When he said these things happen sometimes to that cashier in the grocery store, he didn’t expect them to happen all the goddamn time. Be it at his favourite café, on the street, or on the commuter rail, someone always, always, asks if he’s Pacer Wicks. 

_X_

ollie

oof that hit from eriksen looks like it’s gonna leave a mark

pacer

yeah, half my face is swollen

ollie

yikes

pacer

i assume we’re still on for dinner in a couple of days right?

even if my stunning visage has been marred by the fists of a schooner

ollie

that was a very weird way of putting it

but yeah, i still wanna go out with you even if your face looks like a dodgeball

_X_

A girl taps him on the shoulder at Bitty’s Bites downtown. “Excuse me, are you Pacer Wicks?”

Ollie smiles sheepishly at her, brandishing his coffee cup with a scrawled Oily on it as if it might keep the Pacer Wicks fans away. “Sorry, you’ve got the wrong dude.”

He hurries out of there as quickly as his legs can take him after that, hands fumbling for his phone so that he can text Pacer about it.

ollie

jdshjkdsjh a girl just asked if i was you

pacer

oh?

ollie

yeah, i don’t really know why so many people ask if i’m you

especially as they usually ask when you’re on a roadie??

so i don’t get why they know who you are without knowing the falcs’ schedules

pacer

maybe they’re a fan of my dashing good looks rather than my hockey?

isn’t that why you agreed to go out with me after all?

Ollie grins to himself before sending back three words.

don’t push it

_X_

He’s less generous to the guy on the commuter rail, but in fairness that’s mainly because he stole the last seat just before Ollie could get there and it’s 6:30 in the morning. 

“Hey, aren’t you that hockey pl-?”

Ollie barely looks up from his phone before cutting him off with a sharp “No.”

_X_

Today, someone even asks him at the flower shop.

“No,” he says, heaving the deepest sigh he can whilst still remaining in customer service mode, “I think Pacer Wicks might have other things to do on a Saturday afternoon than work the till at a flower shop.” He shuts the cash drawer on the register with a bang and hands the customer their change and bouquet as quickly as he can. “Thank you for shopping with us! Enjoy your day!” 

He collapses back onto the wooden stool that he keeps behind the counter, taking a breather for approximately five seconds before a laugh echoes through the shop. Ollie jumps half a foot in the air before locating Pacer, who’s stood in the corner of the shop inspecting a piece of sea holly. 

He’s dressed up pretty nicely considering hockey players’ notoriously bad fashion sense, wearing a button-up, a nice pair of jeans that do all the right things for his hockey butt, and his ever-present baseball cap, but this time, unlike his first visit to the shop, it’s sat backwards on his head. He spins around to face the back of the shop, grinning his face off. “I’m impressed by the fact that she asked you that whilst I was standing in the shop and she still didn’t notice me.” He laughs, smirking across at Ollie. “Does that happen often?”

“Yeah, some people are surprisingly oblivious sometimes,” he says, “but also, I don’t look that much like you?” He pauses, trying to work out what Pacer’s face means. He places his hands on his hips and jokingly rounds on Pacer. “Do I?” 

Pacer chuckles, taking a few steps closer so that he’s leaning against the counter. “Not that much, but would it be so bad if you looked like me?” A mock-wounded expression plays across his features as he presses his hand to his chest. 

Ollie takes off his apron and hangs it up behind the counter. “Nope, because you are extremely hot.” He threads his fingers through the hockey player’s belt loops to pull him closer, feeling emboldened by Pacer’s flirting. “And if that means that people are inadvertently calling me hot whilst asking if I’m you?” He shrugs. “I can live with it.”

Pacer has to lower his gaze to meet Ollie’s eyes, the two inch height difference between them clearly obvious, even if Ollie is six foot, thank you very much. “You were right about something though,” Pacer murmurs, “I do have better things to do than stand in a flower shop on a Saturday afternoon.”

“Like what?” Ollie raises an eyebrow.

Pacer smiles softly down at him, taking his hand and interlacing his fingers with Ollie’s. “Like taking the cute florist that works there on a date for starters.” Pacer starts to move them towards the shop’s entrance. “There’s this lit-” He sneezes abruptly.

Ollie tilts Pacer’s head downwards. “That’s like the fourth time you’ve sneezed in the shop.” He rubs his thumb over his cheek, frowning when he sees that Pacer’s eyes are slightly red. “Are you okay?”

Pacer waves him off. “Yeah, it’s fine; my antihistamines just wore off.”

His-? Ollie furrows his eyebrows before leading his date out of the shop. “Pacer, are you allergic to flowers?” 

“No?” Pacer’s sheepish and slightly bunged up reply says everything that Ollie needs to know.

“Fuck, Pace, why have you been coming to the shop so much if you’re allergic? Surely you don’t like the aesthetics of flowers that much that you need to torture your sinuses every spare minute of the day.” Ollie pinches the bridge of his nose, voice full of exasperation.

Pacer holds his hands up in surrender. “In my defence, the first few times were because I did need to buy Ma flowers, but I didn’t keep coming back because the flowers were pretty.” He pulls Ollie close and frames his face with his hands. “I came back because the florist was.”

_X_

The final time Ollie is mistaken for Pacer is five years later as he’s heading towards the arena for Pacer’s final game of the season. In fairness, dressed in a Wicks jersey and a Falcs snapback, he probably looks more like Pacer now than he has at any time since he first got mistaken for him in the grocery store. 

“Excuse me?” A teenager taps him on the shoulder, their arm slung around a friend. “Are you Pacer Wicks?”

Ollie grins at the kid. “Nope,” he says, trying not to take too much joy in the hope fading from the fan’s eyes before he drops the bombshell, “I am his husband though.”

“Really?” The teenager’s eyes light up. “You’re not kidding, right?”

“Nope.” Ollie holds up his phone screen to show the kid a photo of Pacer kissing his cheek, just so that they know he’s not lying. “D’you wanna meet him after the game?” He smirks at them. “After all, I do know a guy.”

[hurricanery]

What’s a Soulmate? Pt. 2

Hi! This is part two of my previous fic. Amelink AU- ‘What if Amelia and Link had met at a different time in their lives?’ This part is basically the same timeline, from a different point of view. Thanks so much for reading the last part and for sending feedback! ALSO THIS IS LONGGG. sorry

tw: drug use

-------

Amelia Shepherd is 5 years old when she discovers that nothing is ever promised to you. By definition, she learns uncertainty. That your world can be ripped from right underneath you. The feeling is always there.

Age 5 is a blur for Amelia. She remembers everyone doting on her. Her mom and her sisters and her brother. But, that might not be the right word. She’d learn later that the feeling she was experiencing was suffocating. That’s the word she’d been looking for. The people in her life that were once so blissfully unaware, suddenly so overcareful around her.

By age 7 the suffocating feeling had slowed. Maybe her family had moved on from their need to keep tabs on her. Or maybe they’d genuinely grown tired of her. Either way, the feeling was replaced with a new one. She’d love to fantasize. Especially at night. She’d lay in bed and pretend she wasn’t herself. Staring up above her, she’d imagine the ceiling opening up. And then the roof would be flying off. And she would go with it. Not as a person, but a part of the wind and the clouds. She’d float up to the sky and be with her Dad.

Sometimes, she’d think so hard about this, that there would no longer be feeling associated with it. It would just be reality. And it was numb. When this happened, Amelia would tiptoe out of bed and down the hall toward Derek’s room. Derek was always really good at making her realize that the roof was still there. She was made to realize a lot of things at such a young age. She’d look at her older sister, Nancy, who carried herself in such a stoic way, and realize that pain was better when it was hidden. She’d look at Derek, who flinched at almost every loud noise and sudden movement, and realize that she never wanted to look vulnerable. She’d watch discreetly as her mother sat alone at the kitchen table, spacing out as she sipped her coffee, completely jaded by everything she’d been through in the last couple years. Her parents were soulmates. High school sweethearts. Completely each others’ person. She’d look at her mother now and realize that there was no such thing as soulmates.

_______

Amelia is 9 years old when she starts to feel again.

The moving trucks roll slowly down the street and the Shepherd children watch from their front lawn as they disappear. The front door of what used to be their home swings open and their mother comes barreling out, juggling two more boxes.

“Derek!” She beckons. “Come and grab one of these.”

Derek quickly runs to help his mother.

“And the rest of you- don’t just stand there! There’s a few more things inside!”

They load up the minivan and suddenly there’s not much left to do but to say their goodbyes to an empty house. Say their goodbyes to a home and all the memories associated with it. It was time to start new.

_______

The car ride to their new neighborhood is long and boring and Amelia sits all the way in the back, crammed alongside the last of the moving boxes like she’s an object being moved herself. That’s how she’s starting to feel, at least. Like an inanimate object being transported against her will. Her 3 older sisters occupy the seats in front of her, sharing headphones and giggling amongst themselves every few minutes. Derek, who’s seated passenger side next to their mother, turns around with searching eyes. He catches Amelia's gaze through the cracks between headrests and smiles at her in an assuring manner. He doesn’t turn away until Amelia reluctantly smiles back.

The minivan finally pulls into a quiet suburban neighborhood and stops in the driveway of their new home. Before the car is even put into park, Derek and Nancy are jumping out and running toward the house. Lizzie and Kathleen follow quickly after them while Amelia remains trapped in the backseat. She sighs. All she has to do is climb over the middle seat but she can’t seem to bring herself to do it.

“Come on, Amy,” she hears her mother’s impatient voice from outside of the car. The tone forces her out of her frozen position and she finally starts climbing over the seat. When her feet hit the pavement, she looks up at the house. She shifts her gaze to her mother incredulously and before Amelia can even say anything, her mother is grabbing her wrist and pulling her forward.

Out of the corner of her eye, Amelia sees movement across the street. As her mother pulls her toward the house, Amelia turns her head fully to meet the movement. She watches as a boy, about her age, drops his baseball mitt onto the grass and chases after his father. He’s laughing as his dad teases him about wanting macaroni and cheese again for dinner. The boy follows his dad inside and the whole time Amelia is listening to the sound of his voice as he argues playfully. Amelia finds herself smiling at the interaction. She doesn’t know why, but something about the boy’s playful energy sparks something in her. She feels excited, she thinks, at the idea of this boy being her friend.

_______

A couple of hours later, and the idea is becoming closer to reality for Amelia. When 9 year-old Atticus Lincoln stumbles through an awkward introduction on the sidewalk in front of her new home, Amelia cannot refrain from laughing. At first, his presence had startled her. The sidewalk chalk had slipped out of her palm and she’d almost fallen backwards from her crouched position. But, something about his energy had instantly made her feel calm and at ease. Amelia is grinning from ear to ear after watching this boy struggle with his words. After a little back and forth and a lot more laughter, Amelia decides she doesn’t want him to leave. She definitely likes his company. She wants him to stay.

“Anyway, Atticus, do you wanna play a game?”

_______

Amelia is 16 years old when she discovers that high school is her worst nightmare.

She walks up late today. Like really late. More so than usual. She must have missed her alarm. Or, forgotten to set it in the first place. That was highly likely.

Amelia curses herself as she jumps out of bed. All she has time for this morning is a quick teeth brushing. She glances in the mirror briefly, throwing a sweatshirt over what she’d worn to bed and grabbing her converse sneakers from the corner of her room. She slips on her backpack before running down the stairs and out the front door.

No sign of Link. She frowns. She must really be testing his patience. They usually walk to school together every morning. And he’d usually wait for her, even if she was running late. This morning is different though.

Amelia turns the corner, prepared to be alone with her own thoughts for the entire duration of the walk to school. But then she sees him, about a block ahead of her.

“Link!” She yells, desperate. “Wait for me, asshole!”

She sees him slow to a halt. He turns around up ahead of her. Amelia quickens her pace until she’s approaching him.

“Sorry, hi,” she greets him, kind of breathless. He looks her up and down, taking in the sweatshirt and sweatpants combo. Amelia tries not to get nervous under his gaze. But then he smiles.

“Is it pajama day?”

She rolls her eyes at him and shoves his shoulder gently.

“I had literally 3 minutes to get ready this morning.”

“Clearly,” he laughs again. He focuses on her face again, looking into her eyes, and Amelia feels his gaze burning into her. “You look-”

“Tired?” she interrupts him. “Don’t say it.”

“I was going to say hungover.”

Amelia looks away from him, ahead of them as they walk. She tries desperately to not have any sort of reaction to his words.

“Amelia, it’s a weekday,” Link speaks again, concerned.

She stays silent, subconsciously raising her hand to bite at the corner of her thumb nail. He finally looks away from her face and Amelia sighs internally, wishing they could talk about anything else.

“Did you study for the physics test?” Link speaks up again.

“Is that today?” Amelia mumbles.

“Yes…”

“I’ll study at lunch. I’ll be fine.” And she’s not even worried. She knows she’ll do fine. She always does. She feels an awkwardness between them and she hates it. Link usually makes her feel completely at ease. This morning, Amelia can tell she’s made him upset. She nudges his side with her elbow. When he finally makes eye contact, she smirks at him.

“Link, I’m fine,” she whines playfully. “Don’t worry.”

He breaks into a smile. Something that happens naturally whenever Amelia smirks like that. Her heart warms at the sight, watching as his eyes crinkle slightly from the expression. Link has the best smile.

“I know you’re fine. I just think you’ll be less fine when I crush you in this physics test.” He jokes.

“In your dreams!” Amelia laughs, feeling completely relaxed by their banter.

_______

Amelia doesn’t study at lunchtime. Jake, who’s a senior, and someone Amelia always feels the need to impress, invites her to the parking lot and she instantly agrees. Being invited to the parking lot is basically a right of passage and everyone knows it. It’s not just a parking lot. It’s a hang out spot. The place you escape to for a smoke sesh or to find out where all the parties are that weekend. She knows being invited to the parking lot basically means Jake and all his senior friends will smoke her out. So, Amelia isn’t studying at lunch. She’s currently sitting on the open trunk of one of Jake’s friend’s trucks, being passed a joint.

She takes it, placing it to her lips, closing her eyes and inhaling as deeply as she can. She keeps it in for as long as she can before exhaling slowly. She opens her eyes again when she hears Jake laughing next to her.

“Damnnn, Shepherd. Not even a cough? Impressive.”

“She’s not like other girls,” one of Jake’s friends, Eric, adds, laughing with him.

Amelia rolls her eyes, and instead of passing the joint, she takes another hit. She’s impressing them and she likes the feeling. She reluctantly passes it off after that.

“Shep, you coming out tonight?”

Amelia just stares, it’s a Friday night but she’s not sure of what’s going on.

“Big party at Tyler’s place, everyone’s going.”

“Oh, right.” Amelia plays along. “Yeah I’m thinkin about it.”

_______

When the lunch bell rings, signaling class is about to start back up, Amelia only panics slightly. Not only is she late for the physics test, but she’s also completely in the wrong mindset. She feels it as she walks to the science lab, the paranoia sets in as she approaches the door. She hates walking in late. And she hates that she’s too high right now.

She tries to not spark any suspicion as she enters the room, but the dead quiet of the room only makes her more anxious. Everyone has already started taking their tests. She eyes her open seat at the back of the class, and moves as swiftly as possible. She feels a set of eyes on her the entire time and once she’s taken her seat, she reluctantly meets Link’s gaze from across the room.

Amelia flinches at the disappointment on his face.

Link turns back to his test and Amelia glues her eyes to her empty desk before another face interrupts her panic. She looks up just as Mr. Thompson, their physics teacher, places a test down in front of her. Amelia only meets his suspicious stare for a second before glancing down at the paper anxiously. She pulls a pencil out of her bag and quickly writes her name in the top right corner of the page.

She gives herself only a minute to breathe before she reads the first question. Once she does start reading, panic swells in her chest again. She can’t do this right now. She can’t be here taking this test. She doesn’t know what comes over her, but the sudden need to get out of this classroom completely consumes her. She’s not subtle when she stands up, pushing away from the desk hastily. The chair makes a harsh noise as it slides back against the floor and Amelia quickly grabs her backpack, leaving the test unfinished on her desk. Heads turn in her direction as she makes her way to the door. She faintly hears Mr. Thompson calling after her but chooses to ignore it.

She doesn’t stop walking until she’s all the way outside. The cool September air instantly calms her as she walks. And she keeps walking. Physics is her last class of the day and there’s nothing stopping her from just walking all the way home at this point.

_______

She hides out in her bedroom until her Mother calls her down for dinner a couple of hours later. It’s officially the weekend and that means some of the older Shepherd siblings are home from college. Amelia sits at the table and tries to avoid Nancy and Kathleen’s stares. Their mother, Carolyn, clears her throat.

“Girls stop glaring and pass Amelia the salad,” she says sternly.

Kathleen smirks as she starts passing food across the table. “Well, aren’t you going to say something, Mom?”

“Kathleen, not now.”

Amelia’s plate remains empty. The energy is off in the dining room and she doesn’t really feel like eating.

“You can’t keep letting her get away with this,” Kathleen speaks up again, laughing sarcastically and looking pointedly at her youngest sister.

“What’s your deal?” Amelia finally bites back. “I’ve seen you all of three minutes and you’re already mad at me for-?”

“Girls!” Carolyn chimes in. She glances harshly at each of them. She looks back at Amelia before she speaks again. “Amelia...the school called just before you came down-”

“I answered!” Kathleen interrupts with a snicker, Nancy smirking along with her. Carolyn shakes her head at them in warning before she continues.

“Amelia, apparently your science teacher reported you walked out on your test today…?” It ends up sounding like a question.

Amelia stares down at her empty plate.

“She’s probably on pills again. Did you ever get a lock for the medicine cabinet?” Nancy’s harsh words cause Amelia’s head to snap up. She glares at her oldest sister. And for the second time today, she feels the need to escape. She can’t be here right now. In a familiar movement, she pushes harshly away from the table and moves toward the front door.

She doesn’t stop walking until she’s all the way across the street. Suddenly she’s pounding on wood until a front door is swinging open and Link’s worried eyes meet hers. She doesn’t realize she’s crying until she registers the haggard breathing sound is coming from her.

“Amelia?! What’s wrong, what happened?”

“I can’t-” her panicked breathing cuts the sentence short but suddenly strong arms are around her, pulling her inside the house.

Link shifts his grips to her shoulders and guides her toward the stairs, up to his bedroom. The door clicks shut behind them and Link is guiding her again toward the bed, sitting down next to her.

Amelia curses herself, embarrassed by her total lack of control right now. She doesn’t remember letting herself begin to cry. But now that it’s started, she can’t make it stop.

“Amelia,” Link’s steady voice pulls her slightly from her thoughts. He looks at her assuringly. “Breathe. You need to breathe.”

In a gesture, Link makes his own breathing pattern more obvious, in his attempt to get Amelia to match him. She tries. She really tries. She looks into his eyes and lets him hold her gaze, anchoring her, like he’s tossing her a rope and trying to pull her back in.

She needs more though, something more forceful, and then she’s reaching for him. In the most platonic way, she grabs under his elbows, forcing his arms to engulf her small body. Desperate for the pressure of his strong hold.

She waits for him to catch on, and she sighs in relief when he squeezes her tight. The sensation of it is almost like a thunder jacket for a dog.

Amelia is just beginning to calm down when Link’s grip loosens slightly. She looks up at him bewildered. But he just looks calm. He pulls away even more but grabs her hand, standing up from the bed.

“Here, Amelia. Lay down on the floor, this will help,” he soothes, pulling her up from the bed.

She still hasn’t gained any control over her crying, but she listens to his instructions, laying flat on her back on the plush carpeting of his bedroom. She glances up at him and he smiles softly at her, eyes crinkling. Then he’s lowering himself over her.

“Let me know if I’m hurting you,” his voice is soothing. He even chuckles a bit at his actions. How crazy this must look. “My body weight will be like a weighted blanket…”

He’s twice her size but he lays fully on top of her, mimicking her positioning. He relaxes, and Amelia feels the weight of it completely. And to her surprise, it’s extremely calming. The pressure envelopes her nerves and the effects are almost instant. Her breathing begins to slow as they lay in complete silence, both staring up at the ceiling.

“Like a….gravity blanket,” Amelia’s voice finally breaks the silence.

Link chuckles. And now Amelia is smiling wide.

They lay like that for a few more minutes. Amelia is so relaxed and the room is comfortably quiet.

“Did you fall asleep on me?” Amelia whispers, laughing under her breath.

Link rolls off of her, laying next to her instead. He smiles at her, reaching between them and squeezing her hand. Amelia’s chest tightens at the gesture. And then he lets go.

“You okay?” Link asks.

“I am.”

They both resume the position of staring up at the ceiling. Link speaks again.

“You going to that party tonight?”

Amelia turns her head, looking at him in shock.

“Absolutely not,” she answers. Then she laughs again, adding “I’m staying here with you.”

_______

Amelia is 18 years old when she realizes that soulmates can be found in friendships.

She loves college right away. She loves being away from home and away from her family. She finds a good friend group and gets along well with the people she lives with. The only thing missing from her close to perfect equation, is her best friend, Link.  

Her new college friends tease her relentlessly for her dependency on her best friend from home. The way she facetimes Link almost on a nightly basis, or the way she drops everything she’s doing the moment he texts her.

“That your boyfriend from home?” Amelia’s roommate jokes as her phone chimes with a text message.

“More like her soulmate,” her other roommate adds.

Amelia rolls her eyes. “He’s not my soulmate,” she laughs. “But...yes.”

The suspicious glances from her roommates don’t go unnoticed by Amelia. “I’m actually hanging out with Stephen tonight,” Amelia announces proudly.

“Ugh, he’s no good for you.”

“Yeah, definitely not soulmate vibes from Stephen.”

Amelia rolls her eyes again, standing up to get ready to see Stephen.

_______

Amelia likes Stephen. He’s tall and charming with dark hair and bright green eyes. He makes her laugh and provides the sense of calmness that Amelia seems to seek in those she surrounds herself with.  

He’s not a distraction. That’s for sure. Amelia is even starting to think she loves him by the end of the first semester. She feels something every time she looks at him. His wide smile and the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs. Stephen feels familiar. And makes Amelia feel nostalgic.  

And Amelia crushes any thought she has of Stephen compared to Link. To her best friend.

She doesn’t question what it means that every time she arrives back at her dorm after a night spent with Stephen, the first thing she wants to do is call Link.

She smiles to herself as she crosses the threshold to her room, instantly pulling her phone out and relaxing onto her bed. She swells with excitement as she glances at her calendar. It’s almost holiday break and for some reason she misses home.

_______

Amelia is 22 years old when she discovers what it feels like to finally open up.

She hasn’t seen Link in almost a full year, although she still considers him to be her best friend.

It’s finally thanksgiving and both Amelia and Link have returned home from their separate colleges for the weekend. She’s completely shocked when she first sees him. Link looks the same but also different. His hair is longer than Amelia remembers. And he seems taller...and more muscular, too. Like he’d suddenly started working out a bunch.

Link clears his throat, drawing her attention to his face. “Hi, Amelia,” he smiles. And the eye contact almost makes her breath catch in her throat. Had his eyes always been that color?

Link pulls her into a hug suddenly, pulling her away from her thoughts, and Amelia instantly relaxes into the familiar embrace.

_______

That night they end up at the local bar. Thanksgiving eve being the busiest bar night of the year, and basically a premature high school reunion for the entire town. Amelia really didn’t want to go. But, Link was interested in seeing a few buddies from school, and Amelia wanted to go wherever Link wanted to go.

They attempt to stay together for the entirety of the night, but it’s a little hard when there’s constant interruptions by vaguely familiar high school acquaintances.

Amelia sits at the bar and watches Link from across the room as he chats enthusiastically with his high school friends. She didn’t have a huge friend group in high school. She always had friends a couple grades above her, the ones she’d ditch school with. The ones she’d hang out in the parking lot with during lunch. And there was always Link. But that was it.

She catches his eye from where he’s standing across the crowded room and he smiles at her briefly. A moment later he motions toward the door. She frowns slightly before pushing through the crowd to join him.

“You’re leaving without me? What kind of date are you?” She smirks at him as she shrugs on her jacket.

“I wasn’t aware this was a date, Amelia.” Link responds, playing along. “But yes, I am leaving. Early morning and all that.”

“Well let me walk you home.” She continues, voice laced with irony.

“Let’s go home,” he agrees.

_______

They end up back at Link’s house, sitting at the kitchen table. There’s a lot of catching up, and reminiscing. And conversation about the future. Amelia feels a sense of warmness she can’t quite place. Link makes her feel warm. And she can’t stop smiling.

They talk about everything. Learn everything new about each other.

Amelia learns everything about Link’s college experiences. She tries to stay neutral as Link talks about the girls he has dated. She smiles through his drunken hookup stories. She learns that Link wants to pursue medical school, and that news brings her more excitement than she’d anticipated.

Amelia tells Link she wants to follow in her older siblings’ footsteps. She wants to become a surgeon. And when Link promises that he’d always known she’d make way for herself in the medical field, she feels warm again.

Amelia tells him about the relationships she’s been through. And the one she’s currently in.

“You’ll get to meet him this weekend, Link. He’s driving in tomorrow. For dinner.”

Amelia isn’t certain, but she thinks Link’s face falls at that.

“How long have you two been together?” He asks her.

“We met my freshman year. We’ve been dating on and off since then.” Amelia mutters, suddenly the warmth is gone. This conversation feels cold

“On and off?” Link questions.

Amelia clears her throat, feeling vulnerable. “Well, yeah.” She sighs. “We’ve broken up more than once. And gotten back together a couple of times…It’s um…” She pauses, collecting her thoughts. “It’s been, um, I mean I wouldn’t say a roller coaster, but…”

Amelia panics as she watches Link study her face. The analytical features remind Amelia of plenty of past conversations. Plenty of situations she’d gotten herself into and then called on Link.

“Amelia, are you happy?”

The question makes her heart sink and she can’t place why. Maybe it’s denial. Maybe she’s been dishonest with herself. She zones out as she stares ahead of herself, eyes glued to the space between them. Eyes glued to the table. She doesn’t like cold and vulnerable. She wants some of the warmth back. It feels like her body is on autopilot when she stands up on wobbly feet and walks around to Link’s side of the table. She can’t bring herself to answer him, or his daunting question. She doesn’t know why she does it, but suddenly she finds herself crawling her way into Link’s lap, legs dangling off the side of the chair and arms wrapping around his neck.

And then her own words surprise her, too.

“I had the biggest crush on you in high school. Probably since I was 9, if I’m being honest.” And she laughs at her own vulnerability.

She lays her head on his chest, hiding her face away from him. And she can feel Link wrap his arms around her waist. She feels him place a comforting kiss to the top of her head.

“And I, of course, was head over heels for you, but you already knew that. Everyone did.” He whispers, and Amelia is surprised at this response. She didn’t know that.

She laughs into him, and then she finally lifts her head, looking up at him.

“Let’s crash on the couch, yeah?” He offers. “Like old times?”

_______

It’s weird for Amelia the next night at dinner. To be snuggled into the embrace of another man. Not even 24 hours after she’d fallen asleep in Link’s arms.

His words replay in her head on a loop. The way he’d whispered ‘I’ve always loved you, Ames. Always will’ before they drifted off.

And the way that she’d responded. ‘I love you too, Link. You’re my best friend.’

Amelia is confused, and feels vulnerable, again.

_______

Amelia is 25 years old when she discovers that she's probably not destined to be a mother.

When she tells her fiancé of a year, James, that she’s pregnant, she doesn’t know how to feel. It’s overwhelming, that’s for sure. And she feels extremely anxious. She hopes it’s anxious in an excited way, and not for any other reason.

She ignores the uncertainty. She’d always wanted to be a mother, right? This is how everything was supposed to be. Anxiety and all.

_______

Amelia feels numb, three months later, when she has a miscarriage. She can’t quite process what she is feeling.

And it takes a toll on their relationship.

James is shocked. And grows more and more depressed over it.

Amelia takes her anger out on James, and he does the same with her.

They decide to take a break, and James moves out of their apartment. Amelia needs some time for herself. And she can’t quite place if what she’s feeling is relief. But she feels something. Because she knows that this is probably how it was meant to be. Everything happens for a reason.

_______

Amelia is 28 years old when Seattle becomes her true home.

She’s graduated medical school and landed her dream internship at one of the country’s top hospitals.

It’s her first day of work and she hops on the subway train downtown. The train is kind of crowded, and she automatically makes her way to a less dense standing spot. She settles in her spot, mentally preparing herself for a busy day.

Amelia counts down as the train makes it’s stops. Knowing that the next stop is hers, she moves her way closer to the door. It opens and she steps out onto the platform, glancing at her watch, deciding whether or not she has time to stop for coffee.

Her thoughts are suddenly interrupted by another body bumping right into her.

“Oh, sorry,” she mumbles, but she cuts herself off when she recognizes who has just run into her.

“Long time no see, Shepherd.” Link is standing in front of her, smiling widely.

And she can’t help how her face instantly lights up. She laughs, bewildered. Not quite believing what she’s seeing. She finds herself pulling him into the tightest of hugs, laughing breathlessly into his ear.

“What the hell, Link? What the hell are you doing here?” She lets go of him and they’re making eye contact, smiles wide across both their faces. They both seem to need to catch their breath.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He jokes.

Amelia shakes from her daze. “I..I live here now. I start a new job today. Like now, actually.”

Her shock and bewilderment doesn’t seem to die down whatsoever when she learns that Link has landed the same internship as her.

_______

Amelia is 29 years old when she discovers that her 7-year-old self was wrong. Soulmates do exist, and she knows by definition.

She knows what a soulmate is when Link takes her out on their first real date and he doesn’t even make a move, because there’s no need to rush things.

She knows what a soulmate is when she watches Link become the version of himself that is a brilliant, confident, orthopedic surgeon fellow.

She knows what a soulmate is when they finally sleep together for the first time. And it feels like it has been building up over a lifetime. The way they take it slow, reveling in each moment with each other because it didn’t quite feel real.

After their first successful surgery together, they’d gone out with some fellow surgeons, and Amelia knew what she was doing when she asked him back to her place for the night.

Amelia knows what a soulmate is that night. When she looks him in the eye and reaches for the hem of his shirt in question. She feels completely confident in his presence and especially in his arms. Like she was always meant to be there. This is her best friend, and her soulmate. And she’s completely awestruck by how good this moment is. How it can’t compare to anyone or anything else.

Amelia knows what a soulmate is the next morning. When she stirs from her slumber slightly, as familiar fingers dance slowly across her bare back.

She rolls over in bed and is met with her favorite pair of eyes. She mumbles to Link ‘let’s make pancakes,’ and she knows what a soulmate is as she watches him move about her kitchen, covered in pancake mix from the brief food fight that had broken out between them.

Amelia knows what a soulmate is when they move in together. In a tiny studio apartment in Seattle. And Link lets her decorate it exactly how she wants.

And despite their first fight, Amelia knows what a soulmate is. When Link meets her nieces and nephews, and nonchalantly makes a comment about kids one day, Amelia freezes in panic. And then completely avoids him for three whole days.

Amelia knows what a soulmate is when she learns to compromise. Because the two of them cope in different ways. So, when Link has a bad day, she gives him space to bum out, instead of bombarding him to talk through it. Even though she’d want the opposite for herself on her own bad days.

And he’s still her soulmate when they turn 30 and they move into a bigger house in the suburbs. Amelia is excited about each of them having their own office space. Link jokes about ‘room to grow’ and ‘future nurseries.’ Amelia doesn’t say it then, but she warms up at the idea.

When they’re 32, and they’re dancing at their co-worker’s wedding, Amelia knows what a soulmate is. After a particularly hard week at work, Amelia had been taking her frustrations out on Link. And he’d been letting her. He was always so patient. And now as they danced together slowly, Amelia can’t help but rest her head against his chest gratefully. She feels him squeeze her waist gently. She can’t help it when she mumbles ‘Maybe I’ll marry you, someday.’

_______

Amelia is 34 years old when everything falls into place for the rest of her life.

After she’d told Link she was pregnant, they’d both been completely overjoyed. And since then, Amelia couldn’t fight the realization that everything was meant to be this way. Everything had happened for a reason.

She doesn’t hear Link come into the bathroom as she stands brushing her teeth, eyes closed in happy exhaustion as she rests against the sink.

She feels his arms snake around her stomach and her eyes snap open to playfully meet his in the bathroom mirror.

Link squeezes her small bump and Amelia lays her head back into his chest blissfully.

“Let’s go to bed,” he whispers, “before you fall asleep right here brushing your teeth.”

_______

They lay down in bed and assume their favorite position as of recently. Amelia loves it when Link lays behind her, spooning her, arms instinctively and protectively wrapping around her stomach. She settles into his arms and almost immediately begins dozing off.

She feels Link’s breath tickling her neck before she registers his voice.

“Amelia, you’re going to make the best mom to Scout. I can’t wait.” He mumbles, and Amelia smiles sleepily.

“I love you, Ames.” he continues, gently squeezing her bump again. “Always have, always will.”

Amelia is awake just enough to respond “I love you too, Link. You’re my best friend,” before sleep takes her.

Feedback please/let me know if you want me to write more amelink/send prompts!!

[tommysparker]

Man In Leather

Harrison Osterfield x Fem!Reader

A/N: Woah, two fics in a row? Crazy I know. Anyways, here is the LONG awaited fic! I’m sorry it took so long to write, but here it is. Black&White CH.2 will be the main focus of my writing until I get it done, so stay tuned for whenever the hell that comes out. Till then, enjoy :)

Warnings: smut, couple no-no words, Harrison going commando in leather pants, fluff at the end and a bit of pining, kind of Grease!AU, hints of sub!haz, bad porn with an even worse plot

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The music was loud, the people were drunk, and you were hanging around the snack table while scanning the room, solo cup filled with death juice in hand. Totally normal Friday night. 

Your friends had left to go mingle, but not before encouraging you to find someone to get busy with, someone to get your mind off of him.  

Your mind wandered at the thought of him. Taken back to the summer nights on the beach, the sound of waves crashing against rocks as you cuddled on the bench-swing. Those late nights and early mornings filled with passion and intimacy…only to be ripped away when autumn decided to fall. 

“Well well well, if it isn’t Y/n Y/L/N,” a british accent sang over the music. 

You turned your head to see the infamous Tom Holland, with Greg Birks and a boy you didn't recognize standing behind him. 

“Tommy, long time no see,” you smiled. Tom had been a close friend of yours growing up, but grew apart under...unfortunate circumstances. “Thought you were too cool to hangout at shitshows like this?”

Tom laughed, “Only you would call one of the biggest parties on the block a “shitshow” darling. I’m actually here because a certain person wanted to see you,” his eyes glanced back at the guy standing next to Greg. 

The boy stepped forward, and you nearly fainted right there after one look. 

Harrison James Fucking Osterfield...in leather pants. 

The blue-eyed boy stood composed, but on the inside you knew he was nervous. A cigarette hung loosely from his lips, which was new. Who were you kidding, everything about the person that stood in front of you was new. 

Last time you saw Harrison, he was wearing a cream-coloured sweater and sweatpants, hair messy and glasses pushed up on the bridge of his nose. And now, a year later, here he was. Except this time decked out in a leather jacket and white-tee, pants that honestly did not look comfortable, hair gelled back and eyes illuminated by the flashing lights. 

It took a few seconds for the initial shock to wear off before you collected yourself. “H-Haz I-...I didn’t recognize you, um, you look good.” You mentally cursed yourself for stuttering. Get it together Y/L/N. 

Harrison smiled, taking in your appearance while his mind went back to the time you spent together. No matter what you were, or weren’t, wearing, you always looked incredible from his perspective. “Hi Y/n…” 

Tom took one glance between you two before pulling on Greg’s arm. “We’ll let you two catch up,” he not-so-subtly winked at Haz before soon being swallowed by the crowd of pissed partiers

The air suddenly became stiff once it was just you and him, neither of you knowing what to say next. Harrison fiddled with the silver ring on his finger, something you quickly took notice of. 

“That’s new...I mean, well everything about you is new. What happened to Haz who wore knit-jumpers and spec?” You questioned, genuinely curious how and more importantly why the sudden transformation from ‘library nerd’ to ‘biker gang’. 

He smiled shyly, rubbing the back of his neck as he spoke. “Yeah well, the boys thought it was time for a makeover...d-do you like it?” He studied your face, hoping for a positive reaction. 

You took in his attire again, except this time with more focus on how the material hugged his legs and arms tightly, and how the white-tee really brought out his eyes in the dim light, and how fucking sexy he looks with his hair gelled back like that. Oh yeah, you definitely like it. 

A wave of confidence flooded your body as you grabbed the sides of his face and crashed your lips onto his. Haz, startled at first but quickly came back to his senses, kissed back almost immediately. The familiar feeling of your lips moulding with his brought back so many memories. 

Stolen kisses before bed, hands all over each other, you pushing him onto the bed, holding his arms up and-- 

You were the first to pull away, breathing slightly heavier and a small smile forming at the corner of your mouth. “let me show you how much I love it.” You whispered in his ear, placing a gentle kiss at the edge before taking his hand and maneuvering your way to the upstairs rooms. Luckily for you, the owner of the house was a friend of a friend, so you had no problem finding a place with a decent sized bed. 

Harrison followed you eagerly, more recollections passing through his mind as he felt his pants become tighter than they already were. The whole journey up the stairs was a mess between quick kisses and tripping over one another, but a remaining constant was his hand laced into yours, without any objections. 

Once you both stumbled into the empty room and closed the door, Harrison pulled you into a needy make-out session. Your back was pressed against the wall while your hands wandered beneath the leather jacket, feeling his toned muscle through the thin shirt. Meanwhile, the blue-eyed boy gripped your hips, squeezing the love-handles gently causing a light hum to emit from your vocal cords. His fingers gently tugged at the hem of your shirt, and that’s when you knew it was time. The music from downstairs drowned out from both your awareness, in that moment the only thing you could focus on was each other and the burning desire that was cutting the tension in the room. 

Hesitantly, you pushed Harrison off of you, not missing the soft whine he let out and the slightly hurt expression he wore on his face. It, however, was quickly replaced with a smile when crossed your arms over and pulled your top off slowly. His eyes drank in every part of your torso, thinking how someone like him ever got the chance to score someone like you.

Little did he know, you were thinking the same thing. 

Once your shirt was tossed aimlessly across the room, you swiftly recaptured his lips with yours and carefully guided yourselves to the bed. Harrison followed your lead, walking backwards until his legs hit the frame and he fell on to the mattress. 

Unfazed, you climbed on top of him, like a predator about to pounce on its prey. Your body hovered over his, breathing in sync as you straddled his waist. His hands went to grab your waist again, however they were quickly pushed above his head and into the duvet. Naturally, he didn’t expect anything less, and the dark look in your eyes only excited him further. 

“You gonna be a good boy for me, Hazzy?” You asked, smirking when you felt something twitch against your core. Seriously, who let this man wear these pants?

  The boy beneath you nodded. He knew how this worked. You were always in control, always the top, even when you weren’t. No matter how many times he’s gone down on you, it’s you who always has the authority. He wanted to be good for you, to please you like no one but him could. He wanted more than a summer fling or casual hook-up, he wanted you to be his. Only fitting seeing as, though you may not have realized it, he was already yours. 

The whole reason he asked Tom to help him change his ‘style’ was to get you to take interest in him again. You were always on his mind and he needed to do everything in his power to win you back in his life, even if that meant playing dress up in order to look more appealing. 

Harrison was pulled out of his thoughts by the feeling your lips on his neck, hot kisses trailing up and down his throat. The sensation alone was enough to grab the attention of the little guy. 

You smiled slyly as you left marks on his neck, biting and sucking on the spots you knew would gain the most reaction. The blue-eyed boy let out breathy moans beneath you, hands switching from resting on the bed, your waist, your thighs, finally settling on cupping your breasts through your bra. You sat up as he squeezed the material gently, reaching around to unclip the undergarment while Harrison struggled to take the jacket off. 

Harrison heard you chuckle in amusement, blushing lightly as he finally managed to free his arm from the gripping sleeve. He didn’t hesitate to follow up by removing his shirt from the equation, which was much easier considering he was smart for once and put on a loose-fitting tee to give himself some breathing room. 

You stared shamelessly at the now-shirtless man in front of you, and all-be-damned if the greek gods didn’t bless him overnight with that gorgeous build. Holy shit, is the only thing you could think of as your fingers grazed over his torso, fingers tracing every ab and indent. 

Harrison squirmed under you, hips bucking up ever so slightly. He was slowly starting to get desperate and really needed any form of friction, so he took to grabbing your waist and grinding up into you, letting out a small sigh at the relief. 

You gasped quietly at the sudden sensation, instinctively moving your hips in sync so you were moving in unison, the sounds of small moans filling the room. You resumed your previous actions, planting your lips on different areas on the boy’s throat, slowly moving further down to his collarbone, a.k.a the sweet spot.  

Harrison mewled when he felt your teeth graze against the area, nipping and licking some of his most sensitive places. His hips moved faster while the grip on you tightened as he tried to get you to do the same. However, this apparently wasn’t the ideal. 

You grabbed his wrists, pushing them into the mattress above his head. You adored how he willingly let you do this, even though he could easily turn the tables with the amount of muscle the boy packed, he still continued to submit to your needs. “Getting needy, baby boy?” 

He nodded his head quickly, shifting beneath you. “Pants off, now.” 

“Not with that attitude,” you teased, letting go of his hands and moving your own down to his belt.

Harrison rolled his eyes, a smile forming on his clean-shaven face. “Please will you take off my pants before they’re too tight to move in?” 

You grinned, “Atta boy.” 

Hooking your fingers under the waistband, slowly pulling down the piece of clothing, Haz lifting his hips to aid the process. You struggled a bit, whacking yourself in the head with your arm more than once, earning a couple giggles from both parties, before finally getting past the -ahem- obstacle that prevented you from removing the material. 

Harrison audibly sighed in relief, happy to be free from his restraints. 

And to your surprise, his cock slapped against his lower-stomach, red and already leaking from the head. “Going commando, handsome? You dirty boy.” 

The flustered boy could only smile coyly, “In my defence, it was the easiest way to put those bloody things on.” 

“That’s fair,” you replied as you wrapped your hand around the swollen member and stroked it lightly. 

Haz let out a shaky breath, head leaning back as his eyes fell shut. Memories flashed before his eyes. 

Your mouth on his cock, moving your head up and down swiftly while he writhed beneath you. You held eye-contact, mischievous and confidence powering your every move. 

The feeling of your thighs shaking against his shoulders as he ate you out like it was the last meal he’d ever have, small whimpers coming from above while he rubbed his thumb against your clit. 

His hold on your ass as you rode him, kneading the flesh and overall desperate for something to hold on to. Your breasts bouncing in front of his eyes, a hand on his chest while the other gripped his hip. 

The sound of soft drawn out moans filling his ears. The feel of constantly being right on the edge, your walls squeezing him perfectly, his muscles twitching. Both backs arched in unison, a silent cry being released into the air as you both flew into total bliss. 

In real time, his body was reacting to the thoughts, as if he was really experiencing each scenario. Before he knew it, Harrison’s moans grew louder as he approached his climax, he looked down at you and immediately flung his head back into the pillow, the sight of you being too much to handle. 

Your tongue circled his tip, one hand pumping vigorously while the other massaged his balls. His cock twitched against your touch, but before it could reach it’s breaking point you eased up, retracting any stimulation provided and watched in amusement as Haz whined. 

“Oh come on! I was so close…” 

“I know,” You said while sitting up. “You didn’t think I would let you cum so soon, did you?” 

Harrison shook his head slowly, blue eyes dark with lust as he watched you shimmy out of your bottoms. He took in your image, every piece of you being painted in his mind like a beautiful muse. Every stretch mark, every battle scar, your body was like a drug he was addicted to.

You straddled his waist, this time bare skin against bare skin, grinding against him. You moaned every time your clit caught against his tip. Leaning down, your mouth explored every part of his torso, tongue circling his nipples before sliding up and tracing his collarbone, your lips leaving love bites in its wake. The sight of him under you, all marked up was enough to put an end to your own game. Afterall, you were teasing yourself just as much as you were teasing him. 

Harrison, as if sensing what was about to happen next, held your hips and gave them a gentle squeeze. “Th-there’s condoms in my pocket...either my jacket or pants, don’t remember.” 

“Seems to me like you planned this,” You said as you got up and started searching through the discarded clothing. 

The boy blushed, “Well I knew you would be here so... thought might as well take the chance,” he shrugged, subtly eyeing your ass when you bent over to pick up his jacket. 

You hummed in response, smiling when you found the small square packet. You were about to put the leather down, but instead decided to put it on. You shivered a bit when the cold material touched your skin, turning around to see Harrison gaping at your new look. 

“You...look really hot in that.”

You chuckled, climbing back on top and tearing the plastic away with your teeth. “According to you, I look hot in everything.” 

“I’m not wrong though,” He grinned, biting his lip as he felt the latex slide down his cock. It wasn’t always ideal, but better safe than sorry. 

In one swift motion, you connected like two puzzle pieces, a perfect fit. His tip nudging that spot inside you without even trying. You both let out a sigh at the familiar feeling, not moving, just letting the memory of sex on the beachhouse balcony pass through your minds, all the moments of enjoying each others presence in pure bliss. 

Your own bodies betray the wishful thinking of staying in the moment. You clench around him and he moans lightly, and a simple sound like that was all you needed to set off that fire boiling inside your core. 

You raise your hips until only the head of his cock is in and sink back down on his length, setting a passionate yet frantic pace, your heart wanting to feel every second but your brain forcing your body to tend to its pleasurable needs. 

The room feels silent, save for sounds that follow your actions. Neither of you hear the people downstairs, nor can you feel the vibrations of the music blasting through speakers. You only hear each other’s moans, feel each other’s touch. 

It goes by in a blur. At one point his mouth was on your breast, your hand was on his throat, both of you lost in the time spent together. 

After all was done, you both laid in the other’s embrace, his hand playing with your hair while you traced shapes on his naked chest, the warm leather jacket increasing the sense of security you felt around him. 

“You know…” You spoke suddenly, breaking the otherwise comfortable silence that had settled between the two of you, “You don’t have to change your clothes just to get me into you.” 

Harrison tensed a little, unsure where this conversation was headed. “Yeah…? I-I guess I just figured since you were into the whole ‘Greaser’ look more...if I was like that then...maybe you’d...uh...go out with me? For real this time.” 

You smiled, leaning up to place a gentle kiss on his now-swollen lips. “You div, if you asked months ago you would’ve known I don’t care about what kind of pants you wear. I just want the Harrison I had last summer…” 

The blue-eyed boy smiled back, “Then you have him...you’ve always had him, darling.” 

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

Happy Birthday Harrison!!

All: @greenorangevioletgrass @allegra-writes @soraitmnt @worldoftom @farfromparker @angel-spidey @parkerpeter24 @god-knows-what-am-i-doing​ @the-panwitch @rebekkah4766 @hollandsamor @spideygirl2003 @theactualprincessofeverything @halfblood-princess-505 @the-crazy-fanfictionist

Harrison Osterfield: @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh

[babylooneytoonz]

Blood Trails [ Pt. 7 ]

Chapter Summary: Time skip to two weeks later, when Tony Stark comes up with a fool proof plan on how the Avengers will protect Johanna. Although Bucky doesn't agree, he still decides to go ahead with this. Is this a coincidence or is Bucky having other hidden interior motives? Who knows?

Warnings: Cute fluff, daddy daughter moments

Word Count: 2900+

Masterlist

You had been living at the Avengers Towers for two weeks now, two mostly uneventful weeks; where you had been interrogated almost three four times again, and then on the fourth day, for some reason, you didn’t know why, they had decided to take you off the cuffs when they saw that you were pretty much behaving yourself and not giving them a hard time. The truth was, you were sort of liking living here. It was much better than the crap and the torture that Vasili gave you and this felt refreshing. In fact, Bucky even let Sasha come see you, and for some reason, the little girl pushed the monster in you into hiding, bringing out the real hidden you that had been laying dormant for ages.

“You do realize that we are actually hiding a fugitive in here, don’t you?” Tony crossed his arms dismissively over his chest. He had always liked you , you were one of his favorites, and this was the only single reason he had not blurted out to anyone that the Avengers were actually hiding a HYDRA assassin and protecting her from law.

“What do you want me to do? Throw her out? Hand her over to the CIA? They will rip her apart. Besides, she seems to be doing better.” Bucky’s eyes turned towards you, as he noted you making weird googley eyes at Sasha, who was standing outside the glass room where you were locked in, but the two of you looked merry, even with the glass separating the two of you.

“Oh, would you look at that Barnes? The mother of your child and your child are just getting along so perfectly. Who can say that she doesn’t remember a thing?” He dramatically pretended to wipe a tear, and then smiled, this time a genuine, carefree one, directed towards you as he cleared his throat and turned towards Bucky. “I think she isn’t as bad as how you used to be initially.” Bucky just rolled his eyes at Tony’s words, but his eyes were fixed on you as he studied you. He could see that you were kneeling down, your palm was pressed to the glass, and Sasha had, for some reason, her lips pressed to the glass where your hand was. Bucky couldn’t help but smile at what he was looking at, before Tony’s phone started ringing, and he walked off, speaking on the phone.

Bucky made his way to the coffee vending machine, and he poured you a mug of coffee. With equally slow steps, he walked up to where his daughter was, and when Sasha saw him towering over her, she turned around and smiled, Bucky looking down at her as he said, “You wanna come inside with me? We can give her a coffee. She looks miserable without it, don’t you think?” He threw out his hand towards her, and could notice that you were noticing the small interaction between the father and daughter from behind the glass, a hint of a smile playing against your lips.

Sasha took her father’s hand excitedly, and there was a glimmer of excitement in her eyes. She was finally going to meet you, without having the wall of glass separate the two of you. As Bucky and Sasha reached the door, he slowly lowered himself so he was in a squatting position in front of her, and face level with her face, “Sash, I know you’re my big girl.. and Daddy can tell you anything.. right? And daddy also knows that you will understand.”

“Yes daddy, you can talk to me,” the little girl smiled, her blue eyes radiating with warmth as she ran her fingers through her loose strands that had managed to fall out of her fishtail braid.

“Well, ah – “ Bucky squinted his eyes slightly, “she, uh doesn’t really remember anything. The bad place we got her from, they did some things to her, that made her forget..”

“Is that why she doesn’t remember who I am?” She asked, her eyes widening, with a glimmer of sadness in them, and Bucky nodded.

“Yeah, which is why.. can you try not to call her mom, baby? She might just get scared, you know?”

“I will try, daddy. I don’t want to scare her away, now that I’ve found her.”

“You do know that you’re my best girl right?” Bucky smiled, and the little girl fixed her forehead with Bucky’s, chuckling in her sweet, childlike voice. “Yeah, I am your best girl.” Bucky chuckled genuinely, and he stood up, taking her hand again, her tiny fingers clasping naturally against his hard metal ones, as the glass door swiped open automatically, and you turned towards the two of them, still kneeling by the glass.

“Well, hi. Is that for me?” You pushed yourself up to your feet, awkwardly shuffling the weight of your body from one foot to another. You were dressed in a loose fitting tunic that reached your knees, and you didn’t care that everyone in here could see the various marks and dried up cuts that covered your legs.

“I thought you could, uh, use some caffeine.”

“I really do, appreciate it.” You smiled, taking the mug from his hand and bringing it to your lips, as you blew twice on it and took a sip, letting the froth give you a fake moustache, to which Sasha just started giggling.

“What? What’s so amusing, скучать?” You looked down at her, amused, and then back up at Bucky Barnes, noticing how he was also trying to muffle a smile from breaking out against his lips. That’s when you realized that you probably had froth all over your face. Embarrassed, you pursed your lips together, your cheeks flushing red suddenly, as you turned away and quickly swiped your sleeve over your lips, trying to ignore the little child’s very obvious giggling.

“Well, I think we should leave – “ Bucky began speaking; but Friday’s voice ringing through the cell suddenly made him clasp his mouth shut, as the two of you started looking at each other; your frown only widening.

“Sergeant Barnes, Mr. Stark wants to see you and the rest of the team in the meeting room. They’re all already there and waiting for you now.”

“Thank you Friday, I’ll just – “

“Also, Mr. Stark wants you to bring Miss Johanna to the meeting room.”

You raised your eyebrow questioningly towards Bucky and he just shrugged, running his hand through the back of his head.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

Your stomach felt like it was knotting up, and you began nibbling on the insides of your cheeks to make your nervousness go away. It wasn’t nervousness per say, but you really didn’t understand why you had been called suddenly, when all you had done the past two weeks was be nice. You hadn’t tried to escape, you had listened to what was asked of you and yet, today you had been called into the meeting room. Your first thought was whether they were planning to send you back..to Vasili Dreznov. You dreaded it, but at the same time, you mentally scolded yourself for being so paranoid. Sending you to Dreznov will be the last thing to cross their mind.

Bucky cleared his throat, and you were pulled out of your thoughts, your head sharply turning towards him. He raised his palm slightly, asking you to step into the meeting room before him. You nodded, and stepped in, your footsteps loud enough to alert the other occupants of the room enough to turn and give you a glance.

“Well, Y/N.. I mean to say Johanna, why don’t you take a seat?” Tony pointed towards a leather chair that was a few steps away from where you were standing. You turned to give Bucky a quick glance and he blinked, as though telling you that it was okay to do it. Biting your lip, you lowered yourself into that chair, placing both your elbows on the table as Tony cleared his throat again, “Well, I’m not going to beat around the bush, but we’ve got a problem. I just received an anonymous intel.. something is going to happen. Something bad, something dangerous, something that will change everything.”

“Well, you are sort of beating around the bush here. What’s the crack?” Clint walked up to the empty chair next to you, pulling it casually and plomping down on it like this was the most normal Avengers meeting and you were a normal part of it, which was hilarious. Nothing about this meet made you feel like you were a villain that had actually been caught by these people.

“Way to ruin my mood, Barton. Well anyway, there is something weirdly fishy going on here.” He clapped dramatically, and the holographic screen started displaying a video footage. The footage playing was of a colony. Everything looked normal; women and children walked about the streets, cars passed by, and everything looked like a normal upper middle class colony. “Now I know you all must be thinking what’s so fishy about this little colony in New Jersey. This is what’s fishy! Nothing really looks fishy?”

“You’re really not making any sense,” A female voice called out from behind you, and you just turned around, to see a woman with a slender frame, and long dark hair step in, her eyes darting around the room and fixing on you for a bit before fixing on Tony. You knew her as Wanda Maximoff, and you knew her from your third day of captivity in here when she had come to see you, immediately returning from her mission.

“Thank you for your input, Miss Maximoff,” Tony mumbled, faking an accent and then turned back to the holographic scene. “Jokes apart, something is going on in that colony, and that’s what the intel said, and that is what we must find out, what exactly are they hiding?”

“This is still vague, Stark.” Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“Well, Barnes, this is all I know. It could be anything, someone in that colony might be making a freaking bomb that may destroy all of America for all I know, but I don’t.” Tony continued, glaring at Bucky before he abruptly turned and bent over the keypad, his fingers typing something against the keys and an animated 3D representation of the colony sprang up in the middle of the room. “Well, I’ve done you all the favour of narrowing down your search for you. Well, technically my systems have. And these are the only suspects that have been narrowed down.” Two houses out of the entire lot were suddenly highlighted as the color of their rooftop started turning red. Tony explained in a detail that the mission involved going to live in that colony in New Jersey undercover, and trying to find out what exactly was going on there, and it meant, that the interaction had to be formed with the occupants of these two houses because these were the most suspicious ones, and one of them was definitely hiding a secret.

You kept sitting there awkwardly, listening in, trying to process the information that was so openly being discussed between you, which you had no idea why. Little did you know that Bucky and the rest of the team also had the same apprehension and thoughts as you, in fact everyone except Tony seemed to think this. Finally, you gave up when you could listen no more and slowly stood up, your sudden movement causing a sudden hush to fall over the room.

“I’m sorry, I think there’s been a mistake here. I don’t understand why I have been asked to be here. I’m not one of you,” you frowned, looking at Tony.

Tony smiled, and the next moment, he had turned round the desk, and was already walking towards you, while you looked on in confusion. He finally stopped walking and fixed himself just next to you, and cleared his throat. “On behalf of the rest of the team, I don’t think they’re gonna mind, I would like to make you an offer. You’ve been here two weeks now, and I was wondering if you ever considered joining us.”

Bucky’s eyes almost widened, when he heard what Tony had just said to you; so much so that he pushed himself closer to Sam, and mumbled into his ear, “What the hell is going on? You knew about this?”

“No freaking way, Barnes,” Sam whispered back, just as startled as Bucky was.

“Woah, hold on a minute. You’re offering me a position here? Knowing well who I am and who I worked for.”

“Well you said it yourself. Worked. In past tense.” Tony mumbled, scratching his jaw when Bucky grabbed his arm forcefully and literally pulled him aside so he could talk to him, alone, “Okay, what the fuck are you trying to do?”

“Hey, you’ll thank me later, metal man,” Tony yanked his arm away, and walked off, letting Bucky just glare at him, like nothing had even happened.

“So Johanna, you in?”

You couldn’t hide the budding frown on your forehead, as you suspiciously eyed him, trying to psychoanalyze him, try to figure out if he was just mocking you, but Tony Stark looked at you with what looked like an utmost sincerity, that confused you even more, “What’s the catch if I say yes?”

“If you say yes, you’re protected, you’re not a fugitive anymore you’re free from HYDRA, atleast to an extent that you don’t have to work for them anymore, and if you say no.. you’re a traitor to this country and you know the rest.”

“So basically –“ your arms crossed over your chest as you took a deep breath, “ трахни мою жизнь but I don’t have another option is what you’re telling me. Because it’s like choosing between wanting to die either by consuming poison, or by drowning. But you got to die in the end.”

“We aren’t that bad, Jesus. You make us sound like we are horrible. Well woman, we have fans all over this world – “

“Tony, seriously that’s enough. Give her a break,” Wanda stepped up next to you, and for once you were thankful that someone had spoken, broken their silence for it felt like you were being cornered in here by one man.

“Tony, can I talk to you for a minute? Alone?” Bucky finally spoke, and that’s when you realized that he had been strangely quiet all this while. You watched from the corner of your eye, as Bucky and Tony stepped out of the meeting room, and the door slammed shut, leaving you alone with the rest of the team.

“What the fuck was that?” Bucky almost growled, when he had brought Tony out into the hallway.

“I am only doing you a favour. Isn’t that what Steve did? Did you forget about yourself?”

“That was different.” Bucky stated, simply.

“Yeah you’re right Barnes. That was different. I didn’t like you back then, and neither do I like you now, but her –“ Tony crossed his arms over his chest, and took off his glasses, now standing chest to chest with Bucky, “ – she was a nice one. I knew her before you even knew her. And if there is anything I can do to make sure she doesn’t have to step foot back from where she just came here I’m going to do that. And besides, I cooked up just the best little plan so she gets her memories back.”

“So that’s what you truly want,” Bucky deadpanned, and shook his head, moving away, back towards the meeting room, leaving Tony to quietly follow him until all eyes turned towards the two of them, including yours. You finally took a deep breath, and brought your hands up to your hair, fluttering your eyes shut just for a split second, before you opened them again, “I accept.”

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

Three days later, you found yourself in your first official meeting as an Avenger. Natasha and Bruce Banner still weren’t back from Afghanistan, so it left Bucky, Sam, Clint, Tony, Wanda, Vision and you.

You kept watching as Tony slammed two heavy looking files on the round table in front of you.

“Johanna.. Bucky..” Tony deadpanned, grabbing a file out of the two and tossing it into the air, that Bucky caught midair using his metal arm, “that mission I was talking about. The one about that colony in New Jersey.. You two would be going undercover.”

Bucky looked at you, and you looked at him, then back at Tony, nodding. This seemed fairly easy, for your first official mission. It was only when you felt Bucky almost groan, and you noticed that he was reading the file that was handed to him, that you realized that this wasn’t the end of it. You snatched the second file that was laying on the table, and a frown caked over your forehead when you saw what the mission was all about. You and Bucky were going undercover, pretending to be a newly married couple who were expecting their first child together.

Of course, it just couldn’t have been a straightforward, kicking some asses kind of a mission for you.

“Come on, it won’t be that bad,” Tony chuckled, and Bucky just threw him a glare, knowing well aware the games that he was trying to play, and the conversation he had with him three days back came spiraling back into his mind; where he had confessed that he had an idea that could bring your memories back. Maybe this was this intelligent idea of Tony Stark, when even Wanda and Vision could have been send undercover, he actually chose the two of you.

“When do we leave?” You turned to Bucky, your expression blank.

“Tomorrow. Think of it as a vacation. The two of you deserve it.”

Permanent Bucky Barnes Taglist :

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Want to be added to the Taglist? Pls fill the form on this link here. 💚

[ressyfaerie]

Hello! I would like to request for some Rick x Michael nsfw, if that's possible! You decide how fare it can go (but the more the better lmao)!

I love this ‘hey Ressy I see that you write p0rn, can you write some nsfw about a literal pitcher and catcher?’ 

The answer is absolutely, anytime. 

I haven’t thought about this ship, but I’ve read some stuff in the fandom so here I goooooo

Read more cause uh yeah-

Okay, I’ve finished reading and editing it, this is your warning.

THIS IS STRAIGHT UP P 0 R N. Not straight porn, v gay, like if I read any line from this fic in a church I would be set on fire, proceed with caution, if you are not of age, I will find where you live, and you will go to jail. 

“That’s a nice new glove.” 

Michael tossed a baseball in and out of a shiny new glove. 

“It’s alright, They work better once they get used for a bit,” He continued to procrastinate while throwing the ball up in the air and catching it. 

Rick watched Michael as he leaned back in the chair, balancing it on two legs, sliding back further each time he caught it. 

“You’re going to fall if you keep doing that.” He smirked, waiting for it to happen. 

“I’m not going to fall, and you know anything is better than training today.” 

They had a long night last night, and work today just dragged on and on. 

“Don’t stay up too late if you can’t handle it.” 

Rick decided the chair squeaking was annoying him, so he grabbed the top of it and threw it on the ground, slamming the four legs on the ground. 

“Hey! Watch it-” Michael expertly caught the ball in mid-air with his ungloved hand, “You kept me up.” 

“If I recall it was you who was asking for it in the first place.” 

The dirty blonde flicked the brim of his cap, “Wrong.” 

The dark-skinned blader threw his hand down on the table, Michael didn’t even flinch, “I made you fit like that glove of yours.” 

“They fit better when they’ve been well used-” 

“Then you must fit really well.” 

This was pretty standard foreplay for them. Who can get dominant enough to play top? 

“Ugh! Is the day almost over!?” Michael whined. 

Rick looked at his watch, “shifts not done yet pretty boy.”

“I’m not pretty, I'm manly. I miss the days we weren’t scientists-” 

 “When we could skip practice when we wanted? Before college?” 

“I’m actually not done my college courses yet-” Michael shrugged his shoulders, knowing the long break he took put him behind Rick in his studies. 

“But Judy still hired you- because you’re charming and pretty.” Rick grinned, purposely riling him up. 

Michael shot him a glare he knew too well, “you keep calling me pretty- you can’t butter me up, I’m not being a catcher tonight.” He clapped his glove together, trying to intimidate his boyfriend. 

Rick had one hand on the counter, and leaned into him. The dirty blonde’s attempt to intimidate had no effect on him. 

Rick spoke first, “Who said anything about tonight?” 

This was the first time Rick had genuinely caught him off guard in a long time, “Here?! In the lab?” 

“Why not? In ten minutes no one will be around, we can lock the door, there’s a table right here.” He patted the plastic table beside them. 

Michael shot him a sly expression, “if you want- but I’m not taking it, it’s your turn.” 

Rick rolled his eyes, “You really think so?” 

Michael grasped his tie and pulled it down, giving him a quick sweet kiss, “you changing up your wardrobe? Trying to look more professional?”

Rick nodded. 

Michael continued his flirtations, “I’m going to break you in before my new glove- *pretty boy*.” 

“Ew.” Rick threw disgust at the nickname. 

“What? Can’t take what you dish out?” 

Rick grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, “oh- you know I can.” 

Michael tried to push himself off the chair to wrestle his boyfriend to the table, but Rick was much stronger- 

They pulled and pushed each other for a moment, before their lips locked and they started viciously making out and swallowing tongues. 

Suddenly, Michael was on his back on the table, and Rick was undoing his belt. 

“What did I say? Don’t try to get all tough with me-” Rick could swear Michael tried to lower the pitch of his voice. 

“You tryin’ to act tough?” Rick ripped his belt out of his belt loops, making a swish noise echo in the lab. 

Michael reached up with his hand, grabbing Rick’s ponytail and pulling out his hair tie, “Yeah.” 

He threw the hair tie across the room. 

“Hey! I needed that-” Rick whined shoving his front in between Michael’s legs. 

His silver hair hung down over his face, “Michael used his hands to push his long bangs behind his ears, “What are you going to do about it?” 

Rick unzipped the zipper of his pants, sliding them off with much practice. 

“Lots.” 

“Hey-” Michael tried to sit up.

Rick used his forearm to shove him onto his back.

“I told you,” Michael hissed, “It’s your turn.” 

“Is it?” Rick propped himself up on the table, balancing himself on his knees and pushing his boyfriend’s legs closer to his chest, “Then why are you like this?”

Michael cussed, he tried to wiggle out of his grip, but Rick had a solid grasp on his thighs. 

 “Mm!” Michael accidentally let the noise slip out, but only because Rick had shoved his hand against his throat-

Michael grabbed his tie pulling him close to kiss him again, then undoing the buttons of his dress shirt. 

“Off, everything off, now-” 

Rick threw his shirt in their ever-growing pile of clothes on the floor. 

Rick ripped off Michael’s letterman jersey and T-shirt. 

The only thing left was the muscled blader’s pants. 

Michael tapped his forearm, signaling to have him remove his hand from his neck he had put there after taking his shirt off, he gestured to his pants, “You take them off, and I’ll take off my boxers-” 

“Sure- lube?” 

“There are medical-grade packets in the cabinet- *for you*.” Michael gave him an intimidating stare. 

Rick exhaled a strong laugh, he climbed off the table and removed his pants, at the same time, Michael took off his boxers, he slid himself to the edge of the table. Rick’s head was below him as he removed his last pant leg, Michael forcefully grasped the back of his hair and led him towards the extra hard gift he had prepared for him. 

“Suck it.” He demanded. 

“No problem,” the dark-skinned blader had no issue with it, instead he sounded excited. 

He started slow, then fast, grasping the end of his shaft with a light squeeze. 

His head bobbed up- and down, in well-practiced motions. 

Michael let out low noises he knew Rick loved. 

With one eye closed, Michael tried to keep his voice low, trying not to beg, “do the thing I like.” 

Rick giggled with a mouthful, he hummed and let it hit the back of this throat, then using his index finger, he pressed on his entrance. 

“Fuck!-” Michael’s legs shook a bit, he still didn’t want to be the one to take it tonight, but it was sounding better and better the more Rick toyed with him. 

“You’re still catcher-” Michael managed to exclaim through hard breaths. 

“Hmh…” Rick refused without taking his attention away from him. 

“Okay, stop- Ah- I don’t want to cum yet-” 

Obediently he sucked and slid off, licking his lips as he stood up to loom over him. 

Rick kissed him passionately, reaching under his thighs and lifting him into the air with ease. He put him back down.

“It’ll be easier for you since you did it last night- but if you want me to, I can.” Rick started to suck and bite on his neck, at this moment, he wouldn’t stop for anything.

“I’ll do you- then you do me.” Michael had his eyes closed in complete euphoria. 

Within minutes, Rick was prepped and ready to go, leaning over a chair holding on desperately praying it wouldn’t break under his boyfriend’s strong thrusts. Cursing and swearing was how Michael knew he liked it- so he kept going. 

The chair was definitely bent now, who needs back support anyways? 

“Uhn- Stop, I don’t want to finish now- I want to finish in you-” Rick begged. 

Michael obeyed and pulled out confidently, and suddenly, Rick was overtop of him on the table. 

In minutes, Michael was riding him as the plastic table groaned under their weight. Rick’s strong hands gripped his abdomen and thighs throwing him up and down in the air. 

The blonde-haired baseball fanatic moaned unintelligible words, but Rick could just make out his name-

“Fuck!-” Michael screamed as he creamed. (lmao I had to)

Rick finished so hard he whimpered, Michael collapsed overtop of him, exhausted. 

They both caught their breath, Rick combed his hand through Michael’s long hair and sighed with happiness. 

Michael bent down to kiss him and feel up his chest, mouthing his first full sentence in hours.

“How was that?” 

“Fucking amazing-”

[hrina]

Gone Cold

PAIRING: Harry/Y/N RATING: M for Maybe don’t read this if ur under 18 :-) WORD COUNT: 6.4k REQUESTED: nope, i was just inspired for once

hi everyone. this one-shot is angsty, smutty, and fluffy, and is loosely based on the following prompt from this list:

listen i know i can’t just show up at your apartment at six in the morning but i need coffee and no one makes it like you do

i worked really hard on this piece and i’m pretty happy with how it turned out. with that being said, sending in any feedback and/or reactions you have would mean the absolute world to me, and it provides significant motivation in terms of continuing to write. i know people usually skip over the little author’s note at the beginning, but if you’ve taken the time to read this, i really appreciate you. 

special thanks to @gucciwoodnymph for agreeing to beta and for being so supportive. i love you tans 💕💕

enjoy :-)

[masterlist] [let me know your thoughts]

~*~

Harry’s in the middle of a very exciting, albeit incongruous, dream. He’s in a car chase, hounded by a frighteningly large black SUV, and for some odd reason, he hasn’t been caught despite the measly little golf cart that he’s driving. He’s not quite sure why he’s being pursued, or why the sky is a shade of hot pink, or why he’s only wearing a pair of boxers and nothing else. He whips his head to the side when he feels a tap on his shoulder and comes face-to-face with his sister. She grins at him and opens her mouth to say something, but the only thing that escapes is a noise eerily similar to the ringing of a doorbell.

Harry furrows his brows, and Gemma mimics his expression, utterly confused. Her lips part as she tries to speak again, but that same sound blares out. Her eyes widen in terror and her hands fly to grip her throat. Her mouth opens in what Harry presumes to be a scream, but all he hears is a frantic ringing, the noises blurring together in a steady crescendo.

And then his eyes snap open, and—as though pulled by an invisible string—he sits upright in his bed. He places a palm over his heaving chest, his gaze flitting around his bedroom; there’s a faint grey light spilling in from the window, making it a bit easier to see. Harry chances a glance at the clock on his bedside table; it’s six in the morning.

The sound of the doorbell startles him, and for a moment, he’s afraid that he’s still trapped in that peculiar dream. But then he realizes that the noise is real, and there’s actually someone standing outside on his porch.

Who the fuck would need him at this time?

Rubbing his eyes, Harry stumbles out of bed. He doesn’t bother looking for a pair of pants, opting instead to pull on a plain white t-shirt and tug his briefs down so that they cover a bit more of his thighs. He curses when his shoulder bumps against the wall, not yet awake enough to maintain his balance.

He staggers down the hall, his feet carrying him in choppy, haphazard movements. His sleepy eyes wander to the side, and he stops in his tracks when they land on the door standing slightly ajar a few feet away. He must’ve forgotten to close it properly last night.

Harry approaches the room carefully, as though afraid that it’s haunted. He grips the doorknob with white knuckles, his throat suddenly extremely dry. His eyelids flutter as he tries his best to look everywhere except inside, but the effort proves to be fruitless. The pastel green of the walls draws his gaze almost automatically; from there, he’s a goner.

Through the small opening of the door, he studies the emptiness of the room. Soft, patterned curtains still hang from the window, speckled with a print of stars and teddy bears and crescent moons. A small dresser is shoved off to the side, half-assembled (or rather, disassembled—he’d been working on taking it apart last night). Pressed against the far wall stands a crib, still fully set up. A mobile hovers overtop, tiny stuffed elephants and giraffes and lions hanging from the clips.  Harry hasn’t yet found the strength to even touch it. He thinks that he’d rather set his house aflame.

Swallowing heavily, he closes the door. A beat of silence passes as he stares up at the ceiling, exhaling softly and blinking furiously against the threat of tears.

The doorbell rings again, twice in a row, and the moment is gone. Harry groans, raking his fingers through his hair.

“I’m comin’, for fuck’s sake!”

Once he reaches the front entrance, he grumbles as he undoes the lock and wraps his fist around the knob. He pulls the door open, squinting his eyes when the first dim rays of the sun pierce his face. The blood running through his veins suddenly goes cold.

“Hi.” You’re chewing nervously on your bottom lip and wringing your hands at your sides, like you’re not quite sure what to do with them. Your hair is pinned up in a professional-looking bun, though a single strand seems to have escaped the strict style and has fallen down along the side of your face.

You’re wearing a pair of black dress pants and a baby blue blouse tucked beneath a navy cardigan. The straps of your purse are nestled in the crook of your elbow, and a pair of matching sapphire flats adorn your feet.

And even though you aren’t pregnant anymore, you’re glowing.

Harry watches as your eyes fall from his face and scan over his body for a quick moment. You look away immediately when you register that he’s only in a t-shirt and underwear.

“Good morning,” he replies, the surprise evident in his voice. You shoot him an uneasy smile, trying to mask your anxiety.

“I’m sorry it’s so early,” you say, shaking your head. “I—I was going to head into work an hour ahead of schedule, but I couldn’t get my coffee to taste good, so I kind of just skipped out on it. And then I was about to fall asleep at the wheel because I didn’t have any caffeine in me, and your place was on the way, so I just…”

You’re flustered, Harry can tell. He looks at you with piercing eyes, watching the way you curl up into yourself as each word leaves your mouth. You’re regretting your decision now, it would appear.

“You…,” Harry begins, his brows knitting together. “You want me to make you a cup of coffee?”

You refuse to meet his eyes, and your shoulders vibrate with a weak shrug.

“Nobody makes it like you,” you say meekly, your lips warping into an embarrassed grimace. A warm feeling erupts in Harry’s chest, fanning out and saturating his body with more efficiency than that of the sunbeams peeking over the horizon. He clears his throat, trying to find his voice.

“Come on in.”

~*~

With you sat at the island in his kitchen, Harry bustles around the room, reaching for mugs and a pot and spoons. He’s awake now, anyway; he might as well make enough coffee for two.

He plugs in the machine and rips open a packet of coffee grounds, pouring the entirety of it into a simple white filter. Out of the corner of his eye, he chances a glance at you.

You’re sitting on one of the higher stools, your purse resting on the seat to your left. Your elbows are against the counter, forearms hidden by the cardigan that you’d refused to take off. You’re staring at your clasped hands, thumbs twiddling apprehensively as you fiddle with the rings circling around your fingers. Everything about your position is tense, from the tautness of your shoulders to the rigidity of your neck and the rigor of your spine.

It’s a massive difference from how you used to be when you’d sat in that exact same spot months ago. Then, your smile was infectious, and you would flop all over his kitchen without a care in the world. Harry’s eyes fall to the smooth surface of the counter; despite his best efforts, the memory of him fucking you over the marble emerges in screaming colour. He squeezes his eyes shut, willing the image out of his mind.

“So,” Harry starts, his voice still painfully scratchy from sleep. “How’ve you been?”

You sit up straight. “Good. I, um…I ended up getting the promotion.”

“No way.” Harry looks at you as he finishes preparing the coffee; his grin is nothing but genuine. “That’s great. Congratulations.”

Your lips curl up into a small smile. “Thank you. How about you?”

“I’m alright,” he replies, shrugging. “Same shit, different day, right?”

“Right.”

The conversation tapers off into silence. Harry’s eyes are drawn to how you bite your bottom lip, and though he knows that he’s been staring for far too long, he can’t help it. He eventually tears his gaze away, focussing on the steady drip of coffee into the pot and clenching his jaw at the sight. Why the fuck is it still empty?

“My mum came by the other day,” he says suddenly. He’s fully aware that talking about his mother may not be the best tactic out there, but he can’t stand the awkward quiet hanging in the air. “She asked about you.”

You swallow heavily, trying to keep your voice level. “Oh…what did you say?”

“Said you were doing well,” Harry hums, playing idly with the spoons lying on the counter. The metal clangs when they bump against each other, ringing out loudly in the stillness of the room. “She misses you.”

Your smile is sad. “I miss her, too.”

“Think she likes you more than she likes me, to be honest.” Harry chuckles softly. “Always asks me how I was able to let you go.”

You don’t reply.

Harry peeks over at you, studying your pursed lips and hard eyes. He’s crossed a line, and he knows it. Your fingers begin to fidget again, and your expression gives nothing away. It’s the same countenance you’d worn when the two of you had agreed to end things. Tears had fallen and lips had been kissed. Hands had been grasped and shoulders had trembled with the ugliest sobs imaginable. But still—Harry had watched you walk out of his life, and you’d both turned away without witnessing how the other had looked back.

“Sorry,” Harry says quietly, itching at his nose with two fingers. “I shouldn’t’ve—”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off. He thinks that that’s the end of it, but then you sigh softly and push back from the counter. The legs of the stool creak faintly against the kitchen tiles. “I should go.”

“What?” he blurts, his eyes widening. He watches in bewilderment as you reach for your purse and shoulder it without a second thought. Your gaze is fixated on the floor as you begin to make your way to the front entrance, but Harry’s legs seem to move of their own accord, and then he’s suddenly in front of you, blocking your way.

“What’re you doing?” he asks, breathless. “I—I’m making coffee.”

You press your mouth into a line, but the way your chin wobbles doesn’t go unnoticed.

“H,” you murmur, unable to muster a stronger tone. “Let me go.”

The intimate nickname catches him by surprise. You’re the only one who’s ever called him that. He hasn’t been addressed in such a way for months, and hearing it spill from your lips now breaks something inside of him.

“No,” he tells you firmly. “I can’t do that. Not—not again.”

“Shut up,” you scoff, and the snarky bite of your voice has him taking his tongue between his teeth. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“How so?” he asks, his nostrils flaring.

“You…,” you begin, but then quickly trail off when you discover that you can’t find the right words. You glare at him and make a frustrated noise in the back of your throat, eyes ignited with a fire that he hasn’t been privy to in so long; he’s missed it.

“Don’t do this,” Harry pleads. He risks reaching out to you, half-expecting you to step away; his heart somersaults in his chest when you don’t. His fingers twirl around that one strand of hair that hangs in front of your face, and he tenderly tucks it behind your ear. You gulp when his knuckles brush against your cheek.

“Don’t leave,” he breathes, closing his eyes for a brief moment. “Please.”

“What am I supposed to do?” you ask weakly, tears gathering in your eyes. “It hurts. Being around you hurts.”

“I know.” He nods, trying to keep his own emotions from overwhelming him. “I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

The two of you are in the cruellest of predicaments. How is it possible to be so utterly in love with someone, even though their mere existence serves as an aching reminder of pain? The two of you had been in shambles after the incident. You couldn’t walk through the aisle filled with packaged pregnancy tests at the pharmacy. Harry was unable to look at the section reserved for babies in every clothing outlet. The hurt had been fresh. It had ripped your relationship apart.

“I miss you,” you choke out. “I miss you, but it’s still—what am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know,” Harry whispers sadly, shaking his head. “But, please. Let’s figure this out together, yeah? Don’t leave.”

He’s got your face cradled in his hands now, and you’re really, truly looking at him for the first time since he’d opened that damned door. Your fingers wrap around his wrists, and you give him a curt, nervous nod. Harry exhales in relief, his shoulders lowering as the tension melts away. His eyes flutter closed again, but then snap open suddenly when he feels you lean up and press a quick peck to the corner of his mouth.

His brows shoot up, and his lips part slightly in shock. His skin is burning; the spot where you’d kissed him is practically aflame. Your eyes hold an array of emotions: fear, anxiety, regret, panic. You release his wrists from your grasp, stepping back.

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly; the words blend together with how fast they exit your mouth. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to—”

Harry cuts you off as quickly as physically possible, closing the distance between the two of you in a single stride and clapping his palm against the back of your neck. A soft gasp escapes you, but the noise is swiftly silenced when he affixes your lips to his.

A watery sob resonates in the back of your throat as you drop your purse and hook your arms beneath his, your fingers scrabbling for purchase against his back. Harry groans quietly when you grip handfuls of his t-shirt in tight fists and press your bodies together. Your lips move frantically, kissing and sucking with the most obscene and frenzied sounds that he’s ever heard. He melts into you, one hand messing up your hair while the other circles around your waist to keep you close.

It proves difficult to pull back from you, but he knows that he has to when he feels your tears smearing onto his cheeks. He rests his forehead against yours, lowering his arm slightly so that he can wipe away the wet trails with his thumb.

“Are you okay?” he breathes, gazing at you with worried eyes.

“Yeah.” Your voice is thick. “Where…where do we go from here?”

You’re the one posing the question, yet as soon as you do, you’re attacking his lips again with short, hard kisses. Harry fights to inhale between each loud smack of your mouth to his, but he’s really not complaining.

“I don’t know,” he manages to get out between kisses. You seal your lips together and resume your previous ministrations. He grips your face with both of his hands, his palms large enough to cover the entirety of your jaw. When you break apart for air, he asks, “Do you want to stop?”

“No.”

“Me neither.”

And with that, he kisses you again. You moan into his mouth when he guides you back against the counter, and you hop up onto the smooth surface when he moulds his fingers to fit around the curve of your thighs. Harry pushes the mugs and spoons out of the way, the action hurried yet careful to avoid any breakage. You giggle at his prudence; he smiles.

“What?” he asks.

You shake your head. “Nothing.”

He leans in and reattaches his lips to yours, his fingers finding the collar of your cardigan and slowly easing the fabric down your shoulders. You help him, flinging the material away once it’s been fully removed. Harry begins to toy with the buttons on your blouse, and you push your chest out in encouragement, nodding silently.

He begins kissing your neck as he undoes the first clasp, savouring the taste of your skin. It’s been so long since he’s touched you. He can feel your breasts heaving with every breath you take, and the thought of you wanting him just as badly as he wants you has his cock growing stiff in his briefs. You sigh happily when he latches onto a particularly sensitive spot beneath your ear, your fingers snaking up to tangle in his hair.

“Shit,” you mutter. Harry chuckles, assuming that you’d cursed at the sensation of his lips against your throat. But then you’re pushing him back slightly, placing one hand over your heart and reaching around with the other to tug your phone from your back pocket. You check the time and swear softly. Your eyes are apologetic when you look back up at him.

“I—I have to go to work.”

He shakes his head, ducking back down to nip at your collarbone. “Call in sick.”

“I can’t!” you moan, tilting your head back to allow him better access. But even as you protest, you’re unlocking the device and pulling up your assistant’s contact information. You pull away, placing a firm hand on Harry’s shoulder to keep him at a distance. He pouts, but when you fix him with a stern glare, his expression melts into a smug smirk.

“Give me a minute,” you tell him before dialling the number. You grunt as you spin yourself around on the counter, falling back so that your head dangles from one edge and your knees from the other.

Harry stares at you with wide, amused eyes. “What the hell are you doing?”

“If my head’s upside down, it’ll make my voice sound more nasally!” you hiss as the phone rings. “I need to sound like I’m fucking congested.”

His shoulders shake in silent laughter; he watches with adoring eyes as you clear your throat when your assistant answers the phone.

“Lena?” you ask, and Harry is shocked to find that you were right—you do sound significantly unwell. “Hey, good morning. I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it in today. I woke up feeling really shitty…”

He’s ashamed to admit that he tunes out the rest of your sentence, his mind wandering to far more vulgar places. He studies the straining of your neck, the rapid rising and falling of your chest, the way your toes curl as you lie straight through your teeth. Your lips cling tightly to every word leaving your mouth. Knowing that it’s all just a trifling invention to stay where you are (and to keep doing what you’re doing) makes Harry’s stomach swoop dangerously low with lust.

You lift your head, observing him carefully as he rounds the corner of the counter and places his palms on your thighs. He can hear your assistant—Lena—babbling through the phone, her voice clamorous yet choppy on the other end of the line. Harry pays her no attention, opting instead to undo the few remaining buttons on your blouse and separate the offending material. He inhales deeply when the rest of your torso becomes exposed to the cool air of his kitchen.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, pulling the device away from your ear and throwing your hand over the microphone.

Harry cocks an eyebrow, offering up a shrug as his reply. Your stomach twitches when he splays his hands flat against your hips and then hooks his fingers into the waistband of your trousers. You shoot him a warning glare, but he just smirks.

“What? Oh, sorry,” you rush out and pretend to cough, bringing the phone back to your ear. “You were cutting out a bit; could you repeat that?”

Harry’s shoulders vibrate with a low chuckle. He doesn’t miss the way your thighs press together at the sound. His nimble fingers find the clasp of your pants, and he pops it open easily. You begin to squirm when he plays with your zipper, pulling it down and then back up before doing it all over again. He knows that he’s being a tease, but he can’t help it. He’d forgotten how amusing it is to watch you melt into a puddle.

Your free hand shoots down to grip his wrist when he begins tugging your trousers down your hips. He peers up at you through his eyelashes, trying to repress the arrogant smile that threatens to make itself known. Your eyes are wide, and you shake your head furiously. Harry abandons his attempt to conceal his glee, a wide grin splitting across his face as he yanks himself free from your grasp. Before you can pull away, he traps your arm against the counter, snickering at the change in dynamic.

You gulp when he leans up and drapes his body over yours. He plants a silent, chaste kiss to your lips before placing his mouth at the ear that isn’t currently pressed against the screen of your phone. His command is soft, but it makes you shiver, nonetheless.

“Don’t move.”

You have to flatten your lips together forcefully to contain the whimper that bubbles up in your throat. Harry’s laugh is completely silent, but his dark eyes tell you everything you need to know. He inches back down your torso, directing his gaze to where your pants sit lopsided on your lower-half.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, littering kisses over your stomach. You inhale sharply when he takes a patch of skin between his teeth and bites down gently.

In a matter of seconds, he’s got the fabric at your ankles. You’re still on the line with Lena, growing impatient with her incessant prattling.

“Okay, that’s fine,” you affirm. She says something else, and you nod reflexively. “Yeah, if I’m feeling better, I will. Thank you, take care.”

As soon as the call ends, you slap your phone down onto the counter with a bit more force than was probably intended. A loud groan leaves your lips, and you crane your neck so that you can glare daggers at the man standing between your legs.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” you promise. Harry cackles.

“Why? I thought it was fun.”

He grins as you kick your trousers off completely, hearing them fall to the floor in an airy heap. He nudges them out of the way with his foot, one of his hands creeping up your body so that he can cup your left breast over your bra. You sigh when his palm gives a soft squeeze.

“I missed this,” Harry whispers, but the confession is weak. He’s not quite sure if he should have said it.

His worries are mollified, however, when you hum in agreement and reach out for him. His chest tightens significantly as you lace your fingers together, bringing your clasped hands up so that you can pamper his knuckles with dozens of kisses. A lump forms in his throat, but he pays it no attention. Instead, he pulls you up into a sitting position and fastens your lips to his.

“Mm…help me take this off,” you mumble against his mouth, angling your shoulders backward. Harry grips the collar of your blouse and tugs the thin fabric down your arms, balling it up and tossing it away without a second thought.

“Hey!” you laugh. Your teeth bump against his chin when you grin. “Don’t wrinkle it!”

“Chill out,” he tells you, amusement evident in his tone. “I can get you something of mine to wear.”

“D’you—oh,” you moan softly when he ducks down to pepper kisses along the column of your throat. “Do you still have that blue button-up? The one with the stars on it?”

“’Course.”

“I’ll take that one.”

Harry chuckles at your playful claim. “I see why you got that promotion,” he tells you, his hot breath fanning out onto the underside of your jaw. “Quite the bossy little thing, you are.”

“Shut up and get your shirt off,” you scoff, a crooked smile spreading over your lips.

He laughs quietly into your neck. “I rest my case.”

Despite the light ribbing, though, he does as you ask. It takes everything in him to suppress a smile when he watches you gaze at his bare body in awe. Your touch trails against the dozens of tattoos on his torso and arms. Your hands slide down his narrow hips, ghosting over the slight pudge of skin right above the waistband of his briefs. A shiver rockets down his spine when you delicately slip your fingertips beneath the elastic.

“Is this okay?” you inquire softly, glancing up at him from beneath your eyelashes. Harry nods frantically and gulps. His gaze falls to the thin lace trim that flanks the cups of your baby pink bra. He’s never seen this one before—it must be new.

“Did you just get this recently?” he asks, his thumbs running along the underwire.  He doubts that the question will ruin whatever mood has been built up; you’re standing—or rather, sitting—before him in your undergarments, with your hair spilling out of your bun and your fingers inches away from his cock. He doesn’t know if he’s ever been more turned on than he is right in this moment.

“A few weeks ago.” You nod, peering up at him shyly. “You like it?”

“Love it,” he corrects. “You know how I feel about this colour.”

Your smile is bashful when you tuck your chin against your chest. “Does that mean that you want me to leave it on?”

“Fuck, no.”

You laugh. “That’s what I thought.”

In an instant, he’s removed your bra and attached his lips to one of your nipples. You sigh gently, your head falling back as your fingers braid through his hair. You scratch your nails against his scalp delicately, and the sensation only spurs him on. He nibbles at your skin; a faint giggle tumbles off your tongue.

“What—oh, that feels nice,” you murmur. “What do you wanna do?”

Harry pulls off your chest with a wet smacking sound, licking his lips in anticipation. “What do you wanna do?” he replies, deliberately skirting around your inquiry.

“I asked you first.”

He snickers.

“’F we’re being honest here,” he starts, scratching sheepishly at the back of his neck. “I really just want to make you cum on my tongue.”

You balk at the vulgarity of his sentence. Harry beams haughtily, sweeping his palms down your hips. An obvious shudder wracks your body when he begins fiddling with the hem of your panties. His dimples pop when you gulp violently and give him a terse nod.

“Yeah. Okay,” is all you say, mainly because far more eloquent words have somehow managed to escape you.

“Brilliant.” Harry smirks and watches as you bristle beneath his gaze.

Less than a second later, his knees come into contact with the kitchen tiles. He groans weakly, reaching to his right and snatching up the mat that usually sits on the floor right next to the sink. You laugh when he arranges the fluffy rug beneath him, and once he’s satisfied with its positioning, he shoots you a cheeky smile.

“All good now,” he announces. You fix him with a tender smile as your fingers comb his hair away from his forehead.

“Lovely,” you whisper. Harry feels your muscles tense when he begins trailing kisses up the length of your thigh. His fingers hook into your underwear.

“Lift up for me, darling,” he says, his teeth catching ever-so-slightly against your skin. You exhale shakily and press your hands flat against the counter for leverage. When your bottom rises up from the marble, Harry works quickly to tug your panties down your legs. He flings them away without wavering.

“Christ,” he mumbles, mostly to himself. He sets his elbows onto the counter, helping you spread your thighs for him. Your scent floods his senses as you bare yourself to him entirely; growling lowly, he buries his face between your legs.

“Oh, God,” you squeak, both of your hands latching onto his hair. You tug on the curls as he flicks his tongue feverishly against your clit, remembering exactly how much he likes the dull, thrumming itch of pain. True to your recollection, Harry groans appreciatively against your cunt.

He shoves himself even further into you, and you know that once he’s done, his chin and nose will be just as shiny as his lips. He eats you out like you’re his last meal, like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted this badly. Your toes curl when you feel his lips sponge hot, wet kisses down your slit.

“Fuck,” you sigh, your eyes fluttering shut. “I forgot how good you were at this.”

Harry chuckles. The vibration shoots across your clit and sends electrical surges ricocheting through your veins. You moan softly, but he doesn’t respond, too engrossed in the taste spilling from the apex of your thighs.

He’s not sure how long the two of you stay like that, with his knees on the ground and his mouth on your heat and your fingers in his hair. Despite the fluffy mat below him, his legs begin to grow sore, but he blocks out the ache and commits himself to making you feel good. Your muscles keep twitching beneath his fingers and your stomach heaves gently; you’re close.

He wants you to cum.

“I’m gonna,” you breathe, and only then does Harry realize that he’d spoken the desire out loud. When your words sink in, he doubles his efforts, his lips sucking your clit into his mouth with a newfound sense of passion. A loud, lewd moan tumbles from your lips, and then you’re cumming, your thighs clenching against the sides of his head and your hips bucking up from the counter.

“Beautiful,” Harry mutters, pressing his lips to your stomach. “So fucking beautiful.”

You whimper.

He stands with a groan, his knees pricking with spindles of pain. They’ll probably bruise a bit later, but he really can’t find it in himself to care. His hand snakes down beneath the elastic of his briefs, and he sighs in relief when he makes a fist around his hard cock. You push yourself up onto your elbows, gazing at him with glassy, distant eyes.

“Cum on me,” you plead hoarsely.

“Fuck.” Harry’s head tips back in disbelief. “Yeah? You want that?”

“Please.”

You sit up, wrestling his underwear down his thighs. He hisses when you intentionally scrape your nails along his skin, and his dick twitches in his hand. He pumps himself quickly, his cheeks growing warm when he realizes that he’s not going to last long. There’s a knot forming in the pit of his stomach, and the way you’re begging for him is sending him hurtling toward his release.

As though you can read his thoughts, you slip off of the counter and drop to your knees. Harry bites back a smirk at the reversal of roles. You peer up at him sultrily and knead your own breasts, tempting him as your thumbs skirt over your nipples.

“Cum on them,” you say quietly. “Please, H.”

The nickname—that fucking nickname—is what does him in.

“Bloody Christ.”

His groan is long, drawn-out, and guttural. A shaky exhale leaves his mouth as he watches ropes of his seed dribble down onto your chest. You press your breasts together while the speed of his hand slows. Harry’s eyes nearly roll into the back of his head when you dip a fingertip into the mess on your skin and tuck it into your mouth.

“C’mere,” he orders breathlessly.

His hands grip your elbows as he pulls you up. He doesn’t let you get a single word in before sealing his lips to yours. He licks into you, tasting himself on your tongue. Your hands sweep up his shoulders and neck, trembling profusely.

Disregarding the mess of clothing on the floor, the two of you stumble upstairs and into the shower. Harry tests the temperature of the water with one hand; the other stays locked firmly with yours, fingers intertwined. A small part of him is afraid that if he lets go, you’ll disappear.

Beneath the spray of the shower, he watches as you wash yourself. You take extra care around your face (removing your makeup) and your cleavage (rubbing off his cum). Harry stands against the far wall, the cool tiles of the stall pressing against his back. He’s staring at you intensely, trying to memorize every detail of your body. When you finally open your eyes and glance at him, a timid smile spreads across your lips.

“What?” you ask, curling into yourself.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head. “’M just…admiring you.”

Your throat bobs violently as you swallow. Reaching for his wrist, you tug him beneath the water and chuckle when his hair flattens against his head. The entire time, Harry’s gaze never strays from your face.

“I missed you,” you both say at the same time.

Your eyes widen, and then a shy laugh spills out of your mouth. Harry cups your face with both hands; you look up at him with twinkling eyes and push his wet hair from his forehead with gentle fingers.

“I missed you,” he repeats, staring at you earnestly. “So much.”

You nod in response. Somehow, the brief action is able to convey more than spoken dialogue ever could. Harry chews on his bottom lip, pondering whether he should utter the other three words on the tip of his tongue. After a few milliseconds, he decides against it. He’s not sure how you would react, and he doesn’t want to lose you—not again.

It’s not worth the risk.

The two of you eventually exit the shower, sporting wet eyelashes and pruned fingertips. Wordlessly, Harry wraps a towel around you, pecking your cheek lovingly. He’s about to step back, but then your fingers are on his jaw, guiding him in for a proper kiss. You sigh against his lips.

He wants nothing more than to stay in this moment for the rest of his life.

Back downstairs, he adjusts the towel around his hips and finally pours coffee into the pair of mugs that he’d pulled from the cupboard an hour ago. He prepares it the way you like before offering it to you. Your fingers wrap around the handle daintily, and you both take a sip at the same time.

“Sorry.” Harry grimaces after he swallows. “It’s gone a bit cold.”

“Mm.” You press your lips together and shake your head. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” You pause before adding, “It’s kind of symbolic, no?”

His brows knit together. “What?” he asks, before it dawns on him. The creases on his forehead deepen. “Like…us?”

You nod, hiding your smirk behind the rim of your mug. Harry’s expression softens when he realizes that you’re only teasing. You lean over the counter, but the towel draped around your body comes loose, and you squeak in surprise when it slips down your chest. He grins.

“Can always just take it off, you know,” Harry informs you, shrugging. “It might be more convenient.”

“Care to test that theory?” you reply, cocking an eyebrow. He sets his mug down and raises his hands in surrender, stepping back before pulling at the material on his waist. It falls to the floor, and your gaze instinctively drops to his pelvis. You look away quickly, evidently flustered.

“Your turn.” Harry’s smile is insufferably cheeky, but he can’t help it.

“I’m alright, thanks,” you say, taking another sip of your coffee.

“I don’t think so.” He shakes his head, rounding the corner of the counter and reaching out for you.

“H!” you squeal, nearly tripping over yourself as you stumble backward. “Stop!”

He catches you easily, though, wrapping his arms around you and gripping fistfuls of your towel. With one quick flourish of his fingers, you’re completely naked. The coffee in your mug sloshes dangerously, nearly spilling onto the kitchen tiles.

“I hate you!” you say, laughter lacing your voice. Harry joins in, giggling to himself.

“No, you don’t,” he says, his palms finding your hips. He holds onto you cautiously, careful not to jostle the hand holding your cup. He leans in, and your eyes flutter shut in anticipation of a kiss. Your nose crinkles up in surprise when you feel his lips land on one of your eyelids, planting a silky, barely-there kiss. He switches over to the other side and does the same thing, his chest swelling with warmth when you release a wobbly breath.

“I don’t,” you agree gently. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

Harry’s heartbeat stutters beneath his ribs. Though your words are quiet, the insinuation is painfully loud; he watches your face fall when it all sinks in.

“Me too,” he says quickly, squeezing your waist in reassurance. You stare up at him gratefully. The moment is charged with unspoken sentences and tacit feelings, but neither of you submit an explanation.

Harry offers up a small smile, hoping to drain some of the tension from the air.

“See?” he prompts, shrugging. “We haven’t gone cold. Not yet.”

“‘Not yet’?” you echo, smirking good-naturedly. “When do you suppose that’s gonna happen, then?”

“Maybe in a few decades.” He plays along and pretends to think over his answer. “When we’re old and grey and we can’t stop bickering.” He chuckles. “And we’re sitting on a porch swing and you’re knitting and I’m reading the paper and we’re waiting for our grandkids to pull into the driveway for tea.”

At the mention of grandchildren, your eyes well up with tears. Because grandchildren will have to come from children. And children will come from you—both of you.

“What d’you think?” Harry murmurs. Your gazes lock.

“I think—,” you swallow heavily, blinking rapidly to keep your emotions controlled. Harry watches you with sober eyes, trying to deduce your response from your expression alone. You shoot him a watery smile, reaching up and caressing his jaw with your free hand.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” you say softly, stroking your thumb along his cheek. “A few decades—we can go cold, then.”

~*~

[masterlist] [come yell at me]

if you enjoyed this piece, please consider donating to my ko-fi! thank you bunches <3

[lovely-teeztaetae]

PART ONE HERE! Close i

Originally requested by lovely reader @hongjoonshoe And requested by many lovely anons~

Enjoy!

♡ Close ♡

~angst~

“But seriously, we have to watch it together. And I literally turned down Jungmin for you guys, so now we have to go see this movie.”

“I don’t know, I have a pretty weak stomach, what do you say Y/n?”

Hearing my name immediately snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Sorry, what?” I asked shaking my head.

“We were talking about going to see The Last One tonight.” Mai said twirling her loosely curled hair.

“Oh, um, sure.” I responded with a small smile.

“You alright Y/n, what’s on your mind?” My other friend Anza asked. Just as she said that, I had another flashback of the previous week.

“Because my heart still feels that same way towards you, as it did the first day we met.” I cried, more like yelled towards Wooyoung. His eyes softened and he reached out towards me again.

Just as I turned around to leave, Hongjoong quietly knocked on the door before peeking through.

Seeing Hongjoong’s concerned face only made me cry harder as I rushed out of the door and down the stairs of their house.

I ran outside to my car, and reached down in my pocket and felt no keys, realising they probably fell in the house

“Crap, really Y/n?” I mentally cursed myself, before walking back into their house house. But the second I walked in, all I heard was yelling.

“-you know, I remember you talking about it, and I tried the hardest I could to forget it, but for you to take it this out of control?” Hongjoong spoke sternly to Wooyoung.

“I’m sorry okay?! I didn’t mean to hurt her like that, I, I-“

“Wooyoung, what did you expect?!” Hongjoong asked again.

“Why are you so upset anyway, she was my-“ I heard Wooyoung pause.”

After that, all I could hear now was silence, and with no one answering, I took this as an opportunity to get my keys that were sitting on the higher step of the stair case.

“You wanna know why Wooyoung?” Hongjoong asked.

“You brought Y/n around so much, that I started to develop my own feelings towards her, and now because of you, she’s not gonna be around.” I froze at Hongjoong’s words.

Hongjoong having feelings for, me?

How did I never notice, was I that blind?

I mean, I never really looked at Hongjoong like that, but even I’ll admit, what’s not to like?

Hongjoong is handsome, respectful, a hard worker. And overall everything a person could ever want in a guy.

It’s just that, I’d never get that rapid beating in my heart when I was around him, at least, not like I did for Wooyoung.

After that, I quickly walked up the few steps and grabbed my keys.

Before I left this time, I made sure to lock their door, so that I wasn’t tempted to walk back through it again.

“Earth to Y/n/n.” Mai exclaimed, and once again my daydreaming came to an end.

“Um, yea, yea sorry, I want to go see it too.” I said with a smile, this time a more genuine one.

“Alright well, we can talk about it after our classes, it’s almost 2:30.” Anza pointed out as her and our other friend Lyn stood up.

“We’ll talk to you guys after class.” Lyn said with a small smile, and the two left Mai and I alone.

“Well, class is gonna start soon, maybe we should head on-“ I stopped mid sentence when I looked over and saw Mai starring at me.

I confusingly looked behind me to see if she was starring at something in the distance, but all there was were other campus kids finishing their break period.

“Uh, are you alright Mai?” I asked waving my hand in her face. Her gaze only softened a little and she began to talk.

“Yea, Im just trying to read your thoughts, you’ve been acting funny.” She said quietly, tapping her long painted nails across her cheek.

“I know I have a pretty good sense of humor.” I said with a wacky smile. Mai rolled her eyes with a small laugh.

“Not like that Y/n.”

“I-“ I didn’t really even have anything to say. I knew I was acting different. The person that I used to talk to more than my own sibling, didn’t really ever want anything to do with me. Besides use me for the good things that came along the way, like Aura.

“Mai come on, class is starting.” I said for the last time, grabbing all of my books and heading towards the crowded entrance.

“Wait up Y/n!”

~

“Alright everyone, make sure to study this week, next weeks test shouldn’t be that challenging if you take the time to look everything over.” Every student began to stuff their things into their bags, ready to go home for the week.

I threw my bag over my shoulder and made my way out the door, and was quickly met my Mai who was already at the entrance.

“You ready for The Last One?” She asked in a mockingly spooky voice, running her fingers up my arm earning a chill from me.

“Yea, I forgot about that.” I chuckled.

“Oh, also, Jungmin wanted to know if he could bring a couple friends?” She said shyly.

My eyes squinted in confusion.

“I don’t recall him coming in the first place.”

“Well, I just felt super super bad and told him he could join us if he wanted to, I’m sorry!” She said in a dramatic tone. I only rolled my eyes playfully in response.

“I’m fine with it as long as everyone else is.” I responded with a small smile.

~

The four of us began to walk to the theatres entrance, and I was beginning to get excited at the thought of doing something other than being cooped up in my dorm, alone.

After that night, I got home and Aura still wasn’t back. And so I took all of her clothes and gathered them together, along with all of her extra belongings.

“Y/n what are you doing?!” She asked just like Wooyoung did. I kept moving her stuff and began to get even more upset.

“This is my dorm Aura, that I’m paying for, alone!” I stated, while she was trying to put all of her things back.

“So you thought I wasnt gonna find out?”

“What are you-“

“Don’t play stupid Aura, Wooyoung tried the same thing.” My heart wrenched after saying their names together, and the sudden burst of sadness made me even more determined to have her out by tonight.

“Y/n it was nothing serious.” She said in a calm voice. I stopped what I was doing and began to think. It’s nothing to her, while I’m carrying a heavy weight on my heart.

“Aura, Wooyoung is waiting for you at his house. And I don’t recon I have to tell you the address, you probably know it by heart.” I cried while sitting on my bed.

Aura’s eyes softened as she made her way towards me.

“Y/n-“

“I don’t care Aura, just get your stuff and go to him.” My words came out much shakier than intended.

I sat looking down as I heard swift shuffling all throughout the small dorm room, and soon enough the sound of a door closing.

“Guys look!” My eyes quickly snapped towards the direction Mai was pointing in, and there I saw Jungmin alongside Yeosang, San, and a couple other guys I didn’t know.

I knew that Yeosang and San were friends with Wooyoung, but I never really talked to them, and so I was hoping they didn’t recognise me.

“Hey girls.” Yeosang smiled in our direction, causing all of his other friends to look as well.

He began to give everyone hugs, and when it came to my turn, I tensed up a bit at the awkwardness. Wasn’t this guy super shy?

“Don’t worry about the tickets either, we already paid.” He said smiling down at me, to which I returned with a dorkish one.

“And the movies also gonna start in like 5 minutes.” San said while checking his phone and showing us the time that read 11:23 p.m.

“Alright everyone, lets head on in.” One of Yeosang’s friends yelled said as he came walking in our direction with popcorn candies and soda.

We all started walking towards the entrance when Jungmin spoke aloud.

“Oh yea, our friends in the bathroom so, could someone wait for him so he knows which auditorium we’re going in?” He said with pleading eyes. I wasn’t in the biggest rush and agreed.

“I’ll wait.”

“Why not let one of the guys wait-“

I cut San off before he could finish his statement. My heart fluttering slightly as he seemed like a gentleman.

“It’s alright San, I want to wait.” I responded with a smile. He smiled back before responding.

“Alright, remember it’s auditorium 5, thanks.” He nodded my way before catching up with the already gone group of kids.

I sat leaning against the wall, focusing on all of the abstract designs on the wall, and stopping when I reached one couple.

My shoulders slumped as I saw them talking sheepishly to eachother, and I recognised the two of them as Wooyoung and Aura.

I frowned and began to play with my feet.

“Don’t worry, it’s better that way.”

I jumped in surprise at the voice from behind me and saw Hongjoong by my side watching the ‘couple’ as well.

“Hongjoong?” I spoke with a bewildered look on my face. He looked at me and smiled.

“Hey Y/n, sorry I didn’t mean to scare you, I just wasn’t expecting you to be there.” He laughed.

“Oh well, are you perhaps here with Jungmin?” I asked raising my brow.

“Yea, why, are you seeing The Last One too?” He asked excitedly, making his way down the long hall. I followed close behind.

“Uh yea, our friends all came together in a group.” I said with a small smile, catching up to him.

Hongjoong looked from my shy gaze to his feet.

“Hey Y/n, I’m really really sorry about what happened.” He said playing with the ring in his finger. I looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Hongjoong do not be sorry, it wasn’t you’re fault-“

“But I knew about it, and you ended up getting hurt in the end Y/n.” He said in a more stern voice. I looked at him with a sad gaze.

“Hongjoong.” I started, grabbing onto his shoulders and stopping him from going further.

“He’s your best friend, you shouldn’t feel bad for not ratting him out.”

He looked into my eyes looking for any false hope, but only found sincerity.

“I just, can’t help but feel bad, I’m sorry.” He said with cloudy eyes.

“You know what Hongjoong?” I asked sternly. He looked at me with wide eyes, surprised by my now loud daminor.

“We’re going to go in there with our friends, enjoy that rip off scary movie, and stuff our faces with candy and soda.” I said loudly, grabbing his hand and rushing towards the auditorium as I heard the scary music begin to play.

I heard him chuckle from behind me, and it already made me feel better.

~

“That’s the creepiest movie I’ve seen in a while.” San stayed louldly to the group.

“It was pretty creepy, and I can tell you definitely got a good scare out of it.” Lyn said pointing towards San’s hoodie that had soda splashed on it from a jump scare.

He playfully rolled his eyes as the whole group of kids laughed at him.

“I enjoyed it, what about you two?” Anza asked looking back at us two walking further behind.

“I liked it, and by the look on Hongjoong’s face half the time I’m pretty sure he enjoyed it too.” I laughed, looking up at his still shocked face.

“I just can’t believe it ended like that.” He said shaking his head.

I looked up at Hongjoong and got reminded of what I heard him say the other week, and for some reason, it gave me a boost of confidence for my next statement.

“Maybe next time we could watch a comedy movie, that way you won’t be hanging on me everytime there’s a creaky noise in the movie.” I joked.

Hongjoong stopped walking and his eyes looked at me with a twinkle in them.

“Like, a date?” He asked bewildered.

I smiled in return.

“Yea, ya know, just a little get together. We could catch up.”

“Well in that case I’d be up to watch anything you want.” He blushed.

We all were mere feet from the doors before Anza stopped in her tracks, turning to face everyone.

“I need to use the bathroom.” She said handing Mai her purse and trotting over to the ladies room outside of the theatre.

“You know, I’m gonna go on ahead and go too before we leave, but wait here, I wanna walk you out.” He said holding a finger up.

I laughed before nodding my head.

“I’ll be waiting in the same place.” I said leaning up against the wall and opening my phone, reading the time that said 1:21 a.m.

I was scrolling through my phone when I got a message from Mai. I opened it and immediately burst into laughter, seeing as it was a video of San seconds before he spilled his drink.

I heard Hongjoong coming back out and kept the video opened, ready to show him.

“You thought you were scared? Look at San’s face-“ I froze and my eyes slowly widened.

Hongjoong wasn’t standing in front of me, instead there stood,

Jung Wooyoung...

Part iii maybe? 👀

Let me know what you think!

[shibalen]

♡ matchup for @shower-wizard​

hihi! my first request! i was excited to do this. i looked up information on your signs and mbti, hopefully that’s all right :)

✩ Boku no Hero Academia

platonically, i match you with . . .

Iida Tenya

You two would make a great team! You're both reliable and care for the ones around you. While Iida's got the firmness and boldness of a leader you have the charm and the ability to harmonize. You'd work together like clockwork, instructing your classmates and helping them out any way you can.

If there's anyone you can trust, it's Iida. He was your first friend in ua and the first person to gain your trust there. If you don't like to talk much or be the centre of everyone's attention, no worries - he's got you covered so you could always be comfortable!

Honestly, he'll fight/tell off anyone if they're being loud and obnoxious and it's bothering you, no questions asked. We already know even Bakugo isn't a problem for him.

Iida has a strong sense of duty so you being nearby assures him and helps him worry less. Your loyalty is like his own, and it makes him happy someone shares his view on it. He knows he can count on you if there's ever the need.

He can't always tell how you're doing because you don't give away much, so he'll ask if there is a single grain of doubt. It's sweet but you can tell him if he's being too big a worrywart :)c

You explore different book genres together. Be prepared because he gives extremely long and detailed reviews of each one he reads, especially if you were the one who recommended it to him.

Coming from a higher-class family, Iida was likely taught how to play the piano from a young age. Though he doesn't remember much of it now, hearing you play brings back some of his old spark. Once he tries, it's more fun than he recalled.

Will take you to grand piano concerts whose tickets should have already been sold out? Sometimes you meet Yaomomo there too and other times three of you go together. You discuss your opinions on the way back while grabbing a bite to eat.

You can go to his house to practice archery whenever you'd like. His family definitely has a space for it. Iida doesn't know much about the sport himself but will cheer you on nevertheless! He learns all the vocabulary so he can understand when you talk about it.

Study sessions with the two of you are the best. It has gotten to the point where you make sure to announce them beforehand so any of your other friends can join you. you're the saviour duo (-人-)

Runner up: Denki Kaminari

romantically i match you with . . .

Shinsou Hitoshi

You know i had to. softness: check. dates indoors: check. cats: double check.

You encourage him so much. While he's definitely improved over the series, your support on his goals saves him from moments of doubt and dark thoughts. You gently remind him even the smallest progress pays off in the end, that steadily working on his shortcomings is better than comparing himself to others and doing nothing.

While he knows you're not easily deceived by others, he still keeps an eye out and making sure no one with ill intentions approaches you.

Ironically enough, the first time you met he probably tried to brainwash you during the sports festival. You'd already figured out his quirk though and just smiled at him and sauntered away. Boy was left kind of annoyed but also quite a bit intrigued.

Whether or not you're easily embarrassed doesn't matter cause Shinsou will tease you anyway. He's a little shit and enjoys cracking your mysterious demenour.

Be soft for him. Take his hand, compliment him and run your fingers through his hair. It won't take too long before he's the one subtly trying to hide his flustered face. And if you cuddle him and kiss his cheek while you're napping, I bet those dark circles would be a lot less visible.

Shinsou loves how comfortable you are to be around. He loosens up whenever you're interacting without even noticing it himself. He laughs and smiles more but if you point it out he'll either claim not to know what you're talking about or come up with a way to sidestep the topic smh

You go over to his house to study and see his cats, or vise versa, and before either of you have realized, you're snuggled up, drinking coffee/tea and exchanging book recommendations with a cat purring in your lap. Basically you're on a date now, congratulations! it comes so naturally.

You two just having a good time in a cosy café, people watching and lowkey trying to guess their stories.

He'll gift you with a lot of cute charms, bookmarks and other little things you might need. Shinsou's very observant so even if you don't tell him you'd like something he figures it out one way or the other. He just wants to see you happy.

"This is the same sheet music folder I've been planning to get. How did you know?"

"Can you imagine? This guy worked his back off asking—”

Shinsou, casually wrapping up a struggling Kaminari: "I just knew you could use a new one"

Everyone else is either lowkey scared of you or thinks you're the coolest couple. You seem like a relaxed but "mess with my s/o and you're dead" pair. Well, it's true for at least one of you.

You guys don't have a lot of pda going on but anybody who knows the two of you believes the compability is incredible. They're jelly.

❋ Kimetsu no Yaiba

Runner up: Izuku Midoriya

platonically i match you with . . .

First thing's first: the aesthetic you two have? 10/10. Tol and smol but both just emitting a calm and mysterious aura. Extra points cause you seem to have a very classy appearance so that adds to your reserved look!

Gyomei Himejima

Both of you are the type to be mistrustful towards others at first. However, although it may take a little time due to that similarity, once you have warmed up you'll be big softies for each other and it's the sweetest thing.

You dislike the same kind of people so you tend to prefer each other's company. That's probably how you met too, while steering clear from obnoxious people at a meeting. You decided to befriend him since he seemed like a more humble person to talk to.

Gyomei appreciates the way you carry yourself because you remain level-headed and kind. He thinks that is a difficult combination to keep up, as the world is far from being a fair place. Going off your infj-a personality type, he also admires that you focus more on inner peace and improving yourself rather than dwell on your weaknesses.

You are both loyal so you always have each others' backs. Your gentle nature is comforting when he's feeling emotional.

This man never fails to hear you out on your problems and give the best advice. It might not always sound like it cause of how blunt it is, but trust him.

A lot of mutual understanding. Can you read each other's mind at this point? rumors say yes.

You spend a lot of time together in quiet reading sessions. He'll read his scriptures and offer to explain them to you (though he sucks at it. . .) Feel free to rant about what you're reading too!

He'd carry you on his back, arms and shoulders and it's one of the most comfortable things ever. There is not always a reason for it. it's more like a quiet way to show he cares for you.

I can easily imagine you feeding and taking care of several stray cats together. You need to make sure he doesn't accidentally overuse his strength though while playing with them.

It's great you play the piano. Since he can't see you, listening to you play helps Gyomei form an image of you in his mind. Also, your music is therapeutic to him. He'll always come hear you play ♡

Some see you as an otherwordly pair, as in: how are you always so collected and wise? are you beings from another dimension? share your secrets with us.

Hear me out! You said you don't like rude people BUT I think Genya needs someone like you to relax more. He's stiff, short-tempered and awkward so your calm and gentle personality would help him feel at ease.

Genya Shinazugawa

Runner up: Giyuu Tomioka

romantically i match you with . . .

Tanjirō likely introduced the two of you, yet the first impression wasn't the best. Genya got too nervous, turned away to hide his blush, and ended up not speaking a word which came off as pretty arrogant.

He is so gentle with you! towards you, he's never disrespectful or mean.

But he apologised for his actions soon enough and quickly explained he wasn't very good with talking to girls. With such honesty, it didn't take too long afterwards before you came to trust him. For Genya, trusting you came easily because of how laid-back you were. He could tell you were being honest with him and it was that genuine kindness that sent butterflies into his stomach uwu

Genya's not the most talkative but his smile speaks for itself. He loves listening to you talk though. Then again, he could stare at you while you're reading him the world's most boring book and still be ( ˊᵕˋ )♡.°⑅

Boy will melt at the affection you give him. He’s very blushy about it but grows more comfortable overtime (on most part at least rip) Secretly happy he's one of the only people who gets to see that side of you.

He looks up to you for having traits he lacks BuT his favourite thing about you is your confidence and passion for what you do. it inspires him to become stronger too and confront his brother.

Teaches you how to defend yourself just in case you're in trouble and he's not there. He worries.

Genya thinks it's cool you do archery, cause he does shooting! You guys often chat about your hobbies respectively. Also, showing the other how to aim with their weapon and gently adjusting their position from behind? Yes, please.

Dates would include romantic walks in the woods, picnics and trying out foods from different stands or restaurants. Don't worry though, no one will bother you. With a big guy like Genya next to you, nobody will dare raise a commotion. though you might want to stop him from death-glaring or picking a fight with anyone who talks too loud

Indoor dates also happen a lot and whatever you may be doing, Genya likes to be holding your hand. It's just so small in comparison to his and he loves it (but won't admit it) If you two are cooking or if you're playing the piano, he settles with standing next to you and enjoys your presence (✿◡‿◡ )

In conclusion, a very sweet couple that balances each other out nicely. You being soft and down-to-earth and Genya being more hot-headed but still incredibly caring ♡ Did i mention i'm a sucker for height differences?

thank you for requesting i hope you enjoyed it! i’d appreciate any feedback you might have ♡

Runner up: Tanjirō Kamado