#but had no space to finish it until this evening

[tojisteddy]

After Care with Toji.

cw: no use of ‘y/n’ I use ‘[+]’, depicting after care (obviously), sub space, softdom!toji, fluff, dom/sub dynamics, treading the line of dd/lg (anyone could digest this), pet names (baby, doll, mama, ma), it’s LONG (idk how many words, I know know it’s LONG), toji is the sweetest bf ever.

Toji knew your limits. He knew just how much he could push and pull, throw you around until you were delirious. And he knew when you were fucked out of your mind, when you couldn’t think properly, you who’d only knew how to moan and spew gibberish.

He’d had half of his manhood in you, slowly sliding out of your gushing cunt as he looked down at your ravished body. He had hickies and bite marks from the top of your neck to your toes, both of juices on your stomach down an absolute mess coming from both of your thighs. He adored the sight of it.

He gently lifted your chin to look at him, your eyes kept wandering around, “no, no, look at me mama, focus.” His voice was gentle but it was a command.

It sorta sounded like God was calling you, maybe the pearly gates were opening. You wouldn’t have minded.

“Where’s yer head at? Tell me.” He always asked when you were blissed out.

You couldn’t verbally answer though. You reached for the back of his knee and tapped. Once, twice, three times. Toji’d known from the first tap alone you were calling it quits, he sat you up on the pillows. Running to go get a damp towel or two to clean you off.

“Such a good girl f’ me today Doll. Did so well.”

You hiccuped, rubbing your face that was once full of tears. “Really?”

Fuck, you were so damn cute like this.

“Course mama,” he lifted your hand and kissing your knuckles and intertwined your fingers, “Loved bein with you. You love it too?”

“Course papa.” You replied, using his same sweet tone.

The ends of his lips curved up, leaving a quick kiss at your temple, “Yer so sweet baby.”

You hadn’t even realized when Togi finished cleaning you up and had sat you up, legs dangling off the bed. You felt his fingers going into your hair.

“I-I can take care ‘f myself Toji.”

“Sure you can ma, but not right now. Let me help you.”

Togi was consistent with after care. It was something he learned how to do after being with so many women, to look out for them. Help them clean up, get them properly conscious, relaxed.

It was different with you, though.

Not that he wasn’t a fan of it already, but after pushing you to your limit, manhandling you every which way known to man, forcing you to take everything he had— he loved taking care of you. To the point that even when his dick K.O’ed you into darkness, you’d wake up at 3 am, the moonlight slithering it’s way into the your shades bedroom through the curtains. You’d sit all the way up, rubbing your tired eyes to find yourself completely wiped down, in one of Toji’s sweatshirts that hung off him just right but gave you sweater paws, a pair of underwear and a scarf to protect your hair because he knew you’d be grumbling all morning if you woke up with out.

He didn’t mind because he loved you.

You, who never asked too much of him or pushed him too hard. You, who felt every need to be independent, and he had to teach you to rely on him. You, who had every wall built up as far as the eye can see, worse than him— it was Toji who broke every one of them down, breaking his own in the process.

Yes, you were his play thing in the bedroom, a messy girl, his slut— but everywhere else, you were his baby, his gorgeous girl, cute future mamma to his kids, his lover.

Oh how he absolutely adored you.

“What’ddya wanna do, huh? Take a drive, eat, a bath?” He had put your curls up with one of the silk scrunchies you left lying around, leaving peppering kisses on the back of your neck.

“A bath.” You mumbled.

“Yeah?” He carefully rubbed your hips, thankfully they didn’t bruise this time.

“Go on, take a shower first ‘nd I’ll meet you there. You know what to do.”

With a pat to your ass, you were off. Legs wobbly from so much action.

Toji took care of everything. From changing the sheets, lighting candles, playing whatever music you wanted to hear to wind down, running the overly hot bath water with bubbles, just how you liked it. Whatever you wanted at the moment, Toji would give it to you. He loved how reliant you were when you were blissed out.

He liked it when you were completely relaxed, completely trusting of him with not a care in the world. Your only focus was him and being with him. He also loved being needed by you, how you were like two peas in a pod— both of you needing each other.

You pressed your head on the cool tile of the shower, closing your eyes as the soap and water ran down your body. It felt soooo nice against your skin.

“Oi, if yer tired sit on the hinoki!”

He snapped you out of whatever trance you were in with the wall, but you closed your eyes again with a scuff, “fuck off… ‘m not tired… You’re fuckin tired.”

Toji chuckled, setting both of your pajamas on the bathroom counter and then joining you under the hot water.

“You talkin shit?” An amused look on his face, leaning down closer to see you. As if he wasn’t already following your every move, just to make sure you were safe on your own.

“You get in my face… talkin- talkin ‘bout me… you’rrre the one yellin. Yoouu must be tired.” You slurred out, a grin forming on your face.

“ ‘S that right?”

“ ‘M always righ—”

You yelped out, Tojis devious fingers immediately going to your tummy, your arm pits— anywhere he knew he could get a bustle of laughter out of you. At the best and worst times, Toji was a literal tickle monster. He could get anything out of you that way.

“That’s— haha- you’re cheating! Ah! Hehee- you cheater!”

“Come on! I know yer tired, I’ll stop if you sit.”

“Oh, come awn!”

Without another word, Toji had you trapped between his body and the tile wall of the shower, tickling you so much it hurt.

You groaned, still giggling up a storm, slapping his large arms that held you, “Damn it! I give! I give!”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his fingers were off of you body, taking your hand and guiding you to the hinoki.

“Doesn’t that feel better?”

“Whatever.”

It did feel better, your legs had been contorted in every in every way imaginable. Above his head, above your head, spread out from the Atlantic Ocean to the pacific. It felt good to take a rest.

Your eyes trailed up Toji’s body, skin riddled with scratch marks from his arms to his back, a few hickies on his neck, water cascading down his toned muscles, chiseled cheek bones—

“You starin mama?”

Toji hummed to himself, he loved when your eyes were on him. They were so pretty to him, especially when you were in the sun and he could really get a look at them. Like two Hershey kisses staring back at his green ones.

“Look so cute when you blush.”

“Shut up! You can’t even see it!”

He couldn’t, your brown skin didn’t let it peek through.

But it was in the way your eyes immediately went else where, unconsciously going to feel your heated cheeks or even trying to hide your face that had a small toothy smile— so fucking cute.

“Is the bath done?” Your eyes going to the tub a few feet away back to Toji who was washing his body with a wash cloth.

“Course, but you always fall asleep in there Doll ‘nd I told you I don’t like. It’s not safe.”

“I’ve never fallin asleep in there!”

His eyes met yours, eyebrow raised. Try it [+], I dare you.

“Maybe once.”

He shook his head, going back to washing his body. Unbelievable.

“More than once.” It came out more like a question even though you knew the answer to it.

Toji peered down at you, your eyes back at the tub. The steam was rising from the water, bubbles floating to and fro in the water. Slowly disappearing. Then your eyes went back to him. Big brown doe eyes, a tilt of your head and the cherry on top; a pout on your two tone lips. Not two big, not too small- just enough to push.

You were hell.

How could he say no when you were looking up at him like that.

“Fine- fuck baby, take your time!”

You slipped twice getting to the tub. Once because of how wet your foot was because of the water and another time because your legs felt exactly like the water under your foot. If it weren’t for the bath, you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow. Now you would be able to, a little limp like you worked out (I mean you probably could consider what you did an hour ago a workout) but you’d be able to!

Toji was right there with you, towel in his lap just barely covering his manhood, sitting on the hinoki and washing his hair. Talking to you about anything from the lunch you packed him last week to the new sake he wanted to try. You loved it, Toji’s voice was like a melody, deep, scratchy because of all the cigarettes yet smooth— a shot of whiskey.

“Scoot.”

You moved forward so Toji could sit behind you, it was his spot whenever you took baths together. After care or not. He loved getting to hold you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder, leaving kisses at every place he left a hickey, maybe placing one or two new ones there.

Tonight was quiet, The Light In by Lana playing. You really were tired, unwilling to fight it but at peace— right where you needed to be. Toji was rubbing your arms, your thighs, your shoulders, just in the right places— he had some godly hands. Toji looked at you, who was completely slumped, your head resting against the tub, your long lashes slowly meeting each again and again.

“Ready for bed?”

“Mmm.”

You don’t know how, or when but by the time you’d realized— Toji had you in bed, teeth brushed, pajamas and scarf on and was rubbing the small of your back. Whispering how you did so well for him, how good you were, his adorable baby— a total sweetheart.

“Love you papa.” You mumbled, drifting off without a second thought.

Toji smiled, taking in your gorgeous face one more time before closing his eyes.

“Love you too mama.”

[lokipokey]

kento nanami didn't realize he had it in him until he met you. and by god, did it surprise the absolute fuck out of you both.

you thought your sly comment would earn a small but rewarding dig out of him. get a rise out of his uptight, slack-wearing ass and encourage him to live a little. you took your role just as seriously as he did, but fuck, this man was the personified definition of the term bootstrapper. playing with powerful men was a fun little hobby of yours; a bit of entertainment during your incredibly taxing day-to-day duties of being a jujutsu sorcerer. gojo could take your shit like a champ and give it right back to you without missing a beat. you knew you held very little power in this light over the strong-willed man you knew as kento nanami. he never gave in to your antics to rile him.

it was a personal challenge of yours to break the blasé businessman.

and tonight you were keeping him taut and teetering on the very edge of his composure, not that you had to know that. kento nanami was good at remaining professional, especially so here at the office. and especially in front of you, someone he personally held a great amount of respect for, a notable and proven challenge to even the strongest, with an even smarter mouth.

it was just the two of you, finishing out the last of your tasks for the evening. you were sat in his office, in the chair that stood before his desk flipping casually through the stack of potential recruits you stiffed from gojo’s desk. you didn’t even catch exactly which quip from your armory of smartassery fell from your lips as you got up to leave the man to his work that had him up and flush behind you in a flash.

nanami had your ponytail wrapped around his fist and yanked hard, your head slamming back hard into the crook of his neck as his front was suddenly flat against your back. an astounded gasp was choked from your throat at the sudden blow to the back of your head against his stocky shoulder.

"is this what you want, sweetheart?" he whispered as his sharp cheekbone grazed the apple of your cheek as your head remained restrained there at his hand. his tone was all too casual for the rate he had your heartbeat at, "if you want something, you have to ask for it."

your eyes instantly shot over to study the businessman, whose face was a mere inch from yours. though you strained to get a good look from the position he had you in, you gathered no expression about him. like this reaction of his was completely typical of him. like you should have seen this coming. from the corner of his eye, nanami's stony gaze fell to you.

your stunned silence was not the right answer, but your mind was in no state to converse. the man who had never so much as cracked a playful one-liner back at your frequent lashes of witticism had you now standing flush against his front rutting his rigid cock into the fat of your ass.

this, was certainly not what you expected from kento nanami. but you had absolutely no objection of the matter.

the hand that didn't have your hair secured tight around it trailed flat up the front of you, leaving no curve untouched in its wake. he grazed upward through the valley of your breasts to reach and rest at your collarbone, ever so controlled and meticulous. he could feel your heartbeat hammering. "beg. maybe i'll consider."

the gasp that escaped passed your lips was completely involuntary. the 7:3 sorcerer was capable of a lot more than you thought. and fuck — you couldn't deny the ache in your cunt as it clenched in compulsion around nothing. but oh how you wished it was that unrelenting cock at your back that was filling the space—

with a clearing of your strained throat, your eyes dart back to his in this intimate proximity he's placed you in, "is this how you're going to handle gojo's smart mouth, too? if so let me know— i'd love to be there to see it."

without hesitation kento's hips snapped up into your ass, retaliation for that fucking mouth, grinding that weapon of a cock into you. "satoru doesn't make me feel like this."

his free hand was at your neck now, his fingers grazing upward of the exposed skin until they reached your mouth. his fingertips brushed over your parted lips, his index and middle finger tapping lightly together at the entrance. you took a sharp inhale in through your nose and held it there.

"you know exactly what you want," nanami's voice was a steady growl in your ear, almost like he knew how to tame you, "let's see how much you want it."

nanami slips those same two digits passed your lips to settle on your tongue. instinctively you hollow your cheeks out around them, sucking on the slender length of his two fingers as if they were the hard unyielding cock at into your backside. it twitched beneath you at your actions in encouragement. your tongue made quick work of the digits, coating them in your spit.

your actions earn a satisfied tut from the former businessman. "thaaaaat's it, sweetheart."

nanami dips his fingers further down your throat and you gag around them, saliva filling your mouth. pleased with the result, he pulls a sloppy string of it straight out. he hastily releases your hair and wraps his hand around to the front of you to roughly undo the button of your pants. your eyes widened, and before you can say a word, his slick digits pushed aside your panties and slapped hard against your clit with a wet thwack!

"kento— fuck!"

you couldn't help but yelp, your knees going weak and body concaving back even further into nanami's sturdy frame. he cushioned the responsibility of your sudden weight, stepping back til his backside hits the desk, leaning back onto it so your body could recline back against his.

“shhhh," he coos, fingers working ever so tender circles on your throbbing clit. it had your legs shaking against your accustomed tight control. "i’m going easy on you. i should be getting the belt right now thanks to that mouth of yours."

the sheer thought of this man stripping his belt from his perfectly tailored suit just to bend you over his knee to take it as punishment had your pussy soaking through your panties. his all too expensive cologne was the only thing you could get your overstimulated brain to focus on, breathing him in and out as it worked deliriously on catching up to the scene splayed out before you. your bare legs spread and split open before him. watching the endless laps he drew over your clit with the sloppy slick he earned out of your cunt. you drifted your hazy gaze to his lust-blown eyes that watched himself work with such precision, such care. like that smart mouth of yours he had been reprimanding you for seconds prior was something he was truly quite fond of. kento leaned back and parted your thighs further with the tops of his knees, propping up your numb lower half like he was trying to get a closer look of his handiwork.

kento slowed his pace even further, even lighter, like he was a wind-up toy in need of another crank. you pushed a guttural groan out of your throat at the new tempo. it felt so good it turned to torture. so antagonizingly slow. moving so still you had the time to notice how your body rose and fell with his deep breaths beneath you. how his free hand held your hip so softly, as if you were so delicate you'd break under any sort of pressure. the way his sharp cheekbone found a resting place in the hollow of your cheek. the man was so caught up in pleasing your cunt to notice you noticing the details of his actions. your lips parted as if to speak, but the only sound to be heard in grain of the silence was the squelch! of your sopping cunt at the mercy of his fingers. kento hummed in contentment.

"for a woman with such an arsenal of satirical cracks i'm quite surprised you've stayed quiet for this long," nanami's lips were at your temple as he spoke, and if you weren't so drunk on his fingers and oh so very touch-starved you might have almost mistaken the motion of his lips brushing against your skin for kisses. "i didn't know you had it in you. i almost enjoy the quiet."

your laugh startled the both of you. he was successfully riling you up. "oh, say it like you mean it, kento," your hips were softly bucking up toward his touch, wordlessly begging him for more, "you love my smart mouth almost as much as you'd love fucking it."

though he tried to conceal it, you caught the waver in his slick-coated digits as he tried to seamlessly resume his pattern. a shit-eating grin found its way to your lips. you had the man wrapped around your finger. but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let it show, at least not on his face. his throbbing cock still flush against the meat of your ass said it all.

despite the back talk, and like the perfect gentleman he was, his fingers continued taking great care of that sensitive bundle of nerves for you. his gaze hadn’t faltered from your growingly antsy core. he had a simple question fall from his lips, “is that what you want?”

the idea of him with a hand locked at the back of your head as he leisurely fucked your mouth slow and deliberate had you clenching desperately around nothing again. your head was quick to shoot up off his shoulder at the rising temperature boiling within your core. nanami took it upon himself to quicken his pace, if only a degree faster, his strapping bicep tensing around you as he started putting in overtime.

you were breathing hard through your nose as you bit down on your lip, doing your best to hold in the moans that were threatening to spill out into the office building. you knew you’d cum just like this if he kept going, but you wanted— no, needed, more of him.

your cunt was aching. and though you could feel his unrelenting cock pinned against you he had not yet made one move to reward himself with any pleasure whatsoever.

a moan hitched in your throat, coming out as a desperate gasp for oxygen. your hand shot up to latch onto his forearm. it was a warning. “do us both a favor and just stick that cock of yours inside me already.”

his face made no change as you peered up at him, stoic as ever. it pissed you off. seeing yourself come so undone while he remained as normal as ever. like he didn’t have your weeping cunt propped up before him completely defenseless against any form of attack he wanted to pursue. he knew exactly how to push your buttons, just as you did his. you hated being on this side of the torment. everyone may not have been entirely wrong when they claimed your mouth would be the death of you. because you sure felt like you could die right here, right now, in the palm of kento nanami's hand.

he paused the movement of his fingers entirely. "you're not in a position to make demands."

without warning he slipped his inner fingers into your sopping cunt, as far as he could given his limited reach, but it was plenty enough to rip a moan from the depths of your gut. he rutted them inside until the hilt of his knuckles stopped him, pulsing them there in short spurts til you stopped holding your breath with the scream that spilled out of you. you hadn't even noticed you had been holding it. yet there you were, every move he made you were waiting there with baited breath. this man would be the death of you.

you were desperate and lacking your usual self control. it was unlike you to let your yearning cunt speak for you. especially to the 7:3 sorcerer. "please! god— fuck! please, please, nanami. please."

you were not above begging now. nanami couldn't deny how much he wanted to give in to your pleas. to fuck your pretty little cunt beyond oblivion just as you had so bluntly demanded over his desk until the wood snapped.

but that would ruin his entire lesson plan for you.

kento nanami returned his full attention to your pussy with full force, slapping four long fingers to your clit and lapping it in fat circles. you're not attempting to hold any sounds back now. even if you could you didn't want to, your noises were the highest of praises pouring from your parted lips for the beautiful blond man underneath you to keep going. you were so close it hurt. bursting at the seams at the doing of just one of his hands. what a panting, sweaty mess he made of your usually put together and composed self. but the most terrifying truth of it all was that you had no problem being at his mercy.

you gasped as you realized it, even in your state of seventh heaven. you weren't breaking this man. he was breaking you.

in a flash nanami had you on the desk. he was at the door by the time your head snapped up, stunned as you laid there propped up atop the cold wood.

nanami’s face was expressionless, but it told you everything you needed to know. you cursed at yourself under your panting breath. this was a move out of your own arsenal. and you couldn't blame him. it was about time someone gave you a taste of your own medicine. but out of all people… you didn’t realize kento nanami was the one who had it in him.

son of a fucking bitch.

he left you with a simple caveat — looking the definition of cool, calm, and collected as he readjusted his suit jacket and lugged his finished stack of paperwork out the door, "bad girls don't get to cum. let's try again next time."

[steddieprompts]

some years after everything and Steve and Eddie are basically the only ones left in Hawkins. They got an apartment together. They are very tight friends.

They are out together one early summer evening at Melvalds doing some shopping. Steve leaves the store first, Eddie still has his nose buried in a magazine he fully does not intend to buy.

"Steve!" Steve looks up from assessing the contents of his shopping bag to see none other that Tommy Hagan.

"Hey, Tommy. You're back in town." Steve tries to sound amicable without it being forced.

"Yeah just visiting the family. I heard you were still hanging around here. You should come visit in New York! Donna would love to meet you."

"Donna? What happened to Carol?"

"Shit, I guess I haven't seen you in a while." Tommy replied with a sharp smile that made Steve set his teeth. "She couldn't handle New York, you know. She missed her mom and didn't like how busy the city was," he explained dismissively. "She got all... moody. Depressed. She was a real downer so I told her she should just go back home and rot away if that's what she wanted... No offence," He tacked on without much remorse.

"Is she doing better? I haven't seen her around." Steve asked, hearing the tension in his voice.

"Beats me. Haven't heard from her," Tommy replied flippant, his gaze drifting off over Steve's shoulder. "Holy shit is that Munson? I should have guessed the freak would still be here."

Before Steve could figure out what to say to that besides punching Hagan in the face, Eddie was next to him, nose still in the magazine, grocery bag handing from his right elbow. "Stevie I had to buy it, you will not believe what they're saying about Ozzy... Hagan."

Steve could hear the life drop out of Eddie's voice as soon as he realized who he was standing in front of. He hated it.

"Jesus, is he crazy? Is he stalking you or something, Steve?"

"What?"

"Munson, you can chase Steve all you want, but he's not on your team, Freak." Hagan said, sniggering at Steve, like they were still in high school, like Steve was still that person.

Steve snapped.

Dredging up the suave Steve from all those years ago he draped his arm over Eddie's shoulder, making sure to give Eddie's shoulder a gentle squeeze as he did, his thumb brushing over the skin of Eddie's neck.

"I'm not sure you really know me any more, Hagan," Steve responded, cool and collected. As he said it he felt Eddie relax against him. Picking up on his plan immediately, Steve felt Eddie's arm come up behind him, his hand settling just above the hem of Steve's jeans.

"Oh, no," Tommy said through a sarcastic chuckle, "There is no way that Steve Harrington went fa--"

"If you finish that word I'll punch you so hard your freckles fall off," Steve bit out. "Have a nice trip back to New York."

With that he and Eddie turned toward his car, still holding tight to each other and not sparing Hagan another look. When they got to the car Steve pressed a kiss to Eddie's hair before they separated, Eddie's hand trailing along Steve's back.

They got in the car quietly and Steve backed out of the space, staring back toward their apartment, neither of them saying a word until they had driven a few blocks.

"I'm sorry," Steve finally gritted out into the quiet of the car.

"For what?" Eddie asked, confusion making him look over at Steve.

"For that. For him," Steve said and Eddie noticed how hard he was gripping the wheel.

"Steve, pull over." Steve sighed and pulled the car over to the side of the road; forest on one side, sleepy houses on the other. "Why are you apologizing for him?"

"Just..." Steve let out a sharp breath. He hadn't looked at Eddie yet. "Seeing him again. Hearing that garbage we used to..." Steve wrung the steering wheel like he was trying to break it "It was like I was back in high school calling Jonathan... that, and... Hagan just brought all of it back! All the shit!"

"Hey! Okay, Stevie, hey," Eddie reached out to gently touch Steve's arm, trying to bring him back. "That's him, not you."

"It was me!" He yelled, finally turning to Eddie.

"Was, Steve, was," Eddie replied, turning in his seat so he could face Steve. "You are not the same person you were in high school, not by a long fucking shot."

Steve hung his head and took a deep breath.

"And you're are not Tommy Hagan." Eddie added and then waited. Waited while Steve calmed. He gave a slight nod of his head.

"I'm sorry I used you like that," Steve finally said.

"What?"

"Pretending we were together. It was the only thing I could think to do."

"Stevie, I am never opposed to having a stud of your caliber on my arm." Eddie grinned as he watched Steve try to fight off a smile. "Besides, the only reason I didn't try to rip his face off is 'cuz your arm was around me. One more second and Carol would have needed a new boyfriend."

"He left Carol."

"What?"

"She got depressed in New York and he dumped her."

Eddie was silent for a while. "That's awful."

Steve nodded.

After a moment Eddie shifted so he was sitting straight in his seat. "Let's go, Stevie. The ice cream should be in our stomaches by now."

Steve nodded and pulled back onto the road.

"Thank you, by the way." Eddie added.

"My pleasure." Steve smarmed at him.

"Oh I bet it was. You can't resist all this, I know." Eddie said, tossing his hair over his shoulder.

"Oh, baby! Ow!" Steve hooted as Eddie cackled. "Oh I am so telling Robin about this on our next call," He chuckled.

(possible part 2 where they realize their feelings but like... don't hold your breath)

(lmao couldn't stop thinking about it, here's part 2)

[mariasont]

hey girlie, first of all absolutely adore all of your hotchie fics no one writes him as well as you do!! second of all i am dying to read bimbo!assistant! x hotch smuuuutt (only if ur comfortable, pls ignore if not!!) i feel like that would be the only time hotch would have her completely and utterly speechless (idk why but i literally cannot get hotch w a breeding kink out of my goddamn mind!!!!!!) anyways hope ur having a fab day, and thank u for feeding us over the last few days 😘

Space Between Distraction & Indulgence - A.H

summary: bimbo!assistant!reader want’s aaron’s attention. aaron wants to finish his case notes. too bad for him, you always get what you want

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, explicit stuff going on here, fingering, p in v, no condom (bc we trust hotch is responsible but you shouldn’t be), dirty talk, hotch is a boob man sorry not sorry, after care with a side of psychoanalysis bc he can’t help himself

wc: 6k (got a little carried away my b)

a/n: thank u sm for requesting ugh!!!! u all r going to give me a god complex if you keep talking about how i write hotch LOLOL i love u sm hope u like the fic!!

Saturdays with Aaron had a way of making time feel like something slippery and golden, something you could almost touch before it vanished between your fingers. The mornings stretched long and languid, a lazy kind of indulgence that should have felt endless, but somehow, with him, it never was.

You woke up late. Very late. The kind of late that made you blink at the clock in mild disbelief before flopping back against the pillows. And then there was the warmth. Not just the heat of the blankets, but something deeper, something winding low in your belly.

Oh. Right. The dream. You swallowed, biting your lip as if that might make the memory dissipate. It wasn't outright filthy, but it had been suggestive enough. Annoying. Frustrating. Embarrassing. It was the kind of thing that made you wish Aaron was still in bed.

He wasn't, of course. That would require Aaron Hotchner to do something reckless and irresponsible, like relax. If he wasn't keeping the country from total collapse, he was finding something equally as urgent to fix, probably buried in reports right now, coffee in hand, eyes scanning the page like national security depended on it. And maybe it did. You didn't know.

What you did know was that you'd been circling him all afternoon, orbiting like some needy little planet trapped in his gravitational pull, and he still hadn't acknowledged you. A small part of you—one you didn't want to name—had hoped he'd notice you by now. That he'd glance up, see you, reach for you. But he hadn't. And that was okay. Really. You weren't needy. You weren't desperate.

But you noticed him. You always noticed him. And this version of him, the weekend version, was particularly hard to ignore. The casual clothes, casual for him, anyway, stomped all over your ability to think straight (not that you had much to concentrate on in the first place).

The grey crewneck he had on stretched across his shoulders, molding to the shape of him like it had been made for him. His jeans, worn in all the right places, settled on his hips in a way that made you feel like a pervert just by looking.

Even his hair had you practically drooling. Not messy, of course—Aaron Hotchner didn't do messy—but it was softer than usual, a little mussed, like he'd dragged his fingers through it one too many times without bothering to fix it.

It made him look almost touchable, like someone who should have been stretched out next to you on the couch, letting you mess it up even more, not hunched over a pile of paperwork like the case files were going to disappear if he blinked.

His forearms flexed every time he turned a page, his muscles shifting subtly every time he moved. You didn't even realize how blatantly you were staring until his fingers skimmed up to his jaw, scratching absently at the stubble there. Because now all you could think about was how it would feel under your fingertips, under your lips, under—okay. Enough.

The magazine in your lap was technically open, fingers flipping through glossy pages filled with designer gowns and scandalous headlines. Normally, you'd be all over it, sipping coffee as you devoured the who wore what and who was caught with who. But today, you weren't really reading, you were just holding it, turning pages for the sake of it. Something to occupy your hands while you definitely didn't stare at Aaron.

He had started keeping these around after you mentioned, offhandedly, how much you loved them. You hadn't even meant it as a suggestion, but the next time you visited, there it was—sitting on the coffee table like it had always been there.

He hadn't spared you so much as a glance since you walked in—not even when you'd practically drifted past his desk, close enough that he should've felt you there. He had mumbled a good morning, sure, but his eyes never left the page, his attention locked onto whatever was in that file.

You sigh—loudly. Pointedly. The kind of exaggerated little huff that normally earns you at least a glance, maybe even a what's the matter, sweetheart?  There was no reaction today. He just flipped another page, one hand smoothing over the text, the other tapping against the desk like you were completely invisible.

You toss the magazine onto the table—just a little too hard. Then you stretch out on the couch, shifting just enough that his button-down rides up, baring more of your thighs than should be considered decent. The air against your skin makes you hyperaware of what isn't there—only your favorite panties. The tiniest scrap of fabric between you and absolute obscenity. If he so much as glanced in your direction, he'd have the perfect view. But he doesn't.

You sigh again, softer this time, just enough to sound absentminded, like you're not trying to get his attention (even though you absolutely are). As you push yourself off the couch, you stretch a little, giving yourself an extra moment to watch him. You make your way toward him, steps slow, letting the hem of his shirt brush against the tops of your thighs as you move. His fingers flex against the page.

You settle against the edge of his desk, bracing yourself on your elbows, making a very intentional point of pressing your tits together. It's the kind of thing that should be subtle—just a natural consequence of your posture.

Months of Aaron have taught you more than just the way he takes his coffee or how he organizes his files. You've studied him—memorized him even. And one thing has become crystal clear:

He's absolutely a boob man.

You realized it gradually—the subtle stiffening of his posture whenever you leaned a little too close in the office, the way his fingers flexed when your blouse had just a bit too much give.

Then, when you started dating, it became even clearer. His hands never just grabbed—they claimed, like he was making up for all the times he couldn't touch.

His voice would go low, reverent, when he murmured, so pretty, sweetheart, his thumb brushing over your skin like he needed to feel it. And your bras—he had thoughts about those, much to your surprise. Which ones were his favorite. Which ones he hated because they got in the way.

But it wasn't until months later—when he had you spread out beneath him, his mouth hot and urgent against your skin—that he admitted it. His voice was rough, breathless, his grip tightening as he groaned, been trying so fucking hard not to look at these for years. And then, just to prove it, his mouth sealed over you like he had years to make up for.

"Do you need anything? Water? Coffee? Maybe lunch?"

His eyes lift—quick, practiced, almost indifferent.

Almost.

Because before they settle back down, they pause, just for a fraction of a second, right there. Right at the collar of his button-down, where the top buttons are hanging loose, where your skin is warm and soft and practically begging for attention.

But then, before you can revel in it, he's already looking back down. "No, I'm fine, sweetheart."

You bite your lip, actually contemplating throwing his stupid case file out the window. He's either knows what you're trying to accomplish and ignoring you on purpose or he's just that focused. You weren't sure which was worse.

You shove off the desk, but you don't step away. Instead, you step closer. Your hands find his shoulders first, sliding down to his chest as you lean into him, pressing against his back. The shift is immediate. He goes still, his spine going ramrod straight, like his brain has just caught up to what's happening.

Your shirt is paper-thin, your nipples are pressed right against him, and unless he's suddenly gone completely numb, he feels it.

You sink against him, letting your chin rest on his shoulder, breathing him in. Gods, he smells good. Clean, sharp, like something expensive.

You recognized it as the cologne you bought him. The one you picked, the one you dabbed on his wrist in the middle of a department store and grinned, telling him, This. This smells like you. This is the one.

Your fingers skim over his collar, your nails just barely catching against the heat of his skin.

"What are you working on?" You let the question drip from your lips, your voice all honey, sweet, but not innocent.

Aaron hums low in his throat. "Case notes."

"That's boring. Is there anything I can do to help? Your assistant is very willing to be of service."

His fingers pause and your stomach flips. But then, before you can savor it, he moves. His hand finds yours, slow, gentle, lifting it with patience. He presses a kiss to your knuckles, featherlight, frustratingly chaste, before setting your hand back down like you're some good little thing that's been successfully pacified. And then you catch it, the tiniest twitch of his lips.

"Thank you, honey, but I've got it under control."

You make a noise, half scoff, half petulant whine, and shift your chin against his shoulder, angling yourself just enough to shoot him a pointed glare. "You always say that. What's the point of having such a capable assistant if you're not going to use her?"

"Hmm. So that's what you want? For me to use you?"

"I don't know. Is that an option?"

Aaron's laugh is low, the kind that rumbles through his chest without much warning. It's never loud—it doesn't have to be—but it still manages to send your stomach into a ridiculous free-fall.

"There's just some stuff I need to finish up."

You groan, letting your forehead drop to his shoulder, arms squeezing around him like you can physically hold his attention. Like you can��will it away from the pages in front of him and back to you where it belongs.

"Is that your way of telling me I just have to sit here and be patient?"

Aaron's pen doesn't pause. "Mhm."

You huff. "And you think I'll be able to do that?"

His answer is immediate. Too immediate.

"You've survived this long," he says, and you swear you can hear the smirk in his voice. "I think you'll manage."

"Fine," you say after a moment, stepping around the chair before sinking into his lap, giving him plenty of time to stop you, but he doesn't. He never does.

You shift until you're settled, one leg draped over his, chest brushing his. His breath stutters—just a little, just enough to tell you that he feels you. His fingers flex against the desk, pressing harder into the wood, tension rolling through his back as he goes perfectly still beneath you, like he's waiting to see what you'll do next.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing," you hum, arms draping easily over his shoulders as you sink against him. Your cheek brushes his, lips just close enough that if he turned his head, just a little, you'd be right there. "You said you had to finish working. Don't let me stop you."

A slow inhale, a slight tilt of his head, then—his pen moves again, like nothing's changed. Like you haven't changed anything. You exhale against his skin, hiding your smirk in the crook of his neck, fingers idly tracing slow, featherlight circles along the nape of it. He's humoring you, and that's fine.

You let him pretend for a while, content to exist in the space between distraction and indulgence. You shift in his lap, weight pressing into his just enough.

His body reacts before he does, muscles tightening, his breath slowing like he's thinking too hard about not reacting.

"Sit still."

"I am still," you reply, the words light on your tongue, but the slow curve of your hips tells another story.

"Sweetheart."

You lean in, close enough that your noses brush, your forehead pressing to his as your lips part ever so slightly. "What? I'm not doing anything."

Aaron's breath comes out sharp, ragged, the sound scraping its way from his throat like he's been holding onto it for too long. His chest pushes against yours, every inhale pressing you closer, every exhale heating the space between you. He leans back, just enough to create the smallest sliver of distance.

You roll your hips again, slower this time, savoring the friction that sends a shudder through you, tightening every muscle in your body with anticipation. The feeling sparks through you, sharp and intoxicating, sending heat pooling in your stomach. His reaction was subtle, the shift of his jaw, his hand brushing against the desk, like he doesn't trust himself to touch you yet.

His gaze drops, heavy-lidded, to where your bodies fit together, the rise and fall of your breath syncing with his.

His hands land on your hips, thumbs pressing in, not enough to stop you, just enough to remind you he could if he wanted to. When his eyes meet yours again, there's no rush, no immediate reaction. You knew exactly what it meant and what usually followed, he was just waiting for the moment you tip the scales too far.

"Do you want to tell me what exactly it is you're trying to do?" he asks, his voice low, the kind of tone that makes you forget your own name for a second.

You push against him again, grinding just enough to feel the press of him, the heat of him, and god. His fingers dig in—tight—like he's trying to stop you, but you don't miss the way his breath catches, the way his grip falters for half a second. Your fingers curl into his shirt, and suddenly, you can't remember what your original plan was.

You shift forward, your body molding to his, your breath fanning against his skin as your lips brush his ear. Your teeth scrape, light, but not accidental.

"I'm just feel a little... overlooked." Your fingers tighten where they rest, nails digging in just enough to make sure he feels it. "Is it so bad that I want your attention?"

His grip tightens, harder this time, his fingers digging into your hips with a kind of warning you'd be stupid to ignore. The heat of his palms seeps through the thin fabric of his shirt, scorching into your skin like a brand.

"You have my attention." You don't believe him. Not really. You press your lips into a pout, brow furrowing just slightly. "But if you keep moving like that, I might now be so nice about it."

Your hips shift, an instinctive little squirm, testing to see if you can push past his hold. You can't. "I can't help it."

"You can't help it?" he repeats, almost thoughtful, like he's turning the idea over in his mind. "I think you can. You just don't want to."

You want to argue, you really do, but nothing comes out, only a sharp inhale that never quite makes it into words. Because he's right. He knows he's right.

The little noise that escapes your throat is purely instinctual, frustrated but breathy, like your body is already conceding before your mind catches up.

"I told you to stop," he murmurs, but the way it sinks into you, the way it wraps around your ribs like something stretched too tight, tells you exactly what kind of trouble you're in.

He mirrors you, crowding in, his breath skimming your ear. His palm presses into the small of your back, slotting you back into place. "But you don't listen, do you?"

You shake your head without even meaning to, the deafening roar of your pulse making it impossible to think clearly.

"No, you don't," he murmurs, his tone dipping lower, turning darker, more intimate. His hands flex as if to remind you of the control he holds. Then his lips graze your jaw, his breath fanning over your skin. "You push. You test the boundaries. And then you pretend to be shocked when I hold you to them."

His fingers slide down, dragging over your thigh with an almost excruciating slowness. He pauses to squeeze there.

"First, you sprawled out on the couch—" his thumb sweeps over your skin, "like you didn't know exactly how that would look."

Your breath stutters, catches, knots itself into something tangled and messy as his hand moves, sliding higher, pressing firmer, stopping just shy of where the ache blooms.

His eyes darken, the heat behind them smoldering with something deep, something that settles like fire in the pit of your stomach.

"Then you leaned over my desk, practically shoving these—" His hand moves before the words fully land, cupping the curve of your breast. His thumb rolls over your nipple. "—right in my face."

Your breath catches, your hips lifting, your thighs parting like you're meant to be touched. Like you need him there. But he doesn't give in. He just moves lower, slow and taunting, until his palm covers the heat between your legs, pressing lightly over the thin fabric of your panties.

His fingers flex, testing. Feeling.

"And now this," he murmurs, and gods, his voice, his voice, is like a razor wrapped in velvet, smooth and cutting all at once. "You squirm and pout like you don't know exactly what you're doing. But I know better, don't I?"

The words settle in your spine, and suddenly, you don't feel like you know what you're doing. Like you're the one pulling at a thread you don't quite understand, but it's already too late to stop. A shiver rolls through you, bone-deep, leaving your muscles lax, your body melting into his like you were always meant to be here.

"I'm sorry," you murmur so quietly, you're not even sure if he hears it. "I just... I wanted you to notice me."

Aaron's hum is low, deep, almost amused. His thumb finds your jaw, sweeping along the curve of it as he tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"Oh, I noticed you. I always notice you. In fact, you're all I ever notice." His hand slips away from where you want it most. "But if this is the only way you know how to ask for my attention, sweetheart, then I think we have a problem."

Your grip on his shirt is useless, you're clinging to him, to anything, but he's the one in control. His hands settle on your hips, demanding, guiding you over the hard line of his cock, forcing you to take the friction, to feel every inch of him through the layers still between you.

The friction is blinding, sending heat licking up your spine, setting every nerve in your body on fire. Your legs tremble, a sharp, choked sound escaping before you can stop it, and you clutch at his shoulders, nails sinking deep into muscle as pleasure coils tight and insistent in your belly.

"Aaron," his name slips from your lips, high and uneven, like it costs something to say it. Your head bows, forehead pressing into his shoulder, hands trembling against his chest. "I wasn't trying to be bad. I just... I didn't know what else to do."

"No, sweetheart," he murmurs. "You didn't think, did you? And now look where that's gotten you."

His words should sting, but they don't, not when his hands are so gentle, smoothing down your spine like he's soothing something raw inside you. And then his voice, warm and promising, settles over you, "But I'll take care of you now."

And gods, you need him to. He's so hard, the thick length of him pressing against you through denim and cotton, teasing, tormenting. Everything burns—your skin, your stomach, that deep, pulsing ache between your thighs. Your head swims, feverish, your mind caught between more and please and I can't take this. But he knows. Of course, he knows.

"Do you feel that?"

"Yes."

"Good. If you want to keep going, you'll take care of it. Go ahead."

Your hands move with the kind of urgency that betrays just how badly you need this, need him. Your fingers trail down, brushing over the tight muscles of his stomach, and it's almost enough to make you dizzy, just touching him, just knowing what's waiting for you beneath layers of fabric.

The button of his jeans fumbles beneath your fingers before finally popping open. And then you're pulling him free. He's thick in your hand, burning hot against your palm, and something about that, about feeling him like this, for you, makes something feral sink its teeth into you.

And then he finds you.

His fingers slip under your panties, gliding through the obscene slickness there, and you don't mean to react so violently, don't mean to moan so loud, but it rips out of you before you can stop it.

"Oh, honey," Aaron murmurs, almost thoughtful, like he's just now realizing the full extent of your undoing. "I didn't realize you'd gotten this worked up."

Like it's an observation. Like it's fascinating.

His fingers push, stretching you open, teasing just the right spot, and you jerk against him with a sharp, strangled moan. Your grip around him tightens, your strokes turning sloppy, uneven, desperate.

"Aaron—" His name tumbles out high and needy, your head tipping back, eyes fluttering shut.

"I didn't mean to—" Your voice shakes, a hitched little gasp tangled between syllables. "I just—" Your breath stutters, heat climbing, overwhelming. "I didn't know what to do."

"You don't have to know what to do." His fingers slow just enough to let you catch his breath as he murmurs. "You just have to let me take over. That's what you wanted, wasn't it?"

Your nod is frantic, almost mindless, as his words echo in your ears.

"Please." It falls from your lips like a confession, like you'd say anything if it means he'll give you what you want.

His fingers thrust deeper, and the shock of it rips a gasp from your lips, straight into his kiss. It's messy, frantic, all clashing mouths and stolen air, your breaths coming too fast to match his, like you're afraid if you let him go for even a second, he'll pull away.

Your grip on him tightens without thinking, your fingers flexing around his cock, but the sensation barely registers now, drowned out by the wetness pooling between your thighs, the slick drag of his fingers against your walls.

You can't keep up. You're chasing something that feels just out of reach, your hands leaving his cock, fumbling for something solid, something real. They find his face, fingertips brushing over the rough stubble of his jaw, trying to find yourself in him, in the way he's ruining you.

You kiss him like you can tell him everything that way, like he might understand the ache better through lips and tongues and the way your body trembles under his hands.

And then—he stops. His fingers slip free, and the sound you make is a whine, a protest, your hips tilting, seeking, trying to drag him back in. But he doesn't move, doesn't give you what you need, just smirks against your lips like he enjoys watching you squirm.

"You're so impatient," he murmurs against your lips.

But before you can protest, before you can tell him that yes, yes, you am impatient, please just give it to me, his hands tighten on your hips. And then—oh.

He lifts you, positioning you just right, and then, lowers you down.

The head of his cock pushes inside, and your breath catches, lips parting in a broken gasp. The stretch is devastating, inch by inch forcing your body to open, to yield to him. He's so deep, impossibly deep, and for a second, you forget how to breathe, how to think, your only thought being how does he even fit?

It feels endless, your thighs shaking against his as he takes his time, forcing you to feel every slow, torturous inch. Your body clenches around him, your nails dragging over his scalp as you bury your face against his neck.

"Breathe," he murmurs, voice thick, lips grazing your temple. "That's it. Let me take care of you. You just have to let me in, sweetheart."

"Okay, okay," you whisper, voice shaky as you bury your face against his neck, arms wrapping tighter around him.

His other hand moves, dragging up your spine before wrapping around your waist. And then—he presses deeper.

The air leaves your lungs in a sharp, punched-out gasp. He doesn't stop, doesn't let you breathe, just sinks in, stretching you open until he's fully seated inside you. Until there's nowhere left to go.

"That's it," he groans, voice tight, his mouth ghosting along your jaw. "So tight. So warm. Fuck, sweetheart, you know this is what you were made for, don't you?"

You try to think of something, something teasing, something bratty, something that might tip him over the edge, but your body betrays you, trembling around him, squeezing down so tight you feel him shudder.

"God, you're tight," he mutters, his fingers pressing into your hips, hard enough to leave bruises. "I can feel every little tremble, every squeeze. You feel that, sweetheart? How perfectly you fit around me?"

"It's like you don't want to let me go. Is that what you want, honey? To keep me right here?"

Your body clenches down instinctively, like you're answering him without meaning to, and his breath catches for just a second before his lips curve against your skin. You nod, frantic, a little dazed, a little wrecked, and his chuckle is pure sin.

"Good. Because I'm not going anywhere."

He pulls back just enough to create the kind of unbearable friction that makes your breath catch, your body tightening like a bowstring.

"Every little sound you make drives me insane." His breath drags over your cheek, his lips just shy of touching, like he's teasing himself as much as he is you. "Do you even realize what you do to me?"

You try to answer, you really do, but your lungs don't work properly anymore, your body focused on the pleasure threatening to snap at any second. Your fingertips tremble against his shoulders, your thighs quiver, and Aaron knows exactly what that means.

"That's it. I can feel you trembling, sweetheart. You're so close, aren't you?"

His words strike something deep, something primal, and the fire curling between your thighs roars in response. Your head tips back, your breath breaking apart as your hands scramble for purchase, fingers sliding to his face, thumbs brushing over the roughness of his jaw. You pull him into a kiss that's all hunger, all desperation, your lips parting to let him devour you.

He groans into your mouth, a sound that vibrates through your chest, and then his hips snap up into you. The stretch is suffocating, the sheer fullness of him sending sharp pulses of pleasure up your body with every deep thrust.

"I've got you," he murmurs against your lips. "You don't have to hold back. Just let go for me, sweetheart."

It crashes into you harder than you expected, knocking the breath straight from your lungs. Your moan catches halfway, tumbling out in pieces as your body convulses, clenches tight, gripping him in a way that makes him hiss through his teeth.

He thrusts deep, brutal, final, and then he's gone, his head dropping back as a groan tears from his chest.

He fills you in thick, pulsing waves, each pulse making your thighs tighten around him, making you gasp at how deep it settles. The feeling is overwhelming—the heat of him, the weight, the way his cock still twitches inside you, like he’s unwilling to let a single drop go to waste.

You're not sure where your body ends and his begins, your limbs heavy, useless, boneless as you slump against him. Your breath stutters, still uneven, every exhale pushing against his chest as the last waves of pleasure roll through you.

"You take every drop so fucking well," he murmurs. "Meant to keep you full."

His fingers press into your hips, just a little tighter, just enough to make you feel how deep he still is.

"Don’t move yet."

Your breath stutters, the words landing deep, something fluttering tight in your stomach.

"Just a little longer," he murmurs, his hands absently smoothing up and down your spine. His voice drops, lower, rougher—

"I want to make sure it sticks."

You shudder, pressing closer, your face tucking against his neck as everything—the fullness, every drop of his cum—settles in.

Aaron exhales, his chest rising beneath you, and suddenly, he shifts. His grip on your hips soften and slide up, like he can feel the way you're trembling against him. 

"Breathe, sweetheart," he murmurs. "You can do that for me, can't you?"

You try, you really do, but when you inhale, it's a stuttering, gasping thing, barely controlled. Your thighs still shake, your body still throbs around him, and you can feel the way he exhales, like he enjoys this—enjoys feeling you like this, soft and trembling in his arms.

"Easy," he murmurs. One hand slides up your spine, cupping the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair. "That was a lot."

You nod—or, at least, you think you do. Everything feels floaty, light, warm. Your head feels like it's filled with pink clouds. Your limbs feel soft, useless, like you're some well-loved doll that's been played with for hours.

He tilts your chin up, catching your gaze.

"You okay?" His brow furrows slightly, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

You blink slowly at him, lips parting, trying to focus.

"Mhm," you hum, then pause, frowning just slightly. "Wait, no—hold on."

His jaw tenses immediately, but you reach up, poking his cheek with a weak, clumsy finger.

"You didn't kiss me," you mumble, like it's the most important fact in the universe. "You're supposed to kiss me after, 'cause, like, you love me and all that."

Hotch lets out a slow breath, like he's holding something back. His head tilts, just barely shaking, like he's in mild disbelief of you. And okay, fine, maybe you do say a lot of dumb things. But this wasn't dumb. It was valid. It was scientifically proven that post-sex cuddles should include at least one (1) I love you and one (1) kiss, and you were simply holding him accountable.

"Of course I love you," he murmurs, like the answer is so obvious, so unquestionable, that it almost makes you feel silly for asking. And then he kisses you.

It's deep, drawn-out, the kind of kiss that makes you forget where you are. 

You're still in his lap, still tangled in the ridiculous, oversized leather chair, but you don't feel like you're anywhere. Not in his apartment, not even in your own body. Just floating, existing in between his lips and yours.

When you finally pull back, it's not even voluntary—just the sad, unfortunate reality of needing air.

"Wow," you murmur, your fingers lazily brushing over his jaw.

"Wow?"

"Mhm." Your tongue darts out, sweeping over the kiss-swollen curve of your bottom lip, like you're trying to catch what's left of him there, trying to savor it. "Like... I feel very wow."

A smirk tugs at his lips, but his hands don't stop moving, don't stop tracing, don't stop feeling. His fingers smoothed absently over your hips, up your spine, his palms blending into your skin. Like he's checking for something. Like he's making sure you're here with him.

And for a second, you think he's about to kiss you again. He looks like he wants to, his gaze flickers to your lips, his hands flex just slightly, his body leans in just a hair. But then his gaze flickers, his lips part slightly as if he'd just remembered something.

"You said something earlier."

You blink again, brain lagging behind slightly as reality creeps back in, still floating somewhere in bliss. Which you felt was a more pressing topic than whatever he's about to say.

Your face scrunches up immediately, like maybe if you look cute enough, he'd drop it. 

"I said a lot of things earlier," you rush out, voice a little too high, a little too hasty, your hand flapping vaguely in the air. "So many things. A real stream of nonsense, actually. I was just saying words, you know, as one does—"

You shift slightly, suddenly painfully aware of the position you're in, and he doesn't even blink.

"Aaron," you say, narrowing your eyes. "You're literally still inside me and you want to have a conversation right now?"

"Yes," he says simply, like of course he does, like this is completely reasonable, like you aren't still wrapped around him, skin warm and sticky from what you just did.

His brows furrow slightly, and his head tilts in that very specific way that means he's already pulling apart the words, unraveling them like a thread, and working through them with that brain of his before you can even begin to take it back. 

"You said you felt overlooked," he states plainly, like a fact, which you guessed it was. "If that was something you just said in the moment, we can drop it."

His eyes narrow, studying you like he already knows the answer. "But if you meant it, then I want to understand why."

Your mouth parts, ready to push out something easy, something light, something that won't lead to the very real, very terrifying act of actually admitting things.

He was serious. Not angry or annoyed. Just serious. And concerned.

You exhale, suddenly very invested in dragging your nails lightly over his chest, watching the way they disappear into the fabric of his shirt, how his muscles shift slightly beneath your touch.

"I mean... it's not a thing," you mumble, barely glancing up. "More like a thing-adjacent."

"Sweetheart." The firmness in his voice made your stomach flip. It's not a scolding or a warning, just his way of making you hear him. "I'm not interested in whether you think it's a thing or not. I'm interested in whether it's true."

"I mean, I guess... maybe a little."

His fingers flex, like he's taking that in. He nods once, slowly. "That makes sense."

Your brows furrow. "It does?"

"Yes," he states plainly, like it's obvious. "You pick up on subtle changes—even the ones I don't intend to project. And when I get hyper focused on something, I shut everything else out. Not just you. Everyone."

"It's a defense mechanism. A way to compartmentalize. It doesn't mean I don't notice you. It means my brain assigns the highest level of urgency to the task at hand, and everything else—everything outside of that—is temporarily shut out."

"When I do that, it makes sense that you would feel like I'm not paying attention to you," he continues. "Because in those moments I'm not."

Your breath catches. He says it so matter-of-factly, so plainly, that it almost doesn't sting at first, it just lands.

His grip tightens ever so slightly where his hands rest on your like he already knows how you're taking it.

"But that doesn't mean I don't want to be paying attention," he murmurs, fingers brushing slow, absentminded circles against your skin. "It doesn't mean you don't exist in the back of my mind, even when I'm caught up in something else."

Aaron leans in a fraction, his eyes holding yours.

"Do you know what I did last night after you fell asleep?" he asks.

You blink. "Uh... sleep?"

He smirks. "Eventually. But first, I checked the thermostat. You always get cold at night, even when you say you won't."

Your face warms. "That's just—,"

"And before I left for work last week, I moved your car closer to the building because I saw you left your umbrella at my place."

"I—,"

"And when I'm out of town, do you know what I do every morning?"

You swallow.

"No."

"I think about what you're having for breakfast," he murmurs. "Not consciously. It's not something I try to do. It just... happens."

"You always eat something sweet," he continues, his thumb brushing over your jaw. "It's usually a pastry or something covered in chocolate. Sometimes cake, if we're being honest."

Your scrunch your nose again and he smiles.

"So, tell me," he murmurs, tilting your chin up. "Does that sound like someone who overlooks you?"

Your lips part but nothing comes out. Your heart aches—not the bad kind, but the kind that makes your chest feel too small for everything inside it. Because he's right. He notices everything. Not in the big, showy romance-movie ways but in the little things. In ways that matter.

You inhale a little too hard, blinking quickly, but the stinging in your eyes isn't going anywhere.

Aaron sees it immediately. "Sweetheart."

You shake your head quickly, sniffling.

"I'm not crying," you announce, even though your voice cracks on the last word, which kind of ruins the effect.

He smirks. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," you say firmly, poking his chest. "I just—I feel very loved and now I have to process that."

"Okay," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Do you need time to process, or should I just assume you're going to be attached to me for the foreseeable future?"

Your smile is instant, automatic, the kind that takes over your whole face before you can even think about stopping it. Your arms tighten around his neck, fingers curling into his shirt like you have any intention of letting go.

"Oh no, you're definitely stuck with me," you declare. "Like, you might need to call someone if you ever actually want me to let go."

His smirk is instant. "You're saying I should alert the authorities?"

You nod sagely. "I mean, that would be the responsible thing to do. But by the time they arrive, I'll have already made a compelling argument about how you should just let it happen."

Aaron huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "I'm sure you would."

taglist: @readergf @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @crouchingapple @navia3000 @aaronlovesava @bakugocanstompme @pansexualhailstorm @averyhotchner @looking1016 @everythinglizzy @sky2nd @alexxavicry @spencerssatchel @candyd1es @storiesofsvu @pleasantgardenwitch @kodzukenmaa @hiireadstuff @dilflover-3 @spennciesslut @phoenix-le-danseur-de-pole @jstcln @just-here-to-read13 @c-losur3 @wondergal2001 @oliver-1270 @ssahotchbabe @savagemickey03 @justanotherbimboslxt @imoonkiss @estragos @khxna @de-duchess @raysmayhem-72 @piinksdoll @justyourusualash @whimsicalpolitical @kcch-ns @cool-light32 @reidfile @sugarbutterbailey @ssamorganhotchner @persephonestears @moonyxstars @spookyysinsanity @proxxyshouse @spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @imsonotweird @jungchloe @she-wont-miss @duchesz @may-machin99 @historicallyweirdandqueer @in-the-kosmos @lcvealwayss @p13rc3-th3-m4tt13 @babyhoneybyhs @reire11

taglist is closed for now until i can figure out the best way to include more than 50 mentions :(

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 4

I may have girl bossed a bit too close to the sun and finished Chapter 5 and 6 too- I'm not quite happy with those so I'll go through them again before posting Ch5 😅

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 4 >>next

Well, we all knew they would never have time for you. They never do until it’s too late. That’s why funerals are for the living to say goodbye, to mourn, to let go of the guilt. It still hurt… It hurt so much to be brushed off by Alfred, to be ignored by Bruce, to be yelled at by Dick. You couldn’t even think of Jason without tearing up, and Tim was just straight-up mean. But at least he was honest. Cassandra and Barbara’s avoidance hurt the most since they were your only female interaction in years.

Everything you tried to do to prove yourself was, at best, ignored, at worst, compared to someone else and diminished. You had nothing in common with Richard besides knowing a few of the same bands. But that wasn’t enough to raise his interest in interacting with you. Every time he looked at you it was like he was angry and sad at the same time.

Jason and you were so similar. Finally, someone you could relate to, who knew how life on the streets was, how terrifying the big space of the Wayne residence was compared to the lives you once had. And yet he was more interested in Dick, no matter how rude the oldest boy was. You couldn’t blame him, you also wanted Richard’s attention. Your heart felt like it was rolled through needles and lemon juice when Jason got everything you wanted just for you to watch him get buried. Dick was angry when Jason first showed up, jealous, but by the time Jason grew up he was just as angry. You hoped that wouldn’t happen to you.

You were a great student, thriving in your classes and finishing middle school earlier than others, what else were you supposed to do when you had no friends? Of course, that was nothing to Tim’s brilliance. And every time you tried to bond with him on that or show him your achievements it would be a tired “I don’t have time for you.” or an uninterested “I achieved that when I was younger than you.”

Barbara is everything you wanted to be when older, smart, beautiful, had friends and the family's attention. It hurt so much to see her get along with Cassandra but not you, never you. And Cassandra… You tried. You tried to befriend her without overwhelming her, but since the first introduction, she had started ignoring you too, downright leaving the room if you entered it. Bruce went to all her recitals, but he never had time for your galleries or competitions. You stopped asking everyone to come when you found the invites and pamphlets balled up and thrown in the trash bins.

By the time Duke and Stephanie came around you had given up, what use was it? It’ll be another rejection, so you just took care of the garden and did more art, your room overflowing with it. You spent at least half of the monthly allowance Bruce gave, and yet you could still be a millionaire.

You gave up on the Waynes, only speaking to them if they spoke to you. You were done with them, with their secrets, with how they would talk between each other in whispers and then get quiet when you stepped into the room. They’d always look at you like you were a stranger, an enemy. And perhaps you were. So, fuck them. Fuck the boys, fuck the girls, and fuck Bruce and Alfred too.

Sneaking out was the best thing you have done for yourself- sure it was a long way from the Manor to the city and back, but it was all worth it. It was worth it to see the other street kids, to hear their stories, to hang out with the homeless and the girls on their smoke break, it was worth everything when you found your mom’s grave. It was nice, it felt like home.

Was it dangerous? Yes. But as long as you stuck to Red Hood’s territory you were fine, his rule of keeping kids safe seemed to also apply to you. He was nice, even if he never spoke around you beyond hums and grunts, but you enjoyed how gentle he was with the other kid, how he ruffled your hair, and how he helped you clean your mom’s grave. He was nice, and surprisingly so were most other rogues.

Ivy enjoyed helping you with tips for the garden, some of the flowers you grew there on every 13th of the month were made into bouquets for her, your mom’s grave, and Jason’s too. Two-face was surprisingly nice about your inquiry of the law and Penguin enjoyed helping you with your business classes. The Riddler made you want to smash your head against a wall most of the time, but boy was he good with philosophy.

You avoided the Joker like the plague. You couldn’t find it in you to care for him when Harley reminded you so much of your mom when she came with a black eye or busted lip asking if you could take care of Bud and Lou for a jiffy. You could never say no to her.

If Red Hood wasn’t keeping an eye on you, it was Bane or Killer Croc, both men letting you climb and swing from them like a spider. They enjoyed seeing a kid not tremble in fear at the sight of them, despite whatever they may tell you. Mr. Freeze was nice too, lonely like you. Sad you simply couldn’t take the cold for long no matter how many layers you put on.

You loved them all to a degree, but Catwoman always made you feel like her kid, not just a kid. Sometimes you felt guilty for wanting to call her mom, you had a mom. But she made you feel all soft and mushy, calling you her kit, crying with you when you first heard her call you that. She thought she had hurt you, oh, how panicked she was. But her hug was so warm, so loving once she found out that no one had called you their kid in so long.  You wish she would steal you away, she does too, but she made a deal with Red Hood. Selina wishes she had just taken you and moved across the country, everyone be damned.

Unknowingly, you had created the garden to hold flowers that reminded you of all of them, even the Waynes. You couldn’t bring yourself to kill their flowers, to make bouquets of them or sell them- you just didn’t have it in you. So, you just kept on growing them, talking to them, and telling those flowers what your alleged family would never listen to. And then Bruce ruined it all.

He wasn’t sure why he did it, exhaustion or paranoia, maybe both? But all Bruce knew he was seeing is his mom’s garden flourishing after years of it being neglected, of Alfred overlooking it at Bruce’s request to focus on what rooms were being used inside the manor instead. He didn’t think twice about grabbing the pesticide designed for Poison Ivy, didn’t think about asking Alfred, about asking the kids, he just reacted.

Bruce was drinking his guilt away in his office, forehead pressed against his desk as one hand held a whiskey glass and the other gripped at his hair. He had never seen his youngest that angry, crying so much-… He wasn’t sure when the last time he saw her smile or hang around the family was.

“What have you done?!” He remembers how pained and angry you sounded as he killed the last flower, his flower. He remembers how he acted, how annoyance rose in him as he explained, and he remembers how his heart fell out of his ass when you said that you took care of the garden and that you spent years building it.

His face remained unmoving as his hands shook, as his jaw clenched, as he could feel the sky crash on his head in tempo with your tears falling down your cheeks. He tried to justify himself, come up with a lie, something that would make him feel less guilty, but- “Yeah?! Well, maybe you would have known if you actually spared a glance in my direction from time to time- You should have left me in an orphanage, no- it should have been you instead of mom!”

You were hurt, you didn’t mean it, he was sure. Even after you went into the manor, crying your heart out, Bruce still sat there. He wasn’t sure what he could do, the pesticide ruined the soil, he didn’t even remember what flowers he saw. The man just went into his daytime office, grabbed his father's liquor, and drank. Bruce knew he should go and apologize and try to talk to you. He poured himself another full glass, instead. Tonight, Batman will be sleeping, and tomorrow Bruce will raise your allowance. If he remembers.

You knew to some degree Bruce didn’t like you, but for him to not even notice that you poured your blood and sweat into that garden when Alfred and even Cassandra did felt like a punch to the gut. You were a good kid, you tried your best to be, so why was this the hand you were dealt? Did he honestly think the flowers in the manor were bought by Alfred? The old man was so busy the last thing on his mind was to buy flowers for the house.

You couldn’t believe him, you could only cry for the lost plants, for one of the three things that brought you happiness. You curled into a ball under the warm duvet, crying into your knees until you could not anymore. The shadows did their best to soothe you, lulling you to sleep as the exhaustion of crying helped them.

Dreams didn’t come easy to you, sure, you had the usual nightmare, but calm dreams were a rare occasion. And this one felt so nice as you drifted in the endless dark space, two figures you couldn’t quite make out helping you stay afloat as they talked… chanted? You weren’t sure. It sounded like Latin, but it also didn’t. No matter, it was soothing, warm, it was what you needed.

You felt light as a feather. You felt free and- you hit your head… The pain not only confuses you but also wakes you up, the throbbing on the side of your head making you groan. Your tired eyes looked around trying to figure out what you hit as your hand rubbed the sore spot.

Maybe you were still dreaming. You must still be dreaming. Panic set into your veins- there was no way this was actually happening, it couldn’t be happening. You couldn’t be a meta- Batman hated metas and he worked for your- he worked for Bruce- You were fucked.

It didn’t matter that as soon as it happened and you panicked your body hit the floor so hard it rattled your nightstand, making a framed picture fall and break, it didn’t matter that you didn’t register the pain, or notice that you broke the floorboard where you hid all your diaries and drawings you made for the family- all your brain knew is that you should leave before Batman throws you in Arkham or GSP.

So that’s what you did. You grabbed your sports bag that you used for art supplies, stuffed it with some clothes, your laptop, phone, the chargers, took a few sketchbooks and pens, and the card with Bruce’s money. Not like he’ll notice, he didn’t notice that you spent thousands every other week at a fast-food joint for the homeless and street kids, didn’t notice that you spent millions every other year at retail stores for the same people, he didn’t notice the donations. He was as blind as a bat.

“Leap of faith” is what Superman once said in an interview about how others with the power could learn to take off. “It’s just a leap of faith.” He was right- you almost pissed yourself, but he was right. You understood why he always was floating above the ground; it felt so freeing to fly, circling the manor to the top, feeling the air around you. It was so nice. You should move, fly away, and yet your eyes can’t leave the destroyed garden. You should make a few stops before fully leaving… just a few.

When each of the rogues found one singular flower in their favorite seat, their window sill, on the weapons and cars they owned, all withered and falling apart, they knew what it meant.

Ivy was the first, she knew the second the plants died. After all, she helped keep the plants alive, nothing could thrive on the Wayne land anymore, almost like it was cursed, as if Death herself lived on the grounds. But seeing the burned and greying orange trumpet vine told her everything she needed to know, that it wasn’t you who destroyed them. Bruce Wayne and the Bats didn’t know what was about to come their way.

You’ll miss your friends, the kids, the rogues. You’ll miss Catwoman, but she always told you to be a bit more selfish. This was the moment for that. Doubt settled in at some point, but you had nothing holding you attached to the Waynes, Catwoman couldn’t or just wouldn’t take care of you, it was time to let go and abuse Bruce’s ignorance, make a new life for you where you don’t need to hide in the night for some social interaction.

New York City should be the perfect place for it.

Tag List: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry

[hoe4hotchner]

can i req aaron with an s/o who's ovulating or has a high sex drive and is easily turned on by him (regardless of if he's trying to or not)

The Hotchner effect | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader | WC: 2.0k | CW: MDNI, 18+, smut, Couch sex.

A/N: Well…… this was the smut I was excited about writing the night before I was hit by that car. So, here you guys go ;) To anyone interested: I've almost made a full recovery at this point. In a couple of days I'll probably be 100% fine again :D

You always thought you had decent control over yourself and your body—at least until you met Aaron Hotchner. Somehow, just being around him tested your limits, especially when he wasn’t even trying. Every. Single. Day. Whether it was his voice, as low and commanding as it was when you visited him in the middle of a case brief at the BAU, or the way his tie shifted as he rolled up his sleeves, everything he did made your heart race—and that was on a normal day.

But today? Today, your hormones were in overdrive. Ovulating didn’t just make you aware of him; it made everything he did feel like it was specifically designed to unravel you. All of your senses tuned onto his wavelengths.

His scent lingering in the sheets—hypnotizing.

The sound of his footsteps across the floor—ears perked.

Every little twitch and movement he made—you suddenly had 20/20 vision.

Like now, as he stood in the kitchen casually pouring himself a cup of coffee before retreating back to his office. The crisp white shirt he wore hugged his frame just right, the fabric stretched taut across his broad shoulders, his suit jacket long forgotten on the back of his chair after he had returned home.

He wasn’t even speaking, but the way he leaned against the counter, so composed and yet so authoritative, was enough to make your stomach flip and your thoughts veer wildly off course.

“Are you alright?” His voice cut through your haze, and you froze, realizing you’d been staring at him.

“Uh, yeah! Fine. Totally fine,” you said quickly, reaching for a cup as if that was why you’d been standing there in the first place.

His lips twitched in a faint smile, and you cursed internally because even that was hot. Damn him.

The problem was, Aaron knew. Maybe not the full extent of it, but he was far too observant not to notice the way your breath hitched when he looked at you or how your cheeks flushed whenever he got too close. And right now, you could see the flicker of amusement in his dark eyes as he stepped closer, seemingly to grab the sugar.

“Sure you’re fine?” he murmured, his voice dipping just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

You gripped the counter, your body betraying you as heat flushed through your skin. “Y-yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

His gaze lingered, assessing, and for a moment, you thought he might press further. But instead, he leaned back, sipping his coffee, completely unbothered by the chaos he was causing inside you.

The rest of the day wasn’t any better. Whether it was the way he adjusted his tie, the faint scruff on his jaw after a long phone call, or how his hand brushed yours when he came out of the office for a moment, you were practically vibrating with tension.

By the time he finished his workload, you were ready to combust.

Aaron was undoing his cufflinks when you finally snapped. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” you blurted, crossing your arms as you stood in the middle of the living room.

He glanced up, eyebrows raised, but the smirk tugging at his lips told you everything. “I might have an idea,” he said, his voice smooth as silk, and damn him again because he was still so calm, so composed, while you were unraveling.

“You’re driving me insane, Aaron,” you confessed, and this time, his smirk softened into something deeper, more knowing.

“Come here,” he said, his tone shifting, and the weight of it alone made your knees weak.

You didn’t hesitate, crossing the space between you in an instant. His hands found your waist, pulling you close as his lips brushed your temple. “You know,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin, “I’ve been trying to keep my distance all day because I could tell you were… distracted.”

You let out a soft, breathless laugh. “Distracted is an understatement.”

His fingers tightened slightly on your hips, his lips grazing your ear now. “Well, sweetheart, I’m all yours now.”

And that was all it took for you to finally close the gap, pulling him into a kiss that was every bit as heated as the tension that had been simmering between you all day.

As soon as your lips met, it was like all the pent-up desire and arousal from the day came pouring out in a wave of pure, unbridled passion. Your kiss was hungry, almost feral, your hands roaming over Aaron's body as if trying to memorize every edge and angle.

Aaron groaned into your mouth, his own hands slipping under your shirt to explore the soft skin of your back. He tugged impatiently at the fabric, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over your head and toss it aside before his fingers quickly found the clasp of your bra and unhooked it.

His gaze raked over your exposed breasts as he freed them.

"Fuck, baby," he growled, palming your one, the callous on his fingers rough against your skin. "You're so gorgeous. I can't get enough of you."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your nipples hardening almost painfully under his touch. You arched into his hand, a needy whimper escaping your lips. He took the opportunity to lower his head and capture one of your nipples between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to send a jolt of pleasurable pain straight to your core.

You cried out, tangling your fingers in his hair and holding him close. He lavished attention on your breasts, alternating between nipping and sucking until you were writhing against him, your body aching for more. Your hands scrabbled at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours.

Aaron seemed to understand, moving back just long enough to yank his shirt off before continuing his attack on you again. The feel of his bare chest against yours was electric, sending sparks of pleasure through your nerves. You ran your hands over his muscles, marveling at the way they flexed beneath your touch.

Your arousal was growing with each passing second, and your panties soaked. You could feel the heat building between your legs, your body crying out for release. Aaron seemed to sense it, his hands sliding down to the waistband of your pants.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with lust. "Tell me what you need, baby," he murmured, his fingers toying with the button. "Tell me how you want me to make you feel."

His words were like a match thrown in a puddle of gasoline, igniting the fire in your veins. "I need you," you gasped, your hips bucking against his hand. "I need you inside me. Please, Aaron, fuck me."

A wicked grin spread across Aaron's face, his eyes glinting with promise. "With pleasure," he purred, popping the button of your pants and sliding them down your legs. You kicked them off eagerly, leaving you in nothing but a damp pair of panties.

Aaron drank in the sight of you, his gaze trailing over every inch of exposed skin. "God, you're perfect," he breathed, running a finger along the edge of your panties. "So perfect."

He hooked his fingers under the fabric, slowly pulling them down and baring you completely to his hungry gaze. You flushed under his scrutiny, but the heat of his stare only served to fuel your desire. He leaned you back, the weight os his body pressing against you as your back hit the cushion of the couch.

"I'm going to taste every inch of you," he promised as he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, his breath ghosting over your sensitive skin. "I'm going to make you come so hard you forget your own name."

And with that, he buried his face between your legs, his tongue delving into your already dripping folds. You cried out at the first touch, your back arching off the couch. He lapped at you greedily, his tongue exploring every crevice and fold, finding all the spots that made you gasp and moan. He knew you too well.

Your hands flew to his hair, holding him in place as he worked you over with skill. Your thighs trembled on either side of his head, your hips rocking against his mouth in a desperate search for more. He obliged happily, sliding two fingers inside you and curling them just right, hitting the spot that made stars blind your vision.

"Oh god, Aaron," you keened, your head thrashing from side to side. "Don't stop, please don't stop. I'm so close."

He doubled his efforts, sucking hard on your clit as his fingers pumped in and out of you. The pleasure was almost too much to bear, building and building until it finally washed over you in a tidal wave of ecstasy.

You screamed his name as you came, your body convulsing beneath him. He worked you through it, prolonging your orgasm until you were boneless and spent, collapsing back against the mattress. But Aaron was far from done with you.

He crawled up your body, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that tasted of your own arousal. You could feel his stiffness pressing against you, hot and insistent. Breaking the kiss, he reached down to undo his pants, shoving them down just far enough to free his cock.

"I need to be inside you," he grunted, positioning himself at your entrance. "I need to feel you wrapped around me. Think you can take one more, for me?"

You nodded breathlessly, wrapping your legs around his waist. He surged forward, burying himself inside you with one smooth thrust. You both groaned at the sensation, your bodies fitting together like they were made for each other.

Aaron set a hard and fast pace, his hips snapping against yours with each powerful stroke. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your moans and cries of pleasure. He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, changing the angle and allowing him to go even deeper.

"You feel amazing," he panted, his eyes locked on yours. "So tight and wet and perfect. I never want this to end."

His words sent a fresh wave of arousal through you, your walls clenching around him in response, your eyes watering from pure bliss. He groaned at the sensation, his thrusts becoming erratic and uncoordinated as he chased his own release.

You could feel another orgasm building low in your belly, your body coiling tighter and tighter with each pass of his cock. "Harder," you gasped, digging your nails into his back. "Fuck me harder, Aaron."

He obliged with a guttural moan, hammering into you with all his strength. The bed creaked beneath you, rocking with the force of his thrusts. You could feel him pulsing inside you, growing thicker and harder with each passing second.

"Cum for me, baby," he groaned, his voice strained with effort. "Come all over my cock. I want to feel you squeezing me."

His words were all it took to send you hurtling over the edge once more. You came with a near-silent scream, your body shuddering and convulsing beneath him as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you. Aaron followed a second later, burying himself deep inside you and flooding your womb with his seed.

He collapsed on top of you, both of you gasping for breath as you rode out the aftershocks of your orgasms. He pressed soft kisses to your face and neck, murmuring words of love and devotion against your skin.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," you whispered back, tangling your fingers in his hair. "More than anything."

He smiled against your skin, rolling onto his side and pulling you close. You nestled into his arms, your body still tingling with pleasure. As you drifted off to sleep, safe and sated in his embrace, you knew that this was where you belonged.

[preydefiler]

thinking about being an abusive older sister... I keep my bedroom door closed and locked, not even our parents have a key. sometimes I bring someone home, and you can hear noises coming from under the door. you're curious, and you have to take a peek.

the first time you do, it's embarrassing. you watch me have sex with one of the neighborhood girls. it's rough, and there are times she's gagged and crying and you hear these incredibly wet noises, but this angle... you can't quite see. you never quite catch sight of my cock, which is... disappointing for some reason. you feel funny, and you think the feeling is wrong, but... you want more. so you seek more opportunities.

you find a spot in a tree in our backyard, where if you climb just high enough, you can wiggle into a space in the branches that gives you a view into my room. this time I'm in there alone, and I'm lounging on my bed. you watch me for a few minutes, mostly just me flipping through a magazine. but then I reach down and put a hand in my pants. you get that feeling again, and this time you start mimicking my movements. grinding against the branch you're laying on. you watch me unzip my pants and pull out my cock. it's hard, and fills up my hand, and you watch me pump while you moan softly in the leaves, until we both cum at the same time. you can't help but be mesmerized by the ropes I shoot, your tongue subconsciously sticking out of your mouth. you ruin your shorts, and have to spend the next half hour figuring out how to climb down and change without getting caught.

you decide you need a better view. you've tried sneaking in my room, but I keep it locked down tight. The door to my room is always closed. My window, however, doesn't always get locked. Perks of being on the second story. You find that if you climb on the roof from your window, you can climb down and into mine. The first time you tried, it was locked, and I almost caught you. The next time you were successful, and that's when you started coming in and listening to and watching me fuck near constantly.

Under the bed was an interesting choice. You shoved yourself under there because you were almost caught. You heard me unlocking the door just as you were closing the window. You were squeezed in with all kinds of other junk, old sports equipment and dirty clothes, which you secretly did enjoy having your face shoved into. a couple of boxes, some used sex toys, and some trash. You could hear everything, every noise and breath caught in my throat. Every moan the slut of the week groaned into my mattress. The humiliation of feeling my thrusts under my bed was tempting, but there was nothing to see but shed clothes.

Hiding in the closet seemed to be your favorite though. Through the slats in the door, you could see everything. Every inch of flesh, every drop of sweat and cum, every throb of my cock. You loved it. You couldn't get enough. You started jerking off into my clothes you found in there. Your favorite was a pair of my boxers that I had been too lazy to change for a few days, so they really stank like me. You'd watch, and pant, and rut into your hand as I would finish load after load into anything but you, and the hunger enveloped you. I started to be the only thing you thought about. But you were careful. You made sure you were never caught.

It was your birthday, and our parents were throwing you a party. You invited all your friends, there was music and games and even an inflatable bounce house, which you thought was a bit too childish, but didn't fight about it. You always kept an eye on me though. And I said, Fuck the party. You knew my routine by this point. I'd go steal a beer from the garage, sneak behind the tree to drink it, paw at one of the girls there until I took her up to my room for more of the same. You were prepared though. You snuck off from the party, and you were able to get inside my room. I had left my door unlocked, which was uncommon, but not unheard of, and you slipped inside the closet like so many times before. And like clockwork, there I was, leading one of your friends to my bed.

Something about this fuck felt different. I seemed... angry, almost, and I slammed into your friend with scary force. I pressed both of my hands into the small of your friend's back and I stretched her out and pushed as deep as I could. I pounded her wet holes, and I faced her towards the closet door. This was the hottest and roughest you had seen me be, at a few points seeing me punch into the slut's ribs a few times, told her I liked it better when she cried. and then, somehow, I looked at you. You swear I couldn't see you, you were hidden in the closet. you hadn't made any noise. but as I fucked your friend harder and angrier, I kept glancing at the door to the closet. I growled and groaned and finally thrusted my seed deep into your friend, and after a few minutes of gasping breaths, she gathered up her clothes, thanked me, and left.

I continued to lay there panting for a few moments longer before I got up and relocked the door behind your friend. Still nude, I flopped back on the bed on my back. My cock was angled directly at you, still mostly hard and glistening with cum and your friend's juices. After a couple of minutes of awkward silence, you caught me looking at the closet door again. I looked away out the window, and you were too afraid to move. Afraid to be caught. Your heart pounded in your chest, fearful of what I would say, what our parents would say. I made a frustrated face and then huffed loudly. I finally looked at the closet door again and made eye contact with you. I rolled my eyes and finally spoke.

"Well? Are you going to cower in there, or are you going to come and get a taste, clean me up? Figured I've made you wait long enough... C'mere, meimei, let me show you how happy a birthday you can have..."

[scream4toji]

ooo what about soft morning sex with Toji ?

+18 only/smut

You can feel some shuffling beside you and his warm breath heavy against your ear. He was late coming home last night and you were too exhausted to wait on him. But now he wants to make up for that missed time.

“Hey…hey…”, he breaths into your ear as you lay on your back, cozied under the blanket. His warm body was pressed against your side, making you aware that he was quite ‘awake’. 

You open your eyes and turn your back against him, staring at the alarm clock that only reads 6:30 am. You grab your blanket and toss it over your head, sinking under it, silently begging for another hour of sleep. 

And he tries again while softly spooning you from behind. “Hey….hey…” This time something really hard pokes into your rear.

“Toji…please let me sleep”, you groan in your sleep.

But Toji doesn’t listen. Toji does what Toji wants. And right now he wanted some morning sex because his morning glory was begging for your pussy.

Toji submerges his face under the blanket and presses his nose against the back of your head, taking a nice long inhale of your herbal shampoo.

“Come on doll. Just a quick one to start my day”, he whispers into your ear. 

“My day hasn’t started. Just one more hour”, you beg. 

He purposefully let out a low moan into your ear, thrusting his hips forward so you wouldn’t be able to ignore his problem that was growing by the minute.

“My dick ain’t waiting for another hour. Come on babe. We haven't had sex because of your damn period. And I know you are done with that shit”. He began to grind his hips into your pajama bottoms, confirming his suspicion as he didn’t feel any extra padding. 

You are defeated by Toji’s stubbornness. 

“Alright alright”, you sigh and try to turn onto your back but he doesn't let you move. 

His hand rests on the side of your pelvis and he hooks his thumb into the elastic of your pajamas. 

“Toji! Let’s do this properly if you want sex”, you demand but he is already pulling your bottoms down to expose your round ass to his clothed erection.

“Nah. Too cold to get outta the blankets”, he refused and snaked his hand around your hips and towards your crotch. “Put out ya’r ass”, he ordered.

You are too tired to argue and shuffle forward to give your ass some space to stretch back and spread open for him. 

His fingers crawl towards your soft clit, giving it a few pokes, poking it awake just like he poked you awake. You rest your hand on top of his, guiding him to rub a little faster.

“Gettin’ into the mood now?”, he hummed with pride, feeling your clit come alive under his fingertips.

You grab his hand by the wrist and push it off your hardened clit. He looked at you with a raised eyebrow and was about to protest but stopped when he found you shuffling around to turn and face him instead. 

“What? Missed my smug face?”, he grinned. 

You do a little kick with your legs, wiggling out of your pajamas and kicking them off your ankles while still taking shelter under the blanket. You place your top leg over his, his own hands pulling down his boxers to release his achy cock. 

Kissing came later. Not until he had secured his spot deep inside your walls. You let out a soft whimper of a moan as he slowly but eagerly stretched you out. No matter how many times you did it with him, you could never get used to his fat cock. He certainly filled you up from all directions. 

He began thrusting his hips forward, kissing you on the lips, thanking you for opening your legs for his greedy cock. Gentle morning sex was nothing like the heated wild evening sex. Those two were like sex with different couples. 

You prefer the sweet morning cuddles while he tenderly fucked your hole at a gentle pace, careful not to shock you as you slowly wake up from your slumber.

“Working from home today?”, he asked after finishing off inside you, still lodged and locked, careful not to make a mess of the bedsheets beneath.

“Yea”, you reply. Of course his dick hardens and twitches as he gears up for round two.

(Toji requests are open for shorts/imagines/headcanon)

[narrycherries]

ivy: magnificently cursed

she can’t seem to ignore him and he’s rather observant of her..

(part 5)

masterlist / ivy series

word count: 11.4k

warnings/tags: harry x fem oc, angst, alcohol use, enemies to lovers

[a/n: hi before you again I just want to say I hope this isn’t repetitive, a good portion of the content of this series will happen at the same few locations, so just be patient with me lol, slow burn is coming to an end soon I promise! enjoy xx]

..Sometimes I just want to scream and scream until my lungs explode. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him! He has been nothing but an ass to me, even when I try to thank him for helping me he acts like he hates me. What did I ever do to him? Am I losing my mind? Was there something that happened that I can't recall? And my stupid heart won’t stop gushing over him. What is wrong with me! Am I literally losing control of my mind? And to think that I went out of my way to be nice to him.. just to have it thrown back in my face? I’m willing to bet that nobody hates anyone as much as he hates me..

A frustrated huff flew past Ivy’s lips as she finished writing the final line of her diary entry for the day. She always tried her best to write her feelings and thoughts down so that her brain would be less congested. Today’s session lasted about twenty minutes as she quickly jotted down her conflicting thoughts regarding a certain person - a person she hadn’t seen in a couple of weeks who just so happened to take up every available space in her mind. She slammed the journal shut and shoved it back into the drawer, not wanting it to be left out in the open. She never thought Emma would go through her things, it was just a personal preference she had - keep it hidden.

Ivy quickly got dressed after checking the time. It was Friday evening and she had something big planned for the night. She wasn’t going out on a date or going to dinner with Emma, she was doing something for herself and by herself. She checked her reflection, smiling as she thought she looked rather happy - despite being so angry as she scribbled words into the diary just minutes ago. Before long, she was out of the house and in her car, headed for the destination she was excited to arrive at.

There was a bit of nervousness building in her stomach as she gripped the wheel and anticipated what was going to happen. She tried to remain calm and remind herself this wasn’t the first time she’s doing this. She had a little bit of experience with the process, and she already knew the end results were well worth the anxiety. The music softly buzzed in the car as she drove to the tattoo shop. She didn’t want to overwhelm her mind with loud noise, she had to save all her energy for sitting through the tattoo.

Emma was excited that she was getting a new one, but she was unable to accompany her tonight since she had made plans with Niall. Ivy wasn’t bothered by having to go alone, she actually preferred it that way. With her previous tattoos, she just sat in silence as the artist did their job with precision and focus. She thought that talking would be too distracting.

A bright smile grew on her lips as she walked up to the door of the shop, the bright green open sign nearly blinding her. The bell jingled above the door, making her glance up for just a second. Zayn had just walked into the lobby when she came in, so he greeted her with a quick hug.

“How’ve you been?” He hadn’t seen her since their trip ended.

“I’ve been pretty good. And you?” She asked as he sat down at the desk to verify her appointment details.

“Decent, decent. Been having a lot of practices this week for the show tomorrow, so m’a bit tired.”

She laughed gently. “Not too tired, I hope.”

“Oh, of course not! I could tattoo in my sleep. It’s everything else that I’m being lazy about this week.” He grinned back as he confirmed her appearance for the appointment in his computer system and stood back up, gesturing her to follow him to the back.

When they went through the main tattoo room, she noticed there was a man she didn’t see last time who was working on a client. He didn’t look up at them though, he seemed to be very preoccupied. The door to Zayn’s private room was already opened, so she trailed in behind him.

“Don’t mind the company. He owes me a favor so he’s doing the job I don’t like doing.” Zayn said with a chuckle as he shut the door behind them.

Ivy was about to open her mouth to speak when she looked to the corner of the room. In the chair she sat in when she was in Emma sat a person she knew all too well. Her chest started to feel tight all of a sudden, and it worsened when a set of eyes shot up to look at who came in.

Harry was surprised to see her standing there, but he didn’t express it on his face whatsoever. Ivy, on the other hand, made it clear that she was shocked to see him sitting there. He noticed the small part between her lips, almost as if her jaw went slack, and the look of utter fear in her eyes. A bit dramatic, if someone were to ask him.

“Have a seat, I’ve got your design printed out in a few different sizes.” Zayn said as he went to the counter, collecting the papers he wanted to give her.

She sat down, swallowing harshly as she tried to ignore the fact Harry was in the room with her. She hadn’t seen him since Niall dropped her and Emma off back home after the trip. He didn’t talk to her, or to anyone, the entire ride home. The last thing he said to her wasn’t very pleasant, which seemed to be a trend for them, so she still had a bitter taste in her mouth. She wanted to tell him how rude and hateful he was, despite all the rather nice things he had done for her during that trip, but of course she was too afraid to even look at him let alone speak.

Zayn handed her the print outs and she looked over them quickly, picking the size she thought was appropriate. “What do you think?”

He nodded, glancing at the back of her arm. “I think that’s the best size, yeah.”

“Alright. We’ll do that one then.”

He took the paper back and turned away from her. “I’ll get the stencil ready and when I get back I’ll lay the chair down for you.”

“Okay.”

To her surprise, Zayn walked to the door and left the room. He went to the shared space where the other artists work to prepare the stencil. Knowing that she was alone in a room with Harry was making Ivy’s heart start to race and her stomach churn. She felt uncomfortable being this close to him, even if he was on the other side of the room. But thankfully, he was busy doing something and his eyes weren’t on her anymore.

She took the opportunity to look his way since he was distracted. Her brows furrowed slightly as she realized what he was doing. Zayn had given him the task of rearranging new designs and templates in the book his clients often flipped through. She had looked at it when she was here with Emma, so she knew it was already packed full. There were a few loose pages sitting on the floor, maybe those were ones they were replacing?

It took all her strength to tear her eyes from him. She didn’t want to get caught up in her thoughts again, she had already done that once today. Her journal received absolute hell about Harry. She wrote until her hand was sore. There was no point in reliving those thoughts right now.

Zayn was only gone for a few minutes. He told her to stand up so he could adjust the chair before applying the stencil to her skin. Ivy took a deep breath as she watched him lay the chair down. She’d have to lay on her stomach for this one, which was the most comfortable option.

“Alright, turn around.” He said, the stencil gripped in between his fingers. “You want it closer to your elbow, right?”

“Yeah.. keep it low.” She mumbled back, holding her hair over her shoulder so it wouldn’t be in his way.

Zayn placed the stencil on her arm and slowly peeled the paper back. He stared at it for a moment, pretty certain about the placement. But it wasn’t up to him, he had to get her approval.

“Check it for me.”

Ivy turned in the mirror, looking at her arm the best she could. She nodded lightly, pleased with where the stencil had been placed. Seeing the design on her skin, even though it wasn’t permanent yet, made her heart swell. It was a special thing she was getting inked into her skin, and it made all the anxiety worth it.

“It looks perfect.”

“Alright, get comfortable then.” He smiled before starting to prepare his materials.

Ivy laid down on the chair, careful not to disturb the stencil on the back of her arm. She gulped lightly and folded her other arm beneath her head for more cushion. Of course, because why would it work out in her favor, she was facing the corner where Harry was sitting. She kept her eyes closed for now, not wanting to see him at all.

It didn’t take Zayn long to set up, and before she knew it, he was telling her to take a deep breath. “Ready?”

“Mhm.”

The buzzing of the tattoo gun rang in her ear as Zayn pulled her skin taut and started inking the stencil. She sighed softly, the feeling of being tattooed wasn’t foreign to her but it had been a while since her last one. The flower design Zayn put together for her was just lineworm and very gentle shading. She didn’t want it too realistic or too bold.

After a couple of minutes, he decided to talk with her. He didn’t mind chatting with his clients, it made the time go by quicker for both parties. He was very precise and focused, but could easily multitask.

“So.. do these flowers have any significance to you?”

Although he talked with her and designed the tattoo, Ivy hadn’t told him why she wanted them. He didn’t feel the need to ask his clients for the purpose of their tattoos, he just drew up whatever they wanted and tried his best to perfect the designs.

Ivy chewed on her cheek for a moment before answering. “Yeah.. they’re my mom and brother’s birth month flowers. They, um, both passed.”

“Which is which?”

She hesitated at first, the fear of tears creeping into her eyes was taking over. She could easily break down at the mention of either of them, but especially her brother. Ivy opted to stay strong and smile to herself as she thought about them. They would live forever in her mind, the memories she made with each of them were on the top of her list of most important things. She loved and missed them dearly.

“My mom’s is the rose.. the daffodil is my brothers.” She told him in a gentle voice, not realizing she was speaking so softly.

Zayn wasn’t quite sure what to say, so he didn’t respond. He figured she wouldn’t want to discuss them anymore. His assumption was right. The room was silent for a few minutes, aside from the music playing at a low volume. She didn’t know the song that was currently on, though, but Zayn was humming along to it. The feeling of the needle stabbing into her skin was the only thing preventing her from falling asleep. She was tired after a long day working, she just wanted to get home and go to bed. A smile crept to her lips as she heard the start of the next song, one she was very familiar with. It was Joan Jett’s version of “Crimson & Clover,” one of her favorite songs ever and one of her top karaoke picks.

“Oh, I love this song.”

“You prefer this version I assume?” Zayn said with a light laugh.

“Yes, absolutely.”

Zayn pulled the gun away to wipe at her skin, clearing off some of the excess ink. “We used to play this one live.. haven’t done it in probably a year or so.”

“I suggest adding it back to the set.” Ivy tried not to laugh too loudly, she didn’t want to move her body in any way that would ruin Zayn’s lines.

“We have one more practice before the show, maybe we could squeeze it in.” He pushed the needle back into her skin, picking up where he left off. “Are you coming to the show tomorrow?”

“Yes, I am. I’m excited.. I haven’t been out since the trip.”

Zayn made a quick glance over his shoulder towards Harry, but he wasn’t paying them any attention. “Well, I hope your experience is much better than others were.”

Ivy hummed at his words. “Yeah, hope so.”

They went quiet again, the song filling the void. She started thinking about the show and what she was going to wear. The weather might not allow her to dress the way she would prefer, there was a cold spell coming in tonight that would stick around for a few days. Emma would probably get her to help pick out an outfit in the morning, so perhaps Ivy could make her do the same.

Her mind started wondering off to little random things, nothing particularly capturing her attention as she laid there. Zayn was focused on the tattoo and he didn’t want to risk messing up, so he stayed quiet. He’d answer if she wanted to ask him something, but she appeared to be fine with the silence.

Zayn finished the rose and wiped her skin clean, avoiding the stencil lines for the other flower. He was pleased with the work he did, so he moved on to the next one. Ivy sighed out as he mumbled a quick warning to her before starting again. It was fine for a couple of minutes, until she suddenly felt a shift in the atmosphere around them. She heard footsteps, then could actually feel a presence come towards her. She opened her eyes and immediately felt her throat close up. The sight of Harry’s legs wasn’t something she thought she’d see this close. She had hoped that he would stay in the corner the entire time, but he didn’t.

“How’s it look?” Zayn asked him.

Harry was standing with his arms crossed on his chest, his eyes staring down at the spot Zayn was tattooing. The small flowers were positioned on the back of Ivy’s arm, just above her elbow. They weren’t very big at all and leaned more towards a delicate touch than a bold tattoo. If he hadn’t heard what she said about its significance, he would think that it was a weak tattoo - something girls got just to say they had a tattoo. But since he knew the reason, he was a bit more understanding. He wouldn’t say that to her, obviously, but he at least respected the decision.

“Looks nice. Pretty clean.” He mumbled back, his words low and deep.

“Did you get done with the book?”

Harry cleared his throat and took a step back, but his eyes remained on her skin. “Yeah.”

Zayn leaned back to get a better look at the lines as he took a quick break. “Are you riding with me tomorrow to the bar?”

Harry thought about it for a minute, then shrugged. “No, I’ll just go with Cory and Michelle.”

Ivy felt a bit of relief knowing that he wasn’t going to be in Niall’s car. Unlike last time, Niall told her and Emma they could ride with him to the bar. He would have to be there a little early, but they were fine with waiting longer for the show to start. Niall promised Emma he wouldn’t drink tomorrow night, which allowed her to since he’d be driving them back.

“M’gonna head out.” Harry said through a sigh, walking towards the door.

Zayn gave him a quick goodbye and said he’d see him tomorrow afternoon when they meet up for one final quick practice and recap for their show. Ivy was confused as to why she felt sort of upset that Harry had left. She should be jumping with joy and celebrating, finally free of his overbearing presence. No matter how hard she tried to focus on the tattoo needle, she couldn’t distract herself enough. Harry had filled her mind up again..

—•—

Emma grinned when Ivy emptied the shot into her mouth. They had been at the bar for about half an hour, waiting on the show to begin. Niall had to leave them behind to go get things sorted with the owner and set up the stage. They decided it would be best to spend their time preparing for the night, and that meant throwing back shots and ordering a few drinks. Niall was their chauffeur for the night, they were going to cut loose.

“Niall’s not gonna know what to do with you tonight.” Ivy teased as Emma chugged the rest of the beer she had ordered.

“Too hot to handle.” Emma laughed back, dramatically flipping her hair over her shoulder.

When Ivy picked up her cup from the bar, she grunted from the scratching of her denim jacket against her freshly inked tattoo. She thought the long sleeve shirt she had on would stop it, but she could feel the thick fabric anyway. Emma gave her a funny look and a shake of her head.

“I told you that would hurt tonight.”

She shrugged back, it wasn’t her first time dealing with a healing tattoo. “I’ll be alright. Just don’t grab on to me later.”

“I’ll try to remember.”

Ivy didn’t consider how painful it would be to have someone grab onto her arm until now, and the thought of it alone was making her cringe. Emma wouldn’t intentionally hurt her, but she might forget later when they’re dancing and both drunk out of their minds. It would be something to deal with then, and not fret over now.

“Niall told me they added a few songs to the set. Switched out some other ones.” Emma said after calling the bartender over to get another beer.

“Oh really? I’m excited for tonight. I might request something.” Ivy looked down at the ice swirling in her cup, the memory of the night she was harassed while eating the ice cubes flashed in her mind. She blinked it away, trying not to let anything ruin this night for her. “Are they going to the back room after like last time?”

“Yeah, as far as I know.” Emma said back, her hand now occupied with her knew drink. “I hope it goes well this time. I swear we say that every time we do something that involves Harry.” Her snicker didn’t make the topic easier to deal with though.

Ivy sucked on her cheek for a moment, all those harsh memories she shared with him circled her mind. It was like a revolving door they could never escape. It was constant and never ending. Torture would be the word she’d use for it, though that seemed a bit drastic. A huff pushed out of her nose, her eyes cutting back to Emma.

“He was at the shop yesterday when I got the tattoo.”

Emma lifted her brows. “Really? Did he say anything?”

She shook her head. “No, not to me. He said some stuff to Zayn.”

“I really, honestly don’t know why he.. he acts like he doesn’t like you.”

Ivy scoffed. “Acts? It’s definitely not an act. He.. he practically hates me. I don’t know why. I’ve never done anything to him.”

Emma gave her a frown, she didn’t really know what to say about it either. It made no sense that he was so hostile towards her. Was her vibe just something he couldn’t connect with? She must not be friendly in his eyes, or maybe she makes the group feel different and he didn’t like that. Nobody seemed to know the reason..

“He’s just a guy. Rude and.. selfish.” Emma took a drink of her beer. “But.. I was told something interesting.”

Ivy could tell by the way she cocked her brow and let her eyes fall from their locked stare that it was something she wanted to hear. The corner of Emma’s mouth lifted as she thought about it in her head, debating on telling Ivy the information. It wasn't anything crazy, but she thought it was interesting at least.

“What is it?” Ivy asked, nudging Emma’s knee with her own.

Emma twisted the bar stool a little, trying to be all nonchalant about it. “I’m not supposed to say.. but Niall doesn't have to know.”

The mention of Niall made Ivy even more curious. If Niall said this to her, then that means it probably relates to Harry in some way. Emma had no idea, at least to Ivy’s knowledge, that Ivy was so affected by Harry. She didn’t know that she’s spent hours and hours writing about him in her diary, thinking about him while pulling at her own hair and mumbling nonsense to herself, replaying their interactions in her mind imagining them playing out in different ways.. But clearly, Emma knew that telling her something about Harry would pique her interest.

“I’m not going to say anything.” Ivy mumbled back, but of course Emma knew that already.

“Basically.. Niall’s mentioned that Harry’s been different lately. Like at their place or during practice.. even when he’s working shifts at the store.”

Ivy leaned her arm on the bar, her eyes staring holes through Emma’s face. She didn’t say anything yet, just watched as her friend hesitated to finish the story. Emma threw her head back, staring at the ceiling so she wouldn’t have to look at Ivy.

“Niall said it’s like he’s constantly distracted.. and then he’ll get pissed off for no reason, like they could be in literal silence and Harry would get mad. He storms off to his room.. plays his guitar and slams the doors all night.”

Ivy rolled her eyes. “Hard to believe that’s not normal for him.”

“I don’t know.. I guess he’s got some stuff going on in his personal life. Maybe that’s why he’s so.. rude to you. Maybe he can’t handle a new person right now, or whatever.”

Emma didn’t appear to connect any dots between Harry and Ivy, which Ivy was thankful for. She didn’t want to admit how often she thought about Harry or how far her spirals would go. She didn’t want Emma to know any of that. It made sense that some other external factors could be contributing to Harry’s behavior. What if there really was something going on before Ivy came along, and her being around just didn’t mix well with Harry’s issues? Was it all too much for him? It made sense, yet at the same time it didn’t. How could her being around affect him that drastically?

She just shrugged her shoulders again. “Whatever it is.. he needs to get over it.”

Emma looked back to her. “Yeah. Ready for another shot?”

Just like last time, the girls made their way to the front of the crowd about ten minutes before the show was going to begin. Ivy was on her third drink, on top of a few shots they took, and it was already going straight to her head. She hoped that sipping slowly on this one would do her some good and make her feel better, not crash her out too soon.

“Shouldn’t be much longer.” Emma said as she checked her phone for the time.

Ivy felt a jolt of energy shoot through her. She was excited to dance and sing, let go of all the worries she faced throughout the week and just have fun. Although she had all intentions of enjoying herself tonight, she knew there was a big possibility that Harry could interfere with that. Even if he didn’t do anything to her directly, his presence alone could jeopardize her sanity. Obviously, she couldn’t escape him - in a few short minutes, he’ll be standing on the stage in front of her singing for the next two hours. She was confident in the idea of being able to ignore him. She’s been partially successful at it before.

There were the diary entries to take into consideration - she had spent so many hours pouring out her thoughts and feelings about him. Maybe releasing all of it from her mind would make it easier to ignore him. There was life before he came around, she sometimes forgets that she hadn’t known him forever. She was perfectly capable of controlling her thoughts before he waltzed his way into her mind. Perhaps she was just aiming for something unachievable.. she’d never be able to just forget him, even if she never saw him again.

Ivy’s distraction was pushed to the side when the band finally walked onto the stage. People were cheering loud, ready for the night’s entertainment. Emma squealed, throwing her hand up to wave at Niall. He was chuckling at her, amused to see how excited she was to see him. Ivy’s eyes roamed over the others. Zayn was taking his seat at the drum set while Cory and Michelle quickly discussed something about one of the new songs they were going to play. Of course she couldn’t look at everyone and avoid Harry. Her brows dropped low as she realized he looked different tonight.

That long, perfectly sculpted hair was still flowing onto his shoulders. His tight black tshirt exposed his muscled arms, tattoos inked deep into his tanned skin. His dark jeans were the same as she’s seen him in before. Tonight, he made a decision that was shocking to his band mates, and even more of a surprise to Ivy.

Niall and Cory began the first song, simultaneously singing the opening lyrics to “You Give Love A Bad Name.” Harry’s fingers began playing the guitar he had strapped around his body, his eyes glancing down at the strings to make sure he was on the right track. It sounded perfect, though. She remembered them talking about Harry playing live at dinner weeks ago, but she didn’t think she would witness it solely based on how they reacted to the idea. If he were so insecure about it, what changed his mind? She was genuinely impressed. He was still positioned at the front, the microphone resting in a stand angled towards him. He was singing as confidently as the first time she saw them perform.

It didn’t take very long for Emma to grab Ivy’s hand and pull her closer, the two of them dancing together like it was their last night. As much as she wanted to watch Harry play the guitar, Ivy had no choice but to focus on Emma. She wasn’t going to be rude to her friend for the sake of looking at a person she didn’t even like. She could tell when Niall would play the same chords as him, but he did cut back some and let Harry take over. She wondered if Niall did that to ensure the song wasn’t thrown off track or if that was just how they preferred to do it.

The song changed, and Emma took a quick rest to guzzle a bit of her drink. Ivy let out a laugh as she spilled some, it trickled down her chin and onto her outfit. She groaned, wiping at her face.

“Slow down!” Ivy yelled over the music, making Emma grin back.

They picked up the dancing after her short break. Like she had hoped, it wasn’t that hard for Ivy to forget Harry was so close to her. Maybe it was because this was a different situation. She wasn’t trapped in a car next to him or standing beside him in a crowd, he was doing a job and he was focused entirely on that. She didn’t care what the reason was, she was simply glad she was able to be carefree.

Twenty minutes passed by before Emma decided she’d get another drink. She asked Ivy if she wanted anything, but she declined. They also made a promise that she’d be safe and come straight back, since Ivy’s incident at that other club still lurked fresh in their minds. This place was different, though. Emma was very familiar with the layout and it was nowhere near the size of the other one. Ivy stayed put, right in front of Niall where Emma wanted to be so she could see him.

Niall actually took notice of Emma leaving, but he wasn’t too worried about her. He knew she was comfortable with some of the workers and if she needed anything she’d be able to get help quickly. The strobing lights made it hard for him to see her in the crowd, but there was not any concern.

Ivy kept dancing by herself, but not as passionately. She was swaying from side to side, her head matching her body’s movements. She sipped her drink and sang along to the music, her eyes settled on Niall and Michelle, since they were on the side of the stage they were in front of. She did start to wonder where Emma was after a couple of minutes, but she tried to stay calm. She knew it could take a bit longer to get a drink sometimes, and the walk from the bar might be a harder squeeze. People were less likely to let her just slip through if she were trying to get to the front.

Thankfully, she didn’t come into any trouble. Emma returned with a drink in her hand and a grin on her lips. They were playing one of her favorite songs they do live and she got back just in time. Ivy knew the dancing would immediately start back, Emma couldn’t resist the song. And just like that, they spent another fifteen minutes belting out song lyrics and dancing around like teenage girls.

Eventually, due to their instinct to jump around instead of dance most of the time, they managed to shift from their original spot. They ended up directly in the middle, Harry standing right in front of them. Emma was still able to see Niall, so she didn’t care that much. Ivy, on the other hand, cared more than she wanted to admit. Being that close to him, so perfectly aligned, was making her heart start to skip beats every few seconds. She stared up at him as he sang, his hand gripping the microphone stand as he took a break from playing the guitar. He hadn’t touched it during this song, so maybe he didn’t like playing this one, or perhaps he was resting his hands. His eyes were settled on something random out in the crowd, not towards her. It was a relief.

The song came to an end and she took a minute to take some deep breaths, trying to recover quickly. Her eyes curiously shifted up to Harry just as he wrapped his hand around the neck of the guitar. Ivy absentmindedly chewed on her cheek as she stared up at him like he was an angel, something so magnificent and beautiful.

“Ivy!” Emma suddenly screamed her name as loud as she could.

Her jaw went slack as she heard the beginning of a song she adored more than anything else in the world. Emma had no idea this song was going to be added, Niall didn’t tell her what they put on the set. She was just as excited. Ivy thought back to just yesterday at the tattoo shop, and how this song came up in conversation with Zayn. Was it just a coincidence that “Crimson and Clover” was being played tonight? Surely Zayn would have mentioned it if they had been practicing it, right? She didn’t care to know the answer right now, the urge to dance and sing to one of her favorite songs was stronger than her desire to know.

“Over and over!” She sang at the top of her lungs, her hand gripping Emma’s as they moved their hips to the beat, singing like nobody else was in the room.

Unknownst to Ivy, she had an admirer of her own tonight. She was too busy focused on Emma to notice that Harry had laid his eyes on her. He could hardly hold back an amused smile as he sang, watching her soak up every single word of the song. He thought it was entertaining how she so easily and so comfortably expressed herself. She didn’t care who was watching, or who was singing, she loved the song and she was going to enjoy every second of it.

Unfortunately, it was a short song. And when the final chords were being played, she let Emma go and turned back towards the stage. Harry’s eyes were still locked on her and she immediately felt her stomach seize up. Was it purposeful or did his eyes happen to land on her? She didn’t know and honestly she didn’t have time to think about it. She was slowly starting to drift deep in her thoughts. She noticed every detail about him all of a sudden, as if she had never seen him before. From the sweat beads on his forehead to the delicate way his fingers strummed the strings on his guitar, hitting every chord perfectly.

He stepped back from the microphone stand, pulling his gaze away from her. She felt her throat dry up when he turned away. Something about the way he was looking at her made her heart flutter and she hated that it had to end so quickly. She kept her eyes on him though as he moved on the stage. He placed his guitar on a stand and grabbed a stool.

Cory leaned into the microphone placed in front of him and let everyone know what was going on. “Slowing it down for you for a bit.”

Just like last time she saw them perform, they all took a quick minute long break. Harry snatched a bottle of water off the floor at the back of the stage then walked back to his microphone stand where the stool was waiting for him. She held her breath as she watched him take a seat, then remove the cap of the bottle. He pressed his lips and tilted his head back, water spilling into his mouth. She couldn't help but notice how pink his lips looked. Was it the lighting or were they swollen from all the singing and the constant hitting against the microphone? She didn’t know why, but they looked better than they ever had.

A small gasp left her mouth as Harry’s eyes dropped down to look at her. This time she knew it was on purpose. The way he looked directly at her, nothing else distracted him. They shared a stare for a long minute, neither of them wanting to break it. Even when he took another drink of his water, he kept his eyes frozen on her. Water dripped out the corner of his mouth, and he just wiped it away with the back of his hand. Her mind was screaming at her, telling her to stop being so dumb and giddy about him, but her heart was somewhere else. She didn’t want to look away, didn’t want it to ever end.

“I’m going to the bathroom!” Emma called out, interrupting the moment she wasn’t even sure was real.

She looked over at her and smiled. “Alright.”

Ivy wholeheartedly expected to not see his intense stare when she tilted her head back, and she was surprised to meet his eyes again. He had no intention of looking away from her yet, even when Niall started the next song. Harry gripped the microphone and pulled the stand closer to him. To Ivy’s dismay, it was another one of her favorite songs. She knew for a fact she never said anything about this song to Zayn at the shop the other day, or in any other setting that Harry had shared with her. “Something In The Way” was the same song that made her extremely dizzy and out of it the last time she attended their show. It was a regular song on the set, unfortunately for her, but it felt different this time.

Harry’s eyes were fixated on her, and magically this made it easier for her to listen to the song. Usually, when it played on the radio or she put it on herself, she cried and thought about how much her brother loved the song. Right now, she was just enjoying the way it sounded being sung in Harry’s voice. Every instrument on the stage was being perfectly executed - every note, every chord, every single thing was perfect. They did the song a great justice. She was mentally hitting herself for running out of the crowd to seek refuge in the restroom the last time they played this song. They really did it so perfectly..

A tingle ripped down her spine as she flicked her eyes away from his. She wasn’t confident enough to keep the contact locked anymore. It was starting to be too overwhelming for her. Harry didn’t let up, though, he kept his eyes trained on her. Ivy wasn’t sure why he was so focused on her, but it was making her stomach ache. She reached up and gently started to rub her fingers over the small pendant of her necklace, her eyes slowly lifting up to look at him.

For the rest of the song, and into the start of the next one, Harry stared down at her. He was intrigued by her change of behavior. Sure, they were now playing slower songs instead of the more upbeat ones, but he could tell she was feeling a different way than before. She was reclusive, her eyes nervously darting away from him every couple moments just to sneak their way back. He found it rather interesting how she could go from having so much energy to appearing to be so shy.

Ivy was deep in her thoughts as she stood quietly by herself, Harry’s attention causing chaos in her head. She fought between being infatuated with him and wanting to scream at him. She tried to bring those rude comments to the forefront of her mind, but the memory of his hand catching her on the sidewalk and his arm protecting her from that stranger shoved their way through. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all..

A frown shaped to her lips when he suddenly looked away from her, his eyes scoping out the crowd now. She immediately started to wonder if she had did something wrong. Was he even looking at her that long or did she imagine it? No, there was no way she could make up the intense feelings she had experienced. It was real, no doubt in her mind. She didn’t ponder it long, though, as she realized Emma was next to her again. Did he look away because he didn’t want to be caught staring at her?

“Sorry, took longer than I thought. There was a line.” She said loudly, leaning into Ivy’s shoulder.

She turned slightly to face her, presenting a fake smile. “You’re fine.”

“Did I miss anything?” She asked, her eyes peering up at the stage.

Ivy pushed out a breathy laugh. “No, nothing.”

The rest of the show was just as enjoyable as the first half, and even though Ivy didn't get much of Harry’s attention, he spared her a few quick looks every now and then. She was confused about the sudden interest he showed in her, or at least the curiosity. She didn’t want to refer to it as interest, in case it wasn’t that in any way at all. Presuming would only hurt her if she ended up being wrong.

Once the band had ended their show, they were gathering their things on the stage. Harry adjusted the microphone stand down to its default height before taking the guitar off his body. He had grabbed it and kept playing after the slower portion of the show was over. Emma was talking to Niall as he kneeled down on the stage, leaning close so he could hear her over the noise. The regular music had already started to play through the speakers in the ceiling. Ivy waited patiently for her, just standing nearby. She didn’t want to be too close in case Niall was trying to have a private conversation.

Something caught her attention all of a sudden. Harry gripped the neck of the guitar with one hand, the other pushing through his hair. When he took the first step to leave the stage, something fell onto the ground. It was his guitar pick, the light just so happened to hit it right so that Ivy was able to make out what it was. She furrowed her brows and stood on her tiptoes to look onto the stage. She saw the thick piece of green plastic sitting there. Harry had used it for some of the songs, but she did notice he didn’t have it in his fingers the entire show.

She glanced over at Niall and Emma, neither of them were paying her any attention. She used her heels as an advantage to push herself up more, reaching onto the stage to grab the pick. It was almost too far away, she barely was able to get a hold of it. When she brought it in front of her, grunting as she fell flat on her heels, she noticed that it had a darker green marbling look to it. She flipped it over, the opposite side was sporting two letters in black permanent marker ink. HS.

Not long after they started packing away the stage equipment, Ivy and Emma went back through the door with the curtain of stringed beads, going straight to the back table that was reserved for the band. Michelle, Zayn, and Cory were the firsts to join them. Ivy greeted everyone with a bright smile and a quick hug, congratulating them on a great show. She asked Zayn why Alyssa didn’t make it and he told her that their child wasn’t feeling the best, plus he added that she wasn’t a big fan of the bar scene.

“I saw you rocking out. Glad you enjoyed it.” Cory said to Ivy as he sat down next to her.

She smiled back. “You guys were great.”

She was slightly uncomfortable with how close he chose to sit next to her, so she casually slid over towards Michelle, acting as if she was going to start talking to her. She was distracted, though, so Ivy just swallowed gently and tried to ignore it. Maybe Cory meant nothing by it, most likely he didn’t, and she was just being cautious. The last time a man approached her, things did not end very well. She knew Cory wouldn’t do something like that, but there was still that underlying fear of it happening again.

They waited for a few minutes, everyone was talking amongst themselves. Ivy kept to herself, though. She looked inside her small purse, the guitar pick she rescued from the stage was sitting at the bottom. Her cheek got caught between her teeth as a thought crept into her mind. She wanted to return it to him. She wondered where he was and if he would join them. He liked to go off on his own, she had noticed that before, so she feared she might not get the chance to give it back to him tonight. If he did come to where they all were, would she get the opportunity to be alone with him? She didn’t feel as though she would muster up enough courage to give it to him in front of everyone. What if they thought it was weird?

The thoughts vanished from her mind as she suddenly heard his voice. She looked up, smiling gently as she saw that he and Niall had arrived with a round of drinks. She pushed down the lump that appeared in her throat, the thought of the first time she met everyone returned to her mind. Emma had offered her drink up that night because one wasn’t ordered for her.. She didn’t belong then, did she belong now?

“The owners got us two rounds tonight.” Niall said as he handed a cup of beer to Emma, then one to Michelle.

Harry had the other tray in his hand and he actually gave them out instead of placing it on the table. He gave one to Zayn, then to Cory. Ivy felt a ton of bricks land on her shoulders - there were two cups left on the tray. To her utter surprise, Harry grabbed one of them and extended his hand out to her. His eyes weren’t on her, though. She took the cup and mumbled a ‘thank you’ that he didn’t catch. Nobody else seemed to care about the gesture the way she did, no reactions happened. She thought she was just being silly, just a bit dramatic..

“Move over.” Harry said to Cory, expecting him to move to the right.

However, Cory didn’t do that. He slid to the left, opening up a spot right next to Ivy. It made her lips roll into her mouth, would he actually sit down next to her? She nearly froze as Harry sat down. He didn’t care where he sat, he just wanted to finally get off his feet for a while.

“Any drinking contests tonight?” Michelle teased with a laugh, scooting closer to be next to Ivy.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Harry was looking her way. She nervously laughed and shook her head. “No, not tonight.”

“Oh, come on. Just one?”

“No, no.. I drank too much the last time I was out.. I don’t want to overdo it.” She explained, trying to keep a smile on her face.

“Alright, fine. Next time.. I’m challenging you.” Michelle gave her a quick wink and a nudge of her knee.

Despite not feeling tired, Ivy was mentally drained. Her emotions had swirled so quickly earlier that her brain was exhausted. She couldn’t decide whether she was angry at Harry, embarrassed by everything that’s happened, or glad that he was giving her some sort of attention. She might ever know the meaning behind his stares tonight, but at least she knew they weren’t angry glares like she was used to.

She leaned her back against the comfortable material of the benched seating. She wished she was in her bed, but she wanted to stick it out and have fun the rest of the night. It was hard to keep track of everyone’s conversations, so she just listened to Michelle’s voice since she was closest. She didn’t participate in anything either. Nobody bothered her for a while, she figured they either didn’t want to intrude or didn’t notice her behavior. She wasn’t aware, but there was at least one person in the group that noticed.

Harry couldn’t help himself, she was too close to him. He gave her a quick glance every now and then, wondering if she was feeling sick or if she was sleepy. She had been active most of the night, jumping and dancing around having a good time - now, it was much different. He didn’t speak to her, though.

After a while, Niall and Emma left to go dance. Zayn said something about going to the bar, so Cory offered to join him. Ivy was perfectly content with where she was, sitting in between Harry and Michelle. A few minutes ticked by before Michelle stood up to stretch. She looked down at Ivy and smiled.

“Do you need to go to the restroom?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m okay.”

“Alright. I’ll be right back.” She disappeared into the small crowd, leaving Harry alone with Ivy.

It was obviously noticed by both of them. Harry tensed up, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the purple light in the center of the table. The glow shined beautiful on his skin, Ivy thought it was ethereal. She wondered what he was in such deep thought about, if anything at all - with the way he was staring at the light, not even blinking as the seconds went by.

She looked around the space, ensuring herself that everyone was gone. Now was her chance to speak to him. If she didn’t do it now, she wouldn’t do it at all and she would have a heap of regret. Quietly, she reached into her purse and took out the pick. She sucked in a deep breath and turned her head towards him.

“Harry.” She said his name carefully, almost too afraid to say it too loud, but she wanted him to hear her over the music.

He thought he was hearing things at first, but when he shifted his head and caught her eyes, he knew she had said his name. He lifted his brows, silently asking her what she wanted. He was surprised she had said anything to him, but he wasn’t disappointed.

“Um.. you dropped this earlier.” She moved her hand so he could see it.

“What?” His brows furrowed, his eyes cutting down to her hand. “Oh. You didn’t have to save it. They’re pretty cheap.” His tone was normal, but there was no laugh or smile laced in his words.

Ivy felt a twist in her stomach as she dropped it in his opened palm. He decided he had to get away from her, so he stood up and adjusted his shirt, about to walk away. Her soft voice caught his attention, any ounce of courage she had moments ago was gone.

“I just thought you’d.. you’d need it.”

When he looked down at her, she had already dropped her head and nervously folded her hands on her lap. He pushed out a sigh and licked his lips, knowing that he needed to be more polite to the girl. It wasn’t like she said anything outlandish. She was being kind to him.. something he wasn’t familiar with reciprocating to her.

“Ivy.”

The sound of his voice speaking her name had the same effect now as it did weeks ago. Her heart started to flutter uncontrollably and her stomach swormed with something much larger than butterflies. She lifted her head, her eyes finding his already staring down at her.

“Yeah?”

He just stared at her for a long moment, debating on how far to take his response. He wasn’t sure what she wanted or how she would take what he said to her. There had to be some resentment she had towards him, it would be impossible to not feel that way. He had done so much to her that was hateful and mean, how could she appreciate any ounce of kindness he gave to her? He stopped overthinking it and just spoke.

“Thanks anyway.”

Once Michelle came back from the restroom, she rejoined Ivy and they started talking about random things. It felt nice to have someone to talk to in the midst of all the intense feelings she was having. It was like she was able to shut it all off and focus on something else for once. Michelle never let the conversations die down, there was always something to talk about with her.

Nobody returned to the table while they were chatting, everyone was enjoying their night in their own ways. Ivy did take a second to wonder where Emma was, but she remembered Niall was with her so the concern wasn’t necessary. She wanted to think about Harry, but she kept her attention on Michelle instead. It was a relief to have a good distraction.

When Michelle started talking about her music preferences and favorite songs, Ivy couldn’t help but to think about the song they performed tonight. She wondered if it was a mutual decision or if someone, Harry or Zayn specifically, decided to play the song. Once Michelle finished her sentence, she decided to bring it up. She felt comfortable changing the topic.

“Hey, random question.” Ivy started with a laugh. “Do you guys switch the set up a lot or is it the same for a while?”

“I think we’re far past random.” Michelle grinned back. “Well, we usually keep it the same for a few months, depends on how many shows we do. We changed a few songs, but at the last minute Harry wanted to add one.”

Ivy raised her brows. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah.. like he told us this morning. Luckily we all knew the song already.” She rolled her eyes playfully before sipping her beer.

“Which song was it?” Ivy already felt as though she knew the answer, but she wanted it to be confirmed.

“Crimson and Clover.” Michelle said, adjusting her position on the bench.

Ivy’s heart picked up it’s speed for a few seconds, of course that was the answer she was waiting on. She knew there had to be a reason he added the song and she hoped that it was because of her. Before she had time to fully process the information, Michelle checked her phone and let out a sigh.

“Emma wants us to come dance with her. Niall’s tiring out.”

Ivy looked down at her phone as it vibrated, the same text Michelle got popped onto her screen. “She’s desperate.”

They both laughed and stood up at the same time. Michelle finished off her beer and discarded the cup on the table, Ivy had some left so she just brought it along with her. They slipped into the crowd, thankful that it wasn’t as big as the one in the main part of the building. Michelle spotted Emma and they quickly headed towards her.

“You’re free, Niall.” Michelle said as they approached them.

Niall let out a dramatic sigh. “Thank god.”

Emma gave him a playful shove and told him to go away. Ivy wasn’t particularly thrilled to start dancing again, so she opted for gentle swaying and soft singing, instead of the usual performances she gave. Michelle was more active and hyper, though, so she was able to keep up with Emma.

The girls enjoyed themselves for a short while, the music choices were nice for the most part. Ivy was doing fine until she felt someone’s eyes on her. She thought maybe she was imagining things and was just being paranoid, but after a few more minutes of the intense feeling, she decided to look around. At first, she didn’t see anybody giving her any sort of attention. She started to believe she was losing her mind. That is, until she landed her wandering eyes on a familiar face.

Not far from them was Harry and Cory, and those green eyes she had come to admire so much were staring right at her. Cory was talking and Harry seemed to be listening, or at least pretending to. She felt as though he was back at playing that game of his, making her feel intimidated and nervous. She got the idea to play along with him. Her thick lips shaped to a smile and he knew it was aimed for him and him only. He shook his head lightly and moved his eyes off of her. A proud feeling grew inside of her, she smirked to herself. She was just as good at playing his stupid game.

She was somewhat glad to know that Harry was close by. As much as she hated what happened to her at that club, she was thankful that he was there. If she hadn't found him, there would be no telling what could’ve happened to her. Everything was going well, even though Harry wasn’t looking her way anymore. She thought nothing else of it and just enjoyed the song that was currently on. Emma was forcing her to dance a little more than she wanted, but she couldn’t help but cave in and laugh. Michelle was glad to see she was more energetic now.

Ivy thought that maybe this night would actually be one hundred percent drama free. She didn’t consider the quick conversation she had with Harry as anything bad or hurtful, it was in fact rather calm and normal. But as always, there was something thrown in to ruin the night.

A guy was walking near them when he suddenly got caught up on his own feet and stumbled, his body shooting forward. The girls let out a combined shriek as beer splashed all over them, more so on Ivy than on Michelle. Emma wasn’t close enough for the spill to hit her. Ivy gasped as she touched her shirt the second the liquid soaked through to her skin. Michelle’s mouth was hung open, her hands in the air as she looked down at her legs - that’s where the liquid landed on her.

Harry looked over towards them as soon as they screamed, it was very audible even over the music, he didn’t catch the entire interaction. All he saw was a guy holding an empty plastic cup and the two of them standing there dripping with beer. He could see the stains on their clothes, and a few strands of Ivy’s long hair that soaked up some of the beer.

“Oh my god!” The guy immediately apologized to them, sincerity in his voice. “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s alright.” Michelle said with a nervous laugh, she was shocked that this happened so quickly.

“Is there anything I can do for you? I’m so sorry.”

Ivy was about to say something when a tall, broad figure appeared next to her. Harry pushed his way between the girls and the stranger, accidentally pushing Ivy backwards. She didn’t lose her footing though. She shot her eyes to Michelle, who was instantly worried.

“The fuck is your problem?” Harry yelled out, his height towering over the man’s.

Cory quickly ran up to them, too, his brows furrowed as he looked over their beer soiled clothes. He was going to ask what happened, but Harry’s loud voice was taking over.

“I said, what’s your fucking problem?”

“I-I didn’t-“ The poor guy was nervous and stammering, Harry’s demeanor was extremely intimidating.

Michelle grabbed Harry’s shoulder and tried to pull him back, but he didn’t move. “Harry, stop!”

“Are you fucking stupid, huh? What the fuck are you doing?” He kept on, yelling in the guy’s face like he had committed a heinous crime.

“He didn’t do it on purpose, Harry!” Emma tried her best to intervene, but she was slightly afraid of what could happen.

The loud screaming had caused quite the commotion, and everyone turned towards them to watch what was unfolding. Niall quickly made his way to where the crowd seemed to gather, he just had a feeling something was going on. He made it back to them just in time to see Harry push his hand into the guy’s chest, sending him back a couple of steps.

“Harry!” Cory called out his name, but it didn’t matter, he wasn’t going to listen to anyone.

Niall ran up to them, grabbing onto Emma’s elbow to pull her away. He asked her what happened and she quickly told him. He sighed and tried to walk in front of the guy, but Harry didn’t allow it. He shoved Niall back, not wanting him to get involved.

“Let it go, Harry.” He still tried his best to end it.

“This motherfucker threw fucking beer on them.” Harry shouted, his eyes locked on the stranger’s instead of on Niall. He wasn’t upset with his friends for trying to stop him, he was furious about the spilled beer that he believed was purposeful.

Ivy took a deep breath and stepped out from behind him. Cory gave her a shake of his head and tried to stop her, but she ignored him. She gasped as Harry pushed him again, shouting the same question over and over.

“He didn’t throw it on us!” She raised her voice, her small hand reaching up to touch Harry’s bicep in an attempt to get her attention.

He felt her touch and immediately looked over, not expecting to see her standing so close. Anger was swept over his face, and it was more terrifying than she thought it would be. He looked like he was about to rip someone’s head off their shoulders. Her hand started to shake so much that it fell from his arm. She stepped back, fear consuming her.

“I fucking watched him do it!” Harry yelled back at her, his words harsh and cold.

She didn’t like the way he screamed so easily towards her, how his anger was taking over him entirely. She licked her lips and tried to keep her composure. Harry’s eyes were glued to her now, he wasn’t even concerned with the guy still gripping the empty cup.

“He tripped, Harry. He didn’t do it on purpose.” Michelle cut in quickly, trying to de-escalate the situation.

Harry shot his eyes back to the guy as he tried to apologize again. He interrupted him with a threatening yell. Everyone in the room had their eyes on them, and the embarrassment was building among the small group. Ivy felt like her heart was going to pound out of her chest.

“Stop it, Harry. You’re the one acting stupid. Calm down, please!” She pleaded with him, trying her absolute best to end this.

Harry turned towards her, making her jump back. Cory grabbed her elbow and forced her back a few more steps, afraid that something might happen. Harry wouldn’t purposely hurt her, but he didn’t want her to get too close in case someone else got hurt. She shook off Cory’s hand, not wanting to be touched.

“Don’t tell me to calm down.” He spat out, not even considering how mean his voice sounded. Right now all he wanted to do was pound his fists into that guy’s face.

His attention wasn’t on her very long. He returned to the stranger, who Niall was apologizing to. Things were getting heated again as the man tried to explain what had happened, despite everyone else already doing that. Harry wasn’t having any of it. He demanded that the man apologize to the girls before he kicked his ass. It was all very dramatic and intense.

Cory gestured for Michelle to get closer to him and she quickly did. He went to grab Ivy’s arm again, this time more forcibly. He pulled her back towards him, but she didn’t like the way he took control over her. No matter what kind of situation she was in, she didn’t want to be grabbed that way.

“Stop it, Cory!” She let her frustration over Harry’s actions come out, her voice louder than usual.

He let her go, but not before Harry could whip his body around to them, the sound of her voice distracting him from the guy. Niall took the opportunity to guide the man away from them so he could apologize again. Harry had seen Cory’s hand on Ivy’s arm and he felt an immense amount of jealousy and anger, more than he had ever before. It reminded him of the night at the restaurant when Cory so confidently spoke to Ivy and tried to get to know her. It made his skin crawl.

“Don’t fucking touch her.” He screamed out, his face flushed bright red and his eyes full of anger.

Cory was confused more than anything. “Woah, relax!”

“What did you do to her?” He asked, trying to close the space between them but Ivy got in the way.

She slid in front of him, her hand hitting against his abdomen accidentally, but she didn’t move it. Her hand flattened against his body. “Harry, stop, please.”

“Why are you freaking out?” Michelle was starting to get scared, she wasn’t sure why Harry was suddenly turning on everyone.

He looked down at Ivy, ignoring everyone else around him. “What did he do to you?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Then why did you tell him to stop?”

“He just.. tried to pull me out of the way.” Ivy explained, hoping it worked this time. While she wasn’t pleased with how Cory touched her, she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. It wasn’t worth it.

“I don’t believe that.”

“You’re scaring me.” She blurted out, her eyes squeezing shut as she turned her head, not wanting to see his anger ridden features. He looked like he could tear a building out of the ground.

Harry backed up, his eyes trained on her. She felt his presence shifting, her eyes open to see where he was going. She felt a lump forming in her throat as he shoved his hand through his hair and tugged at his roots. She feared he’d explode if someone said one more word to him.

“I have to get out of here.”

That was the last thing he said before he stormed out of the building, leaving everyone more confused than anything. Ivy was speechless. She didn’t know what to think or how to feel. She had never seen someone so angry before. Even when that guy was following her and Harry got involved, he didn’t act that way. Tonight he was outraged. She actually feared him. Maybe he wasn’t worth all the hassle. He seemed to be more of a problem than she first imagined. Now matter how nice his eyes made her feel earlier.. she didn’t want to see them ever again.

—•—

That next morning was more awkward than anything. Niall had stayed over with Emma and together they prepared breakfast. Ivy was confused when she woke up to the smell of food cooking, and when she strolled into the kitchen in her pajamas, she saw them finishing up. They both greeted her with warm smiles.

“What are you guys doing?” She said through a gentle laugh, looking around at the mess that was made in the kitchen.

“Just making an apology meal for you.” Niall said with a smile, although it wasn’t very funny.

“An apology meal?” She furrowed her brows. “For what?”

He sighed. “For Harry’s behavior, of course.. isn’t that always the case?”

Ivy lifted her brows at his reply, not sure what to say in response. Everyone was very on edge after Harry disappeared last night, and they all left a short time afterwards. When she got home she took a shower immediately, the smell of beer had seeped into her skin and clothes.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

Emma grunted. “Yes we do.”

“It was all a misunderstanding.” She mumbled back, taking a seat at the table.

“And it shouldn’t have been.” Niall said. “He embarrasses me every time we go out with you and it drives me crazy.”

“It’s not your fault, though. I.. I understand he was.. drunk and not willing to listen. It’s fine.”

Emma shook her head. “It’s not fine. And we have to make it up to you, again.”

“Maybe one day.. I won’t have to give you so many apologies.” Niall didn’t sound hopeful about that.

“That would be nice.” She tried to have a little humor, not wanting to focus entirely on the situation.

“I just can’t believe he acted that way.” Emma frowned. “Over a spilled drink?”

Once everything was finished cooking, they each got what they wanted and sat down at the table. Ivy stayed quiet as they ate, hoping that no more talk about last night’s events would come up. Niall and Emma were embarrassed and she understood why, she just didn’t want them to focus on it forever. The situation was over, there was no need in pouring fuel into the fire. The person that owed her the biggest apology would never give her one anyway.

[a/n: ok ok ok im super excited for part 6!!! it’s definitely a big turning point for them (an unexpected event forces them to spend time together) it’s going to be worth the wait! hope u enjoy this, reblog like all that nice stuff! see u soon]

taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @victoriasigaard @ariiscringe @harlowsgirl @lomllover @haniaaa04 @sideboobrry11 @tenaciousperfectionunknown n @fangirl509east @fruity-harry @sassamanda77 @lizsogolden @prettygurl-2009 @sincerely-yours-marsbar @boopookie @mypolicemanharryyy @angelbunny222 2 @mads3502 @harrysredroom @inlikea-coolway @matildasatellite @imaginexxharry

[solbaby7]

Slipping Away

pairing: azriel x reader

[ masterlist ]

[ part one ]

warnings: mentions of poor mental health, probably swearing, underlying sexual themes, angst babe

summary: You've been drowning for a long time and finally someone notices

—

There’s a rooftop garden just above the townhouse in Velaris and you’re not quite sure why you’ve never bothered to visit it until now.

A blissfully unaware city lives just beyond it, past the stone walls and dense privacy fence made of cypress trees. The residual sounds of their freedom hits your ears, nothing more than distant chatter that carries along a brisk breeze.

Even that is enviable—the way they exist with no regard of the space they may take up.

Makes you try a little harder when you apply paint to canvas; desperate to feel what they must when mimicking the light reflecting from their souls.

The city twinkles, stars shining so bright that they seem to just hang from the sky like pearls, some pulsing with rich ruby tones and others glimmering with amethyst. Bridges and buildings glow from the marbled sheen of the moon, its beam breathing life into everyone but you.

“Been out here long enough, don’t you think?”

You startle at the voice, its honey smooth rumble shattering the little bubble you’d built around yourself. Azriel stands there in the doorway, unceremoniously leaned against its framing with arms crossed and a brow raised. “I’m not finished.” The words seem to snap you back into reality, limbs a little shaky from the recoil that takes place when a tethered soul hastily returns back to its meat suit.

You close up like a clam, all but throwing your paintbrush into the water dish and body blocking the entirety of your canvas.

Surely he notices the change in body language, he’s kind enough not to mention it. Wings shuffle in a touch closer to his form, subconsciously retaining heat from the bitter chill in a motion so natural you can’t help but be reminded of how many centuries he’d endured in such weather. “Maybe so, but it’s cold out and you don’t even have a coat.”

He’s not wrong and at the mention of it, you finally seem to notice the goosebumps dotting your flesh. Bare arms and exposed ankles, feet with no shoes and fabric too flimsy to properly stave off the effects of such elements. “Guess I was just too focused to even notice.” Maybe it’s the calm way he just lingers there that allows your body to unfurl from its tense stance, shoulders drooping and spine less rigid as you ease back down in your seat. “I’ll make some tea when I’m done.”

He moves like smoke, inaudibly despite his massive physique but his presence is unmistakable. It forces the hairs on the back of your neck to raise at attention, encourages your heart-rate to rise and you struggle to decipher if the feeling that emerges is fear or attraction. “Stay out here as you are much longer and you’ll become a permanent fixture.”

Every move he makes is done with such intention, shadows slyly distracting you when playfully nudging at the edge of your paint palate. They steal your attention—forcing you to lurch forward to prevent the array of colors from falling—long enough for Azriel to conjure up a sweater, one soft and warm and distinctly his.

The action is done so naturally it robs you of words, eyes widening in surprise while confusion scrunches up your features. Your brain scrambles for a feasible explanation, subconsciously stretching your arms into the thick cashmere sleeves until you’re moving on autopilot and shoving it over your head.

A content smile ghosts overs the corner of his mouth. “I had a feeling you were good,” Azriel confesses softly, directing the conversation with too much ease and there’s no time to feel out of place when he’s nudging you aside, putting you exactly where he pleases to take in the painting in its entirety. “But, this is remarkable.”

Every inch of you screams to reject this, to pack up your supplies and scurry off in search for solitude because the longer Az’s stare lingers on the softly blended shades of rich dandelion and warm ochre; admiring the gentle shine from metallic golds, it feels like he’s reading straight from the most intimate pages of your journals. Flipping through private confessions, evaluating personal entries and reading them aloud to a crowd of observers for judgement.

Two fingers trail the line of your collarbone until the cool chill of metal can be felt against your fingertips, nails tracing the contours of the key dangling from your neck. The action is repeated once, twice, a third times before the anxiety of anyone going through your things finally disperses.

Arms cross over your chest, words distant and clipped in attempts to create space. It doesn’t help, cloaked in his clothes, the only thing your brain can seem to focus on is the fact that last time you and Azriel had been alone—he’d almost kissed you. “It’s incomplete.”

Azriel hums, a low sound; not agreeing or disagreeing but still acknowledging. “What do you do with them when they’re done then? Can’t imagine you’d be the type to hang them up.”

Music plays from within the city, delicate strings and soulful drums. Even from where you stand you can see the faes and faeries dancing idly along the cobblestone. They saunter out of cafés and shops, stumble out of bars and clubs. This moment in time forever frozen on canvas, your eyes flicker back and forth—so close and yet still something is missing. “I throw them away.”

“What? Why?”

A jerky shrug is your only reply, trying to see whatever he could within the brushstrokes but all you find are flaws. Lines where your hands had been shaky, shading that no longer matches as the muse constantly shifts.

“There must be a reason?” He prods. “No point in spending so much money on supplies just to toss what you make with them like trash.”

“Not sure why you care—it’s not your money being wasted.”

You expect something like irritation to grace Azriel’s features but all you can find is amusement. He doesn’t bristle at the thorns you prick him with, only chuckles at the blood you draw. Not deterred in the slightest by your bite, he continues to poke and prod at your restraint; all but scruffing you like an unruly cat until all the fight has been wrung out. “Suppose not, it’s just very telling.”

Eyes roll so hard you can feel the strain. “Don’t tell me we’re doing this again? I’m not particularly interested in another round of your evaluations.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so easy to read.”

“Sure,” you shrug, fingers digging into soft cashmere. “But, it’s definitely a you issue when it comes to being so fucking nosy.”

A beat of time passes. A scream sounding from within the city; this playful, jubilant noise that feels like a blade being sliced through your sternum. Cutting through bone and embedding itself in squishy soft tissues until iron eviscerates whatever’s left of your neglected heart.

“Is it really such a crime to care about you?”

Azriel watches every inch of you go still. Can see the exact moment your defenses go up—those walls you keep, growing taller and taller. It’s reinforcements suiting up and taking their post with weapons readied; waiting for the word to attack. “It is if I can’t figure out what you want in return.”

He sighs, breath shuddering from his lungs as though the answer physically pains him. “I just want you to be happy.” Bare palms wipe at the thighs of your dress, wet paint smearing against pale material but you don’t seem to mind in the slightest.

It’s not exactly concerning but Azriel finds it very telling, acknowledging your lack of concern for material items. No personal affects to hold you down. The way you wander around so detached from reality as if you were a ghost existing around mortals.

Cracks fissure along the brick wall of a barricade you’ve placed up. The foundations wavering. Gates crumbling under the pressure of his eyes boring into the side of your face as if he could see the destruction within. “They never really feel good enough to keep.”You finally confess, voice softer than Az had ever heard it before. “Like something about them is missing.”

He keeps staring at it, scanning and scanning the shapes formed in wet paint. One finger hovers over a spot near the corner, a small slice of the balcony from your point of view. A perfect replica of the iron railings, flourishing flora, even the quaint little seating arrangement. “You. It’s missing you.”

[emsdevs]

I’m a sucker for Angst, so a heaviest of heavy Angst will always do it for me, like I need my insides to feel like it’s being stabbed and overwhelmed with all sort of emotions. Bonus point if it’s long. Hope this isn’t too much to ask for maybe I’m getting too carried away loll Could you do it with Justin Herbert please?

No Strings?

a/n: nonnie you sent this at the perfect time! I've had justin on my schedule for a while, but couldn't figure out what to write for him, so this worked out perfectly! this does not have a happy ending but i might be open to a part two if enough people want it. enjoyyyy :)

masterlist | NFL Masterlists | Justin Herbert Masterlist

You swore you could handle casual. When you started whatever you had going on with Justin, you swore you were the kind of person who could have a casual relationship, but now you aren’t so sure. When Justin asked you out four months ago, you never would’ve expected to be where you are now. It had all been going so well. The dates had been everything you could’ve asked for and more, and Justin was the perfect gentleman. It all began to go downhill after your third date. You had invited Justin into your apartment when he dropped you off, your intentions clear, and he had followed you inside. You two had been sitting on the couch when things began to get serious, the kiss you were sharing heating up.

Justin pulled away, looking slightly guilty. “I feel like I need to be honest with you about something before this goes any further.”

“Um, yeah, okay,” you were a little confused, but you let him speak.

“Look, because of the job I have, I really can’t do anything serious right now. I know I’ve probably led you on a little bit, but I swear I’ve never had any intentions to hurt you,” he stared at you, looking nervous.

“That’s okay!” you speak up too quickly for your liking. “We don’t have to stop unless that’s what you want. I can do casual.” Surely, you could. It couldn’t be that different from a normal relationship.

“You sure? I don’t wanna overstep if casual isn’t something you’re comfortable with.”

“Yeah, of course. No strings attached. Just having fun.”

As Justin leaned back in, you were thinking that this could definitely work. Justin was great, and this would keep him in your life without overstepping any boundaries. You could do casual.

~~

Turns out, you can’t do casual. You’ve been trying to stay normal, but you realized two days ago that you were falling for Justin, hard. You’d been keeping it to yourself, not wanting to scare him away, but it’s getting more and more difficult. He’s just so sweet, and the things he tends to do for you simply cannot be casual.

Is it casual when he plays with the ends of your hair before you get out of bed in the morning? Is it casual for him, even though he keeps all your favorite snacks at his place for when you have movie nights? If it’s casual, why does he keep a drawer free so you have space to keep a few clothes at his place? If it’s casual, why does he know you better than you know yourself? Why has he gotten you your favorite flowers every two weeks since you went on that first date with him? Why does he know “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days” is the perfect movie to cheer you up after a long day? If it’s casual for him, why is he acting like he’s in love with you?

Eventually, it had gotten to a point where you couldn’t stand lying to him or yourself anymore. After four months of no strings, you had to talk to him. You finally got the chance one night when he invited you over for a movie night. Before the movie got started, you decided it was time to break the news.

“Justin… I actually think we need to talk,” you wiped your hands on your pants, feeling them already starting to sweat from the nerves.

“Oh! Uh, yeah, sure. What’s up?”

“I just really need to say this, and I know you probably won’t like it, but I need you to listen until I finish,” you pause, waiting for him to nod. “Okay, so, I just feel like we’ve definitely crossed some lines in this arrangement, ya know? Like we both have a drawer at each other’s places. We’re spending the night together, and sometimes, we hang out without even having sex. I just… this isn’t what we originally agreed to,” you were avoiding saying what you were truly feeling.

“So we’ll step back some? I don’t know. That doesn’t seem like something to be worried abou-”

“I caught feelings for you, Justin,” he just stares at you, shocked, “I know we said no feelings, but we’ve just gotten a little too close. We don’t have to stop or anything. I’m a big girl. I can handle-”

“No. No, we should stop,” he cuts you off, and it’s your turn to stare.

“Seriously?”

“We said no strings. I told you I can’t do relationships because of my job. If you have feelings for me, this needs to stop now before it can get worse.”

“Right,” you stood robotically, grabbing your things and walking out of Justin’s house with tears in your eyes. The worst part? He didn’t even try to stop you. Somehow, with one sentence, you ruined something that could’ve been so good for you, that had been so good for you.

~~

Now, it had been three months since that night, and you hadn’t spoken to Justin since. You’ve been going through the motions, just doing a fairly normal routine to make it through your day. You wake up, get dressed, go home, shower, cry while you eat your sorrows away, sleep, and then do it all again the next day. Nothing has felt right since your breakup with Justin, if that’s what you would even call. How can you break up with someone you were never really dating. 

You’ve found your confidence to be much lower recently, too. You couldn’t count the amount of time you’ve wondered where you went wrong. Why did you have to tell him? Why would he not even try? Why didn’t he follow you? Today, you found the answer.

You had decided that a day out would do you some good, so since you had the day off, you got dressed and walked around the city. You were about to go into one of your favorite coffee shops, one that you had brought Justin to many times. As you neared the door, you caught a glimpse of something that shattered your heart in a second. There sat Justin across from some girl you’ve never seen, looking too close to just be friends. You watched as she stood, kissing his cheek before she wandered off to the bathroom. A bright smile made its way onto Justin’s face, a smile you had never managed to bring out of him. With your heart broken all over again, you made your way to a close friend’s place. It was closer than yours, and you knew you didn’t want to be alone right now.

He had told you he couldn’t be in a relationship, but what he really meant was that he couldn’t be in a relationship with you. The questions began to set in again. Were you not pretty enough? Not popular enough? Did he need someone in the same tax bracket as him? Did he really just not like you? Did he think you weren’t good enough for him? Was he lying the entire time, every time he told you how special you were to him

Even with all the questions you had, you knew two things for sure. You were done with Justin Herbert, and you definitely could not do casual.

taglist: @heartsforjh @irishmanwhore @heartforherbert @jusaints @one-sweet-gubler

join the taglist

[coquettejunnie]

[안톤] Drive By ── L.A

"I can't get you off of my, out of my mind. I'm saying stop playing girl you out of line. Couldn't erase these feelings even if I tried. You stay on my mind. Thinking about you. Thinking about you. You stay on my mind. In the morning (Thinking about you, thinking about you). Late at night (Thinking about you, thinking about you). On the job (Thinking about you, thinking about you). Baby you stay on my mind."

୨୧ Pairing: Lee Anton x Fem!Reader・Wc: 1.5k/ fluff, slight angst, language (swearing/curing), mutual pining, skinship, a kiss scene ! ♡ type: oneshot

In which. . . Anton takes you home from one of the most horrible days you had ever experienced. But, he tries to be there to cheer you up.

Playlist: Drive By by Eric Bellinger and OTW by Khalid (ft.6LACK and Ty Dolla $ign)

Rose's Note: Literally I just saw the one recent Anton live and I'm going fucking crazy man it's unbelievable. GFEHGHEF YOU MAKING ME BIAS YOU EVEN MORE DUDE.

When you left the movie theater, all you could feel was your tears falling down your cheek making your eyes puffy. Before you could take a step further, you stopped yourself from walking towards your friend, Anton's car. You can see from a distance in the parking lot that he is on his phone while fidgeting his legs waiting for you to come out the theater.

Before you went to the movies, Anton had offered - as in forcing you to agree to basically be the carriage in Cinderella for any emergencies like if the shoe didn't fit or you didn't find the prince or even if the clock strikes midnight. But in this case, he was all you needed right now. He was the emergency carriage to help you escape from your own prince.

As Anton was tapping his finger against the armrest while being bored, he left his gaze as he noticed that you were outside by yourself without your own date. He furrowed his eyebrows as he was trying to take a closer look but he sees that your face is red and you kept on wiping your nose with the back of your hand. He rushed out of his car and ran towards you.

"Y/n! What the hell happened?! Why are you crying?" he questioned as he examined around you with his hands on your shoulders firmly.

"I don't want to talk about it right now." you stammered with your words, making it hard for you to finish your sentence. He looked at you worriedly but then pulled you closer into an embrace.

You rested your head on his chest as you just let out your tears, he was comforting you with sweet but yet comforting words like, "It's okay, I am here. It's going to be okay." His own heart felt like it was going to shatter from seeing you cry.

After he made you follow him towards his car, he opened the car door letting you inside then closed the door and went inside as well. Throughout the whole drive, he knew that you would be silent - which he didn't mind since he was giving you space. The only sound being perceived from the car was the radio's intensity being low and your sniffling that you were trying to hide away from him.

"Do you want some air?" his finger was rested on the window switch while waiting for a response. As you nodded slowly, he only rolled it down only a little bit until it was enough for you to feel a little better.

As Anton was driving, his grip on the string wheel became tighter from what he was thinking about. Your eyes drifted towards his hand then his face.

"You alright?" your question made him flinched.

His grip on the steering wheel became slightly loose as he adjusted himself comfortably. "Yeah, i'm good."

Questions kept coming back to him like a train in his head but he doesn't want to force it out on you to answer him. He shook his head at the thought and continued driving.

While you were silent, everything was replaying in your head as if it were a movie. You hated to keep seeing that moment replay and you really didn't want to relive it. You felt like you just wanted to lay on your bed and cry a river - like even now you feel like you just want the tears to come down but you didn't want Anton to see the state you're in.

A while later, you came back to your conscience when you realized that Anton had stopped driving. You looked around to see that you were already back at your house by your garage.

"Do you need anything from the store or something?" he murmured.

"No, i'm fine." you replied which made him nod at your response.

"Just remember, i'm always here if you ever need anything." he gave a light smile.

Anton started to turn on the AC in the car while waiting for you to leave. But as soon as you hold onto the door handle, you release your grip from it. He looked at you confused.

"I will just tell you what happened." you let out a sigh before you continued. "Basically he was never interested in me from the start. It was only something between him and his friends doing something like a bet to just basically see which girl is more interesting in the school. And as you can see, they wanted to play around with me." Anton's eyes widen from being shocked.

"Do you want me to beat him up?" you couldn't help but giggle at his response.

"No, please don't cause a scene."

"No, i'm being serious. I can come over and give him a piece of my mind." he demonstrated with his rolled up fist.

"Don't because he's not worth it-"

"But he literally hurt you emotionally. So he deserved to be mistreated badly - as in being hurt physically." he interrupted you.

"Anton, I don't want you to get suspended because of a useless situation. I can probably do something about it-"

"Y/n, I really like you and I don't want to see the person I care about most in this world be mistreated horribly. This was technically your first ever date and he went and fucked it up for you." you were just dumbfounded by his response. Were you hearing things or was it actually real? By the look of your face, Anton realized he blurted out too much information.

"You like me?" you stared at him in confusion while just being jaw dropped.

"That's beside the point. I would actually just do anything for you to feel happy everyday. Even if I am not enough for you, I will try my best every day-"

"Anton, do you like me?" you repeated your question which had made him freeze in place.

"Yes. Yes I really like you, Y/n." he responded after a few seconds. You couldn't believe your ears.

You guys were in silence with only both of your guys eyes lingering onto each other. You could see that his adam's apple was moving from him swallowing the lump in his throat. His eyes traveled to your lips as he licked his own anxiously. You were a blushing mess from the tension that you guys are building.

Anton backed away after a few seconds of feeling nervous while at the same time you were looking around awkwardly.

"I think I will get inside." you said without making eye contact with him.

"Alright." he quickly responded.

You opened the car door and got your purse but before you could leave fully, he grabbed your hand. You started at him in confusion while waiting for his next move.

"Y/n, can I kiss you?" those words had just silenced you. You did not predict that. Your face started heating up from blushing even more from how he asked for consent.

"Can you what?" those were the only words that came out of your mouth.

"Oh, uhm, nothing. It's nothing" he went on the other side of him - which was towards the window so he would get the seatbelt.

You tugged his jacket to get his attention. When he turned to face you, he saw that you gave him a light smile.

"You can kiss me." he searched for any lie from you before he gulped. In a blink of an eye, you felt a soft pressure on your lips. You realized that he quickly leaned in and locked his lips with yours. You closed your eyes as you melted into the soft kiss - which had sent shivers down your spine from forming goosebumps. His hand had guided towards yours as he rested his fingers on yours while deepening the kiss.

As he was trying to lean in closer to be over you, he hit his head on the car roof. You guys chortled from it.

"I can wait till later or something if you ever want to do it again." you could still feel his breath against you as his hands were still lingering on with yours and was looking into each other's eyes in admiration.

"But then what does that make us?" you questioned him.

He acted like he was thinking really hard about it. "Maybe girlfriend and boyfriend? Or is it too fast to start off as that."

"Maybe we can be girlfriend and boyfriend." you said in the same tone as him. He started to give a cute smirk at the response.

He leaned over you to open the door then placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Goodnight." he beamed a smile. Man, it was a smile you couldn't resist.

"Goodnight." you said as you couldn't fight back the smile that kept growing. Then you got up and closed the door when you had left the car. You stood there just taking a few seconds to adore him before you disappeared into your house.

Anton gazed at the steering wheel just smiling to himself as he had the moment replayed in his head.

[semisasseater]

Baby, you’re so preciou-ciou-ciou-cious.

Boyfriend! Thanos x Boyfriend! Nam gyu

Summary: poor nam gyu was never able to paint his nails and thought he’d never be able to, until he asked his boyfriend to paint them.

Tw: mentions of drugs, fluff, angst if u squint, low self esteem, soft intimacy, acts of service, just cute stuff, let me know if i missed anything!

authors note: i HAD to write this once i saw someone ask for this.. i literally love thangyu so much people who don’t can argue with me !! i swear thangyu is my little babies who do no wrong…? anyways after im done with my other requests i might just also focus on writing thangyu!! also gabby hates me yall </3 (im lying i think)

Not proofread!

Word count: 579

Nam gyu had always wanted to paint his nails. It was a small, silly dream, but a dream nonetheless. Every time he tried, though, it ended in disaster—streaks of polish smeared across his fingers, uneven globs drying in clumps, and an overall mess that left him more frustrated than satisfied. His hands shook too much from all the drugs he had taken in the past with his boyfriend, a lingering reminder of mistakes he couldn’t erase.

Tonight, though, as he pushed open the door to Thanos’s room, he saw something that made his heart flutter.

There, sitting on the floor, back against the bed, was his boyfriend, carefully painting his own nails. A deep violet polish coated his finger, matching his vibrant purple hair. His movements were precise, steady, effortless.

Nam gyu hesitated in the doorway before quietly stepping inside, lowering himself next to Thanos. He fiddled with the hem of his oversized green-and-white shirt, biting his lip before finally whispering,

“Please paint my nails…”

His voice was small, almost embarrassed, and when Thanos turned to look at him, his expression was one of mild confusion.

“You want your nails painted?”

Nam gyu nodded, his dark eyes filled with something vulnerable, something hopeful.

Thanos studied him for a moment before shrugging. “Okay I’ll do yours after alright?”

Another nod, and Nam gyu settled in, watching closely as Thanos finished painting his last nail. There was something oddly calming about the way he did it—the slow, careful strokes, the way he blew on them after to dry. It was fascinating, almost hypnotic.

When Thanos finally turned to him, he patted the space in front of him. “Okay come here”

Nam gyu shifted so that he was fully facing his boyfriend. Thanos reached for the small collection of polish bottles beside him and glanced up. “What color do you want?”

There was a pause before Nam gyu murmured, “Black”

Thanos nodded, picking up the black polish and opening it with ease. He reached for Nam gyu’s hand, but as soon as he touched it, he felt it—how badly it trembled. The shaking was worse up close, uncontrollable. It made something in Thanos’s chest ache with guilt.

Without a word, he gently took Nam Gyu’s finger, holding it steady in his own hand before carefully applying the first stroke of polish.

Nam gyu watched, his lips parting slightly. He had never been good at sitting still, but in this moment, he felt frozen, caught in the warmth of Thanos’s hands, the way he handled him with such patience.

Thanos worked in silence, finishing the left hand before moving to the right, his grip never faltering. He didn’t rush, didn’t get frustrated, even when Nam gyu’s fingers twitched every now and then.

And then, finally, it was done.

Thanos blew gently on Nam gyu’s nails before leaning back with a satisfied nod. “Wait for them to dry okay?”

Nam gyu stared at his hands, his breath catching. It wasn’t just that they were painted perfectly—it was that someone had done this for him. Someone who cared.

“Thank you…” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Thanos simply smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the top of Nam gyu’s head. “Of course anything for my love”

For the first time, Nam gyu didn’t feel ashamed of his shaking hands. Because for once, they had been held with love.

And for the first time, his nails were painted perfectly.

All thanks to his amazing boyfriend.

@semisasseater

Taglist : @ancientvamp

[duckduckgoosebutitsinatrench]

So when I wrote this I meant like, Ace Just Some Guyed his way into some ambiguous "will they won't they" Totally Platonic cuddles, but in light of recent events, I think they should kiss actually. They should get married.

AceYuu headcanons:

Ace both fell first and fell harder. My boy spent the night at Ramshackle one weekend to go on a horror movie binge, and then Yuu fell asleep- not even ON him, Yuu just fell asleep next to him on the floor in a blanket cocoon- and then his brain decided to finally process all the feelings he had and engage his pattern recognition like "aw yes, I've seen this before, time to date" and just dropped the FONDEST, most Hozier level yearning "I love you" bombshell on this poor, poor mans internal dialogue

You should've seen it, it was the most accurate windows crash buffer screen to ever grace the world of twisted Wonderland

Bro shut down. Bro zoned out so hard he had a whole ass out of body experience and he was still too busy staring at Yuu drooling in a raggedy ass quilt to even notice. Bro did NOT finish that horror movie! (It was a pretty shitty one anyway so he didn't really care) Bro barely slept, he just stared at the ceiling until Yuu woke up the next morning (if 12:37 pm still even counts as morning to you) and came out of their little one man blanket fort wearing HIS OLD T-SHIRT HE LENT TO THEM- FUCK

... Welp. Time to roll with it. In love or not, Ace Trappola is Ace Trappola and Ace Trappola is an asshole! But now he's an asshole that's buying Yuu coffee twice a week and then complaining about it even though he's the one who insisted on buying it in the first place

Finds every fucking opportunity to make a flirty ass "joke" that everyone and their mama can tell isn't really a joke trying to gauge how Yuu feels about him. Sebek is gripping the steel chair getting ready to swing

You know how Yuu gets into a Situation every other day? Yeah. You know how Ace is now getting very very close to having an actual fucking heart attack?

Ace prides himself in taking care of Yuu, it's one of the things he'd do even if he can't take care of them in exactly the way he wants. But seriously Perfect! You can't just text him in the middle of basketball practice saying you fell off your fucking ROOF- WHAT WERE YOU DOING UP THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE?!?!

Ortho dead ass has to put them both on house arrest for a few days to monitor them because Ace actually almost came close to a medical emergency from the stress.

He wants so badly to be mad at Yuu- and he is! But their guilty face and whispered apologies and the weird little cat-like bonk they gave him are taking up an unusual amount of space in his mind and for some reason he can't remember what he was supposed to be angry about right now

He thinks he's being so damn slick with this crush and keeping his very very intense feelings a secret and laying low and shit and then you go and talk to a Scarabia student B and he's like "I thought they were already dating?... What do you MEAN they're not even together?!"

Worst kept secret in all of NRC. Cater goes live and starts talking about his "cute, oblivious little freshmen" and Yuu watches it and is like "damn, wonder who he's talking about :D" and Ace wants to die

The pinning stage is so real bro! Ace is over here taking them out to arcades and cafes and local pop-up fairs and is trying his best to pretend this is a date that Duece and Grim are just third wheeling on

I honestly don't think there's even a real confession? It's gonna be one of those "Didn't realize we were dating" things. Ace somehow just sweet talks his way into Yuus bed for the night after lying and saying he was kicked out of heartslabyul and they're just cuddling and then Yuu just gives a little sigh and is like

"I kind of want to kiss you right now", it's barely a whisper and he more so feels the breath on his neck than hears the actual words but OH BOY

Give him a minute. Give him a minute he needs it. He'll kiss you in a minute just let him freak out first

You almost regretted saying it, regretted breaking the ice that you both had seemed to silently agree Wasn't There.

Maybe f you were more awake, then you would. Maybe you would fluster and try to take it back, or maybe you would have a sudden surge of bravery and double down on your desires.

Maybe.

But you were tired, and Ace was warm- he was always so warm, you know? His skin always seemed to run hotter than anyone else you knew, with the exception of his cold hands, which were currently wrapping around you tighter than they were just a few seconds ago, something you were too sleepy to truly process. All you noticed was how his fingers dug into your skin, into your waist, into your shoulder and the back of your neck and how his breath hitched.

Your eyes were getting heavier by the second. Being trapped in your best friend's arms and knowing you were safe, knowing, that on some deep, unconscious level, that you were loved, would do that to you.

Sleep always came easy when he was here to protect you and look after you, even with him complaining the whole way.

Ace's breaths we're coming out shallow and slow, like he was trying his best not to break something fragile, and your tired mind briefly wonders why before you feel his thumb drawing circles into your nape and your brain goes peacefully blank again.

Taking in a slight shaking breath, his voice comes out in the same barely-there whisper yours had, with a tone filled with something you knew you weren't quite ready to face, "...Do you mean it?... Hey", he shook you slightly, just enough to jostle you out of the sandman's gentle grasp, "Yuu! Do you... Do you mean it?"

His voice wasn't even really there by the end, but his hand had moved to your face, his palms gently cradling your face and his chilled fingers caressing the space just under your eyes, seemingly trying to wake you up through the small touches as his body shifts to be just barely hovering over yours.

You blink slowly up at him, and answer with a yes that was based more on instincts and intuition than actually logically understanding what he was asking.

You were so tired, but he was just so damn beautiful that you felt you would give him the world in this moment, if only he asked for it. You would find a way for him.

And as he slowly moved his hand down to trace your bottom lip, his eyes flicking between your lips and your half asleep eyes as he slowly leaned in, you felt your heart swell with a more intense feeling than you ever thought you could have.

The feeling of his lips, soft from the cherry chapstick he'd bought a few months ago, the same one you found every excuse to borrow, somehow felt more right than anything else ever since you got to this strange new world.

It helped that he wasn't a bad kisser either.

Seconds felt like years, and your heartbeat was speeding up ringing through your entire body when he pulled away, a loving, disbelieving smile that was quickly pulling into that boyish smirk you loved so much was right there on his face, seared into your memory

"I knew you couldn't resist me"

You knew how it should have sounded, you knew how he meant it to sound, how it was supposed to be smug and slightly condescending, but it just came out so, so fond. Like he had waited a thousand lifetimes for this, and he would've waited a thousand more.

You hummed, a faint knowing in the back of your brain that you would be nearly as calm about this once morning came, as you tangled your hands in his messy hair, and kissed him again.

The next morning was an EVENT, all the blood in your body relocated to your face and Ace had never teased you so hard! just ignore the fact that he hasn't let go of your hand all morning! Please.

The first people to find out about this is, of course, Grim and Deuce, who share a look with various levels of played up disgust

The next person is surprisingly Sebek, who finally stops white knuckling that chair to congratulate you... and somehow drag your friendship with Malleus into said congratulations

He becomes so damn insufferable. Once he realized he can be a boyfriend and live out all the fantasies he's had in his head for months? All bets are off baby! He is so annoying about it! You love it

He's such a good boyfriend? Surprisingly? I firmly believe that the only reason he treated his ex like that is because he didn't really know her before they started dating, he just thought that being in a relationship would be fun and cool and he just jumped into it without actually thinking about it first

WITH YOU THOUGH?! WITH HIS BEST FRIEND THAT HE CARES ABOUT VERY VERY MUCH?! OH HE IS STEPPING IT UP! HE IS GONNA GET A GOOD GRADE IN BOYFRIEND IF IT FUCKING KILLS HIM

Not much changes, really. You were both already kind of dating before this anyways, the only thing different is that he can kiss you and use those cheesy ass pet names that he pretends to cringe at but secretly loves. That's right! He's going to unironically call you some shit like "sweetie pie honey bunches" and then pretend he was calling you that ironically! Epel is in hell

He still isn't gonna stop complaining about buying your coffee though- no! Put your wallet away he's still gonna do it, dammit!

As much as i love all the other Yuu ships like Malleyuu, Silyuu, Jadeyuu, floydyuu, Jamiyuu, etc. NOTHING and i mean NOTHING is funnier than Ace mother fucking Trapollo Just Some Guying his way into Yuus bed

[s4svnn]

Out of bounds . JJK

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; his love subjected you to the true extent of deception, a merciless lie wrapped in the illusion of paradise, until the truth tore it apart - he was always out of bounds.

↳ Jungkook x reader

↳ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: ongoing

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

Chapter Twenty Six

A dull, muted glow pressed against my eyelids, urging me toward consciousness. It wasn’t the sharp brightness of midday or the golden warmth of sunrise—no, this light was softer, diffused, as if the world outside was still hesitating between night and morning. I could feel it spilling through the sheer hotel curtains, painting faint streaks of pale gold across the plush bedding.

The sheets were cool against my bare arms, the air thick with the lingering scent of fresh linen, faint traces of perfume, and something else—something more familiar. It was warm and musky, tinged with the remnants of last night, and it wrapped around me like an echo of something I wasn’t sure I wanted to remember.

Blinking slowly, I shifted, the soft fabric rustling beneath me. My limbs felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion, but the bed beside me felt even heavier—because it was empty.

Frowning, I turned my head. The space where Kayla had been was nothing more than a shallow imprint in the mattress, the sheets slightly rumpled but untouched by warmth. I sat up sluggishly, running a hand through my tangled hair as I tried to shake off the last remnants of sleep.

Before I could dwell on the strange tightness in my chest, the bathroom door swung open with a quiet creak.

Kayla stepped into the room, a towel draped lazily around her neck, the damp strands of her honey-blonde hair clinging to her shoulders. The scent of fresh shampoo drifted toward me, clean and citrusy, mingling with the subtle chill of the air-conditioned room. She was wearing a loose-fitting t-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts, her bare feet padding silently against the carpet as she made her way toward the bed.

“You finally up, sleepyhead?” she teased, her lips quirking into a small smile as she plopped down beside me.

I exhaled slowly, pressing the heels of my hands against my tired eyes. “Yeah… Sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night.” My voice came out rougher than I expected, the weight of exhaustion still clinging to my words.

Kayla’s teasing expression softened just slightly. “I figured. You were tossing and turning a lot.” She nudged me lightly with her elbow. “Come on, you need food. I was just about to order room service.”

She reached for the hotel phone on the nightstand, her fingers moving deftly over the buttons as she scrolled through the digital menu on the screen. “Let’s see… Okay, definitely pancakes. And eggs. And—oh, extra bacon. I don’t care what you say, we need extra bacon.” She glanced at me over her shoulder, one brow raised. “What about you? Anything else?”

I shook my head, my voice barely above a mumble. “That’s fine.”

Kayla snorted. “You always say that.” Then, turning her attention back to the phone, she finished placing the order. “Oh, and lots of coffee,” she added, giving me a knowing look. “Definitely coffee.”

I gave a weak chuckle, though it didn’t quite reach my eyes.

Kayla set the phone back down with a satisfied hum before turning back to me. “Food’s on the way. You should freshen up before it gets here.”

I hesitated for a brief moment before finally dragging myself out of bed, my body protesting every movement. The floor was cool beneath my feet as I padded toward the bathroom, pushing the door open and stepping inside.

The mirror above the sink reflected back a version of myself I barely recognized. My hair was a mess, tangled from sleep, my skin paler than usual, marked by the exhaustion of the night before. My eyes—usually sharp, usually guarded—looked hollow, rimmed with a faint puffiness that told me I hadn’t really rested at all.

I turned on the faucet, letting the water run for a moment before splashing some onto my face, the chill jolting me awake. As I reached for my toothbrush, my gaze drifted downward—toward my neck.

I froze.

Dark, scattered marks trailed down the left side of my throat, fading into the curve of my collarbone. 

Hickeys.

Jungkook’s hickeys.

A sharp breath caught in my throat, my fingers hovering just above the bruised skin. Memories surged forward—his lips against my neck, his hands gripping my waist, the quiet desperation in the way he had held me. For a second, I could almost feel the ghost of his touch lingering against my skin, the warmth of his breath whispering against my ear.

My chest tightened, something raw and painful unfurling in my ribcage.

Then, just as quickly as it came, I forced it back.

Jaw clenching, I let my hair fall forward, hiding the marks from view. My fingers curled into the edge of the sink, knuckles turning white as I exhaled sharply through my nose.

I wasn’t going to let this break me.

Lifting my chin, I met my own gaze in the mirror. The girl staring back at me looked just as lost, just as tired. But there was something else, too—something steadier, something resilient.

Straightening my shoulders, I turned on my heel and walked back into the room, just in time for breakfast.

Kayla and I ate in silence, the weight of unspoken thoughts settling between us like a heavy fog. The light filtering through the curtains was softer now, diffused by the shifting clouds outside, casting muted patterns against the walls. It should have felt warm, comforting even, but instead, it only emphasized the quiet.

Our legs were crossed, facing each other on the bed, but there was a distance that the space between us couldn’t fully measure. The occasional clink of cutlery against ceramic punctuated the silence, but otherwise, neither of us spoke. Maybe she was waiting for me to, or maybe she just understood that, right now, words wouldn’t come easily.

Kayla finished her food first, setting her plate aside before reaching for her coffee. She held it between both hands for a moment, her fingers curled around the ceramic as she stared into the dark liquid as if it held some kind of answer. Then, exhaling softly, she brought it to her lips, blowing lightly before taking a sip.

Her gaze lifted to mine.

“Sorry to throw this at you so early in the morning,” she said, voice gentle but weighted with something more. “But… what are your plans now?”

I paused mid-bite, my fork hovering in the air. The question landed heavily, cutting through the quiet in a way that made my stomach twist. Slowly, I set my fork down, suddenly not hungry anymore.

“I honestly don’t know,” I admitted, the words quieter than I intended.

Saying it aloud made it real—more real than I was ready for.

I lowered my gaze, my fingers fidgeting with the edge of my plate. “I didn’t have a backup plan. I should have, but I didn’t. I really thought this was going to work out, or at the very least… I thought it wouldn’t end like this.” I let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking my head. “I don’t know if that makes me naive or just stupid.”

Kayla frowned, her brows knitting together in quiet concern. “It’s not your fault,” she said firmly. “You couldn’t have known what their true motives were.”

I swallowed, my throat tight.

It didn’t matter how many times I told myself that, how many times other people said it—deep down, I still felt like I should have seen it coming. That I should have been smarter, more cautious, more prepared.

I stared at my plate, blinking rapidly as my vision blurred. The lump in my throat grew, and I clenched my jaw, willing the tears not to fall. I hated crying in front of people. It made me feel weak. But Kayla saw through it anyway.

She didn’t say anything. She just reached forward, gathering my empty plate and setting it aside. And then, instead of pulling away, she took my hands in hers, her grip warm and steady.

“I’m going to make a suggestion,” she said carefully, her thumbs brushing over my knuckles. “You don’t have to take it, but… just promise me you won’t get mad.”

I blinked, momentarily thrown off. “Okay?”

She hesitated for only a second before exhaling. Then, she pulled me just a little closer, as if afraid I’d shut her out.

“I want you to come back home with me,” she said softly. “To London.”

The words knocked the air from my lungs. I stiffened, my fingers slipping from hers as I leaned back, staring at her as if she’d just said something completely absurd.

“What?” I breathed. “No.”

Kayla sighed, watching me carefully. “You promised you wouldn’t get mad.”

“I’m not mad,” I shot back, but the edge in my voice betrayed me. I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply. “It’s just… I came to Canada for a reason, Kayla. I left everything behind because I believed in this. Yes, it didn’t go the way I wanted, but I can’t just give up and run back home.”

Her eyes softened, but there was something else there too—something desperate. “AJ, I love you. And your passion for your dream? It’s one of the things I admire most about you. But I can’t let you stay here. Not when there are people out there—people just like them—who will keep putting you through this, over and over again.”

I opened my mouth, ready to argue, ready to tell her that I could handle it, that I wasn’t going to let this one failure define me. But the words wouldn’t come. Because a part of me—no matter how much I tried to fight it—knew she was right.

Kayla saw the hesitation, and she pushed forward.

“Please,” she whispered. “I’m just looking out for you. Come home with me. Stay with me in my apartment for as long as you want.”

I shut my eyes for a moment, pressing my fingers against my temples. “It’s not that simple, Kayla. If my mum finds out I’m back home, she’ll be even more disappointed. She already doubted me from the start—imagine how much worse it’ll be if she finds out she was right.”

Kayla’s expression crumbled. “I know you care about what she thinks. But you can’t let that weigh you down. What is life if you don’t make mistakes, if you don’t trip up along the way? So what if she finds out you failed?” She leaned in, her voice urgent but gentle. “Then prove to yourself—not her—that you are capable of something greater. That you can still find your place, even if it’s not here.”

Her words hung between us, heavy and unshakable. I didn’t know how to respond. I wanted to fight back, to insist that I wasn’t ready to leave, that I had to keep pushing forward. But for the first time since all of this had happened, I let myself admit the truth: I was exhausted. I was broken in ways I didn’t know how to fix on my own.

Kayla reached for my hands again, squeezing gently. “I just want to see you happy,” she whispered. “You deserve to feel that way more than anyone.”

A breath shuddered out of me. And then, without thinking, I leaned forward, wrapping my arms around her. She didn’t hesitate, pulling me in tight as I rested my head on her shoulder, my body sinking into the warmth of her embrace.

I pulled back slightly, my hands still loosely resting on Kayla’s arms, as the weight of my own words settled over me.

“Okay… I’ll come home.”

For a moment, she just stared at me, as if she hadn’t quite processed what I’d just said. Then, she pulled back, eyes wide with disbelief. “Wait… really? For real?”

I gave her a small, tired smile and nodded. “Yeah,” I whispered, the word feeling heavier than I expected. “I’m coming home.”

The next thing I knew, she threw her arms around me again, squeezing me so tightly it almost knocked the breath out of my lungs. I let out a soft laugh against her shoulder, feeling her warmth, the way her fingers clutched at the fabric of my hoodie like she was afraid I’d change my mind.

I closed my eyes for a second, letting it sink in. I was really doing this. I was going back.

When we finally pulled apart, Kayla wiped at her eyes, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. “Okay,” she breathed. “So, what now?”

I exhaled slowly, grounding myself before answering. “Well… we’re going to have to stop by my apartment to get my things,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “And we’ll also need to go to the design company… so I can resign.”

Kayla didn’t even hesitate. The moment the words left my mouth, she practically jumped up from the bed, her whole body brimming with excitement. “Okay! Let’s go!” she beamed, already moving like we were leaving that second.

I let out a startled laugh, shaking my head. “Kayla, I still need to get changed.”

But she wasn’t listening. Instead, she spun back around, grabbed both my hands, and yanked me up with so much enthusiasm that I almost stumbled forward into her. “Come on! What are you waiting for?”

That was it—I couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled out of me, raw and unfiltered, the sound filling the small room. It wasn’t just amusement at her eagerness; it was something else entirely. Relief. Lightness. Like a weight I hadn’t even realized I was carrying had been lifted. I felt happy. Not the fleeting, surface-level kind of happiness that came and went in brief moments, but something deeper. Something real.

And for the first time in forever, I allowed myself to hold onto it.

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

We pulled up to my apartment complex, the car rolling to a stop as I stared up at the familiar brick building, its weathered facade looking almost dull beneath the pale, overcast sky. It wasn’t much, but it had been mine—my own space, my fresh start. Now, I was coming back just to leave again. The thought sat heavy in my chest, a weight I wasn’t ready to unpack just yet.

Kayla stepped out first, stretching her arms above her head before glancing at me with curiosity. “Okay, but real talk—why the hell were you staying with that prick Jungkook when you had your own apartment?”

Her voice was light, almost teasing, but the question still caught me off guard. The casual way she said it—like his name didn’t make my stomach twist, like the memory of everything that had happened wasn’t still raw beneath my skin. For a second, I felt my breath hitch, my fingers tightening around the strap of my bag. But I forced myself to push past it, exhaling slowly through my nose before answering.

“The building was undergoing renovations,” I muttered, reaching into my pocket for my keys. “I didn’t even find out until the day it happened. So… he was kind of a last resort.”

Kayla made a dramatic sound of understanding, dragging the word out. “Ohhhh,” she said, nodding sagely. Then, with absolutely no hesitation, she added, “Nonetheless, fuck him.”

I blinked before letting out a surprised laugh, shaking my head at her unwavering pettiness. “Jesus, Kay.”

“What?” she said, completely unrepentant. “I mean it.”

I shook my head again, still smiling as I unlocked the door and pushed it open. The apartment smelled faintly of dust and stale air, a sharp contrast to Jungkook’s polished mansion. It was strange walking back into it, knowing I wouldn’t be here for much longer. The furniture was still exactly how I had left it, but there was an eerie kind of stillness in the air, like the space knew it had been abandoned.

I stepped inside, making my way toward the storage closet where I had tucked away the moving boxes when I first unpacked. The irony wasn’t lost on me as I pulled them out, shaking them open and folding them back into shape, as if the last several months had been nothing more than an intermission in the act of leaving.

Kayla watched me for a moment before holding out her hands. “Alright, give me one.”

I handed her a box, and for the next hour, we worked in near silence, the only sounds being the occasional shuffle of books, the rustling of clothing, the soft rip of packing tape as we sealed up each piece of my life. It was strange how methodical it felt—going through my things, sorting them into boxes like they were just objects and not fragments of a life I had tried to build.

I crouched down to zip up my suitcase, my fingers brushing over the fabric of my favorite jacket as I folded it inside. It felt heavier than it should have. Maybe everything did.

And then, just as I pressed the suitcase shut, a sharp knock echoed through the apartment.

Kayla and I both froze, our eyes meeting in silent confusion.

I furrowed my brows. I wasn’t expecting anyone.

“I’ll get it,” Kayla said, brushing the dust off her hands as she stood.

I turned back to my suitcase, thinking maybe it was my landlord doing a final check in. But then Kayla’s voice cut through the air, laced with something unreadable.

"AJ… someone’s here for you."

The way she said it made something cold slither down my spine.

I set the box down and pushed myself to my feet, my pulse ticking just a little faster as I made my way toward the door. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting—but I knew for sure that I wasn’t expecting to see him.

Damian stood in the doorway.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

For a second, I just stared, caught between disbelief and something I couldn’t quite name. He looked almost the same as the last time I’d seen him—same sharp features, same tired eyes—but there was something different about his posture, the way he shifted on his feet like he wasn’t sure if he should even be here.

My voice came out quieter than I meant for it to. “What are you doing here?”

Damian hesitated, his gaze flickering briefly to Kayla before settling back on me. "Can we talk?"

Kayla, who had been standing just a little too close to my side, stiffened at his words. I didn’t have to look at her to know the expression she was wearing—I could feel it radiating off of her. She turned her head slightly, just enough to shoot me a pointed look that clearly said, Do you want me to punch him?

I exhaled sharply, giving her a silent but firm look in return before turning back to Damian.

"Fine," I said. "But make it quick."

Damian nodded. “Yeah, I won’t take up too much of your time.”

Kayla snorted. “I’ll be in your bedroom packing up the rest of your stuff,” she said pointedly, her voice dripping with exaggerated nonchalance. “So don’t mind me.”

I didn’t miss the way she lingered for just a second too long before disappearing into my room. I knew her well enough to know she’d be listening from behind the door.

Damian and I sat down on the couch, though I kept some distance between us. The silence stretched for a moment before I finally spoke.

“What’s this about?”

He hesitated. Then, his eyes flicked toward the boxes again. “Why are you packing?”

I sighed, already exhausted by the conversation. “I’m moving back home.”

His brows knit together. “What? Why?”

I shrugged. “Let’s just say things didn’t work out.” My voice was flat, emotionless. "Now I’m… rethinking my life choices."

Damian’s lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how. His gaze darkened, and for a long moment, he just stared at me. Then, almost too softly, he said, “It was him, wasn’t it?”

I tensed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Damian let out a humorless laugh, rubbing a hand down his face before looking at me again. "This is why I told you to be careful."

And just like that, the anger I held in flared.

I turned to face him fully, my jaw tight. “How was I supposed to know?” My voice was sharper now, more defensive. "From your half-assed words, how was I supposed to know this would happen? You didn’t want to tell me about the history between you two, and now you’re acting like you cared this whole time?"

"It’s not that," he muttered.

"Then what is it?"

He exhaled slowly, his shoulders sinking. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter.

"Look… I’m sorry. I know it may not mean much now, but I really am. As much as I hate him, part of me didn’t tell you because I thought maybe he had changed."

I blinked, the anger inside me faltering slightly.

"When I saw the way he looked at you that day… I thought maybe he was different from the guy I remember."

I swallowed hard, unsure what to say.

Damian took a deep breath, his fingers clasped tightly together as if grounding himself. I could see the conflict in his eyes—the hesitation, the weight of what he was about to say pressing down on him. But after a moment, he exhaled and started speaking.

“We were kids when we first met,” he said quietly. “Both obsessed with the same dream. Racing was everything to us. We trained together, pushed each other, swore that no matter what happened, we’d have each other’s backs.”

His voice was steady, but there was an old pain laced beneath it.

“When we finally got the opportunity to go pro, we made a promise—no matter who got selected, we’d support each other. I meant it and I thought he did too. So when they chose him, I told myself it was fine. I was proud of him. I texted him, congratulated him, wished him nothing but the best. I really tried to keep in touch.”

Damian let out a short, bitter laugh. “But he stopped replying. No calls, no messages—just radio silence. I thought maybe he was busy, settling into his new life. Then one day, I decided to just show up at his place. His door was unlocked, so I let myself in.”

I noticed the way his hands curled into fists, how his jaw clenched before he continued.

“I was about to call out his name, but… I heard voices coming from his bedroom. So I walked over, and through the crack in the door, I saw him. With her.” His voice hardened. “The CEO’s daughter.”

A sinking feeling settled in my stomach. He was talking about Jade.

“At first, I didn’t think much of it. Thought maybe they met at work, maybe it was something genuine. But then the rumors started. People talked. Other racers whispered about how he got into the program—how he didn’t earn his spot, he secured it.”

Damian’s gaze darkened. “And then I found out the truth. That he had been sleeping with her to guarantee his place as their new upcoming racer. That everything we worked for, everything we sacrificed—it didn’t matter, because he found a loophole.”

A heavy silence fell between us.

“I felt betrayed, you know?” Damian’s voice was quieter now, raw. “I gave everything for this. Trained every single day, pushed myself past my limits. And the guy I trusted, the guy I called my best friend… he just cheated his way in.”

I swallowed hard.

Hearing it like this—seeing the weight of it in Damian’s expression, in his posture—made it feel even worse. Jungkook had done it before. He had stepped on someone else to get ahead. And I had been too blind to see the pattern repeating itself.

Damian sighed, shaking his head. “I didn’t tell you all of this before because, deep down, I hoped I was wrong about him. That maybe he had changed for the better.” He let out a bitter laugh. “But I guess some people never do.”

I lowered my gaze, staring down at my hands as emotions twisted inside me.

Anger. Regret. Sadness.

“I should’ve listened to you,” I murmured.

Damian shook his head. “It’s not your fault. He's got this way of deceiving people, he lures you in and then tosses you aside just as quick, there was no way you could’ve predicted that would happen, not with that facade he puts on.”

I blinked rapidly, trying to fight the sting in my eyes. But it was no use. The weight of everything—the betrayal, the exhaustion, the failure—was pressing down too hard. My vision blurred, and I had to clench my jaw to stop my throat from tightening.

Damian’s hands gently rested on top of mine where they laid in my lap, his touch warm and reassuring as I looked down. His voice broke through the silence, steady and grounded. "Look, I can’t promise you that he won’t stay at the back of your mind for a while. But one thing I can promise you is that things will get better. I know it may not seem like it right now, but trust me. In time, you’ll see how important this all was, how much it’s going to make you stronger. You’ll realise this was exactly what you needed to push yourself beyond your limits, even when it feels impossible."

I blinked, the weight of his words settling deep within me. I met his gaze, my lips curling into a small, tentative smile. “Thanks,” I said softly, trying to steady the flutter in my chest. “I really hope you’re right.”

There was a pause, the kind that lingered just long enough to give both of us a moment to reflect. Then, without warning, Damian stood up and pulled me into a hug. It was strong, enveloping, and I allowed myself to fully feel it — the comfort of knowing that someone believed in me when I wasn’t sure I could believe in myself.

“I hope London treats you well,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Let’s stay in touch, okay? I want to know what path you choose next. And... if you need help, don’t hesitate to reach out. I’ll be there for you, no question.”

His words brought a lump to my throat, and I pulled back slightly to look him in the eyes. “Thank you,” I said, the sincerity in my voice reflecting just how much he had meant to me. “I honestly don’t think I would’ve made it through the first months of living here without you. You made everything feel...manageable.”

Damian let out a small, warm laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, please. Who else was gonna stop you from burning the entire apartment complex down with your questionable cooking skills?” His teasing brought a smile to my lips despite the heavy emotions swirling around us.

I playfully punched his shoulder, but the movement was softer than it would have been if I weren’t feeling so drained from everything. Still, we both laughed, our shared humor doing its best to ease the weight of the moment. It was strange, the mix of humor and sadness, the bittersweetness of goodbyes tinged with the comfort of knowing we'd made it through.

After a moment, I glanced toward the door, knowing the time had come to move on. I stood up, gathering my things and walking toward the entrance. Damian followed me, and we exchanged a long, silent look — one that said everything we hadn’t been able to articulate in words. Then, I reached for the door, hesitating for just a second before pulling it open to let him leave, the cool air hitting my face like a wave.

The door closed behind me with a quiet click, and I leaned against it, taking a deep breath as the weight of everything began to settle in. Just then, Kayla walked out of my bedroom, her eyes immediately scanning the area. A sly smile tugged at her lips as she looked at me.

“I didn’t want to say this before, just in case he turned out to be a jerk, but…” she trailed off, her voice dripping with mischief, “he’s smoking hot.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at her straightforwardness. “Yeah, well, he’s all yours.”

Kayla’s eyes widened slightly, and her playful expression shifted to one of curiosity. “Really? He’s single?”

“Yep,” I said, crossing my arms and giving her a knowing look. “You’ve got a chance if you’re quick.”

We shared a look, our laughter bubbling up unexpectedly at the thought, and for a moment, it was like time stopped. It was a fleeting, lighthearted moment before the heaviness of the situation crept back in. Our laughter slowly faded, and the space between us felt a little quieter, more real.

Kayla exhaled, shaking her head in disbelief. “Well, that was a nice surprise. But on a serious note, everything’s packed. I’m ready to go whenever you are.”

Her words grounded me. I nodded, the last few remnants of my past settling into a neat, definitive ending. It was time to step forward.

We moved through the motions, grabbing the boxes and my suitcase, taking them down the stairs together in companionable silence. There was no rush, no need to fill the quiet with words — just the weight of finality pulling at us as we loaded everything into the trunk and backseat of the car. The reality of leaving my apartment behind was beginning to sink in, but it wasn’t entirely painful. It felt like a fresh start, even if it was a little intimidating.

Kayla slid into the driver’s seat and glanced over at me. “So,” she asked, her voice lighter than it had been earlier, “You ready?”

I stood there for a moment, gazing at the apartment complex one last time, my eyes lingering on the place that had been my home for so many months. The memories, both good and bad, flashed in my mind, and I took a deep breath, knowing that leaving was the right choice.

I gave a slow nod. “Yeah,” I said quietly. “Let’s go.”

With one last glance, I climbed into the passenger seat and shut the door behind me, my heart both heavy and hopeful for the new chapter that awaited me.

After about 15 minutes of driving, we pulled up in front of the sleek, glass-fronted building of the design company. The towering structure was impressive in its architectural elegance, but all I could feel was the weight of the decision that loomed over me. I couldn't shake the feeling of nervous energy building up in my chest, like my heart was about to leap out. Kayla, sensing the shift in my mood, reached over and placed her arm on my shoulder. The gesture was light, comforting.

“It’s for the best,” she said, her voice steady and reassuring.

I turned to her, forcing a small smile onto my face as I tried to calm my racing thoughts. “Yeah, I know. It just... feels huge, you know? Like... everything’s about to change.”

Kayla squeezed my shoulder gently, giving me an understanding smile. “It is huge. But it’s a good change. You’re doing this for yourself.”

I let out a slow breath, the nerves still simmering beneath the surface but softened by her words. I nodded, my resolve starting to solidify. "Yeah, I know. Thanks, Kayla. Really."

She gave me one last encouraging look before I stepped out of the car, my feet unsteady for a moment as I made my way toward the front door of the company building. The automatic doors slid open, and I walked through the polished lobby with the cold, clean smell of the place surrounding me. My heels clicked against the marble floors, each step carrying me closer to a final decision, a departure from a chapter of my life that had been both thrilling and suffocating at the same time.

The receptionist, a woman in her thirties with a friendly but professional air, glanced up as I approached. She greeted me with a smile that was so genuine, I almost felt guilty for what I was about to do.

“Miss Banks!” she said warmly. “I didn’t know we were expecting you today.”

I gave a small, nervous laugh, my hands twisting slightly in front of me. "Yeah, sorry about that. It was kind of a last-minute decision."

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further, instead offering a polite smile. "Well, is there anything I can assist you with?"

The question seemed innocent enough, but my stomach flipped. I had rehearsed this moment a thousand times in my head, but now that I was standing here, the words felt heavy. I took a deep breath, collecting my thoughts. “I’d like to terminate my contract,” I said, my voice steady but soft, though the butterflies in my stomach were threatening to break free.

For a brief moment, the receptionist’s expression faltered, and confusion clouded her features. "Sorry?" she asked, her tone gentle but clearly confused by the request.

I nodded, trying to hold my composure. “I’d like to terminate my contract. I’m returning back home.”

Her eyes widened slightly as if trying to make sense of my words, and she blinked a couple of times before responding, clearly taken aback. "Oh... okay." Her voice softened with understanding. “I wish you all the best in your future endeavors. However, I can’t authorize the termination of your contract,” she added, her tone apologetic but firm.

The words struck me like a cold gust of wind. "What? You can’t?" My mind raced, and I felt an immediate surge of frustration bubbling up.

She shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not. Only the person who created the contract — Mr. Jeon — can authorize the termination. This would need his approval.”

The weight of that realization hit me square in the chest. The last thing I wanted was to go back to Jungkook for approval. I’d stepped out of his life, and now, I had to return to the very thing I was trying to escape.

I exhaled slowly, fighting the urge to snap at her. “Oh... okay. Thank you, anyways.” My voice came out flat, though I wasn’t sure if it was out of resignation or just the sting of disappointment.

She gave me a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry once again. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

I shook my head, my lips pressed into a thin line. “No. Thank you.” I turned on my heel and made my way back to the door, the burden of having to seek Jungkook’s approval hanging heavily on my shoulders. I felt like I was walking through molasses, each step slow and heavy, but eventually, I reached the door and stepped back into the cool air. The door clicked shut behind me, and I walked back to the car where Kayla was waiting.

She looked at me as I slid into the passenger seat, her eyes wide with expectation. “So, is it all done?” Her voice was hopeful, almost as if she were bracing herself for the answer.

I leaned forward, resting my forehead against the cool glass of the car window. I could feel the heat in my cheeks from the frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “No,” I groaned, my voice muffled. “I have to get that idiot’s approval first.”

Kayla blinked, clearly confused. “What? Seriously?”

I lifted my head to face her, my hands rubbing over my face. “I can’t terminate the contract unless Jungkook agrees to it.”

Her eyes narrowed in disbelief. “That’s bull—” She didn’t even finish the sentence before her tone turned sarcastic. “What kind of system is that?”

“I know,” I replied, slumping further into the seat, my voice tinged with frustration. “Just when I thought I could leave and move on, he finds a way to trap me. I don’t get it. I’m done, I want out, and he still has a say.”

Kayla’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white as she let out a frustrated sigh. A few seconds passed before she raised her head to meet my gaze, her eyes filled with hope. “But hey, if you think about it, do you really need to terminate the contract? I mean, we’re leaving anyway and he doesn’t even know so what’s he going to do about it?”

I stared out the window, chewing over her words. Was she right? Did it matter if the contract wasn’t technically terminated? After all, I wasn’t planning on staying in Canada. “Yeah, you’re right,” I finally said, a slow realization dawning. “He doesn’t care about me. He’s never cared. There’s no way he’d even chase after me to stop me from going.”

Kayla’s grin returned, mischievous. “Then it’s settled. We’re going home.”

I felt a sense of relief wash over me as she pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road that would lead us to the airport. It felt like a small victory, the last piece of the puzzle falling into place. We didn’t speak much after that, but the silence between us was comfortable. There was a sense of finality in the air — one chapter closing, another opening.

Once at the airport, Kayla handled check-in while I grabbed food for the both of us. The hustle and bustle of the terminal had a strange sense of calmness to it, and for once, I didn’t feel rushed. In fact, I felt at peace knowing that this decision, however complicated, was one I was making for myself.

An hour later, we boarded the plane. Kayla immediately curled up in her seat, her head resting on my shoulder as she drifted off to sleep. Her soft snores soon filled the quiet cabin, and I chuckled, snapping a picture of her while trying not to wake her.

I drifted off myself, the exhaustion from the past few days catching up to me. I must have fallen asleep because, not long after, the voice of the pilot woke me from my slumber.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, “we’ll be landing shortly. Please make sure your seatbelt is securely fastened.”

I blinked, slowly coming to full consciousness as the plane began its descent. The city beneath us looked so familiar, and it was comforting to know that I was headed back to the place where I truly belonged. As we disembarked from the plane, I couldn’t help but feel a weight lifting off my shoulders. Kayla stood beside me, looking up at the airport signage as we stepped into the terminal.

“Well, here we are,” she said, her voice filled with excitement and that unmistakable spark of adventure.

We both paused for a moment, taking in the atmosphere around us. And then, almost as if it were choreographed, we echoed one another’s speech.

“Home.”

[captain-huggy-bear]

The Giggles

Pairing: Clayton Keller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI because making out and Kells getting a lil' hot and bothered...maybe a lot hot and bothered

Summary: You have your first ever kiss with Clayton and you can't stop giggling, it's fucking adorable.

Notes: The first time I ever kissed a guy (at 24) I kept giggling (did that every time he kissed me for at least a month) and I think Kells would find it fucking endearing. So that's the inspo for this.

I'm a sucker for late bloomer/inexperienced reader shit cause that be me so have this little brain rot.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

You have no idea what the fuck you are doing. It's so stupid that you've made it this far in life, your 20s, without so much as a kiss and now you're sat in Clayton Keller's car and he's looking at you like that and you're certain he's going to kiss you and you have no idea what you are doing or what you're supposed to do.

It's late, near midnight but neither of you had wanted the date to end and Clayton had suggested you go to a lookout point, sit in his car and talk for as long as you wanted. All on your terms he said, when you wanted to leave he'd take you straight back home. He's been nothing but a gentleman, it makes sitting there with him like that, alone, feel safe, comfortable.

Turns out the lookout point had a great view of the city and the stars. Turns out sitting in a car talking to Clayton Keller makes you never want to go home. There's something about the atmosphere inside the car that has you melting under his attention; the way the interior of the car is lit solely by a few internal lights that give off a cool blue light, how Clayton had put the heating on the moment he saw you shivering, heated seats turned on for added measure, his hand reaching out to rub warmth into your leg until the car warmed itself, how he moved both your seats until your headrests were inline, the fact the music was playing, but so low that it removed the awkwardness of silence while still allowing you two to be in your own bubble.

You were both facing each other in your seats, you leaning your cheek into the leather of the seat, watching him from underneath your eyelashes as he finished telling you about a story from practice. Something about the new pup Archie being brought out onto the ice and scrambling about, all four legs splaying wide as he struggled to grip the ice properly.

He's beautiful, you knew this when he first asked you to go out, but it's even more clear like this when he's smiling wide, teeth on show, dimples deepening as he laughs at the memory. You can't help the way you look at him and he can't help that he notices.

You're so fucking pretty, the way you lean your cheek against his car seat, how you tuck your legs underneath you like you're both sat in his house, on his couch. You wore the prettiest dress to the date and he's been almost incapable of ungluing his eyes from you all night, and now is no exception. In the dim lights of his car you look so fucking soft, sweet, looking up at him from underneath your lashes like he's the most interesting thing in the world.

You blink slow at him as the two of you fall into a comfortable silence, but a silence that's no less filled with tension. You can feel it, the buzz in the air that would normally be your cue to say something that ruins it, something that cuts the tension. The buzz in the air that has you swallowing nervously because his blue eyes keep dipping down to your lips, tracing them like he doesn't want to forget what they look like, like he wants a taste of you.

You try not to jump when he moves slowly, coming to lean into your space, his arm resting over the back of your seat until he's so close you can count the few freckles on his skin, and smell the expensive cologne he's wearing. Your eyes aren't sure where to look; his eyes, his lips, the way his Adam's apples bobs in his throat, that chain of his that peeks out from beneath his dress shirt.

Clay's eyes dart from your own to your lips and back again, his tongue coming out to wet his bottom lip, a motion you instinctively copy. The air feels thick, heavy and there's a roiling buzz in your gut, a giddy sensation so strong you're not sure what to do with it, not sure how to relieve it or cope with it.

"Can I kiss you?"

You can't help it, the giggle slips out without your permission, a hand coming up to cover your lips as look at him all wide eyed and sweet. It's fucking adorable and he can't help the way he smirks at you, eyes becoming more heavily lidded because fuck he wants to kiss you and swallow that giggle in his mouth.

"Can I kiss you? Please, baby?" He asks again, watching the warmth flood your cheeks, the way your eyelashes flutter against the apples of them like the wings of a dove and you lower your hand, lip bitten between your teeth. You're the picture of innocent seduction and it floors him further because you have no idea what you're doing to him.

"...Yes..." Your voice is so so quiet, shy like speaking too loudly might ruin it, might break this moment.

Clayton's free hand reaches out for your cheek, fingers brushing across the warm skin with a reverence that is better suited for worship in a church than the interior of a car at 11:45pm on a Friday night. The nerves grow in your stomach as his fingers trail down, thumb pulling your lip free from between your teeth.

You have to swallow another giggle of nerves as his hand reaches your throat, lightly holding your neck, thumb brushing underneath your jaw in a soothing back and forth that has your eyelids fluttering. He's slow as he leans in, gives you time to pull away at any second, but you don't. For once in your life you stay put in this moment, in this feeling.

His lips are warm against yours, softer than you expected from a hockey player. Bottom lip plush as he captures your own between his lips, you have no idea what you're doing, but you trust your gut, follow his lead, moving your lips against his in a rhythm that you think is passable. Your hand coming up to tangle in the strands of hair at the base of his neck.

When he pulls back, he leaves little distance between you, just enough to breathe, your noses brushing. It's the overwhelming giddy feeling that surges in your stomach, in your blood that has you giggling again, face pressing into his neck to hide it, giggling like a little girl at your first kiss.

"Did you just laugh?" He's not mad, no, he can't be. Not at the cute little giggle that keeps escaping as your feet curl under you, like his kiss has given you a burst of undiluted energy. You're hiding your face into his neck, smile growing against his skin and it makes Clay's own begin, corners starting to turn up, teeth starting to peek out. His hand on your throat flexes, not constricting, just a reminder it's there, that he moved with you, his ring cool against your skin.

"I'm sorry...I don't know what I'm doing..." His smiles grow wider, pressing his face into your hair, nose nuzzling just besides your ear like this isn't the first time you've kissed, like you do this all the time.

"Have you never kissed someone before, baby?" He expects you to say you have, that it's just been a while but you don't, pulling back to look at him, eyes wide and lip back between your teeth like it's found a home there.

"I'm sorry...I...no..." and shit, if he doesn't want to puff up a little at that, that he's the first guy that ever got to kiss you, that's ever got to taste you. That he's the first guy you decided was good enough to get this close to you. That he gets to show you how a kiss should be, how you should be treated...fuck...

"Hey, don't be sorry, just tell me...the giggles are good right?" He smirks at you even as he reassures you because he doesn't want you shying away from him, doesn't want you thinking he has a single problem with how inexperienced you are, cause fuck he wants to show you everything.

You nod shyly, a confirmation that your giggle fits are nothing if not positive, an expression of all the unusual feelings, the giddy rush that fills your body every time he touches you.

"C'mere then, sweet girl," You follow his lead when he grips your hips, leading you to move across the centre console until you're straddling his lap, knees pressing into the warm leather on either side of his thighs, arms over his shoulders, stomach buzzing with nerves as you look down at him.

Clay's hand tugs the skirt of your dress down for you, eyes staying on yours, not daring to peak, covering you properly like a gentleman before you settle comfortably on his lap. His hands smooth over your thighs. His hands so large they're twice the size of yours.

"'m gonna kiss you again, okay?" It's whispered almost on your lips, his hand trailing up slowly, oh so slowly from your thigh, over your hip and ribs, almost ticklish in its course of travel, until it comes to rest back around your throat like it belongs there. Flexing just slightly so you can feel how his whole hand covers your throat, like it was made for the space. The way his ring touches your skin, cool metal against the hammering pulse at your neck, how his fingers have you, firm, but gentle in their grasp, how his bracelets tickle the hollow of your throat.

He can feel your giggle against his palm, the way your throat contracts and relaxes under his hand as you unleash it again, like you can't stop it. The most perfect fucking sound he's ever heard. The giggle you let out doesn't stop him this time, nor the way your eyelashes flutter nervously. He gets it now. You're nervous, you're giddy, your body full of those unknown feelings, things you're not used to, things he's making you feel for the first time.

Clayton's breath is warm across your lips as he hovers just over them for a second before slating his mouth back against yours. His teeth nip at your bottom lip, pulling slightly, tugging until you open up all hesitant and sweet because you had no idea what you're doing even as you giggle and sigh into his mouth, into the taste of the tiramisu he had for dessert.

You gasp at the feeling of his tongue against yours, the way he delves into you hungry, desirous but slow, not rushing as his free hand tangles in your hair, just tugging slightly at the roots. Enough that it sends a warmth through you, every inch of you tingling with a want you've never felt directed at someone before.

One hand of yours curls into his hair, freshly done nails scratching against his scalp in a way that has him groaning low in his throat, the feeling made better by the fact you don't even realise how good you are. Your other hand curling over his shoulder, nails biting into the back of his dress shirt, he wants you to leave a mark, a reminder of this moment, that he's the first man to make you feel like this. That he's the first man to have you falling apart, trembling in his lap like a simple kiss is too much.

The way he kisses you leaves you breathless, head dizzy, teeth clanking together, tongue licking into your mouth like you're the best thing he's ever tasted and you might just be. The hand at your throat tightens, not enough to constrict anything, but just enough to make your head buzz a little, to make you whimper into his mouth like this is all too much, this, something people do everyday, is too much.

You're scrabbling to find purchase on him, holding him close, tight like he's an anchor in rough storm. Every tug of his hair, every dig of your nails into his shoulder, sends tingles down his spine and he has to remind himself this is new for you. This is enough for tonight. Reminds himself not scare you off, no matter how badly he wants to flatten the car seats and climb over top of you, no matter how badly he's straining against his dress pants or how badly he wants to taste you right now. This enough.

When he releases your lips you gasp in a breath like you've been underwater, giggle quickly taking over, loud and bright and so fucking lovely. Uncontrollable as you giggle into his shoulder and he loves it, he loves the warmth of your cheeks, the brightness of your giddy smile, the way you burrow against him in your joy.

He hopes you never lose it. Hopes you giggle every single time he kisses you until the day he dies because there is nothing more beautiful than the naked, raw expression of how he makes you feel. The girlish delight at a man, a guy, you like kissing you for the first time, for the second time, maybe forever?

"Fuck, you're so beautiful..." The way he looks down at you as you're giggling on his shoulder makes you stop, breath non-existent because god, how can he look at you like that with eyes like that an not expect you to fall in love. "So pretty..."

He can't help it, dipping back down to capture your lips because fuck you're gorgeous and pliable and warm. You taste like the cocktail you drank at dinner, a little bit fruity and a little bit alcoholic.

It takes everything in Clayton to pull away. Everything in him to let your lips go, to not drag you to the backseat and spread your thighs for him, but he knows that's too much too soon, knows you need easing in if a kiss makes you have a giggle fit.

His nose nuzzles against yours, smirk firmly in place because you're already trying to hold back another giggle and he just can't help how proud it makes him, to know he's brought you to that, made you a giddy mess in his lap.

"Should probably get you home, 's getting late, baby..."

You want to whine, want to complain, ask to stay here all night but you can feel how hard he is underneath your ass and you know...you know this is his way of being a gentleman, his way of going slow. You know if you ask to stay it'll go further than you're ready for, so you nod instead and let him guide you back to your seat.

You let him fix the skirt of your dress again, like a good boy, covering you up. You let him buckle your seatbelt and don't comment when his fingers linger over your cleavage or pinch your hip lightly.

The whole ride back to your house his hand is on your thigh, maybe a little higher than normal, maybe slipping just slightly under the hem of your dress, pressing circles into your inner thigh in a way that makes your blood heat, makes your cunt tingle because fuck...

You consider it. Consider asking him to come inside, but you can't. Not yet. Still you let him walk you to your front door, let him help you up your steps as if you aren't perfectly capable and when you turn to face him under your porch light, ring doorbell camera capturing the moment, you don't resist when he pushes you lightly into the side of your house. You don't protest when his hands barricade either side of your head, leaning over you until you're in your own little cocoon called Clayton Keller.

"Can I see you tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow." Fuck, you've never had a guy want to see you so soon, but then you've never had a guy like Clayton Keller. Tonight's full of firsts.

"Yes, please."

It's the sweet little please that you tack on the end that has him groaning, head falling forward, forehead pressing against your own because you're so fucking sweet that he wants to absolutely ruin you.

The lips slant against yours this time in a bruising fashion, desperate, hungry, still he's careful, a hand cushioning your head as it bumps back against the side of your house, a hand at your throat tilting your head back like it'll help him devour you further.

The way he rips his lips from yours to breathe is almost feral, panting over you like he might eat you alive and you consider it, consider letting him, consider unlocking your front door and dragging him in by the hand, consider how it might be to tug at his hair while he kisses down your neck...but you don't.

"Fuck, sweet girl, you're gonna be the death of me, y'know that?"

You can only giggle again, face pressed back into his chest like you might be able to hide from him there and like that he's a goner. He's pretty sure you've dug his heart out from his chest and popped it into your pocket.

His hands, so fucking large one of them could cover your face, tilt your head back gently and away from his chest until you're looking at him again, meeting his baby blues as he smiles down at you all soft and gentle, "Tomorrow, 6pm, I'll pick up, okay?"

"Okay..."

He can't really resist it, the last kiss he presses to your lips, short, sweet but no less delightful than every taste of your lips he's had tonight. "G'night, baby."

"Night, Clay..."

He watches you unlock your door, waits until you wave goodnight, until you're inside, door closed and he hears the distinctive click and turn of the lock before he all but skips down the steps of your porch.

He's practically dancing to his car cause fuck, that's his future wife right there and he's determined to make you his by the end of the month.