#but like imagine being will hearing your best friend of like 9 years and the boy you’re in love with say his life started

[phoebebuggers]

”i feel like my life started that day we found you in the woods” to el while will was RIGHT THERE was crazy work mike wheeler when i catch you

[aureatelys]

nobody does it like you do

pairing: dbf!aaron hotchner/fem!reader rating: explicit w.c.: 10k.... a/n: dbf!hotch party ended months ago but im still here

summary:

You don't mean to start something with your dad's best friend during your summer break.

c.w.: 18+ MDNI PLSSSS, dbf!hotch yippee, no y/n, reader is mid-20s and hotch is mid 40s, reader is kind of a brat and also very sexual and forward :), car sex, handjobs in car, v fingering, dom/sub, dirty talk, light degradation kink, size kink if u squint, light choking at the end!, unprotected sex, tbh some plot to mostly porn

read below or on ao3 here <3

You’re nearly half-naked when you first meet him.

It was the first morning back at home during your summer break in your first year of your Master’s program. You hadn’t been home in several months, blaming your rigorous coursework and the full-time job you had, but luckily you were able to use nearly a month’s worth of PTO to coincide with your summer off.

You had gotten in late after flying across the country, but your body still woke up like clockwork just before 9 am.

Currently, as you make eye contact with the tallest and most attractive man you have ever met while wearing a tank top and shorts that barely covered your ass, you couldn’t tell if that was a blessing or a curse.

You had heard your dad rave about what basically sounded like a crush he had over the phone for nearly a year. Aaron Hotchner apparently works with your father at the FBI, albeit in a different department, and they hit it off at a recent gala by discussing golf, expensive scotch, and being annoyed about the latest budget cuts. One Saturday at the country club’s golf course later, your father was hooked, and Aaron has been over at the house nearly every weekend since.

You remember your dad saying something about how he’s hardworking, better than he is at golf, and much nicer than he looks. He didn’t say anything about how hot he was.  

You were stumbling out your bedroom and rubbing at your eyes when you had nearly run into him on the way to the bathroom. You’re still waking up, but you see the genuine surprise and something like want on his face before it’s gone, a neutral expression taking over his handsome features. The clench in his jaw betrays him.

“Excuse me,” he says. His voice is low, deep in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. “I was just heading into the restroom.”

You blink at him, your mind still not having not caught up yet. “Uhm.”

“I can just go to the one downstairs,” he says, giving you an easy smile. It makes him look even more devastatingly attractive and you feel dazed. With that, he turns on his heel and makes his way back downstairs without another word.

You distantly hear your father downstairs calling your name and asking if you’re awake. You feel rooted to the spot, flustered.

You try your best to go through your normal bathroom routine, but your heart still hasn’t calmed down yet. It’s been a while since you’ve dated and even longer since you’ve slept with someone, thus you’ve had a lot of quality time with yourself recently, so seeing the way this older man reacted to you was enough to have you preening a bit. You weren’t imagining it, right?

You tell yourself that you’re feeling lazy after a long day of traveling and not wanting to change yet as you head downstairs into the kitchen, absolutely not hiking your shorts up a little and shimmying your tank top down.

“Good morning,” you chirp as you step into the kitchen. Your dad is already sitting at the dining table, most likely finishing his second cup of coffee, and his face lights up when he sees you as if he wasn’t the one to pick you up from the airport late last night. Aaron is standing in the kitchen next to the coffee machine, pouring into a travel mug.

You ignore the way you can feel Aaron’s dark eyes rove over you; the top of your breasts nearly threatening to spill out, your hard nipples poking through your top, and the curve of your ass peeking out from underneath your shorts.

“Morning, pumpkin,” your dad says cheerily, clearly oblivious to what’s going on between his friend and his own daughter. “This is Aaron, he works at the Bureau with me, I told you about him?”

You vaguely remember when you stalked through his Facebook profile several months ago after your father was tagged with him multiple times. The pictures of him were always blurry, never giving you anything to go off of.

As you stand next to him in the kitchen and crane your neck up to look at him, you realize the pictures really don’t do him justice. He’s handsome, almost boy-ish with the way his hair is clean and not gelled down like in the pictures, flopping in front of his forehead. He’s wearing a tight red polo, showcasing his broad shoulders and forearms in a way that makes you want to drool a bit. His brow is pinched, jaw tense, and you almost think you can hear his teeth grinding when he attempts to keep his eyes on your face and not on your chest.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Hotchner,” you say, giving him an innocent smile. You ignore the mug your dad must have left on the counter for you and stand up on your tiptoes to retrieve one from the overhead cupboard.

You feel a rush of exhilaration when you hear Aaron suck in a breath at the way your tank top hikes up your stomach. When you turn back to him, because he is technically in the way of the coffee machine, you catch the way his eyes sharpen and the way his hand grasps at the edge of the counter, knuckles turning white.

And then it’s gone, just like earlier, replaced with something almost professional, probably the same expression he makes when something ticks him off at work.

Interesting.

“Aaron is fine,” he says, stepping out of the way of the coffee machine and then holds his hand out for you to shake.

You can feel your dad watching you, so you make an effort to tone it down a bit. You put your hand in his, swallowing when you notice just how large his hands are and the way he grips you a bit tighter than what would be considered professional. When you look back up at him, there’s something almost like a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Nice to meet you, Aaron,” you repeat. It’s worth it to see a smile grace his face, replacing that smirk, and causing something fuzzy settle in your chest.

When he lets go and makes his way to sit across your dad at the table, you ignore how your hand suddenly feels like it’s burning.

“We’re about to head to the golf course here in a couple of minutes if you wanted to join?” your dad asks as you pour your coffee and sit down at the head of the table.

You hum and experimentally kick your feet out in Aaron’s direction to where he sits to your left. You make contact with his knee, and you watch almost gleefully as Aaron just barely jumps in his seat. He doesn’t make eye contact with you, just quietly sips at his coffee. It really shouldn’t turn you on the way it does. “I’m okay, I was just planning on hanging out here and catch up on my shows.”

“You sure, pumpkin? I know it’s been a while since you were out on the course but…”

“I think that’s exactly why I shouldn’t come with you,” you laugh. You pull your chair up closer to the table, making it look like you were just trying to get comfortable, when really you just wanted to cop more of a feel of Aaron’s thighs.

“Alright, alright,” your father says, putting his hands up in defeat. “But don’t forget about the retreat later this week with the guys.”

You pause from where you were just about to dig your toes underneath his thigh. “Retreat?”

“I told you about it when I picked you up last night!”

“I think you forgot that you picked me up at one in the morning and I was half-asleep in the car,” you roll your eyes. “But of course I’ll go with you.”

“Great!” Your dad says with that big smile on his face that always makes you feel nostalgic. You don’t really want to go, was honestly just planning on relaxing at home, but if it makes your dad happy and you get to spend more time with him, then you’ll do almost anything.

And if Aaron’s coming too, then well…

Your dad gets up to put his mug in the sink and starts making his way out of the dining room. “You ready to go, Hotchner?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Aaron says, a barely detectable rasp to his voice that has you hiding a smile in your mug.

You’re about to put your foot down when you feel thick fingers circling your ankle and lifting your leg up until your ankle is resting on Aaron’s knee. You nearly squeak in surprise, but the look on Aaron’s face stops you.

He would look calm, composed even, if you didn’t pay attention to the way his eyes have darkened. His brow is pinched, lips pressed into a thin line, as he tightens his grip on your ankle and asks in a low voice “What kind of game are you playing here?”

Not expecting confrontation, you don’t know what to say. Your breath gets stuck in your chest, something about the glare he’s giving you keeps you rooted in your chair.

Because there’s really only two options here. He’s your dad’s best friend, at least 20 years older than you, and you really have no business in sexually riling up this guy you’ve never met before until today. You can apologize, give him a genuine and friendly smile, and go back to your room and pretend this never happened and you weren’t just throwing yourself at some hot older man.

But there’s something about Aaron that you can’t quite put your finger on. You wonder what it would be like to see him without those walls he undoubtedly keeps up all the time, see him come undone. You can tell from his Facebook pictures that he’s a bigshot of some kind, always wearing a fitted suit and not a hair out of place. You can see that now, in his pressed polo and matching belt, that he likes control, his skin nearly thrumming with it. And that’s something you’ve always enjoyed playing with.

You noticed the lack of a wedding ring on his finger, and the way he’s gazing into you now. The hot trail his hand leaves behind as he starts running up your shin, past your knee, and grip at the meat of your thigh says all you need to know.

“What game?” you say, innocently. You even play it up a bit by batting your lashes at him.

His grip on your thigh tightens, and it feels so good, and it’s been so long, you resist rolling your eyes back and instead spread your legs just a bit underneath the table.

“Your father didn’t tell me you were such a brat,” he mutters.

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him,” you say, hoping you don’t sound as out of breath as you feel.

Aaron doesn’t say anything at that, just hums thoughtfully. You don’t have a chance to backpedal, redirect the conversation if you were reading the whole situation wrong, before he’s placing your leg back on the floor with a gentle hand on your ankle and getting up.

“We can talk more about what you want to do after school later,” he says, raising his voice a bit in an effort to appear like he wasn’t just groping you underneath the table.

You almost don’t hear what he says because your gaze is fixed on the obvious tent in his khakis. Your mouth nearly waters, and just knowing that you’re having the same kind of effect on him as he has on you has heat pooling between your thighs.

You shake your head, resisting the thoughts of throwing yourself on your knees in front of him and taking him in your mouth right in the dining room. You grin up at him and, in an impulsive decision that you’re secretly proud of, you reach over to put a hand on his thigh, dangerously close to his crotch.

“Absolutely, Mr. Hotchner.”

Your smile grows wider at the stormy glare he gives you before he heads out of the dining room, imperceptibly adjusting himself in his pants. Your eyes follow him out, cheeks nearly starting to hurt from how hard you’re smiling because damn, does his ass look good.

It’s your summer vacation, you may as well have some fun, right?

-

Since then, you’ve barely seen Aaron.

You had made Aaron and your father sandwiches, knowing they’d be home by the afternoon. You tried not to let the fact that you were upset, disappointed even, show on your face when your dad came home by himself and told you that Aaron got called for a case.

You knew from your dad that this was a normal occurrence for Aaron and that they’ve both gotten used to it. So many times there would be a gala or a party at the house and he would be called away to chase down a murderer or a rapist or a combination of the two.

You tried not to let it get to you, because seriously, you just met him, but also, it’s not like he owes you anything. But you really hoped that he wouldn’t miss the retreat later that week. Just imagining spending time with him in your lone hotel room was enough to make you dizzy.

So, you distracted yourself. You caught up on your emails, watched those shows that had been piling up in your watch later list, and spent time with your dad at the golf course or whatever else he wanted to do that day. It was nice spending your summer vacation with your dad and catching up on what he does at his boring administrative job and the lack of both of your love lives.

By the time Friday rolled around, there was still nothing but radio silence from Aaron, at least you assumed since your dad hadn’t mentioned him. You almost wish you had asked for his phone number before he left, but it wouldn’t have done you any good to waste a whole week sitting by your cellphone, waiting for a probably dry text from some guy.

A really hot, older guy that definitely has control issues and could toss you around like a ragdoll.

You’re throwing your bag in your car’s backseat and was about to admit defeat, that maybe he really wasn’t going to make it, when a black Range Rover comes skidding down your street and into your driveway.

“There he is,” your dad said in a sing-song voice, sounding about as giddy as you felt.

Your breath catches in your throat when you see him stepping out of his car, because how the hell is it possible for a man to look so attractive doing something so mundane?

And then your eyes nearly bug out because he has his suit jacket hanging from his arm, a duffel bag in the other, and is wearing a white dress shirt so tight that you could see the bulge of his biceps and the softness of his stomach.

“Sorry I’m late,” Aaron says, jogging up to where you and father were. “We just got back a couple hours ago.”

He looks at you then with those pretty brown eyes, looking genuinely apologetic, and the disappointment that you were afraid was going to take a permanent place in your chest gently unravels.

“It’s no problem, Hotch,” your dad waves him off. “We’re still waiting for some of the other guys, so you made it just in time.”

“Great,” Aaron breathes in relief. “I’m going to go change then, I’ll be right back.” His eyes flit towards you again, and you would’ve missed it if you weren’t still staring at him. They’re piercing, undoubtedly beckoning you to follow him, and there’s a hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth.

You feel a rush of excitement shooting through you as you watch him head towards the front door, eyes fixated on his hips. There was no clearer sign than that one, though you try not to roll your eyes fondly at the fact that your dad evidently did not notice as he goes back to playing Tetris with his bags in the trunk.

You wait a couple of minutes, pretending to play on your phone, and then exclaim “Oops, I almost forgot my phone charger! I’m going to run upstairs and get it.”

Your dad just gives an “Okie dokie, sweetie,” and then his phone rings with who you assume is one of his friends you’re waiting for.

You try to not sprint to the front door, instead taking a deep breath and walking in what you hope looks like a normal pace. However, as soon as the front door clicked shut, you run up the stairs, hoping Aaron chose your bathroom rather than the one downstairs.

Not spotting him waiting outside the bathroom, your heart nearly drops out from underneath you, however you notice the closed door and the soft golden light from underneath telling you that you were right.

You were right and maybe you weren’t imagining things. He knew you would listen to his unspoken instructions and follow him. You weren’t a profiler like him, not an expert at studying other people’s body language, but there was nothing fake about the fact that he got hard at your dining room table and you had only known each other for 10 minutes that Sunday.

The click of the door opening disrupts your thoughts. You’re about to grin up at Aaron, say something cute like how you’ve missed him or something more playful like asking why he hasn’t called you.

But you don’t get the chance because you’re suddenly being pressed up against the wall, warm hands on your hips, and Aaron’s soft mouth pressing into yours.

He swallows your gasp, his fingers inching up the hem of your tank top to touch the skin of your waist and kisses the life out of you. His lips are chapped and he tastes fresh, like he had a breath mint on the drive here, and the thought that he had that foresight just for you makes your knees weak.

He kisses you deeply, not even bothering to start gentle like so many other boys have tried before, and it’s overwhelming and not enough at the same time. You’re helpless to kiss back, your body finally catching up, and your hands come up to tangle at the soft strands at the nape of his neck.

He hums against your lips at that, his hands starting to move underneath your shirt to trace the swell of your breasts through your bra. It tickles, and you squirm a little and huff a laugh against his mouth before you can help it.

Before you could apologize and tell him to stop tickling you, his hands press your hips harder against the wall and his lips break away from yours. You attempt to chase him, because you were definitely not done making out, when Aaron tuts at you.

“Behave,” he warns lowly, but he has a full-blown smirk now. His eyes are dark, pupils blown, and his lips red and glistening. He looks so unbearingly sexy when he’s reprimanding you, he just makes it so easy for you to tease him.

“Or what?” You ask, smiling up at him. You watch as his smirk falters, brows furrowing, and something like frustration and exasperation blooms on his face.

“You’re ridiculous,” Aaron breathed, before he’s leaning in and pressing open-mouthed kisses along your jawline and down your neck. He scrapes his teeth against the spot where your shoulder and neck meets and your knees actually buckle this time, something like a strangled moan coming out of your mouth and catching you by surprise. “Looks like you do know how to watch that mouth of yours.”

Any snarky comeback you have dies in your throat because you did not expect Aaron to have that kind of dirty mouth on him. Molten heat starts to pool at the bottom of your stomach, between your thighs, as he slips the strap of your tank top down your shoulder to trace your collarbone with his lips.

“Aaron…,” you whisper, letting your hands fall from his nape to grab at his shoulders, trail down to grope at his biceps. The sleek muscle you can feel even through the fabric of his polo that he changed into, tensing and flexing as he pushes at you, sends your mind reeling.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he mutters against your shoulder, his warm breath and the pet name making you feel paralyzed. “Cat got your tongue?”

Your eyes roll back as you feel him biting a mark onto your chest, right underneath your collarbone, the pain and pleasure tingling all the way down to your cunt. You say something unintelligible, brain feeling muddled, because holy shit.

“Hey pumpkin, did your find your charger? We have to get moving!” You hear your dad’s voice from downstairs and barely swallow back a gasp before Aaron’s hand is pressed over your mouth to quiet you. You hate that that does absolutely nothing to help the growing arousal between your thighs.

Aaron’s eyes meet yours. His eyes have gotten impossibly darker, soft hair falling against his forehead. The wild desire and excitement are clear on his face, but he raises his eyebrows at you to signal you to behave before he lifts his palm off your face.

“Coming!” you yell back at him, hoping the strain in your voice isn’t as obvious to him as it is to you.

Aaron hums, something smug playing at his lips. “Maybe later.”

And it’s ridiculous. Aaron Hotchner, stoic Unit Chief of an FBI unit, best friend of your dad, and 20 years older than you just made out with you so hard that your knees buckled and made a joke about making you come?

You huff a laugh, pushing at his shoulder so you can wriggle out of his grip. He lets go immediately, stepping back to give you several feet of space, and you try not to think about how you already miss the heat and weight of his body against yours.

You’re about to run downstairs, an excuse about realizing you already packed your charger on the tip of your tongue, when Aaron is circling his fingers around your wrist. You look back at him curiously, because as much as you want to, there definitely isn’t time for him to ravage you in your bedroom.

He looks much more composed now, more like his professional SSA Aaron Hotchner self, but you catch the way his eyes linger on the way your shorts ride up high and the soft expanse of your thighs. “I’m serious. We’ll finish this later.”

And it’s the way he doesn’t pose it as a question, but rather a guarantee. Like nothing is going to stop him from having his way with you.

The thought of being completely at Aaron’s mercy has you breathless, feeling a flush rise on your face and your pulse between your legs. He has you stunned speechless, because you’ve never been with someone who has made you feel complete and utter want. You look at him now, chest imperceptibly heaving and making that olive green polo tug across the wide expanse of his chest, you realize that he may just ruin other people for you completely.

Your throat clicks when you clear it, and you only feel a little embarrassed when Aaron doesn’t hide his smirk at you. All words have died in your throat, so you nod instead, hoping that he will take that as an answer.

If possible, Aaron looks even more smug at that.

“Good girl.”

-

The drive to the hotel where the retreat is being held is only 2 hours away, which would’ve been perfectly easy, if you weren’t stuck in the car with Aaron.

You were planning on driving your own car with the top down, wind in your hair, and music blasting. You wanted to spend at least part of your summer vacation doing girly summery things, such as driving into the night with your hair whipping your face and feeling the humidity making your tank top stick to your back.

You also thought you would have time to yourself to think about Aaron and what the hell you got yourself into.

Instead, because you can’t tell if the universe loves or hates you, you have to take Aaron’s Range Rover because everyone else’s cars are packed full, and your dad wouldn’t let you drive by yourself. You tried not to show the excitement bloom on your face when your dad told you, but by the pointed look that Aaron gave you, you didn’t do a very good job.

So, it’s just you, Aaron, and the incredibly tangible sexual tension between you.

The first 30 minutes was easy. It took a while for everyone to find the correct route and there was a lengthy discussion over the phone about whether anyone wanted to stop anywhere for any reason. Eventually, you and at least 4 other similarly lavish cars made it onto the highway.

Aaron was silent for most of the phone call, saying that he didn’t have anywhere he wanted to stop at, and was just looking forward to the fancy clawfoot tub the hotel advertised on their website. You threw a glance at him at that, wondering if he was trying to tell you that he wanted to fuck in the bathtub, but nope. His eyes were firmly on the road, both arms on the steering wheel like a responsible adult or whatever.

You weren’t sure how he was able to act like nothing happened—like you weren’t about to let him just fuck you up against the wall in your childhood home, because currently, you felt like you were about to jump out of your skin from the nervous energy thrumming through you.

You fully ogle him now since it’s not like you have anything to hide. Even his side profile is attractive, but at this point you’re not surprised. Everything you’ve been noticing about him has been steadily driving you wild; the sharp cut of his jaw, the faint traces of stubble, and the way his hands are gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white.

You watch the bob of his Adam’s apple as he deadpans “You’re staring.”

You grin at him before you could help it. “It’s not my fault you’re so handsome. They should study you in art classes, maybe you can even get naked for it?”

The snort that comes out of Aaron’s mouth is sudden, and by the way his eyebrows pinch together like he’s thinking hard, he notices as well. “You really are insatiable.”

“You say that like we’ve even done anything yet,” you mutter, mostly to yourself, turning your head to the window to stare at the sun setting. It would be nighttime by the time you got to the hotel, but you’re already sleepy and debating taking a nap while Aaron drives.

You jump when you feel his hand on your thigh, large and warm. You’ve had other men put their hand on your thigh while they drive and it’s nice, maybe even comforting at times, but with Aaron, the action feels darker. It feels more possessive, heated, and just the sight of his huge hand squeezing the flesh of your thigh has you unconsciously squeezing your legs, trapping the tips of his fingers between them.

“Can you behave?” he wondered out loud. “Because you’re not showing me that you can until we get to the hotel.”

The challenge is clear in the deep timbre of his voice, nearly condescending in a way that makes your breath quicken. You vaguely thought about what he had planned for you at the hotel, luckily you had a whole room to yourself since none of your dad’s friends’ daughters wanted to come. You don’t necessarily blame them—you probably wouldn’t have come either if it weren’t for Aaron and the undoubtable promise that you will have the best sex of your life.

And you do want to wait, honestly. But right now, watching the way his biceps flex in the golden light and remembering the way he desperately grabbed at your hips has you rethinking.

So, you give him an innocent smile, reminiscent of the one you gave him earlier this week, and take a hold of his hand to intertwine your fingers together. The action is slightly risky, implying something about your relationship that neither have you discussed. You may be overthinking it, worried that Aaron would think you’re jumping to conclusions, but all of your reservations disappear when Aaron’s hand squeezes yours and brings your joined hands to rest in his lap.

He gives you a soft smile, one you’ve never seen before that makes your chest tighten, and turns his gaze back on the road.

The following 10 minutes are quiet besides the soft roar of the engine and the gentle hum of the radio. The sun setting washes the interior of the car with a warm gold, and you can’t help but notice the way both of your hands, still clasped together, just look so good together. Like you perfectly complemented each other.

You blame it on the fact that you’re starting to get bored when you wiggle your hand to free yourself from Aaron’s grasp to run your fingers along the top of his hands. You trace each knuckle before tracking the visible veins with a light touch, your fingers running up his wrist and to his forearm. The dusting of hair is soothing when you place a firmer hand onto his forearm, gripping it, and your heart thuds in your chest when you notice your thumb and middle finger can’t even touch each other.

He's just so big. His arms, his hands, his shoulders. The way he can so easily overpower you, manhandle you, domineering in a way that makes you want to act out even more just to see what he would do.

He throws you a curious glance when your hand moves up to his bicep, squeezing and feeling.

“Just touching,” you say, and then Aaron’s eyes are back on the road.

The next thing you do is completely spontaneous, out of character for you even, however you know being impulsive is what got you here in the first place.

You place your hand on his crotch.

He doesn’t jump because, of course not. If anything, he was expecting it by the way he just gives you another curious look. Your eyes are instantly drawn to the way his tongue flicks out to wet his lips and the sudden clenching of his jaw.

“Still just touching,” you repeat and turn your focus to your phone with your free hand, leaving your other hand in his lap.

You scroll mindlessly through several different apps for a couple minutes, not even reading anything because you’re too stunned with the fact that Aaron didn’t say anything or remind you to be on your best behavior. Your hand is still precariously placed on his crotch, the seam of his jeans warm against the palm of your hand.

You start scrolling more intently now, reading the entirety of at least every other post, before you start tentatively rubbing your fingers on where you can definitely feel the head of his dick through his pants. Aaron inhales sharply, so quietly you almost don’t hear it, and it’s all the permission you need.

You start pressing more firmly, grabbing him through his jeans to the best of your ability and tracing the line of his slowly hardening cock through the rough material. You grope at him, nearly shamelessly now, and it takes all of your willpower to not throw your phone to the backseat and jump into his lap.

Instead, you place your phone at your feet and turn your body towards him. His back is ramrod straight and his hands are grasping at the steering wheel like his life depends on it. If anyone passing by looked through the window, they would just assume that Aaron was one of those extremely attentive drivers. However, up close, you can see the tense line of his jaw, the way his brows are pinched together, and the way he’s attempting to hide the way he’s starting to breathe heavily through slightly parted lips.

It's intoxicating, and you want more.

Your hand begins to move up his zipper to the top button of his jeans. His eyes dart to you then, craning his neck slightly to look at you but also making sure to keep his eyes on the road, as if the road is even that busy.

“You really can’t listen, can you?”

That condescending tone again makes your brain nearly short-circuit. It’s like a dam breaks because suddenly you’re leaning over the console, making your breasts nearly spill out from your tank top, and you want him in your mouth and coming down your throat if it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. “Can I?”

 “Can you what, sweetheart? Use your words.”

Christ. “Please, can I suck on your cock?”

He hums nonchalantly, as if you can’t see the way he shifts in his seat or the way he’s hurriedly unbuttoning his jeans with one hand. “’Please?’ Looks like you do have some manners.”

And then he’s taking his cock out and you nearly combust on the spot. He’s not fully hard, but you still want nothing more than to feel him on your tongue.

You’re just about to unbuckle your seatbelt to throw yourself into his lap before he stops you by placing his hand over yours.

“Not your mouth, we don’t want other people to know what a dirty girl you are. Use your hands,” he says, nonchalant again in a way that makes your heart race and the ache between your thighs grow.

Although the idea of being caught with your head in his lap and cock down your throat suddenly sounds extremely appealing in a way you’ve never thought of before, you have no choice but to listen and follow his instructions.

You hesitatingly wrap your hand around him, watching in near fascination at the drop of precum that leaks out. He’s big here too, satisfyingly thick and warm in your hand. You move your hand up to smear the wetness around him and then start a steady rhythm of pumping his cock.

A strangled groan comes out of Aaron eventually, and you watch as he attempts to throw his head back in ecstasy while still watching the road with half-lidded eyes. The wide expanse of his pretty throat tempts you, imagining what it would be like to pepper kisses up to his tense jaw to help him relax.

He’s fully hard now, precum steadily leaking out and coating the palm of your hand. You attempt to vary your actions; twisting on the upstroke, squeezing when you’re at the base, or tracing your thumb against the head of his cock. The loud squelching noise makes you feel embarrassed and hot all at the same time, the way it’s drowning out the radio’s music. Your mouth waters as you watch the head of his dick disappear in your fist, wishing you could taste him or see the sheer bliss on his face as he fucks your mouth.

“You couldn’t even wait to get your hands on me, could you?” Aaron murmured, nearly sneering at you. “I bet if I let you, you would let me pull over and fuck you here on the side of the road.”

You swallow nervously, clenching your thighs and trying to ignore the obvious wetness you can feel in your own panties. You squeeze him harder, enthralled by the feeling of his hot flesh against you, and breathlessly whisper “I would.”

He hisses at that, nearly bucking his hips up to follow your hand. “You would let me fuck you anywhere I want.”

It wasn’t a question, but you still feel compelled to answer. “Yes.”

Just then, Aaron’s phone rings from the phone mount on the dashboard. Dread and something awfully similar to delight prickles at the back of your neck when you notice the caller ID being your father. You’re about to retract your hand until Aaron gives you a look out of the corner of your eye, almost like a glare, before his own hand is hot over yours to keep you there.

“Keep going.”

Before you can think of a snarky remark, Aaron swipes at his phone to answer.

“Hotchner.” Nonchalant, casual, as if he doesn’t have his leaking cock in the hands of his best friend’s daughter.

“Hey Hotch, we’re coming up on a great burger joint here in a couple of miles and I wanted to see if you guys were alright with that? I think we lost you.”

You must have been extremely distracted because you’re just now noticing you can’t see your father’s car ahead of you anymore. There are only a few cars on the highway now after finally passing all the city traffic, now driving through a somewhat rural area. You don’t blame yourself after all, because how often do you find yourself giving handjobs to hot older men in their cars?

“I was actually thinking of pulling over at a rest stop, someone’s not feeling well.” Aaron cranes his neck, raising an eyebrow at you.

Even in the darkness of the summer evening and the sparse streetlights bouncing off the dashboard, the pure and primal desire swimming in his eyes is clear and causes a flush to rise to your face.

“Yeah, it must have been lunch,” you attempt to joke, hoping that the rasp in your voice doesn’t give you away. You feel Aaron’s cock twitch in your hand.

Your dad hums through the tinny speakers. “Yeah, you don’t sound so good.”

You notice the car slowing down, not realizing that you were pulling up to a secluded area of a rest stop, right underneath a tree. You glance out the window and take in the fact that the nearest car is over 10 spots away and the closest streetlight is burnt out. You think of the discreet dark color of the car and the tinted windows. Anticipation curls at the bottom of your stomach.

“We’ll let you know when we’re back on the road.” And then Aaron immediately hangs up, parks the car, and leans over the console to kiss you with a hand cradling your cheek.

He cuts to the chase again, kissing you so deeply that your head spins. His mouth is soft but he’s assertive even like this. His hand moves to the back of your neck, taking a hold of you, and your mouth opens in a moan before you can stop yourself, allowing Aaron’s tongue to brush against yours.

When he pulls back, something like a needy whine erupts from your throat. You don’t realize that your hands moved to grasp at his polo, leaving Aaron’s cock free and pressed against his stomach.

“You drive me crazy,” Aaron mutters, brushing a lock of hair behind your head. His gesture and words are impossibly soft, a complete contrast to how he was kissing you, making your breath stutter in your chest.

“You drive me crazy,” you whisper breathily. “Please fuck me?”

He huffs a laugh at that, something you’re slowly starting to become familiar with, and tightens his hold on the back of your neck. There’s nothing soft in his eyes anymore. “Get in the back, now.”

You scramble to get out of the car, legs nearly shaking. The summer humidity is cloying, suffocating, and you rush to open the door to crawl in the backseat.

The seats are just as large and plush as up front, however there’s definitely more foot room that you’re sure Aaron will appreciate. You’re waiting in the middle seat, legs tucked underneath you, as you watch Aaron tuck himself back into his jeans and step out of the car with an air of nonchalance that somehow makes him even more attractive.

When he opens the door to climb into the back, your eyes meet and you suddenly feel frozen to the spot, because he starts to encroach into your space, nearly predatory. There’s a glint in his eyes as he places his hand on your back, lowering you so you’re laying on the seats. You unconsciously spread your legs so he could situate himself between them, and the feeling of his large and warm body between your thighs has you hitching them up on his hips.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been thinking about this,” Aaron murmurs before ducking his head to press his mouth against your jawline, down your neck, and finally finally sucking a mark where your shoulder meets.

You exhale a shaky moan, bringing your hands up to run down his back and feel how wide his shoulders are and how you can feel his muscles tense as he moves. The wet heat of his mouth, his obscenely large hands on your hips, and the way his figure nearly engulfs you is mesmerizing.

He pulls back to take a look at you, thumb coming up to press into the mark he made and putting light pressure against your neck. There’s something wild and possessive in his eyes, his lips parted like he can’t believe what’s happening. “There you go. Now you’ll remember who you belong to.”

It feels like your breath is knocked out of you and replaced with something equally possessive. “Are you going to fuck me or what?”

Something dark passes over his face. “And here I thought you were going to behave.”

Before you could say anything, Aaron is swiftly lifting your tank top up and over your head, throwing it somewhere towards the passenger seat, and groping your tits. He thumbs at your nipples, watching in awe as you arch your back and push your chest further into his hands. The sudden sensation, pleasure zinging up your spine, after being teased for an entire week is dizzying and you want to drown in it.

“You’re so needy for it, aren’t you?” Aaron says, casually, as he pinches at your nipples. You choke on your moan, the initial sting melting into pleasure that makes you feel drunk. “You’re practically begging for my cock.”

“Yes,” you manage to gasp out. Your hands scramble at his shoulders, running up to tangle the soft hairs at the nape of his neck between your fingers. “I need your cock inside me.”

He leans down to suck one of your nipples in his mouth, deft fingers continuing on the other. His mouth is so deliciously wet and hot, expertly licking around you in a way that’s slowly unraveling you, and you shiver when you think about where else his mouth can be of use. Your eyes nearly roll back in your head and you cant your hips up desperately in an effort to gain some sort of friction against the nearly overbearing ache between your thighs.

His hands come down to press your hips down in an effort to make you stop squirming and you feel him shift until his knee is pressing between your legs and against your pussy through your shorts. The feeling of his warm hands on you and the seam of your shorts rubbing against your clit causes an embarrassingly high-pitched whine to escape your throat.

“You’re teasing me,” you pant, tugging at his hair experimentally.

Another raspy groan erupts from Aaron and, if possible, you feel hotter. His mouth detaches from your nipple and you instantly miss the hot heat of his mouth, until he says “And what if I want to taste that pretty little cunt of yours?”

Imagining Aaron pressing open-mouthed kisses against your thighs, breathing hotly against your panties until he’s pressing his tongue against you, smearing even more wetness around until you’re nearly dripping onto the expensive upholstery has you whimpering. Your mind races as you imagine him pulling your panties aside so he can press his soft mouth against you, licking and lapping at your pussy like you’re a five-course meal, sucking on your clit until you’re screaming his name and begging him to stop.

No words come out, mind nearly melted just at the thought of Aaron looking up at you from between your thighs and his mouth on your cunt. Instead, you let out a breathless moan and attempt to grind down against Aaron’s knee, chasing the little stimulation you can get.

Aaron licks his lips as he watches you, eyes dark and predatory. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?” His thumbs briefly traces your hips, and you nearly miss the tender touch, before he’s hooking them into the waistband of your shorts and tugs them down. “But we don’t have time for that, so I’m just going to fuck that needy pussy of yours.”

It took quite a bit of wriggling and Aaron hitting his head against the roof of the car to get your shorts and panties off of you, and you’re about to joke that this was an exercise in of itself, until Aaron is settling back between your legs with his own legs crammed underneath him. You suddenly realize Aaron is still wearing all of his clothes, polo wrinkled and pants hanging loosely at his hips, while you’re completely naked and vulnerable, desperate and needy like he said.

His fingers dance across the soft expanse of your thighs until he presses a finger against you, so close to where you need him. You breathe unsteadily and have to close your eyes, suddenly feeling overwhelmed, when Aaron gently grazes between your folds. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me, honey. Is this all for me?”

You nod rapidly and push your hips down in an effort to tell him to hurry the fuck up.

Aaron tuts at you. “What did I say about using your words?” And then he’s forgoing your clit completely and pressing a thick finger inside.

You gasp, eyes shooting open and meeting his from where he’s watching your face so intently it would’ve been intimidating if you didn’t feel white-hot pleasure take over your body. “Yes, I’m wet, just for you,” you rush out.

He hums, satisfied. “Just for me, right?” He begins thrusting his finger inside of you, and the feeling of being filled and something finally happening has you arching your back against him again, soft whines escaping your mouth before you can help it. The lewd noises from your sopping pussy rings out in the small space of the car, jarring, but it just makes you feel hotter.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you babble, attempting to rut your hips down to meet his thrusts, steadily growing in pace. Your hand shoots down to take ahold of his forearm, nearly distracted at the veins popping out, when you feel a second finger prodding at you. “Please just fuck me already, I’m ready.”

You watch Aaron’s mouth form what has to be a reprimand, scolding you for being so desperate, but then it closes and forms into something softer even as his gaze is fixated on his thick fingers thrusting in and out of your pussy. He leans in and kisses you before you realize, just a soft press of his lips against yours. When he pulls back, he’s still wearing a faint smile, and tucks a stray strand of your hair behind an ear. It’s all so painstakingly affectionate, you feel at a loss for words again but for a completely different reason you can’t name.

“How can I say no to you?” he mutters, almost to himself, and it shocks you to your core.

He doesn’t wait for a response and pulls out a condom from his back pocket. You watch as he’s about to tear the foil packet open, thoughts turning over and over in your head, before you exclaim “It’s fine, I’m on the pill.”

He pauses and stares at you, serious based off the pinch of his brows. “Are you sure? I don’t mind…”

“I’m sure,” you say, throwing your arms around his neck so you can run your fingers through his hair. And you are absolutely sure, confident, because you know the cherry on top of this whole experience would be feeling his cock spill in your pussy and filling you up. “I want to feel you.”

You watch as he groans, closes his eyes, and leans his forehead against yours, staring at the flutter of his long eyelashes. “You are killing me, sweetheart.”

You let out a breathless laugh. “Are you kidding me? I can say the same for you.”

Because if you thought Aaron looked good wearing a suit in those blurry pictures on Facebook, it doesn’t even compare to how he looks now. His polo tightly stretched over his shoulders, slightly disheveled from where you were grabbing onto him, belt unbuckled and pants hanging deliciously half-open from his hips, and hair tousled, the gel maintaining his professional appearance giving way to make him look younger. He’s so unbelievably hot you almost believe you’re dreaming.

You watch as he pushes his jeans and boxers down enough to where his cock pops out, the head a sympathetic dark red from where he must’ve been achingly hard this entire time. Before you make another attempt to have him in your mouth, he’s pushing in, stretching you deliciously open and making you grip harder at the hair at his nape.

“Fuck, you’re still so tight for me,” Aaron grunts, his hands flying to grasp onto your hips.  

Although you can feel him sink into you, inch by inch, you’re mesmerized by the sharp focus on his face, the pinch in his brow and eyes clenched shut. As if he’s trying not to throw away all abandon and pound into you, and the thought is so intoxicating it makes your head spin.

“Oh my god,” you mumble. He bottoms out, his cock finally pushed all way in your pussy, and he’s much bigger, thicker, than you realized. It feels so, so good—being filled up with his hard cock, his hips pressing against your thighs as they splay out the way you’ve been dreaming of for the past week.

“You okay?” Aaron asks, gentle again, and before you could answer, he’s pulling back and thrusting back into you.

A gasp wretches out of you and your hands scramble at his back, pulling him down because you need him to be closer, need his large body pushing down on you and making you take him.

He lets you, giving you a mockingly sympathetic look, and leans down to press an open-mouthed kiss against your jawline. He starts a steady rhythm then—thrusting in and out of you and knocking the breath out of you. “You’re going to take my fat cock, baby? I know you’ve been begging for it all week; you need it so bad, don’t you?”

Jesus Christ.

Words escape you again, instead, your mouth hangs open as you attempt to nod in response. Even though the car’s AC was blasting, you were covered in sweat and sliding up the seats with every thrust of Aaron’s hips. You definitely weren’t complaining, probably wouldn’t even be able to because sounds you didn’t even know you were capable of making kept coming out of you, eyes nearly permanently rolled back in your head. It felt so good, you didn’t think fucking could ever feel this good, but Aaron continues to exceed expectations.

You hitch your legs up his hips higher and let out a high-pitched whine at the change in angle, hot pleasure zinging up your spine. Aaron grunts, something dark and masculine that makes you preen, and his hips start snapping harder, faster.

“Look at you,” he murmurs lowly right into your ear. “Being fucked so good you can’t even speak.”

He shifts again, hands hooking underneath your thighs and, with your nod, presses your knees to your chest until they’re next to your ears, legs dangling over his shoulders. You wrap your arms around your thighs, holding them in place, and your eyes nearly roll back into your head when Aaron’s cock slides even deeper into your cunt with a wet sound. He feels heavenly, even despite not having touched your clit at all.

He fucks you relentlessly and you think your brain has melted out of your ears because you just take it. The sound of his skin slapping against yours, the litany of groans and praises that fall from his lips, and your nonstop whimpering gasps is heady. You don’t even care if you can’t come just from him rutting into you alone, it feels too fucking good.

He sits back up, not once breaking his brutal pace, and makes unwaveringly intense eye contact with you. “My beautiful girl takes my cock so well, making such pretty noises. I can’t wait to fill this pussy up with my come.”

You really did not expect Aaron to have the dirty mouth he does, but again, you’re not complaining. Instead, you bring one of your arms down to snake between your thighs where you’re absolutely soaked in your combined wetness and sweat to circle your clit. The added stimulation, finally, has your thighs shaking and your pussy clenching around him. You squirm a bit, because his belt buckle has started to dig into you from where his pants are pooling around his knees, but you’re suddenly so close.

“Fuck, Aaron…”

He licks his lips at that, starts to fuck into you faster somehow. He knocks your hand aside to replace with his own and you absolutely mewl when you feel the rough callous of his thumb gently circling your clit, impossibly slow. “Is my good girl going to come? You’re going to come all over my cock, sweetheart?”

Your heart is pounding in your ears, and you can barely detect the strain in Aaron’s voice, like he’s close too. “Yes, yes, please,” you stutter, feeling your gut tighten and sweat breaking out on the back of your neck. “Harder.”

Aaron lets out a shaky laugh. “Since you asked so nicely.”

And then he’s rubbing your clit mercilessly, almost too rough if your nerves weren’t already so close to snapping. You let out a string of strangled whines, your hands coming up to hold onto Aaron’s free arm for dear life. You’re so wet that his fingers just glide over you, the wet noises of him fucking into you getting you hotter, making the coil in your stomach wind tighter, but it’s still not enough.

You watch with half-lidded eyes as Aaron lifts his right hand from where he was definitely leaving bruises on your hip to place at the base of your throat. Your eyes widen but you don’t stop him because the feeling sends your mind spinning, realizing that you have placed so much trust in this man and he’s thoughtful enough to care for you, treasure you, and fuck you so hard he’s definitely ruined you for anyone else.

His eyes are impossibly dark, hair falling into his face, and you meet his gaze unblinkingly as he puts light pressure on your throat. “Come for me.”

You don’t know if it’s the hand on your neck, his cock frantically fucking into you, or the soft baritone of his voice that has you pushing over the edge. You come with a choked gasp of his name, hips and thighs shaking almost uncontrollably. You swear your vision whites out because you don’t think you’ve ever come so hard in your fucking life.

You distantly hear Aaron grunt your name, feel him fuck into you desperately and erratically. He lets go of your throat, you secretly already miss the weight of his hand, and he clutches at your hips as he chases his own orgasm. It doesn’t take long for his hips to stutter, coming into you with a guttural moan that sends a shiver down your back. He grinds his hips into you, like he’s making sure he’s giving you every last drop he has, and the thought has you whimpering.

You stay like that as both of you catch your breath. Your thighs and hips are starting to ache uncomfortably, pussy sore in a way where you know you’ll be feeling it tomorrow, but you watch the way Aaron runs his hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes so he can lean in to kiss you, and it’s all worth it.

He pulls out slowly, dick twitching half-way inside of you when you moan at the empty feeling. You feel his come instantly start to drip out of you and onto the seats, and the dangerous glint in Aaron’s eyes has you squirming, heat licking up your back.

“Are you okay?” he asks, leaning over to open the console and hopefully rummage around for a hidden towel. You hope he doesn’t pull out old and scratchy fast-food napkins like the ones you have crammed in your glove compartment.

You laugh breathlessly, slowly dropping your legs down to dangle a bit more comfortably. “More than okay.”

He comes back with a pouch of wet wipes, slightly used, and you’re surprised at the sudden twinge of jealousy you feel when you imagine why he has wet wipes ready in his car and how many other women he’s fucked in his expensive car.

He’s thorough in cleaning you up, chest rapidly rising and falling as he continues to catch his breath. As if he can read your mind, he looks up at you curiously with no trace of the stern persona he had when he was fucking you mindlessly. You had thought you hid your jealousy well, however you find yourself glaring at the wipes in his hand.

He gives you an achingly sweet smile, a surprise dimple making an appearance, and leans over you where you’re still sweating all over his backseat. “Every parent has wet wipes in their car.”

You feel your cheeks heat at being caught, that he somehow knew you were drowning in the sudden onslaught of jealousy clawing up your chest. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.” He throws the used wipes on the floor to pick up later, and then he’s wrestling around with you until you’re somehow laying on top of him across the seats, both of your legs bunched up and tangled together.

You’re sticky and sweaty, and Aaron has nearly sweated through his polo, causing it to cling to his chest in a way that has you wanting to put your hands all over him. So, you do, running your palms up and down him so intently that it gets a chuckle out of him.

“All of your clothes are still on.”

“Well, I was a little busy.” Oh, he’s a little cheeky after sex.

Both of you are laying in comfortable silence as you still catch your breaths, Aaron moreso than you, when his phone goes off where it hasn’t moved from the phone mount. The bright light causes you to squint, and you turn to press your face into Aaron’s chest with a whine. “Don’t pick up.”

“Alright, alright,” Aaron says despite him making no moves anyway to get up. He cranes his neck to get a good look at the caller ID and you can feel his body stiffen. “It’s your dad.”

And just like that, a bucket of cold water is splashed over you. You just had sex with your dad’s best friend in his expensive Range Rover in some sketchy rest stop.

You must have froze as well because then Aaron is running a hand up and down your back, making you shiver. He’s trying to comfort you, you know that, but honestly your thoughts immediately melt into other things that rely on his hands on you. Like pushing your head down between his legs. Maybe he’s right and you really are insatiable.

“Come on, let’s get going.”

-

The car ride the rest of the way to the hotel is mostly silent between you two, the only noises being the wind deafening you and your hair slapping into your face since he rolled the windows down.

To air out the stench of sex in the car, you remember.

You would almost think Aaron was mad, the way he didn’t try to make conversation with you, and you knew that you would be spiraling if it wasn’t for the fact that he held your hand in his lap the entire time.  

You probably wouldn’t be much for conversation anyway—you’re already trying not to let your mind race about what you were going to do.

You’re only here for a couple of weeks, you go to school across the country, and technically, this was only supposed to be a summer fling. You don’t technically need to tell your dad about what happened.

You turn to look at Aaron, unabashedly. His hair is still tussled, thanks to your fingers, and there’s sweat beading along his forehead from the summer humidity. You stare at the sharp slope of his nose, the way the lights from the highway reflect in his dark eyes, and you’re suddenly wracked with the feeling of not wanting to let him go.

He squeezes your hand when he notices you staring for too long. He turns to you, most likely seeing the desperation on your face. He misinterprets it, thinking you’re running over what you’re going to tell your father over and over in your head. He has no idea that you want to keep seeing him, that you want to make this work somehow, whatever is between you two.

“We’ll figure it out.”

When you notice his gentle smile, the methodical way he runs his thumb over the back of your hand, you believe him.

[angelpinkfall]

❤Hooker Sukuna X F!Virgin Reader❣Smut❣❤

SFW: (She/Her Pronouns & Genitalia)

Sukuna has spent years mastering his craft as a hooker, building a reputation that places him leagues above the rest.

With no desire to conform to the grind of a 9-to-5, he carved his own path, one paved with charm, confidence, and dominance.

Gender never mattered to him; he was equally adept at controlling and satisfying both men and women, always maintaining the upper hand.

His reputation as the King of Curses came not only from his siren-like allure but also from his cutthroat prices, cocky attitude, and a chilling detachment that ensured no client ever got too close.

For Sukuna, this was just a job, money, power, and freedom rolled into one. He never cared for the people he served… until now.

You are a driven, successful woman in your late 20s. With a thriving career and a busy life, you’ve achieved everything you’ve set out to, everything except the intimacy you’ve secretly craved.

Despite being in relationships before, none of them ever moved beyond the occasional kisses and fumbling touches. Trust and comfort were always missing, and those connections never felt right.

Recently, at your best friend’s bachelor party, something shifted. Watching the vibrant, uninhibited joy around you stirred something you hadn’t felt before: longing. For once, you wanted to let go, to feel confident and in control of your own desires.

A tipsy conversation at the bar introduced you to the infamous King of Curses, a name whispered with awe and intrigue. A professional, someone who could give you the experience you wanted without the complications.

At first, the idea felt absurd and just flat out wrong. Giving your virginity to a man like that? It was outlandish, irresponsible even.

But as days passed and your frustration grew, the rational side of your mind began justifying the choice. Sukuna’s experience, reputation, and confidence made him seem like the safest option. If anyone could make your first time memorable, it was him.

After days of debating with yourself, pacing back and forth, you finally dialed the number. Hearing his smooth, teasing voice on the other end sent a shiver down your spine.

Now, standing at your front door with the King of Curses knocking, you wonder if this was the right decision, or the beginning of something you never saw coming.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

NSFW: (She/Her Pronouns & Genitalia)

When he first sees you, he doesn’t bother hiding his smirk, his crimson eyes lazily raking over your figure. “Not bad,” he says, leaning against your doorframe with an air of cocky indifference, though the heat in his gaze betrays his casual tone.

When you admit it’s your first time, his brow arches sharply. A predator-like grin spreads across his face. “Really? Someone like you? With curves that practically beg for hands to explore them?” His tone is dripping with incredulity and a hint of excitement, already sizing you up for the night ahead.

Your nerves make your voice shake when you ask him to take it slow. He chuckles softly, nodding. “Whatever you want, sweetheart. Your money, your rules,” he quips, though his grin suggests he might have other plans once you loosen up.

He starts slowly, true to his word, settling between your thighs with a dangerous glint in his eye. His split tongue flicks out as he leans in, the sight alone making your breath hitch and your core tighten.

His lips press soft, teasing kisses up the inside of your thighs, and you nearly lose your composure. Each nip and suck builds the tension until you feel like you might shatter before he even gets to the main event.

The teasing ends abruptly when his mouth finally meets your clit, the wet heat of his tongue and lips pulling a surprised cry from you. He doesn’t let up, alternating between sucking and rolling his tongue with devastating precision.

The sensation is overwhelming, especially with his split tongue adding a level of skill you’ve never imagined. You clutch at his hair, gasping his name, and the groan he lets out vibrates against your core, pushing you to your first orgasm of the night.

As you clamp your thighs around his head and tug harder on his hair, he moans like a man possessed, his hands gripping your hips to keep you locked in place as you ride out the waves of pleasure.

When you finally release him, panting and dazed, his face is glistening, his eyes half-lidded and hungry. “You’re full of surprises,” he mutters, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, though he’s already moving to position himself over you.

The next part happens in a blur. He presses your legs back, folding you almost in half as he thrusts into you with unrelenting fervor. Each stroke is deep, fast, and demanding, his name spilling from your lips like a mantra.

His pace is feral, and you feel the pulsing of his cock as he drives you both higher, each thrust dragging cries and moans from your lips. He seems addicted to the way your body responds, the way you tremble beneath him.

You lose count of how many times you both climax. By the time his movements finally slow, the sheets are a mess, your body is boneless with exhaustion, and he looks as wrecked as you feel.

Morning comes too soon. You wake up cuddled against his chest, the warmth of his skin and the steady rise and fall of his breathing lulling you into temporary comfort. That is until you realize where you are.

Your panic sends you flying out of bed, tumbling to the floor in a flurry of blankets and embarrassment. He throws his head back, laughing loudly at your disheveled writhing on the floor. “Careful, sweetheart. Don’t break that pretty neck of yours.”

In that moment, something shifts for him. Maybe it’s the way you blush so easily, the way you nervously fumble to cover yourself with the sheet, or the fact that your scent still clings to his skin. Whatever it is, he knows he doesn’t want this to be the last time.

“Guess I’m sticking around,” he mutters, more to himself than you, a sly grin tugging at his lips. Whether it’s the sex, your innocence, or something else entirely, you’ve somehow managed to ensnare the so-called King of Curses.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

SFW: After 

After that first night, he found himself coming back far more often than he should have.

At first, he chalked it up to your body, the way you responded to him so earnestly, the way your flushed expressions lingered in his mind. But that didn’t explain why he kept offering his services at a "discount," something that was absolutely beneath him.

Each time he visited, his excuses became weaker and it seemed like you were catching on. He continued to deny your prodding questions, but even he couldn’t deny it, he just wanted to see you again.

Then came the day he saw you outside your usual space, in line at a small coffee shop. He almost didn’t recognize you without your usual flustered demeanor. You looked so natural, focused on the menu, lips slightly pursed as you decided what to order.

He debated walking past, but then you turned, your eyes lighting up as you spotted him. That simple reaction knocked the air out of his chest in a way he didn’t expect.

You invited him to sit with you, and as the conversation flowed, he found himself captivated.

You spoke passionately about your work and hobbies, topics he wouldn’t have thought twice about before. But the way your eyes lit up when you talked about them was infectious.

He didn’t even notice his own small smile forming until your face scrunched in confusion.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” you asked, tilting your head curiously.

That’s when he saw it, a foam mustache from your coffee. And for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, he wanted to reach out and wipe it away himself.

So he did.

His thumb brushed across your lips, leaving a lingering warmth that made your cheeks heat.

“There. All better,” he said with a smug smirk, thoroughly enjoying how flustered you were.

You covered your mouth with your hand and stammered a thank-you, but he was already lost in his own thoughts.

It wasn’t just about the physical connection anymore. For the first time in years, he found himself wanting to stick around, no ulterior motives, no transactions, just… you.

And that scared him more than anything else ever had.

He’s so fucked.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[ghosts-to-reid]

NeoGothic

A/N: First time writing for CM and Spencer so I’m still finding my footing. This will be the start of a series and will later include angst and smut. 18+

Part 2 / Bibliography

Summary: Receptionist at the BAU by day, Gothic Literature student by night. You are asked to consult on a case with the team, leading to you getting closer to the resident boy genius of the FBI. Going with the flow of the butterflies, you’re not sure where you’ll be taken when you accept the offer to consult on a case with Gothic themes.

When you applied to this random 9-5 admin job with the fbi, you weren’t particularly prepared for what awaited you. The job was a mix of different duties, filling case files for agents, passing on messages, answering the phone, kind of like a receptionist. However, you weren’t prepared to be filing away files for murders so horrific you couldn’t even imagine. The floor you were assigned contained the BAU, and as expected you were often face to face with the grim reminders of the horrors of humanity.

At university, the nature of humanity was something you often debated with your cohort. The why, who, where, when, and how was seen as key understanding to the nature of humanity, particularly the humanity of those who are fictional. See, you were a literature graduate, studying her masters during the evenings while trying to keep her head afloat and pay rent, hence the ‘random’ admin job that fit into your schedule perfectly. There was an adult mundanity in the fact you worked in the fbi that felt secure, that allowed you to study your passion with the knowledge that you had a job that supported that, and was a safety net if writing doesn’t work out. The role was easy, you weren’t particularly privy to inprotant information, but that wasn’t a problem, what you did hear was fascinating. In your time studying, you aquired a taste for gothic literature, and found it fascinating the new views gained after an overheard conversation from the team after their return from a case. Your understanding and insight of psychoanalysis in class has been applauded by your professor many times, and may or may not have earned you a few extra points on assignments when you throw in a fact overheard by the water cooler. The best thing about the job? It was never boring, there was always something new going on to observe.

Considering you’re not an agent, you communicated mainly with JJ, Penelope, and Hotch. Often having short interactions with Hotch, handing him messages or files that had been left at your desk for him, you were closer to the two blondes. JJ, as former media liaison, had trained you in some aspects for your role, an example being reporters finding the phone numbers of desk staff and asking them for intel, she taught you how to shut it right down. Over time, you exchanged pleasantries, and became friends. She would ask about how class was going, discuss weekend plans with you, often telling you to call her in any emergencies in her maternal tone. It was nice having a friend like her, when you moved to Virginia, it was on your own, your parents had passed and you had worked hard to earn enough money to move for college. Sure, it was a few years delayed but you weren’t going to college to party. So, JJs maternity towards you was welcomed. Penelope, however, befriended you almost instantly, or more likely decided to befriend you before you even got there.

As you arrived on your first day, satchel slung on your shoulder loosely, she greeted you at the elevator doors. A bright, bouncy, and very pink woman grinned at you and grabbed your hands before speaking frantically

“Hello there angel! It is so nice to meet you my name is Penelope and I am so excited to finally meet you! I’m so so sorry but I did do an extensive background search on you however it was with the best of intentions and you seem so so so lovely and I’m excited to have you here-“ she rambled on, making you almost dizzy, you kept your eyes trained on her and smiled back, giggling to yourself at her energy. Any first day nerves long forgotten.

“That’s okay!” You chuckled “I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you Penelope.”

She took your hand and shook it excitedly

“You will love it here my love, I saw that you’re still a student, what are you studying, are you hoping to join the bay someday ebvause you know I have contacts” she winked as she lead you through the bullpen. A few people stopped to watch as the women lead you through, offering a small smile or wave, you assumed they knew Penelope and that this was fairly common. She lead you to a desk tucked away near an office with a plaque that read ‘Agent Hotchner’. A stern looking man emerged and joined Penelope and you.

“This is Hotch, he’s the head of the team!” Penelope introduced eagerly, Hotch reached a hand forward to shake yours with a small smile which you returned.

“Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“I trust that Penelope has already told you everything you need to know” he glanced to the blonde woman who had already filled you in on the walk over “You know what to do, yes?”

You nodded, having completed your training for the job prior to starting, you were confident. Penelope offered yo grab you a cup of coffee, which you obliged with a smile, and began to unpack you satchel. The desk was nice, nicer than any ikea flat pack you had anyway. Making it your own was easy and when Penelope returned to drop your coffee and offering to lunch with you in her ‘bat cave’ she left you to your own devices.

Suddenly, this had become very daunting. There were already a ton of emails waiting for you, as well as files that needed to be dropped off. Picking your slight technophobe side however, you pick up the pile of Manila files and begin to read the labels for agents names. Luckily for you, name placards seemed to be a big trend around this office. Separating the files for each agent before making your way around the desks. Each agent offering you a small thanks, some introducing themselves, others just grunting in acknowledgment. Finally, you made your way to the last agent, a thin man with shaggy curls. His eyes were furrowed with concentration as he scribbled quickly onto a note pad, you gently placed the remaining folders on the end of his desk hoping not to disturb him, when his head snaps up.

“Oh! I’m sorry I didn’t mean to disturb you!” But he shook his head

“It’s no problem. Thank you. You’re new, right?”

You nodded “started about… 15 minutes ago?”

“13 minutes 53 seconds ago.” He corrected, caught of guard you stammered slightly to respond, which made him flustered too “not that I was counting! I just, notice these things!” There was a beat “I’m Spencer by the way.”

“I know. I read the name on the file” you smiled, now he was stammering “I’m y/n.”

He returned the small smile awkwardly after a moment and nods, you wave him goodbye before returning to your desk.

Since that, your interactions with Spencer have been short. Occasionally chatting in the kitchenette, catching eyes across the room and exchanging small smiles. You didn’t know much of his life, though you wanted to. But it was hard to get to know a man who spent half his time out of the office, so you often cherished any moments you did manage to talk.

This particular morning you were deep in thought. JJ seemed to notice when you came in, and came to your desk soon after you sat.

“What’s up?” She asked, sitting on the edge of your desk, breaking you out of your ponderous trance

“Oh it’s just exam season. I was trying to plan an essay in my head in the way here. I’m struggling to find a topic.” You admitted, feeling slightly awkward that you were thinking so scholastically this early in the morning. JJ quirked an eyebrow, intrigued.

“You do Literature right? The gothic? Isn’t that mostly ghost and ghouls, and damsels in castles with a candelabra?”

You shrugged “kind of, it’s a bit deeper than that. You see the gothic actually wasn’t a literary genre until about the 19th or 20th century. The term was actually originally used to describe a Germanic tribe, who sacked Rome. William of orange actually used them to justify his usurption of the throne during the glorious revolution. But what’s interesting is that it was used almost like a slur in the next centuries due to the revival of more classical styles like Roman and Greek-“ you cut yourself off before you can ramble more, by this point JJ’s face has dropped slightly in a mix of awe and a shock. You pull your lips into a right line and mutter a sheepish “sorry”

“You sound JUST like Reid” she chuckled, you flushed slightly, but unsure why, you tried to ignore the butterflies fluttering in your belly “But you know all of this and you’re struggling for a topic? How come?”

This you pondered for a minute. Before sighing and looking at her again sheepishly before asking “promise not to profile me?” Intrigued the blonde nodded “I kinda need to up my game because my professor really liked my last essay topic and I’m not sure how to top it… “you trailed, JJ nodded for you to continue, unsure of your apprehension

“What topic was it then?”

"…How Male and Female Cannibals differ from each other in modern literture… it was titled 'Desire Vs Destruction'… i got the highest grade I’ve ever gotren because of stuff I’ve learned here…"

That definitely took JJ back. She blinked at upu momentarily

"i was not expecting that… but thats definitely interesting…" she thought for a moment "You use psychoanalysis a lot?" you nodded "Well, im sure you’ll think of something, just wait until we have a case and there’s your inspiration.” JJ smiled and gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "worst comes to worst, ask Reid. He’ll have insight, I promise you, you’re a lot more a like than I ever realised.” And with that, she returned to her desk.

What did she mean you were were alike? He was essentially a walking super computer, an agent with multiple PHDs. Hell, he graduated from his second PHD by the time you even entered college, and he was only 3 years older than you. Your thoughts were interrupted by Hotch’s voice calling the team to the conference room. Watching as they all stood and gathered, your eyes trailed Spencer. As he walked, his sweater rode up slightly and gathered at his waist, allowing a slight bit of pink to peek through before he pulled it back down. Though, you still saw and blushed, shaking your head and trying to return to work.

45 minutes later the team emerged, most of the team exited, whilst JJ and Emily approached you.

“Y/N, we think we might need your insight on something.” JJ spoke, your gave her a surprised look, Emily continued for her

“You study gothic literature primarily in your degree, yes?” The woman spoke softly but direct, you’d never particularly conversed either her much before this. Confused, you simply nodded and followed them whilst they lead you to the conference room most of the team just left.

Inside you were greeted by Hotch and Spencer, who were stood next to a board. It was littered with pictures of bodies that made your eyes widen and turn quickly away, hiding In JJs shoulder. Spencer quickly pulled a shade down over the board as the group apologised

“Oh my god, were those people dead!” You squeaked, not asking really, you were aware what department you worked in. Hotch apologised once more before continuing.

“Apologies again, L/N. But I called you in here because I believe you may have some insight into our current case.” Slowly, you turned around again, confused once more, Spencer’s eyes were on you.

“Me? How?”

“This Unsub appears to be displaying a pattern pertaining to deaths synonymous with famous gothic works. So far he’s replicated the death of Lucy Westenra in Dracula, Carmilla the vampires death, And we believe he may begin to escalate. Your insight into the genre may help identify any patterns we may miss.”

A few beats passed. Looking around the room, all eyes were on you. Emily gave you a small pleading look, and JJ squeezed your shoulder reassuringly. Spencer’s eyes had never left you yet, when you look over to him, he gives you a small nod, encouraging you to say yes. You were sure that you weren’t as useful as you thought, but if they were the experts and they believed you could help, who were you to say no? With a deep breath of hesitation, you nod and take a seat.

Hotch briefs you on your role. No field work, of course, but you’ll join the team on the jet. He will give you temporary clearance to join them on scenes and other occasions you may be needed, your knowledge could mean you spot something the others don’t. Before you can agree, he explains the aspect that you forgot. The gore. Being a horror fan you were used to fake gore on screen, but real life was another story. The people on TV would go home, they’d see their family, and they’d continue on their lives, but the people in the photographs you saw wouldn’t. They’d never go home again. As if sensing your thoughts, Spencer spoke up from across from you.

“I know that it’s hard. It’s hard to stomach but, your insight might stop this from carrying on.” He paused thinking, looking to see if anyone would continue but they seemed to silently agree with him “Holding onto that thought. The thought that you’re helping someone truly and actively, then it helps you stay motivated past your own apprehensions.”

He seemed to know exactly what to say somehow. This man you barely knew, had somehow found the right words to say to get you on board, pensively you agreed. Hotch stood first.

“Ok we leave in an hour. Go home and pack a bag and meet the rest of the team at the airport. You’re doing a good thing, L/N.” As he left, JJ smiled and followed along with Emily. Leaving you alone, for the first time with the infamous Dr. Spencer Reid. He turned towards you to offer a small smile.

“I can give you a ride home if you like. I noticed you take the bus in, it’ll be quicker if I drive you.” He stated, surprising you

“Oh yeah that would be amazing thank you… but how did you know I took the bus?” You asked curiously, standing from your seat to stand nearer to him. He stammered for a second before collecting himself

“I noticed that you arrive mostly on time with the bus schedule, and the times you run late are in line with mornings with heavier traffic that causes the bus to take longer… I memorised the bus schedule when I first started.” He shyly looked to the floor, shuffling his feet, a beat passed before he looked up again to which you offer him a small reassuring smile. “Shall we?” He points toward the door, and you nod. You knew he was a genius with a quick mind but you’d never witnessed it first hand before.

On the drive, you were calm up until you had realised you agreed to leave the city in the same week you were supposed to be writing the essays you may have accidentally on purpose put off till deadline week.

“Shit” you gasp, quickly clamping your hand over your mouth before scrambling to email your professors, hoping this counts as extenuating circumstances, however in this process you had alerted the FBI’s resident genius next to you to your panic.

“Are you okay?” He laughs out, after your outburst had subsided slightly. Without looking up from your phone you spoke

“I’m knee deep in deadlines and I forgot and now I’ve got to go to… where are we going again?”

“Texas”

“Texas! And I haven’t started some and oh god!” Your head is in your hands as you groan. Reid chuckles a bit, before pulling up to your apartment building.

“I can always help if you’d like.” He spoke shyly, you peeked your head up slightly.

“How much do you know about gothic literature?”

“A fair amount. I’m a big fan of Ann Radcliffe’s writing, her essays are insightful” At the mention of Radcliffe you perked slightly, and when he said essays you sat up fully, more happy that someone outside of your cohort was aware of radcliffes essays.

“I could probably use some help with psychoanalysis actually…” you thought “have you read Rosemarys Baby or The Exorcist?”

“I’ve read both actually, a few times they’re some of my light halloween reads. I’m sure I can help, what exactly do you have in mind? The demonic aspects? I think I could give you some good insight, I’ve read Creeds book with the essay on the exorcist recently and I believe that you could make some good observations of abjection in motherhood in horror-“

As he rambled on you felt another small flutter. Hearing him discuss your passion with such ease and knowledge made you flush, he spoke almost as passionately as you. Maybe JJ was right about your similarities. Before you could think more on your new blossoming feelings, Spencer interrupted himself

“Oh we have to be there soon, we can talk about this later if you want? We can discuss on the jet and start planning tonight? During our downtime at the hotel possibly?”

You agree before you can conjure any more butterflies at the thought of being alone with Spencer. Moving quickly out of the car and up to your apartment, Spencer in tow.

You left Spencer in your living room whilst you packed a bag quickly. When you returned you found him eyeing your bookshelf.

“You have a great collection here… would you mind if I borrowed this?” He held up your well worn copy of dracula. It was annotated thoroughly, with more additions each time you reread, it’s well worn and well loved totem of your literary love.

“you should probably get a better copy, that ones nearly unreadable.” Making your way to your bookshelf, you search to find a nicer copy you had recently purchased from a second hand book store. But when you tried to hand it to Spencer he shook his head

“I’d actually enjoy reading your notes. If that’s okay.” Spencer looked at his shoes, a habit you noticed already, you couldn’t refuse him.

The car journey was filled with vivid conversations about Dracula, and how you thought it was unfair that Dracula was the iconic vampire when Carmilla was written first. The jet ride however jarred your nerves slightly. This was the first time you fully took in the crime scene photos, and you could see how the team quickly linked these to gothic novels. The victim who replicated Lucy Westenra had wounds that accurately depicted the characters turmoil from her turning, the (highly medically inaccurate) blood transfusions, and finally her vampiric death. The same can be said with the victim who replicated Carmilla, though she obviously didn’t have her own tomb, so the unsub dug her mother up instead. There were clear links to the novels, but something didn’t sit right with you.

“They’re all novels with vampiric elements…” you muttered.

“We noticed that too. We belive the unsub may be trying to chronologically work through the vampire cult novels.” Spencer’s eyes caught yours for a moment before you quickly moved to look at the folder once more.

“But no male victims?” You sifted through the crime scene photos once more, not entirely used to the sight still, but echoing Spencer’s words in your mind.

You’re helping people, and that’s what matters.

“No. Unsubs tend to stay to the same victimologies unless they’re forced to change, or they begin to deteriorate. This particular unsub is organised enough to plan the crimes in advance and execute, pun not intended, them without letting his urges take control.” Spencer told you, leaning over the table to point to a note in the file. He was close enough to you that you could smell his cologne, mixed with the comforting scent of patchouli and coffee. A slight blush crept up your cheek, that made you loose your train of thought, stuttering your way through your next sentence.

“There’s a possibility the unsub could be a woman. One part of the gothic allure is the liberalism that it embodies, and for women that’s inviting. The idea of the monsterous feminie is being widely discussed at the minute, it’s why there’s so many horror films with female monsters that we end up rooting for. It’s a way to juxtapose the patriarchal constraints in soceity. Think Jennifer’s body, Yellowjackets, even historical figures like Elizabeth Bathory are all stories about monsterous women yet, somehow in their own contexts, we root for them. It could be possible that this unsub is a woman trying to take control, after someone wronged her. She could feel vindicated in her actions and see them as an expression of the monsterous feminine, and a man wouldn’t be so accurate. The fact that these are iconic monstrous women who were struck down by men could be symbolic of that anger she feels. The victim replicating Westenra had 4 different blood types present in her system, the character had 4 transfusions in the book. Her entire death is perfectly replicated, as described. They even sent her garlic flowers, like a warning.” After you were done you had noticed that everyone on the jet was staring at you. Glancing around you, started to feel that little blush that Spencer had induced, creep into a slightly brighter red of embarrassment. Did you do something wrong?

After a beat, Rossi spoke up.

“That’s some very insightful information, kid.” He looked around the jet, the whole team chimed in in agreement.

“Where did you learn that?” Emily spoke up with an aghast smile

With a relieved smile, your face began to cool down slightly and you, albeit sheepishly, admitted that you overhear them occasionally and have a tendency to research theories they mention, and that you may or may not have read Rossi’s books. The fact that you apply psychoanalysis to literature more often than not. They all seemed impressed

“Watch out guys, I think we’ve found a future profiler.” Derek spoke up from the row behind Spencer “Ever thought about going through the academy?”

“I don’t think I really have the qualifications to join you guys. I just like to read.”

“I reckon you could surprise yourself, baby girl.” Derek flashed a smile before sitting back in his seat. JJ gave you a proud smile before she turned back to continue her conversation with Rossi. Slowly everyone turned back to what they were doing before, leaving you in pensive thought as you looked out of the window.

Profiling was alluring. It’s just analysis on people, and with enough knowledge you can read anyone. Your thoughts were interrupted by a small voice

“I think you’d be a good profiler.” He spoke softly, giving you a grin before returning to his discussion with Hotch, expanding on your thoughts.

The arrival to Texas was a whirlwind for you. The team landed, drove to the precinct, and were quickly dispatched onto different tasks. Hotch had paired you with Spencer to go over victimologies to find a pattern in the victims lives and how they line up to those in the novels. The victim replicating Carmilla was an older Lesbian woman, u and alluring by all accounts, fitting the personality of Carmilla for the most part. Meanwhile, the victim who replicates Lucy was a known flirt. not promiscuous in a modern sense, but with the victorian ideals of Dracula, the fact she was dating two men at once made her fit well enough into the role for the unsub. It seems he is trying to figure out who she wants to replicate next.

Finally, hours later the team regroups for the night at the hotel. It doesn’t go without a hitch however, as it turns out that since you were technically not meant to be here, there was a shortage of rooms and, as though god intended to make things awkward, you had to double up with someone. Before any discussion could be had, just assuming you’ll be paired with JJ, Spencer surprisingly speaks up.

“I’ll share with her.” Was all he said, shocking both you and the team, but Derek spoke up

“Pretty boy trying to make a move on our junior profiler?” He teased, wiggling his eyebrows at Soem et who was growing increasingly red.

“No- No that not what- no I mean we were goin- we were going to work- work on her assignment together.” He coughed and readjusted his posture, seeing him flustered like this made you smile “it’s logical if we share a room then we won’t be disturbing anyone travelling between rooms”

The team shared a look you couldn’t read, before JJ asked if you were okay with that, you nodded, you were honestly too tired and slightly overwhelmed and honestly? A bed is a bed, and you were absolutely going to fall into a deep and dreamless sleep once you got to the room. So it was decided, and it wasn’t until you got to the room it dawned on you.

You’re sharing a room with a work acquaintance, albeit a cute one, and you never questioned the bed situation. Entering the room you were greeted by your worry, and that was the lone bed in the enter of the room. You looked up to Spencer to assess his facial expression, he seemed to have forgotten to question the bed situation too. You started

“I can take the couch-“

“We can share” Spencer interrupted. Looking around the room. “It’s logical and hygienic, with the amount of germs on a hotel floor would get us both a lot sicker than any off of a human.” He cleared his throat, almost trying to convince himself. You simply nodded and put your things down and preparing for bed.

Half an hour later you were sat, crossed legged, on one side of the hotel bed whilst Spencer showered. You tried not to think about it and tried to focus on the paper you were reading.

Sure, you knew he was cute. That was just obvious. But you’d never really interacted before today, not in any meaningful way at least. Yet here you are, waiting for him to finish showering whilst you sit in bed. It was strangely domestic, but you shouldn’t dwell on the thought of making a nice life with Spencer Reid. He is a collegue. Without you noticing, Spencer had finished in the shower and had emerged, dressed in plaid pants and an oversized MIT shirt. You looked up from your screen to him as he made his way to the other side of the bed. He sat with his back against the headboard and looked over your shoulder.

“That’s a good read, I read that last week actually.” He broke the silence between the two and you shot him a smile

“I’m really enjoying it… do you want to read it together?” You weren’t sure if that was a normal thing to ask anyone, you know people read books out loud to each other but reading an authors essay on Abject womanhood off of a laptop screen didn’t seem particularly as appealing. Spencer however nodded, and you shifted to be closer to his side. The tension palpable between you both

“Is this okay” you asked quietly. Your thighs were pressed together, laptop balanced between. Your arms were pushed together awkwardly and Spencer shifted. Unexpectedly, he wrapped the arm closest to you around your shoulder. This took you by surprise, taking your breath away momentarily and reawakening those pesky butterflies again. Somehow you managed to stutter out a yes before you continued to read. Eventually you both relaxed more into each others touch, loosing yourself in the words of the essay. You hadn’t realised that Spencer wasn’t reading, but looking down at you, watching how your eyes flicker between words between your eyelashes, and the small pout of concentration on your lips as you tried to take in the information. His long fingers were slowly tracing delicate lines on your skin, causing goosebumps to form in their path.

Eventually, you finished the essay but hesitated to shut the laptop. Your eyes lingered on the final paragraph, hoping to stay in his touch longer, yet you had to admit defeat, finally closing the laptop and shift slightly up right. Spencer’s arm lingered for a moment before he half heartedly moved it behind you. There was a silence as you both let the tension of what had just occurred sink in. Surprisingly, it was Spencer who broke the silence once more.

“You know many animals cuddle at night for safety, otters hold hands so they don’t drift away from each other.” He trailed, you quirked a brow at him, probing him to continue silently “what- what I’m saying is… if you want we- we can stay. Like this tonight… only if you want!” He couldn’t look at you properly, looking mainly anywhere but your face. Your heart was beating so fast you weren’t sure how to reply, so silently you just nodded. Spencer let out a small relieved breath before moving to lift the covers over you both, and opens his arms to let you in. You oblige gingerly, and slowly he wraps his arms around you. There’s silence as you both settle into each others breathing in the dark.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah Spencer?”

“Do you… think that maybe we could do this more?” His question caught you off guard. You lifted your head to try and make out his features in the dark, he was already looking down at you.

“What do you mean?”

“Can we… do this more?” He squeezed you against him to emphasise his thoughts, he meant cuddle. Slightly surprised you cocked your head to side.

“Do you not do this a lot?” Curiosity overcame you as you detached his eyes in the dark. There was a sadness that was palpable even through the darkness.

“No. I don’t really like people touching me” you try to move away, thinking you may have overstepped but he simply holds you against his chest tighter. “But I like this.” He mumbled into your hair.

Unsure how to process this, you simply nodded. Sometimes people need hugs and, you knew from JJ that Spencer was someone you could trust. So you allowed yourself to melt into his touch for tonight.

“Of course Spencer.” You muttered into his shirt before drifting off into the deep sleep you predicted, yet it wasn’t so dreamless.

Part 2 soon.

[scarletwinterxx]

i don't think i could love you more - joshua hong imagine

istg joshua owns this song, he's honestly all i can think about when i hear it🥺🥺 i used to think i met him too late but this is joshua, he'll probably say there's no such thing as late. I met him just right when I needed him the most🤍

anywaysss I hope you like it!

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

"On a scale of 1 to 10, how bad is it?"

"Uh like a 9" Jeonghan answers, leading you where the rest of the boys were. A few of them got together and had drinks. One drink turned into two then three until they all lost count of how many bottles were opened as the night progressed.

Atleast one of them was smart enough not to get too hammered, that person being Jeonghan. Thus he was left with the task to get the boys home safely.

"How did you not get as drunk as them?" you ask when you saw your friends on varying states of unconsciousness. Soonyoung is already passed out on one side of the couch, Seungkwan and Dino having a sing off using a spoon while Seungcheol is also singing with eyes closed while hugging an equally drunk Joshua who also looks like he's two blinks from collapsing.

"Well someone has to make out alive here" he gestures to the rest of your friends all passed out and drunk

"Take your pick of the litter" Jeonghan jokes, picking a few bottles from the floor to tidy up a bit. He'll probably make the others clean it tomorrow, for now he needs to fix the safety hazards.

You walk towards where Joshua sat, tapping him on the shoulder making the guy look up at you. A look of surprise flashing across his face,

"Oh wait what?! What are you doing here? Cheol look I told my girlfriend was coming!" he hits Seungcheol repeatedly to get his attention.

The rest of the boys are already to out of it to understand or remember Joshua's word but the only sober one is now laughing behind you.

You look over at Jeonghan who is already looking at you with a sly smile, "Don't worry, your not so secret is safe with me. The rest of them is too drunk to remember what's happening"

"Dumbass that's not your girlfriend, that's Y/N!" Seungcheol retorts

"She is my girlfriend! Right, love? I'm your boyfriend right? Tell him" Joshua pushes Seungcheol off him to reach for you, grabbing hold of your arm

"Yes you are, and right now we need to get you home" you brush back the bangs that's over his eyes, admiring your boyfriend for a quick second

"You're so pretty, yah why is my girlfriend so pretty" Joshua gushes, the dopey drunk smile showing on his pretty lips making you smile too.

"Is that how he sounds when he's with you?" Jeonghan jokes

"Pretty much" you joke back, running your hand through Joshua's hair. You then look down at your drunk boyfriend who is now hugging you by the waist keeping you in place.

"You know, he always had a crush on you. If you remember the first game night you attended, he couldn't keep his eyes off of you"

You do remember, Soonyoung was the first friend you made during your first year in university and after a couple of months he introduced you to his group of friends who are now also your friends. That night you also met Joshua for the first time.

The two of you were friends for a long time, you thought he didn't like you that way but you already harbored those feelings for him. Thinking it was best to keep it to yourself until after time you sent him the playlist you made for him.

You never revealed it because there wasn't really a feeling that you needed to. You kept your relationship private at first because you wanted to savor the moment with him before sharing it with the rest of your friends. Weeks turned to months turned to 2 years.

There's no ill intention behind it, it just so happen you and Joshua are private people.

"What?" you ask Jeonghan when you see him smiling

"When are you going to admit it?" Jeonghan asks you, looking back and forth between you and Joshua.

"Admit what?"

The latter shakes his head, before grabbing a water bottle to drink. "You and him, you love him" he says so casually.

You blink back at him, acting like you're innocent and isn't guilty of what Jeonghan just said.

"Of course I do, he's my friend. I love all of you"

"You love us like brothers, you love that one like you're ready to give him a pair of brothers or two" Jeonghan juts his head towards clingy Joshua

"Were we that obvious?"

"A bit, you're not that slick, sorry to burst your bubble babe but the moment Joshua walks in the room you light up like a kid seeing Santa on Christmas day. See you're smiling right now"

You wipe the smile away, unconsciously smiling when you feel Joshua nuzzle his face on your tummy mumbling random words you can't understand.

"I'm smiling because he's funny"

"He's not that funny all the time"

"Yea he is"

"Is he really? Or are you in love with him. Also during Wonwoo's party, Kyeom and Soonyoung said they saw you and Joshua hugging then Dino basically told us there's been something going on between the two of you for a while"

You open your mouth you answer but nothing came out making Jeonghan smirk.

"Hey, you're happy he's happy it's a win for everyone. We support you guys, whatever it is" he gestures at the two of you, "Thank you Han, I'll tell you about it when we're not surrounded by all of this" you laugh.

"Josh, come on it's late"

Your buff boyfriend shakes his head like a little kid being scolded, instead of standing up he just slumps on seat more resting his head on Cheol's shoulder

"It's late, Han will kick you out if we don't go now"

He picks up his head to look straight at you, "Say you'll marry me, I'll come with you"

Jeonghan laughs, walking over to you to help you get Joshua on his feet. He gives you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder

"Go take this one home, I'll take care of the rest"

You help Joshua on his feet, guiding him to your car outside. He was a bit wobbly so you take his arm to make sure he won't fall over.

When you get back to your apartment, you help him change into something else before guiding him to bed. Leaving some medicine and water on his bedside before going over to your side and finally calling it a day.

Come the next day, Joshua woke up with a bit of a hangover which rarely happens. He doesn't get that drunk that easily but Seungcheol kept on giving him shots, the last thing he remembers from last night was calling you.

He immediately noticed the empty spot on the bed, where he would usually find you the moment he opens his eyes. His phone is plugged, sitting on top of the bedside table where a glass of water and some medicine is also waiting for him. He also spots the note with your handwriting saying you're out to go get a few items at the store.

Getting up from the bed, he takes the medicine first before going to the bathroom to freshen up. He probably didn't get to do so last night, the change of clothes surely was done by you. He can't clearly remember how last night ended, all he remembers is you showing up and him being elated you were there.

After an hour, Joshua's casually lounging on the living room when he hears the front door open and close.

"Hey beautiful"

Joshua looks up from where he was sitting on the couch, immediately he smiles when he sees you walking towards him.

"What did you just call me?" he questions you, opening his arms for you. The whole couch is there for you to sit on but he pulls on you his lap, looking up at your face waiting for the answer

"Beautiful" you smile at him, repeating the word as you trace the bridge of his nose down to the tip making him scrunch it. The action doing so much to your heart.

"You're beautiful" he tells you, "Did you get everything at the store?"

"Mhm, we'll make pizza tonight. Oh and I got these for you"

He lets you got so you can go back to the table to get it, when you come back you're holding a bouquet of fresh flowers

"Pretty flowers for my pretty boyfriend" you tell him, going back to where you were sitting on his lap. He takes the flowers from you while you make your self comfortable, "For me?"

"Mhm, saw them today and I thought I should get them for you"

"Did I do something?"

"Huh? No?"

"Did YOU do something?" he raises a brow at you, poking you on the side with his free hand

"Hey! Stop that" you take his hand in yours to stop him from tickling you some more, "I just wanted to get them for you, like you always do for me. And I heard somewhere that most men only receive flowers at the funeral. That's so sad" you pout, looking at the beautiful flowers you got for him

Joshua watches you, heart filling up with more love than he could ever express with words. "You know I love you right?"

This makes you look back at him, a smile forming once again on your lips "Of course I do, silly"

"Thank you for the flowers, darling. I love them. I love you and thank you for taking care of me last night"

You let out a chuckle, recalling how clingy he was the night before "You were being all cute last night, Han witnessed all of it"

"Should we tell them?" he asks you, expecting you to say maybe not but all you did was smile back at him "Bubby, you pretty much demanded that I marry you or you won't come home. You kept on hitting Cheol, saying I'm your girlfriend but he won't believe you. Soonyoung was passed out so I'm still waiting for his version of last night's event"

"I... what?"

You laugh at his confused expression, smoothing out the crease between his brows, "We can tell them, Han knows and I think all of them already has a hint. I think it's time, I definitely enjoyed this peace" you jokingly add the last part

"You sure?"

"Of course, how else would we invite them to our wedding?"

Joshua knows you're poking fun at his drunk antics last night but hearing you say that makes him want to get down on one knee this very moment. There's no doubt you're the one for him, the only person he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

"So you said yes to me last night?" he asks

"Just when we were about to sleep, you asked me again. I said I will but you need to get me a ring first of course I was joking about the ring part but then you mumbled something about having it already"

Joshua don't say anything, hoping you don't read right through his facade right now but you know him all too well.

Leaning closer, you give him an eskimo kiss "I'll pretend you didn't tell me about it if you do plan on asking me"

"I am, I will I just didn't think drunk me would ask you first" he jokes back.

This time he's the one pulling you closer, crashing your lips against his. Hand behind your neck while the other rest on your hip holding you in place

You break away from the kiss, looking straight into your lover's eyes "Well, whatever or whoever version of you ask the question just know my answer will always be the same"

He looks at you, letting the words sink in and just how much they mean to him. "You know, I don't think I can love you more, then I get to spend another tomorrow with you then I fall in love with you some more. I want to keep on falling in love with you everyday"

"You better save those words Mr. Hong, I want to cry when I hear your wedding vows"

"The only time I'll ever make you cry, future Mrs. Hong"

[eveningepiphany]

something about the legs | h.s oneshot

summary: something about your best friends legs really does it for you, especially in skinny jeans…

warnings: besties with unexpected and very impulsive benefits, oral sex (mrec), lots and lots of talk about those mfing legs and thighs, dirty talk, h not expecting you to be like that until you are.

a/n: so it’s been a hot minute… hi again🤪 but something rlly just sent me spiralling with this pic of h’s fucking legs. look at them. anyways, enjoy me being a slut and channeling it into some fine literature, enjoy xoxo

———

Ovulation week is a curse. An absolute, utter curse.

Between the multitude of random fluctuating symptoms and skyrocketing hormones, you feel dreaded enough as it is. But the worst part, is every fucking month you become absolutely manic with need.

Some are increasingly better or worse than others, but this month is something off the charts.

There is no warrant for you to be this fucking horny at 9:32pm on a Thursday night. Yet here you are, squirming because you’re around someone that already riles you up enough as it is.

Harry is your best friend. Has been for years. Since the awkward starting phases of middle school. All braces paired with horrendous fashion choices. And into the ages of highschool throughout all the drama and predictable thematics. Into the present, where life throws you curveballs as you enter the world as young adults, and now that he’s in one direction. You can’t imagine going through all that with anyone else.

Actually, maybe it’s fit to mention you’re almost certain that this man never went through an awkward phase… despite the fact possibly everyone else on the planet did. Harry did not.

He was cute from the day he was born, it’s evident in the pictures, up until he hit puberty, then he became some ungodly mix of both cute and ridiculously hot.

It’s disgusting that someone can do both things at the same time. And also revolting that they can have no idea at all.

But tonight, he is all hot. Between the way he’s dressed, the way he’s walking, and the way he’s talking. It’s close to killing you where you’re sat.

Thighs clenched together like there’s a thousand dollar check between them, you sit on a outdoor couch at your family’s holiday house.

It’s just the two of you outside on the large decked patio. It’s a huge house by the lake that your parents and grandparents own, so you invited Harry to come stay for the week. Your family were thrilled you invited him, but have already turned in for an early night. Since they planned to be out on the lake for a day of water activities almost before the damn sun was even fully up.

Harry has a glass of alcohol in his hands— one that is completely dwarfed in his hold. It’s condensation forming small droplets over the ridges of his fingers.

He hasn’t realised the staring you’ve been doing, as he paces the deck talking about something to do with a recent song he’s been writing.

You’re sliding in small hums of agreement at the appropriate times without even hearing what he’s saying. Only the pleasing lilt in his voice that tickles your ears as it enters them.

He’s got those black skinny jeans on, the pair that cling to his hips for dear life. And not only are they fit to his hips, but they hug every single curve on his legs. The thick of his thighs all the way down to the muscle of his calf.

And if anything was the killer for you tonight, it was those.

You’re surprised you’re not drooling on yourself. Which is fucking disgusting, but fact. As there is an over-production of saliva in your mouth right now just looking at his legs.

He is so muscly there. The presumed strength of his thighs makes you actually pant, and you never thought legs did it for you like this. But my god right now, they certainly are.

“But I jus’ dunno Y/N,” he turns to you, causing you to snap your gaze from the curve of his ass which you were shamelessly just staring at, back to his face.

It doesn’t get better for you anywhere you look. The man was built and sculpted by a god. Every feature was painstaking to look at, and not be able to touch.

“What d’ya reckon would sound better?” He asks, nonchalantly, unaware you were just eyeing him up.

You feel some shame now, as you scramble to find an answer for the question you don’t even know the context for.

“Well, i think whatever you feel flows better. Yknow?” You swallow, praying to god it’s diluted enough of an answer that he’ll just take it without question.

He nods, and relief floods through you, “i s’pose you’re right.”

However that relief hardly lasts long, because he’s not as clueless as you’d presumed, “You’re pretty good at giving advice even when you’re only half listening.”

He saunters over from the span of deck he’d been pacing the last 10 minutes, sitting down next to you with a smug look on his face. You feel the cushions dip with his body weight, and you’re so delusioned that even a part of you twinges with desire at the understanding of his weight. The idea of him pressing it down on top of you during—

“What’s on ya mind, love, why are you s’faraway lookin’?” He asks, sipping at his drink with a quirk of his dark eyebrows.

“I—“ Christ. He’s manspreading a bit right now… thighs pushed apart, “I’m just tired. Been a big few days.”

His curly, and boyishly-messy hair is cascading over his forehead and casting a shadow of his green gaze, the same one that’s nailing you where you’re sat right now.

He doesn’t look very convinced. And he’s watching your eyes flicker around, looking guilty of a lie, presumably the words that just came from your mouth.

“You don’t have t’lie, dove.” He laughs, a soft songbird-like chuckle that somewhat eases your tenseness.

You feel so dirty for thinking about him like this. When he can’t tell you it’s okay to be imagining absolutely sinful things you’d do… or let be done when it comes to him. However, you are so hormonal right now, that you don’t have it in yourself to stop.

He was just simply the wrong person, in the wrong place, at coincidentally the right time in your hormonal cycle.

And you feel even worse because there’s years of history behind the two of you. And friends are not meant to think of each other like this, it makes things quickly complicated. And this is not a hallmark film.

“I know.” You sigh out, “it’s not you, H. I’m just… hormonal.”

His first thought was that you were on your period, a look of tender concern flitting across his face.

“Oh, is your period making you feel sick?”

You could laugh at the irony. You are infact neither of the things he thinks. Not bleeding, and not ill.

He has looked after you before when you’ve been in the trenches with your period. He is always so willing to get you anything when you’re not feeling well.

And you can tell by the look on his pretty face he’s about to ask you he can get you anything to help— pain relief, water, snacks or simply a hug.

A gentleman, as always.

But if he asks you if you need anything, you only have one answer and that’s him. You need him, and not in a platonic way. So you interject before he can ask,

“No, quiet the opposite.” You shake your head, pursing your lips.

“But it’s fine,” you amend curtly, “just girl stuff.”

The two of you get consumed by a momentary silence, he was waiting for more information, which you simply were not giving. After a few seconds, he sputters out a sudden laugh.

“You can tell me, if you want, idiot.” He laughs, nudging you with his knee. His very attractive leg being left pressed into yours. “Gross details and personal stuff never usually stop us.”

Your whole body is burning up, overwhelmed. He is so fucking hot, and caring. You want him filling up your goddamn throat.

“No, trust me. This is all left best untold and ignored. I can’t help it, so we’re just ignoring it.” Your tone is certain, and to this he nods. Able to tell that’s as much of an answer he’d be getting for now, so he begrudgingly accepts it.

“Fine, fine, you’re just so stiff. Need t’relax.” He slides his free hand behind your back to pull him into his side.

Tugging you the small distance between you two, your head comes naturally to rest in the crook of his neck. Nose inhaling the woodsy scent of his cologne, smelling like the refreshingly cool breeze on a muggy summer night.

His thumb strokes a delicate back and forth rhythm on the bare skin it’s found between the waistband of your jeans and the hem of your fitted top.

It’s killing you, because he’s so gentle with you. Such a sweetheart really, but you’re breaking out a sweat at the feeling of his fingertips against your skin. You need a cold shower.

You try not to let your eyes wander down to the legs in those fucking jeans.

“S’long as ya alright,” he murmurs into your hair, “is there anything you need from me? ‘Cause if I can do anything for ya, yknow I would.”

Your stomach drops, how are you even supposed to answer that. Your face heats with even more guilt.

Your internal voice drops in her two cents on the question— your cock, she confidently stated. That was what she wanted.

“No, nothing you can do that’s reasonable, H.” You say, too dangerously close to him dragging the truth out of your needy mouth for your liking.

He tilts his head down to look at the profile of your face, curiously prodding further, “How unreasonable are we talking?”

“Ridiculously and foolishly unreasonable.”

“Why?”

“Sh. Don’t make me tell you, because I don’t want to.” You state defiantly, rolling away from his hold, since now you’re talking about it— although vaguely— it’s just making it worse.

Focusing on it is making the need more intense, your eyes feasting unintentionally on his muscled body relaxing on the couch.

He’s got this smirk on his lips. One you want to kiss off.

“You’re blushing, is it that bad?”

You scoff, “Yes, that bad.”

“Okay… so, it’s not your period, and it’s technically fixable— since you just said it’s unreasonable for me to do it… not impossible.” he’s wondering out loud, watching your every move.

Which now you’ve stood up and started pacing, trying to distract yourself from the pulsing between your legs and the begging voice in your head that wants to touch him so badly.

“Stop being nosey! God!” You frustratedly whine out, and he laughs at your sudden anger at not only him, but at seemingly just being a woman.

“Just trying to help, baby, don’t get mad.” He teases, and between his suddenly mocking mouth, your resolve snaps like a fickle twig.

“Fuck, I’m horny. Harry!” You groan out, covering your eyes over with the palms of your hands so you don’t have to see his likely disgusted face at your confession.

But now that you’ve started you can’t stop, “You just… your fucking legs and thighs are just… I don’t know! I’m ovulating and you’re just really sexy, it’s frustrating and I really want to die right now, H.”

In reality, his brows had just shot up with surprise, lips parting in shock. He could not believe you just admitted that.

He glanced down to his legs. He’s just in jeans, it wasn’t like he felt as though they were anything to write home about.

It shocked him that you even… well obviously the two of you are best friends. But it was rare that topics of sex came up, so all the sudden the conversation being about that and also about you is making his head spin.

Yet something comes over him, he doesn’t think as he speaks his next words, “Tha’s not as unreasonable as you made it out to be.”

You snap your hands down from your face, eyes locking onto his— he doesn’t look repulsed or uncomfortable as you had originally expected. He looks inexplicably open to the topic.

“I’ve got somethin’ you need, somethin’ that can fix it, love.” He states, shrugging his shoulders, his voice going almost sultry, “An’ yknow what I said, hm?”

At your silence— because you’re too stunned to even speak— he finishes the sentence for you, “Said I’d do anything for ya.”

Oh, is this quickly snowballing.

“Harry!” You shake your head, it feeling so wrong to be talking about this with him.

He abandons his drink on the small side table beside the couch, standing up and breaching the distance between you.

“Jus’ say the words, and then im yours.” He lowly whispers, and this is about to make you pass out. You’re clenching around nothing in your underwear, and the proposition is so tempting.

“We shouldn’t though. It’s not your responsibility to… satiate me.” You gulp out, nervous, yet body flaming with heat.

“Y/N, best friends help each other out… tha’s all it has to be, jus’ me making y’feel better.” he says, hand coming to run down your upper arm. And the second you started talking about this, his cock has been twitching where it’s confined his jeans.

“You can make all the decisions, all the calls, m’kay?” The statement was reassuring.

You lean into his touch, caving without anymore of a fight, “Okay… alright. Just… tell me if you change your mind. Please?”

His lips curl into a satisfied smile, feeling his hand get taken by yours. It’s much to risky to be fucking around with your best friend on the families patio, so you lead him down the steps into the dark, open backyard.

They have a pier, that’s lit with small solar lights, and that’s the first place you can that is reasonable enough to go. You tug him along the wooden decking it has, feet drumming against it.

Against a tree was too dark, and you at least want to see his cock if you’re getting the opportunity to touch it.

“On the pier, hey? That desperate.” He teases, and you push him with your free hand into one of its big wooden pillars.

“I want your cock down my throat, how’s that for desperate?” You scoff, pulling a laugh of pure shock from his own lips.

“I’m serious, H.” You look at him, stone cold expression. You are so riled up and ready to touch him that you need immediate confirmation this is something he wants.

“Go on, said you wanted it.”

Before you sink down onto your knees, you question him further, “you want this, though?”

A smile spreads over his mouth, “baby, you’re gonna be able to feel just how much i want this when you get down there. I was bricked the second you said you were horny.”

That was all you needed, dropping to the ground on your knees— now with his consent, your filter completely disappeared.

“Fuck me, Harry. I don’t think you understand how sexy you are.” Hands immediately coming up to squeeze the muscle of his thighs.

He hums a noise as he looks down at you on your knees, “Never thought legs would do it for you, but here we are.”

“Only thing i could think about is digging my nails into your thighs…”

You drag your hands back up to where the buckle of his belt laid, grabbing at it and undoing it. Slipping it out of the loops in his pants in a swift movement.

Leaning forward, you lift the hem of his black shirt, pressing your mouth against his happy trail.

You’re a slut for that little teasing patch of hair that dips below his low jeans. It causes you to whine out, a wordless sound of appreciation as you peck kisses over it.

The button and zipper quickly got undone by your nimble hands, and you finally brush over the prominent bulge that’s perked up in his boxers.

A realisation that you’re about to see your best friends dick for the first time kind of hits you, causing you to roll your lips between your teeth.

His suddenly strained voice comes from above you, “fuck, Y/N, don’t get shy with me. Y’can take me out.”

He’s almost ready to beg, even though this is all technically for you. But he didn’t anticipate how sensitive he would be when it’s a special girls hands running over his bulge.

However that’s exactly how it is, he’s already biting his lip as you cup him through his briefs, head tilted backwards with a sudden shared need.

You draw his jeans further down, “patience, im just enjoying you, pretty boy.”

The doting nickname earns a small groan from his lips, paired with the fact you’re now mouthing at his inner thighs. They’re warm and firm, dusted with dark hairs. You suck the most inner and upper part of his thigh into your mouth, causing him to grunt out.

You busy yourself with that particular part of his skin for a moment, rubbing the backs of your hands around the flesh of his ass. Still unfortunately covered by his briefs.

“So fuckin’ good to me, H.” You muttered into his soft skin, dragging your nose over to kiss the fabric covering his hard cock.

It makes him twitch, “letting me do this… and touch you where I want.”

You sound so out of it, replacing your mouth with your hand momentarily so you can go back to kissing his thighs, teeth impulsively barring over them. He shudders at the sensation.

After a bit more teasing, you finally start to pull the waistband of his black calvins down.

When his cock is fully out, you moan. You straight out moan at the sight of it. It’s glistening tip is a flushed red, beading out a sliver of precum for you, and it was safe to say he’s well equipped.

The two of you curse in sync as you hold him in your hand, feeling the weight as you stroke gently.

“Christ, tha’s good.” He curses out, hips stuttering forward slightly. You take a moment to look up at his face.

His cheeks have gone a slight red, and his lips are shiny from his teeth and tongue constantly running over them. Not to mention the way his lidded eyes are gazing down at you.

You hold eye contact as you lean in to lick over his tip in one solid stroke, watching his face twist in pleasure.

It makes your core drip. Seeing his cock, tasting it, watching him react to your touch. It fuels you to take his tip into your mouth, giving a gentle suck.

Your fingers take refugee digging into his thighs, and you are already loosing you mind with him between your lips. Somehow, you’re almost convinced you could come just from sucking on his dick.

Your self control is completely shattered now, you draw back and spit over his length, listening to him groan out as he watches the action.

“Drool on me, darling.” He says, the gentle demand makes you eager to impress him. You liked the idea of him telling you what to do… maybe even forcing you.

Fuck, you are sick and twisted, you scoffed internally at your self. Yet proceeding to gather your saliva and let it dribble down onto him.

“Thank you, thank you…” you murmur against him, and he twitches at your still airy voice. He would kill to know just how wet you were between your legs.

It was such a sight for you though, seeing him start to get slicked up with your own spit. Your mouth reconnected with him, sliding further down, hand coming up to massage his balls.

You’re whining around him now, starting to move in a sort of rhythm over his cock. You can’t help it, you were becoming frantic at him filling your throat.

The vibration of your mouth sends his hand flying into your hair, drawing a cuss from his lips, “fuck, Y/N…”

You get his cock as far as you can into your mouth without gagging— you’ll leave that for a little later— stroking the remainder. There’s something about the way he takes up the space between your lips, the feeling of his thick cock atop your tongue.

You glance up at him, fingertips teasing the inner parts of his thigh. Just as you look up, you give a harsh suck, hollowing out your mouth and lathing your tongue on the underside of him. Feeling the vein that runs along him.

His head almost bangs back against the wooden beam he’s leaning on, you feel the slight stutter of his hips.

A moan reverberated around you, filling your ears pleasingly. You draw back for a breathe, “you taste so good.”

His hand curls in your hair, panting out, “You’re such a needy girl…”

“Like that?” He asks at the whimper that come from you, “like being told that I see how desperate y’becoming?”

You nod immediately, “please…”

At your way of asking for more dirty talk he smiles, “becoming my little slut? Warming my cock with your mouth just because you’re so horny for it.”

When you don’t reply with words, and only a senseless moan, he taps your mouth with his fingers gently.

“Show me, baby.”

You part your lips almost instantly at his command, jutting your wet tongue out, ready to take him back into your mouth.

He guides his cock back between your lips, and that’s about as far as he gets before you have to take over from him again. All he can register is how hot and warm you’re mouth is as it wraps around him again.

You start to bob your head, taking him all the way down your throat with a slight gag. You’re whining without warrant now, all over his spit slicked cock.

It’s paired with his own moans of pleasure and words of praise as you suddenly draw back, flicking over his wet tip with your tongue, teasing it and making him grunt.

Your soul existence quickly slips to being just about his cock and hearing his noises. Being able to look up at him and see the sweat beginning to sheen over his forehead, and the mess of his soft hair.

His eyes are squeezed shut, and he has to forcibly open them every so often to see you. A reality check for himself that down on her knees, is his best friend. Drooling all over his prick with a insatiable need.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” He states as you take him all the way down your throat again.

“Taking me like the slut y’are. Might ‘ave to fuck you like one later, how’s that sound?” His mouth has gone loose now, brain muddled with only thoughts of you in it.

You suck and nod over him, brain rioting with a yes at his question.

“Probably so wet, so warm.” He mutters in half thought, and the idea of him even thinking of you like that makes you clench multiple times in your panties.

You roll you hips against nothing which he is grateful he caught with his half lidded eyes. The look of sheer desperation that crossed your face.

Moving faster, you starting taking his cock at a pace that immediately made his hand coil tighter in your hair.

“Fuck… im gon’ come faster than I’d like if y’keep— shit— doing that.” He moans, and you draw back quickly.

“Need to taste it… please, Harry.” You beg, forcing your throat back down around him once you’d got a breathe.

You gagged around him in full this time, earning his hips bucking against you.

Strings of dirty talk and cusses were flying out of his mouth, like a litany being repeated over and over. He kept praising you.

“That warm mouth…fuck… fucking me so good baby. Want to keep y’down there for hours, like m’personal little cockslut.”

Your nails dug into the backs of his meaty thighs, making you moan around him. Spit was covering your chin as you moved hastily over his hard prick.

“Like that idea?” He asked gruffly, “making you drool all over me like this until I’m empty, an’ y’ve come in y’panties to the point you’re dripping.”

You feverishly bob your head, sucking hard against him. If his bucking hips and loose mouth are any indicator, he’s getting close.

A few more minutes of your mouth, and he’s swearing, “im gonna come, dove— fuck— where do y’want it?”

Trying not to stop to long, looking up at his flushed face and blown out eyes, you lowly plead, “on my tongue, please…”

“Good slut, good fucking girl!” He slurs out.

You draw back to his tip, eager to taste him properly. You spit messily over his pulsing red head, kitten licking over it while your hand fucks the rest of his length at a fast pace.

It has him a wreck, and before he know it, he’s moaning out so loud he’s almost scared he woke someone in the house up.

“Fuck! I’m going to come, baby, im gonna come!”

You watch in completely infatuation as his eyes screw shut and his mouth drops into a gasp for air. You feel his hips stutter, and his cock pulse and twitch as it releases onto your awaiting tongue.

He tastes so good. You feel ashamed for even liking it that much, but as it spurts out his tip and drips onto your lower lip, your insane over it.

You rub it in with his tip, coating it over your tongue, and he pants as he opens his eyes to watch you.

It’s a sight etched into his mind forevermore. The fact his come is painted all over your tongue right now.

“Swallow it, pretty girl, let me watch.” He exhaustedly instructs you, voice raspy and deep in his post orgasm haze.

You do as told, and realising some has spilt even onto the corner of his thigh now that you’ve let him go.

Not letting it go to waste, you clean it off with a lick of your still eager mouth. Gently kissing over the spot as well.

“Taste so good, H.” You whisper against him, moving over to kiss his tip a final time.

“Thank you, again. For letting me do that…” You almost feel more satisfied than you would have if you had gotten to come as well.

“Made me feel amazing, baby.”

Or so you thought, because once he raised the point again… “If you want, since I can only imagine how desperate your little cunt is, I can return the favour somehow?”

And it was impossible to say no when he looked like that, boxers still half down his beautiful legs and face flushed that sexy shade of red.

You were in for a night, that was for sure. So much for an early morning.

———

[ladykailitha]

The Hellfire Exotic Club Part 11

Just two more chapters to go. The tension is ramping up and you're gonna want to hold on to your seats. This is the penultimate chapter before everything is revealed. And hooboy is it going to be great fun.

In this we find out who the cleaner was and he gives Eddie the final clue he needs to stop his troubles once and for all.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

~

Eddie enjoyed watching the cleaning crew. They were like bees in a hive, not bumping up against each other or trying to do the same tasks. Cleaning up after some days was hell, like Tuesdays and Saturdays and he always made sure to pay extra on those days.

That said, he really didn’t know any of them. The only familiar faces were the foremen. Eddie has asked the head forman about it once and was told that cleaning Hellfire was such a cushy job that he rotated teams so that everyone got a chance at it.

So imagine his surprise when one of the cleaners stopped Steve on his way out of the dressing room for a short chat.

It looked a little heated, if Eddie was being honest and was about to step in when Steve broke away from the conversation and drifted his direction.

Eddie cocked his head toward the cleaner. “Who was that?”

“An old friend of mine,” Steve said with a shrug. “I didn’t realize he had fallen on such hard times. Apparently his mom broke her hip and hasn’t been able to work for the last year.”

“That’s rough,” Eddie said, and waved his arm for Steve to go first. “I don’t know how much the cleaners make, but maybe if he puts in an application we can find him something to do here. Hell, he could work in the kitchen if Monty liked him well enough.”

His chef was a thin, wiry looking fellow, but he knew how to make the best club food anyone had ever tasted. He was also particular about who worked with him. But Monty could always use an extra hand or two and it would never hurt to try.

“I’ll let him know the next time I see him,” Steve said with a fond smile. “He’s also got a little brother in college, maybe have him apply too. Couldn’t hurt. What’s the least that’s going to happen, you say no? They won’t be any worse off for applying.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed. He didn’t think that he would hire either of them if he was honest, but like Steve said, they wouldn’t be worse off for it. “So how was Creepy McCreepy?”

Steve bumped Eddie with his hip. “Henry Creel was fine. He’s just passing through, by the way, Mr. Worry Wort. I think he has bigger fish to fry then some high end exotic dancing club. Not that this place isn’t worth scalping, but I think he’s aiming for higher?”

“World domination?” Eddie teased, leaning into Steve space.

He laughed and nudged him away with his elbow. “Yeah, probably.”

~

Eddie ended up meeting with Steve’s friend because the guy needed consistent money coming in and while cleaning job paid okay, it really didn’t have many regular clients other than the club. Mostly they cleaned up after major sporting events, political conventions, stuff like that. And with their boss Murray always rotating the crew who cleaned the club, some weeks were good, others not so much.

Eddie had to admit that guy cleaned up really good. With his hair out of his face and wearing nice clothes, he wasn’t bad to look at.

“Jonathan Byers?” he said, rising to greet him from a table he had sectioned off for the interview.

“Yeah,” he said, shaking Eddie’s hand. “Thanks for agreeing to see me.”

Eddie smiled. “No problem. I’m sorry to hear about your mom.”

“Thank you.”

Eddie pulled out three pages and spread them out in front of Jonathan. “There are three positions open right now, let’s see if you fit any one of them.”

He pointed to the first one. “This is for the busser position. Basically you go around after people have left to take away plates and glasses as well as pick up any tips. You’ll get a small portion of the tips but mostly it’s a flat rate of $15 an hour.”

Jonathan nodded.

“This one is for a cook’s assistant,” Eddie said tapping on the second one. “Often called a prep chef in bigger kitchens. Basically you’ll prepare everything for the chef and put it in the fridge for him to grab as he goes. You’ll get here at 4pm and leave at 8pm when the club opens. Pay is $22 an hour because it’s only four hours a day.”

Again Jonathan nodded. “That makes sense.”

“And finally the waiter position,” Eddie said. “This one in the highest paid, but also the most demanding. You’ll only have two days off a week and you’ll work from 8pm-2am. Base pay is $15 an hour, but you get a set amount of tips every night. Usually it’s percentage, but if it’s a rough night, you’ll see a base pay of $200 in tips for the night. You aren’t expected to pimp for tips as it were, as you aren’t the main attraction. You’ll be invisible for most of the time and some will even get mad at you for blocking their view of the show.”

“Wow,” Jonathan said. “That’s really fucking generous.”

“I try to be,” Eddie said cocking his head to side, “because living in this hellscape we call American Capitalism is hard enough without having to worry about not having enough money for shit.”

“Can I take these with me and then send over my resume for the position I’m most interested in applying for?” Jonathan asked, placing his hand over the a couple of the pages.

“Sure thing,” Eddie said. “I have copies on my computer. I’ll give you to the end of the week, otherwise I’m going to have to start looking elsewhere.” He stood up and Jonathan did the same.

“That’s fair,” Jonathan said, holding up the pages. “Thanks for this. Because you gave me a chance, even if I don’t end up working here.”

They shook hands.

“Let me walk you to your car,” Eddie said, waving his arm for Jonathan to go first.

He huffed out a laugh. “I don’t have a car right now, my girlfriend is coming to pick me.”

“Then I’ll wait with you,” Eddie offered.

Jonathan considered it a moment and then shrugged. “Sure, man. Whatever.”

They walked out to the curb and chatted about Jonathan’s family and how his mom was doing. “My brother is going to be famous one day,” Jonathan said with pride. “He is such an amazing painter, his work should be hung galleries.”

“Yeah?” Eddie said with a smile. He knew that tone of voice. It was the same tone Wayne got when he talked about him. “So what did baby Jonathan Byers want to be when he grew up?”

“This is going to sound so weird,” Jonathan said with a smirk, “but a bug photographer. Not wild life in general. Bugs. Creepy crawlies. Insects and spiders. I loved that shit as a kid. I don’t know how many times I freaked out my mom by bringing in a new bug to take pictures of and then release back into the wild.”

“Young Eddie would have loved you,” he said softly. “I liked bugs and critters you aren’t supposed to go anywhere near. Raccoons, possums, squirrels. Baby Eddie loved them all. My mom,” he wagged his hand back and forth, “not so much.”

“There she is now,” Jonathan said jutting his chin at the red hatchback pulling into the parking lot.

Eddie pursed his lips and resolved not to say a damn word until she did.

And oh boy did she ever. She got out of the car and immediately started yelling at Jonathan.

“What on earth are you doing here?” she cried. “I thought you had an interview.”

Eddie tilted his head to side. “Not an interview yet, more like a fact finding mission. But I like him.” He grinned at her.

“I forbid you from working here!” she shrieked. “This is a den of sin! I have vowed to take it down.”

“Nancy,” Jonathan said warningly. “We’ve had this discussion. If I didn’t work at every place you found morally objectionable, I wouldn’t be able to work at all. I just need something stable until Will graduates and Mom can move around on her own again.”

“When you told me that Steve was working in this hive of iniquity ,” Nancy growled, “I made it my responsibility to shut it down once and for all. To save Steve, to save you from having to sweep the vile filth from its floors.”

“What?!” Jonathan cried. “I didn’t tell you Steve was working here to have you go on one of your crusades. I told you because Steve was a good friend when both of you were dancing ballet together.”

“It’s a sin!” she cried one more time.

“So is fornication,” Jonathan huffed. “And breaking and entering and a shit ton of other things you do that are supposedly okay as long as you do them.”

Nancy folded her arms and stomped her foot. “That’s not the same and you know it. They have actual fucking nights dedicated to a specific deadly sin. I may have broken a few laws in my time, but I would never stoop the depths of depravity that his club sinks to!”

“You continue with this vendetta,” Jonathan warned, “and I swear to God, we’re through. There is nothing wrong with what they do. So what if people see them naked. Don’t go see it. Your rights stop at their personhood. You can only dictate what you do and not anyone else.”

He turned to Eddie. “Can you take me home? I don’t think I want to be in the same car as her.”

“Sure thing, man,” he replied, thumbing behind him. “Just let me lock up and I’ll be right out.”

When he came back Nancy had gone and Jonathan looked like a kicked puppy.

“You ready to go?”

Jonathan nodded and without a word followed him to his car. After get the address and putting it into the GPS, Eddie said, “I’m sorry about how she acted. Has she done this sort of thing before?”

“When I first graduated high school I got a job at a photography studio,” he muttered. “I took pictures of babies and toddlers. I had this cute little pink rabbit that never failed to get a smile.” He cleared his throat. “She found out that in addition to family portraits, bridal and wedding photos, they also did boudoir photo shoots.”

“Oh no,” Eddie moaned, completely seeing where this was going.

“Yeah,” Jonathan said with a sniffle. “She got the place shut down when she found out that some official’s daughter got them for the guy she was sleeping with, who was not her fiancé.”

Eddie frowned. That sounded too familiar.

“Anyway,” Jonathan continued, “this bitch got the whole place shut down and suddenly I was without a job. If I ever find her, I think I’d like to strangle her with my bare hands.”

“Her named wouldn’t be Heather Holloway, would it? Mayor Kirk Holloway’s daughter?” Eddie asked running his tongue over his upper lip slowly.

Jonathan snapped his fingers. “Yeah, that’s the snake in the grass.”

Eddie pulled off to the side of the road and closed his eyes. “It’s a fucking scam. Holy shit! It’s a fucking scam.”

“What is?” Jonathan asked.

Eddie turned around. “I just figured the whole thing out. All of it. The attacks against Steve, Billy getting caught with his hands up the wrong skirt, Jason fucking Carver. I’ve got to give it to your girl, she is one smart manipulative bitch. But I’m smarter.”

~

Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

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[soobchwe]

guilty as sin —⋆˚࿔ 𝐜𝐡𝐬

SFW version of my fic posted here on @heechwe .ᐟ ✿ pairing: chwe hansol x fem!reader ✿ word count: 6.2k ✿ genre: angst, fluff ✿ tags: coworker au, friends to lovers au, semi-unrequited love au ✿ synopsis: Never in a million years did you think you would have a crush on your friend and best friend's boyfriend. But sometimes what is in your heart springs up at the worst times. ✿ warnings: mentions of anxiety, some semblances of emotional cheating per se?

A dream should not have this much power over you.

Running into the studio, rehearsal clothes and all practically spilling out of your bag, you chastise yourself over and over at the scenario that has ran through your head since you woke up abruptly last night. Company personnel and coworkers stare at you while you sprint past them, mumbling yourself at your stupidity. You could barely get an hour of rest after the rude awakening. Every fiber of your being wanted to melt back into the dream. Of course, when you managed to stop tossing and turning, the alarm clock blared to life to remind you to get ready for band practice and head out.

It almost felt like reality was hidden in between your sheets, and the outside world was nothing but a false fantasy. And what was the best way for the world to remind you your dream was a figment of your imagination? Running into the subject of the imagery.

“Hey, watch out!” It takes little effort to be knocked back onto your ass. Your duffel bag explodes across the company building tile. You watch your belongings fall around you; clothing, sheet music paper, and emergency makeup flits in all directions. As an excuse to avoid looking directly up at him, you scramble to pick up everything. But all it takes to stop your frantic hands is Vernon’s voice speaking your name.

“What’s the rush,” Vernon says, a smirk on his face and a handful of your items in his palm. His sleeveless tank drapes across his chest, tucked into the waistband of his sweatpants. The top of his head is hidden in a one of his signature beanies, despite your warnings of his ridiculous head hair. “Cloud 9 can take a second for their keyboardist to make it.”

You hear some of the guys behind him laughing but continuing on their way, and you remind yourself to smack Mingyu upside the head the next time you see him. He may be stronger than you, but he deserves it. “Sorry, just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night,” you respond.

“Too long on the keys again? Jihoon needs to set a limit for late sessions, I swear,” he jokes.

“Nah, just had a weird dream,” you confess. What the fuck is wrong with you? You practically feel yourself smack your hand to your forehead. Vernon helps you up once all of your belongings are back in your bag. He places both hands on your shoulders, and the close-lipped smile on his face almost knocks you backwards.

“Just relax, practice is practice,” he reminds you, and you nod with a reciprocal grin.

You should not be thinking about him like this. And not when that someone is dating your best friend.

“Can you give this to Mina for me? She forgot to grab them from my room.” He hands you her keys once he swipes them from his pocket. The pink plush rabbit’s foot you bought her years ago that sits on her key-chain practically burns the words TRAITOR into your hand.

“Glad you thought to give them to her. She said this thing is the key to us getting good news today,” you say.

He sighs. “At least I remember things right?” Mingyu and Wonwoo almost out of view, Vernon motions to leave.

“See you later. Knock the big man dead!” He ruffles your hair before running after the boys, leaving you with a kaleidoscope of thoughts.

“Help me find a lifeline, in this heartbroken sea of mine,” Mina sings into the microphone. The words echo off the walls of the studio. Mr. Park keeps his focused gaze on the band until you play the last chords of the song. Unbeknownst to Vernon, your anxiety had nothing to do with Cloud 9’s evaluation. You could play the song and your entire album tracklist blindfolded. But now, seeing Mr. Park give nothing away makes your stomach turn.

Then, his face erupts in a smile as he claps his hands together hard. “Wonderful, girls. Absolutely wonderful!”

Mina and the rest of you breathe a heavy sigh of relief. Even Jeonghi, who’s perpetually stonefaced, displays a small smile.

“So we’re performance ready for the gala?” Mina asks for all of you, the thought on every bandmember’s mind.

“I believe so.” Mr. Park practically laughs as he says it. Everyone smiles wider and Jana, your lead guitarist, squeals in glee. Naejin, your new bassist, pats a hand on your back.

The Pledis Gala not only hosted the investors and higher-ups for the night, but the talent of the year were expected to have a performance during the party’s intermission. It was up to a couple groups and bands, but Mr. Park heavily endorsed Cloud 9 for the ticket. In spite of the first album not being scheduled for release for another three months, this would be the first time the band would perform and have live feedback.

It wouldn’t just be feedback on Cloud 9, but on all the songs you wrote. Mina would say it was 95% you and 5% her adding a lyric or two. You both created the band together, so you let her get away with the comment. And neither of you would discount each other’s hard work and influence on the group, anyway.

“Keep this fire for the next two weeks, and it won’t just be me who’s in love with you. Trust me ladies, I can feel it in my bones!” Mr. Park raises his hands in the air, almost to prove to himself he wasn’t wrong in where he placed his faith. He walks out of the studio, leaving all five of you to celebrate.

“Thank fucking god.” Jeonghi huffs before sticking her drumsticks in her back pocket.

“Not so fast, Heehee,” Mina retorts. “Like Park said, this does not mean the next two weeks are for slacking off.”

“Min, we got the gig. Breathe for a second.” You shake her, hoping you can force her out of performance mode. “We deserve to relax. And maybe buy a round of shots.”

“I second that,” Naejin says.

“I vote for that also.” Jana adds. “And maybe some food to go with that? You guys know I can’t drink on an empty stomach.” Her response makes all the girls laugh, including Jeonghi.

The studio door opens without warning. Vernon walks in with a tentative smile. “I see happy faces. Either that means you’re playing the gala or you’re all being very upbeat about not playing the gala.”

Jeonghi scoffs. “We got it, asshat. “

“We definitely did,” Mina yells out in glee. Mina runs towards Vernon and wraps her arms around him, an audibly happy sigh leaving her

A year in, Mina still loves to give Vernon physical affection, witnesses or not. She even confessed once that she believed Naejin had a crush on him and, according to her, “marking her territory” was only a bonus to PDA. If only she knew.

It takes Vernon a minute to react to her embrace, but he wraps his arms around her nonetheless. He kisses the top of her head when she lets him go. “Great job babe,” he says to Mina.

He turns his attention to you a second later, his eyes lighting up. “And how did they like the last song? I know you were messing with it for weeks.”

“Nothing a good brainstorm with you and Jihoon didn’t fix.” You nudge him in the hip with yours. His subsequent laugh on a normal day wouldn’t make you think twice, but now, the smallest hint of a chuckle kicks you in the ribs.

It’s a wonder how feelings can spring up without an iota of effort. It’s Vernon! The guy wears hats year-round. He stuffs his face with Oreos before offering any to anyone. The Saw franchise still scares the shit out of him, no matter how many times he’s seen them. And he’s Mina’s boyfriend. How could this person you have known for so long somehow worm his way into your subconscious like this?

The term “crush” has always bugged you. It’s more of a bug, honestly. A gnat that keeps reminding you of its presence and imperviousness to swatting.

The pestering feeling grows with the contact of your body and his. It even made your heart skip a beat if you were being honest with yourself.

“Congratulations, really. You guys deserve it,” Vernon says the words to all of you, but his eyes are focused on you alone. You brush it off with a polite smile, hoping somewill will take his attention away so you can focus on breathing again.

“Alright, back to the original subject,” Mina says, silently answering your prayer. “Drinks! As the oldest, Naejin should handle the tab.”

Jihoon was the only person you trusted with new material. Mina and the others usually saw your work after many rounds of edits between yourself and your songwriting partner. As you both put a lot of effort into your respective bands’ work, it only made sense for him to be your official sounding board. The other units kept their contributions locked tight from anyone outside of the group. Except for Vernon, but it was rare for you to swap material directly.

That being said, Jihoon would lose his built-up credit if he continued to emit grunts and humphs instead of feedback on your work.

“If I hear another ‘huh’ come from your mouth, I will chuck my shoe at you,” you warn, still playing the keys of Elton John’s “I’m Still Standing” on the piano.

“It’s just interesting, that’s all,” Jihoon says.

That word cuts your piano playing short. “You don’t usually use that vocabulary when describing my lyrics.”

“When did you write this?” He asks. He grabs some copies from his backpack, assorting them in a pile.

“The night before yesterday.” It had been a long night of witnessing Mina’s extremely public displays of affections and drinking too many tequila shots. When you were walking home with the girls, a melody suddenly sprang in your heard. You mulled over it for hours with your buzz until you opened Garageband and wrote some lyrics to go with it. It was nothing more than a few lines, but you wanted Jihoon to see if the idea had any potential. “Why?”

“Help me find a lifeline, in this heartbroken sea of mine,” He recites the lyrics to “SOS” from one of the papers he collected from his backpack. He pulls another one from the pile. “You see the shadow of my thoughts, if only you recognized the workings of my heart.” Jihoon looks up at you. “Not trying to be too deep, but I think I can smell a thematic coincidence.”

“Jihoon, stop it.”

“Ah! And here’s the pattern, folks.” He clears his throat before reading the scrap of paper you gave him this afternoon. “She may be the piece that fits you, but I can be the puzzle that undoes you?”

You rest your elbows on the keys, head in your hands as the instrument screeches in protest. You feel the cushion next to you sink with the weight of Jihoon’s body, and you turn to him. Eyes welling up with tears, you say, “It’s that obvious is it?”

“Based on this material, yeah.” He scoffs, a pout on his face. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know! One day I’m fine, sitting with Jana as Vernon is making jokes and the next I’m dreaming-“

“Wait,” Jihoon interrupts you. “Vernon as in Mina’s Vernon?” You nod, to which Jihoon huffs out a breath. “Now this makes a lot of sense.”

“I don’t want to feel this way, Hoonie. I don’t. And I’m not going to be the person who takes a person from someone else,” you assure him.

“And you said ‘dreaming’? About what?” The curious look on Jihoon’s face makes you feel even worse. But, you let yourself pretend that telling one person about your dream will make it easier to lay your crush to rest. So you do, but not in so much detail…

You sit side by side as you play the final string of keys for Vernon, mouth a hard line from your anxiety. The silence sits between you once the song is over, and you clear your throat after singing the lyrics you came up with.

“It’s obviously touch-and-go, but I wanted to know what you think.” You tuck a hair behind your ear, shy at this crumb of an idea being the first thing Vernon has ever heard of yours before anyone else. You usually hammer at it until it’s close to perfect, but in this most vulnerable stage of the process, you’re worried he’ll judge it harsher than ever before.

“I think it’s amazing.” He smiles. His response makes you smile in turn, but it quickly fades once he places a hand on yours. He guides it to the keys, his fingers lingering over your skin. “But what if you changed the minor chord to a major? The song sounds like it could be hopeful rather than sad.”

“Major and minor? Jihoon is teeaching you well,” you tease.

“Fuck you.” He bumps your shoulder with his. “I’m being serious though.”

“I just feel like it would change everything about it.” You blush, taking your hand back. The room suddenly feels too small, the space between the two of you crossing and invisible barrier. You should tell him to scoot farther away from you on the bench, keeping a friendly and professional level of distance. But you don’t. This is the first time you’ve ever been this close when being alone together. A part of you wants to cherish it.

“What’s wrong with change,” he asks, staring at you with a curious but heady expression that makes your breath hitch. Your faces are a foot away but you remind yourself nothing will come from the close contact. Neither of you would ever, even if you wanted to.

“The entire song would have to be rewritten. And maybe it’s fine the way it is,” you respond.

“What if that’s just what you think, but it would be better to give it a try?” You get a feeling he isn’t talking about the song anymore. But it’s foolish to think that way. He’s not yours, and you don’t expect him to ever be. So why are his eyes flickering with a challenge, his lips parted, his expression daring you to choose the words you can’t speak out loud?

“Then try.” The thought leaves your mouth before you’re aware of its existence. And without preparation, Vernon’s lips are on yours.

You’ve kissed boys plenty of times before, but this kiss is an electric current charging every nerve in your body. It wakes you up and reminds you this is real, he is here and kissing you like he couldn’t hold himself back for another second.

You blame the universe for how good it feels to run your hands across his shoulders and neck, the vibration of his moans against your lips only swaying you to explore further. Every instinct may be screaming at you for how wrong this situation is and how you shouldn’t take what isn’t yours. But if this is the only chance you have, the memories of it have to last a lifetime.

The last thing you feel is Vernon's tongue entering your mouth before you find yourself awake in the middle of the night. You’re unsure whether it was the city below or a random sound in your room that pulled you from your dream, but you try your best for the rest of the night to steady your pounding heart.

“Dude that’s so gross. I did not need to know that!” Jihoon mimics vomiting on the laminate floor, and you chuckle in the midst of your tears.

“Shut up, man. I can’t control my dreams. And that was just the cliffnotes!”

“Dreams are one thing. Sounds like a soft core porn happening in your head to me,” he says. He gets up from the stool and shakes off his disgust. “And it was probably in one of our studios, you horndog.”

“I work here, so it may be gross but not unrealistic.” You sigh and close the lid of the piano, too deflated to play anything else. “So that’s that. I have a crush on Vernon that I did not ask for and it’s invading my entire thought process, even my fucking songwriting.”

“You know what this means right?” Jihoon smirks.

“If this means you think you can set me up on another blind date, you’re sadly mistaken.” You point your index finger at him as a visual cue to not push you further. “Not after the last date tried to explain to me the benefits of Scientology!”

“Okay, maybe that was a bust, but come on!”

You sigh, grabbing your belongings. What could it hurt to try again? Maybe the key to expelling your feelings was finding someone new. “As long as this one doesn’t try to convert me.”

Sunghoon turns out to be a complete gentleman, it makes you forget why you brushed off Jihoon’s suggestion a week ago. He opens the door to the restaurant and pulls out your chair. He talks about his love for playing professional baseball and remains engaged in everything you say about the music industry. On paper, it’s a perfect date with a man wrapped in green flags. But it isn’t with Vernon, and that gnat-like thought keeps pestering you, even as Sunghoon offers to walk you home.

Hand in hand, Sunghoon continues on his diatribe regarding American versus European football, a practically one-sided conversation that makes you laugh. “And why would they call it football anyway, am I right,” Sunghoon says. “Where in the game do they ever make contact with the ball by using their foot?”

“You sound like a comedian trying to come up with a skit,” you joke.

“I could see that…maybe if my day job fails. I promise to thank you when I blow up.” Sunghoon winks. He is all kinds of attractive, as Mina would say to you, wavy hair and a strong build to reflect his profession. He is perfect for you. So why don’t you feel a flutter in your chest when he squeezes your hand or any heat in your cheeks when he makes a flirty comment?

The answer comes in someone’s voice screaming your name into the night. You turn your head to find Vernon running down the street, a bag from 7-Eleven in his grasp and flying around in the air.

“Who’s this guy,” Vernon says when he finally catches up to you. His brows are furrowed and his chest is rising and falling quickly, but you blame the latter on his lack of exercise outside of practice. That and the thick material of his matching hoodie and sweatpants.

Sunghoon sharply lets go of your hand, a blush erupting on his face. “I’m so sorry, man. I didn’t know she had a-“

“No, she doesn’t.” You glare at Vernon. “This is a friend of mine. We work at the same company.”

Sunghoon breathes a sigh of relief, but Vernon remains indifferent as they shake hands and exchange greetings. “Glad to know I didn’t go on a date with someone already spoken for!”

You and Vernon look at Sunghoon in confusion. The speckle of interest you had in Sunghoon immediately sours, but only Vernon voices his disapproval. “This isn’t the 50s. She can speak for herself, man,” Vernon replies. His face turns from confusion to annoyance.

“And she thinks she can walk home alone. Thank you for the dinner, Sunghoon. You have my number.” You ignore the frown on Sunghoon’s face and turn to Vernon. “As for you, I’ll see you at work.”

You leave the two of them as you continue your walk home, but Vernon quickly catches up. “He seemed like a gem, huh?”

You scoff. “You didn’t really present yourself as a prize either, Vernon.”

“Do you blame me? The guy was a total neanderthal!”

“Maybe I like neanderthals. From experience, they seem to have great senses of humor. Especially in the misogyny department.” You crack a smile as he chuckles, but you try to hold onto your anger a smidgen longer. “You didn’t have to be so rude.”

“My rudeness was based on my intuition. And I was right, so you’re welcome.” Vernon ruffles through the bag and hands you a packet of sour Skittles. “And can you be mad at someone who got you your favorite candy?”

“How did you know you would even see me tonight to give me this?”

“I would’ve just saved them until the next time I saw you. You said sour Skittles always make your day better,” he says.

“Like three years ago,” you mumble, a gnawing pain suddenly within your chest.

“Well, as far as I could tell your candy preferences haven’t changed.” Vernon is blissfully unaware of how much his memory and the measly bag of candy splits your heart in two.

You look away from him to wipe a tear from your eye, but for the first time, he can tell something in your demeanor has shifted. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He puts both hands on either side of your face, his face suddenly becoming angry, a side he rarely shows. “Did that guy do something before I-“

You shake your head suddenly. “I’ve just been having a weird couple weeks. Just a lot of feelings before the gala, I guess.” You swallow and stare down at your feet, letting the lie seep in.

“I know you. This isn’t pre-show jitters,” he responds. His hands still sit comfortably on your cheeks. Despite the October chill, you wonder if he feels how hot your face has become since he;s touched it.

For the first time in a while, you look up at him and hold his gaze. You ask yourself a million questions as he stares back and the silence envelops you both. You hope they’re loud enough to reach him, to know if he shares the thoughts that have plagued your mind day after day. Do you know how easy it is to fall for you? Why do you make it so hard to deny this fucking feeling?

Someone calling both of your names pierces the quiet. Vernon immediately lets go of you and you step further away from him. You don’t realize you’ve made it to the company apartments until Mina steps out of the darkness, an accusatory glance in your direction. “What are you guys doing out this late?”

“Snack run,” Vernon answers immediately, pointing to the bag in his hand.

“Just coming back from a date,” you say quickly after Vernon.

Mina raises her eyebrows and gives a small smile. “Think he’ll be your date to the gala?”

“Time will tell,” you say in a clipped tone. You begin walking up the cobblestone pathway to the apartment entrance. “I’ll leave you guys to it.”

You don’t bother looking back at Vernon or Mina. You are sure if you do, every secret in your heart will reveal itself and the thought of losing both of them at once is more than you can take. Falling into a listless sleep, you do not know if there are any winners in this kind of fight.

The vibe as soon as you enter the studio is tense. The girls sit in a huddle around Mina, the subject of the attention bawling on Jana’s shoulder. You immediately run up to her, but Jeonghi stops you short. “I wouldn’t, kid.”

“What the hell happened,” you ask, concern flooding you.

“Like you don’t know.” Mina sniffles, dabbing at her eyes.

“What does it take for you to answer your phone,” Naejin says. She grabs a box of tissues to hand Mina.

Suddenly, you notice the girls’ accusatory glances and your concern nosedives into defense. “My phone was dead after I got back from my date. And I forgot to charge it before coming here so-“

“Convenient,” Jana responds.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” You ask.

“It means that my boyfriend—oh sorry, I should say ex-boyfriend now.” Mina says, standing up from her spot on the couch with Jana to tread closer to you. “My ex decides to tell me he has feelings for someone else right after I see the two of you last night way too close for comfort? You’re right Jana, that’s pretty fucking convenient.” Mina’s tone cuts you deep. Despite the pain and fear inside of you, all you can think about is how profoundly inconvenient it was of you to go wireless for 12 hours.

“One, even if you don’t believe me, I did not think I would see Vernon last night let alone you.” Mina scoffs at the response, but you continue anyway. “Second, I have no idea who he could possibly have feelings for other than you, Min. And that’s the truth.”

“You’re telling me you absolutely have no feelings for him?” Mina asks you, her bottom lip trembling. Up to this point, her voice has been clipped and angry, but the last words break by the end. You thought last night broke your heart, but this is true heartbreak.

You never intended to hurt her, not after all the work you both put into succeeding together. Music and the people you love mean everything to you, but how can both be so inextricably intertwined in this horrible predicament?

The silence screams louder than either of you ever could, and something in Mina’s face shatters. Your friendship? Her trust? You aren’t sure.

“You know what? Let’s just cool off until the gala this weekend,” Naejin says.

“We’re supposed to practice today,” you mutter. A tear escapes your eye, and Mina lets out a breath of disbelief.

“I get broken up with and you have the balls to cry right now?”

“Mina, lay off for a second,” Jeonghi interjects.

“We’ll deal with Park. Just, maybe lay low until then,” Naejin responds to you. She gives a parting nod. Jana barely looks at you as you leave, and Jeonghi says goodbye in her usual apathetic tone.

Only as you walk down the hallway and to the glass doors of the entrance do you allow yourself to sob. If only feelings could remain buried if you simply wished for them to. It would make the pain much easier to swallow if you never let them come up to the surface at all.

You think about how a nap may do you some good until you run into Vernon. He says your name, a breathless plea, but you shut him down immediately. “I can’t do this right now.”

“I was worried when you weren’t answering your phone,” he says. He walks forwards with his hands outstretched, visibly concerned about the tears falling down your face. But you refuse. You back away every time he tries to move closer. “Can we talk, please? It doesn’t have to be now, but—“

“Hansol,” you beg, the use of his given name startling him. “When I tell you I can’t, I mean it.”

He swallows. His head turns downward, recognizing he won’t get the outcome he wants. The push and pull between your feelings about the argument with Mina and wanting to tell him you want more than anything to talk to him—do nothing with him, even—makes your stomach turn. “I get it. Just please charge your phone.”

He walks away and in the direction of the Pledis building. It would be so easy to run after him, but the frailty of your strength forces you to walk forward. There is no timing worse than right now to discuss what’s happened in the last 24 hours.

And still, the feelings in his heart could be reserved for someone else anyway. The stupidity you’d feel would grow tenfold if this situation ended with him actually not wanting you at all.

When you crack open your apartment door, you see the Skittles bag strewn on your coffee table. The makeshift bandages you used to mend your heart on your walk home in silence rip off. I fucked this up so perfectly didn’t I runs through your head on loop, the perfect lyric to describe your pain. The laminate wood flooring’s warmth welcomes you as you fall apart.

The ballroom stage is cluttered with instruments. From your vantage point backstage, you see numerous suit and ties in the crowd at their assigned tables waiting patiently as well as the young trainees. You even see all of the guys at their own table from this distance, cracking jokes and whispering quietly. Except for Vernon, his expression unreadable. He’s never been too much of an expressive guy, even less so at events. But seeing him indifferent to the people around him forces you to close the curtain.

“Mina can’t just be AWOL right now,” Jeonghi says, yanking at the strings of her dress. “God, why did they have to make us wear these poofy babydoll dresses? I feel like a baby.”

The outfit doesn’t thrill you either, but it was nice the wardrobe team dressed you all in the same white attire. Save for Mina, who’s supposed to be in a blue version of the outfit due to her title as the lead singer.

“You look great. And I think the word you’re looking for is a cherub,” Jana says.

“Babies and cherubs aren’t mutually exclusive, J,” Jeonghi bites back.

“Anyway!” Naejin cuts in. “Let’s just focus on the positives. Mina still has ten minutes. She’s probably getting final touches on makeup.”

You nod, sitting on a stool an acceptable distance away. It’s bad enough you haven’t seen any of them since that day in the studio. It was another thing if Mina did not show up on purpose. You wouldn’t blame her, though.

The only people who tried to fix your self-isolation were Jihoon and Mingyu . And 90% of their discussions with you were about how much of a wreck Vernon was. You realized it was better to avoid talking altogether. No one could pick apart your thoughts or words in solitude.

Naejin sits next to you when she grabs a spare stool. “Can I just ask a question?” You turn your head in response. “Did you really not know?”

“Naejin-“

“I mean, it seemed a bit obvious to me they wouldn’t last.”

“Nae! That’s really fucked up to say.” Jana casts judgemental eyes at the both of you.

Naejin shrugs in response. “It’s not my fault if I noticed the kid’s eyes were elsewhere.”

“For your information, guys, no,” you interject. “No, I did not know that they’d break up. As for Vernon, he’s an oaf. He could like the checkout girl at the fish market for all we know.” Naejin shakes her head, a smug smile on her face. “What?”

“Nothing, just…it’s one thing to be oblivious. It’s another to willfully hide how you feel.”

Jana stops pacing and turns to you. “Do you actually like him? Like for real?”

You look down at your hands, trying to compose the right response. “I think I always have.”

The breath that leaves you once you confess feels like the lightest air you’ve ever inhaled and exhaled. It’s the first one in a while that comes out with ease. In the next second, feeling freer, all the words come out in a rush. “But I didn’t think I could act on it with the other stuff in the way. The band, the company, all that shit. Then it was him and Mina, and she was so happy. It seemed like a sign. Like there would always be other factors involved. But, I realized it was just an excuse to pretend I didn’t feel the way I did. It made it easier, until it wasn’t.”

“Why didn’t you say anything to me back then?” Mina’s voice makes you turn your head, and the tears immediately pool in your eyes. She looks beautiful, her makeup and hair in perfect precision. But the frown on her face tells you she feels anything but. You wish the source of this fracture between the two of you didn’t stem from you to begin with.

“Don’t ruin your makeup!” Jana screams.

“So not important right now,” Jeonghi says.

Mina lovingly huffs at them before turning back to you. “I never would’ve went out with him if I knew you were feeling like this.”

“I swear to you I didn’t realize all of this until a few weeks ago.” You stand up. “I’m a dumbass with timing, I guess.”

“You are,” she agrees. Her own tears begin to turn her eyes glassy. “But I’m one too, for not realizing you hid all of this.” She sighs. “I’m not saying I’m happy right now, but you’re not the only one who kept secrets.”

“I would’ve kept them forever if I could’ve. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you.”

Neither of you know what to do in that moment. Friendships have survived much worse. At least, you hope so.

Of course Mr. Park decides now is the time to run backstage. “You’re on in a minute beauties!” He wipes the sweat from his forehead and runs back in the direction he came.

The other girls get on the stage to start prepping. You hold out your hand to Mina, a silent request to work on your relationship. Mina immediately laces her fingers through yours. In that moment, you’re ready to see your shared dream come true.

As predicted, the performance went without a hitch. Mina, in spite of her obvious nerves, wowed the crowd with her stage presence. The instrumental sounded perfect, to the point executives commented on the smallest details. Each one you were introduced to was excited to see Cloud 9’s impending success. Some of the boys congratulated you when you made it off the stage as well. Even Jihoon had a tear in his eye. But the one you wanted and dreaded to see was evidently missing.

You saw him during the set, but Vernon’s absence is partially a blessing in disguise. You don’t want to talk to him here in a crowded room of people you barely know. And not with Mina in close proximity either, despite the tentative peace treaty you’ve both made.

You walk out of the ballroom, unnoticed. In the familiar hallways, you find yourself heading to the studio. Maybe the piano will have some answers for you.

Of course, Vernon is sitting at the piano waiting for you.

“Not surprised you’d come here.” Vernon chuckles to himself, He swipes his brown bangs from his eyes before standing to face you.

“You know I hate crowds.” You cross your arms. Even in one of your safe space, you feel unarmed.

“How’s it feel to be on the fast-track to fame?”

You take a deep breath, a smile lingering on your lips. “Like the hard work’s just begun.”

His grin is the only spotlight you want on you after the haze of pyrotechnics and shuttering cameras. And it feels good to see it after witnessing his somber mood earlier.

“Can I just say,” he starts, “you look beautiful.”

You put your hands in front of your face. A laugh bubbles up from deep in your stomach. “You can’t just say stuff like that to me, Vernon.”

“I’ve been wanting to since that night last week,” he confesses. “So I thought I’d start with that, seeing as the first time we’ve talked in forever.”

Willing yourself to still your frantic pulse, you say, “Well you still can’t say that shit without consequences, you know.”

“And what would those be?” The curiosity in his eyes and close-mouthed grin jumpstarts your heart yet again. How was there ever a chance you could bury your feelings when he looked at you like that?

Inside this room, in the setting of the dream that jumpstarted all of this, you take the chance to finally let the floodgates open.

“Because I’ll have no choice but to kiss you. And then tell you I’ve liked you since the second you taught me to tie shoelaces one-handed because you thought it was the coolest thing you’ve ever learned. And how I admire how much you care about others before yourself. And how effortless you are at performing even though when anyone tells you that you think they’re a big fat liar. And then I’ll say maybe after realizing all of this and saying it out loud that maybe I lo-“

You don’t know what you feel first: the pressing of Vernon’s palms to your cheeks or his lips against yours. But you’re sure the feeling of his touch in reality blows both your expectations and fantasies out of the water. If the kiss in your dream felt like the fire of electricity, this one is the calmest pool you’ve ever swam in. It mends all of your anxieties, quiets all of your fears. It could make any skeptic believe that the world’s greatest power is in two mouths crashing into each other.

When you separate, your mouths still inches away from each other’s, Vernon says, “Maybe I love you too.” In a millisecond he presses his lips back to yours.

You barely remember the beginning of the day and all the emotions you harbored before walking into the studio, or all the frustration pent up inside of you from the past few weeks. The only important thing had his arms wrapped around you and all his attention on you, determined to conquer whatever happened next together.

@hyperdramas @tocupid @hursheys @slytherinshua @yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss @pars-ley @lovetaroandtaemin @wonwovy

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @sweetvenomnet @keopihaus @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

[sweet-s0rr0w]

day 31 of @hprecfest - most recent fic you loved

First Watch of Night by @tackytigerfic - E, 274k, 2024 (completed, posting as a WIP every two days, on chapter 14/21)

Harry Potter defeated Voldemort at the Battle of Hogwarts on May 2nd, 1998.

But what if he didn't?

Excerpt:

“Every single time your magic sparks off Potter’s, you could be eroding the edges of the world,” Draco said. “Though I suppose there’d be no Voldemort if the very fabric of our universe is destroyed. Excellent approach to victory from Team Reckless.”

Harry hadn’t hit anyone in years, probably not since fighting with Draco himself, in school, but he wanted to so badly that he could feel the hopeful tingle of it through his palm, out into the fingertips and collecting in his balled fist.

Interrogate the feeling, Bill would say if he were here. Let yourself feel what you need to feel. Harry suspected “let yourself embrace the violent desire to punch Draco Malfoy right in his smug mouth” was not quite what Bill meant when he had gone through those mindfulness exercises with the troops last month.

“Do you know what it’s like?” Harry said, pressing his hands flat against his own thighs, bearing down into the shifting muscle, grounding himself. It felt strange to be so close to Draco’s restless body. “Being me, I mean. Do you know what it’s like?”

“I don’t even know how to answer that,” Draco said. His colour was high in the spill of moonlight, throat swallowing convulsively. “Of course I don’t.”

“Just imagine,” Harry said quietly. From next door came the low sound of laughter. Malfoy had made it to bed, then. “Imagine being in pain all the time, constant low-level pain from all the Occlumency. And all the fighting. Years of it, Draco, years and years.” Under his palms his thighs felt tense. “I’m so tired.”

Without letting himself think about what he was doing, he shifted sideways on the bed and flopped down to lying, stretching his legs, letting himself sink into the mattress. Draco’s pillow was cool and firm under his hot cheek, and he closed his eyes. After a moment he felt the bed shift as Draco wriggled back down so he was lying too. The pillow under Harry’s head dipped with the added weight of Draco’s head, and he kept his eyes closed.

How do I even start with this fic, which I'd been hearing about for two years and looking forward to for longer, and which I FINALLY got to read (and even better, to beta!) this summer?? First Watch of Night is epic in length and even more so in scope; the worldbuilding is incredible, the characters are all fully-formed - flawed, but so very loveable, and at the heart of it all is a Tacky trademark love story, so deeply-felt that it'll stay with you long after you finish the fic. Plus... Multiverse! Angst! Pining! Draco and Harry getting to know their counterparts from another (maybe familiar...?) universe! Ex-friends to enemies to maybe-friends to lovers! Sharing a room! Spy Draco! Fencing! Rosie, Harry's gorgeous goddaughter! Multiple POVs! Action scenes! Sex! Wolfstar sex! (Brief) Romione sex! Other-Drarry sex! Look, this might not be the most polished rec of all time, but if you've read any of Tacky's fics before you'll know what they're about. And you'll probably already understand why I'm raving about this fic. So go, get started now, and you might just catch up with posting in time for the epilogue! (assuming you read faster than i do)

If you read it, and especially if you love it, please do let me know! And as always, please do take the time to leave the author a kudos/comment <3

day 1 - first fic you remember reading

day 2 - a fic rated G

day 3 - a fic not on ao3

day 4 - a comfort fic

day 5 - a romantic fic

day 6 - a fic for a ship you don’t normally read

day 7 - the best of your OTP

day 8 - a fic that was recced to you

day 9 - a WIP

day 10 - a fest/event fic

day 11 - an underrated fic

day 12 - a fic from your favourite author

day 13 - a rare pair

day 14 - a fic rated T

day 15 - a fic over 50k

day 16 - a podfic

day 17 - a fic that makes you cry

day 18 - a fic that makes you laugh

day 19 - fanart

day 20 - a fic with fanart

day 21 - a fic rated M

day 22 - a series

day 23 - a crossover or AU fic

day 24 - holiday (vacation)

day 25 - holiday (national holiday)

day 26 - a fic under 5k

day 27 - a smokin' hot fic

day 28 - a fic over 100k

day 29 - a fic rated E

day 30 the fic on tbr list i'm sorry i skipped there are just too many and it actually only sparks guilt

[scary-grace]

Enough to Go by (Chapter 14) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

Chapter 14

When you agreed to be Tenko’s sidekick, playing for keeps this time, you made a promise to yourself that you wouldn’t involve anyone else. You broke that promise almost immediately, but Kazuo made you break it, so you decided it doesn’t count. Your friends who were killed in the Kamino incident weren’t dragged into it by you specifically, but you’re still part of the reason they died, so you have to count them, too. Mitsuru’s stayed out of it by having a girlfriend and being too busy to notice whatever the hell you’re up to, and Yoshimi’s got enough to worry about with her illness. You never wanted your friends to get caught up in this. You thought you’d hidden it well enough to keep Mitsuko and Ryuhei safe, too.

Except now Ryuhei and Mitsuko have met Tenko, and they’ve become the League’s first ever sleeper agents. Every time the two of them show up at your apartment, for any reason, League-related or otherwise, you can’t help feeling like you’ve failed them. You feel like you’ve failed Tenko, too.

Tenko’s not here today. He’s been spending at least some time at the new hideout Overhaul provided in order to keep up appearances, and with Kurogiri on another mission, it’s harder to move people back and forth safely. Toga and Twice are embedded with the yakuza full-time, which means you haven’t heard from them other than a request from Toga to go thrifting and find her a new coat. It’s cold in the Hassaikai base. Compress is usually at the new hideout, too – now that he’s got his prosthetic, your services are no longer needed. The people who spend the most time at your apartment now are Dabi and Spinner. And your friends from before.

Dabi and Spinner aren’t here today, but your friends are supposed to be here at any moment, and as soon as the thought crosses your mind, you hear the secret knock on the door – followed by an order to “let us in, you criminal”, which sort of defeats the purpose of a secret knock. You unlock the door and open it. They both push past you eagerly, only to pause, disappointed, when they realize your apartment is empty. “Come on,” Ryuhei complains. “I wanted to meet the rest of them.”

“Not even your weird boyfriend’s here? Lame,” Mitsuko agrees. “I wanted to give him this.”

She’s holding your high school yearbook. “Why?”

“So he can see all the bad haircuts he missed out on. This –” Mitsuko gestures at you “ – is the result of five years of my influence on your fashion sense. He owes me.”

“Yeah. I’ll be sure to let him know.” You’ll show Tenko the yearbook when hell freezes over. You shut the door. “Do you guys have questions about any of the stuff we talked about last time?”

“No. I don’t care that I’m not fighting,” Mitsuko says. “My quirk sucks for it.”

“Not if you fine-tuned it enough. If you could sense people’s intentions towards you really closely, you’d be able to tell their moves ahead of time,” Ryuhei says. “My quirk could be good for fighting, though. Is he sure he doesn’t want me fighting?”

“Yes,” you say. Tenko was impressed by Ryuhei’s quirk, but if Ryuhei gets captured, he’ll be a potential link to you, and Tenko’s still trying to keep you out of any suspicion. “For right now, anyway.”

“Fine,” Ryuhei says. He sits down on your couch with a thud, and Mitsuko grabs the armchair. You take the other end of the couch. “We got some stuff going. Inada’s been looking into the Hassaikai a little more –”

“We’ll get to that,” Mitsuko says. “Tell her our real idea.”

“Supply caches,” Ryuhei says. You blink. “Storage units aren’t that expensive. We could rent a bunch of different ones all around the country and fill them with stuff you guys need – like medical shit, food, supplies –”

“New information, if we’ve got any,” Mitsuko adds. “Phones aren’t safe. If they’re tracking where your signal is coming from, they’ll find it bouncing all over the place, and that’ll be suspicious from somebody who’s supposed to be in Yokohama.”

“Why wouldn’t I be in Yokohama?” you ask. Then it clicks. “Wait, you think I’m going to be with them?”

“Uh, yes.” Mitsuko and Ryuhei trade a glance. “At some point you have to, right? If you’re their medic, they need you to be with them wherever they are.”

“Kurogiri just comes to get me.”

“What if they need you and he’s not with them?” Ryuhei is giving you a weird look. “What happened with the one guy’s arm – it could have been bad if you weren’t there, right?”

It would have been. Nobody else in the League carries medical supplies, and without you to smooth the way at your clinic, Compress could have easily been reported to the police and arrested. “And it would make more sense for you to be with them,” Mitsuko continues. “Your boyfriend’s a lot more hinged when you’re around. If that’s what hinged looks like for him, I don’t even want to think about what he’s like on his own.”

Tenko’s more grounded when you’re around, or so you’ve heard from Spinner. He and Dabi don’t argue as much, and he’s apparently a lot less apathetic about things. But you’re still taken aback by what your friends are saying. The role they’re envisioning for themselves when it comes to helping the League is the role you’re playing right now, because they don’t expect you to play it for much longer. You hadn’t even thought of that. Are they right?

You’re not going to think about that right now. “I think supply caches are a great idea,” you say. “How many were you thinking?”

“That depends. How much money are we working with?”

Money’s not the only thing it depends on. It also depends on where the League is likely to be, and how easily they’ll be able to travel, and whether they’re more likely to be spotted in big cities with tons of surveillance or small towns where everyone knows everyone, and a whole lot of other questions. Mitsuko points out another benefit of you traveling with the League full-time; the cops still don’t know your face, which means you can move around freely even when the rest of the League can’t. The longer the three of you talk about it, the more it makes sense. You’re starting to wonder why Tenko hasn’t brought you with the League full-time already.

You’re in the middle of looking up storage units when the doorbell rings. The sound scares the hell out of you, like most unexpected sounds do these days, and you rocket to your feet. “Where are you going?” Ryuhei asks. “It’s probably just a delivery. Did you order something?”

You shake your head. “The others might have. They’ve done stuff like that before.”

Ryuhei accepts the explanation, but Mitsuko doesn’t. She follows you to the door. “I’m getting a weird feeling.”

“Like a feeling that the delivery guy is going to kill me?” you ask. Mitsuko shakes her head. “Then it’s fine. It’s easier if I just grab it now.”

You unlock the door and find yourself looking at a man holding a manila envelope. You can see your name written on it, along with your address, in neat but spidery handwriting. You hold out your hand for it. “Do I need to sign for this or something?”

“Nope. Just confirm your name and address.” The delivery guy holds the envelope just out of reach until you confirm both pieces of information. “Perfect. Here –”

He places the envelope in your hand, but once you’ve got it, his other hand comes up, and both enfold yours. The delivery guy is holding your hand, and in the split second before your mind registers just how weird this is, you find yourself feeling sick. Really sick. Dizzy. Nauseous. Another split second later, just as you’re thinking you should pull away, pain knifes through your skull. It’s not just weird. It’s a quirk.

A status effect quirk? You try to pull your hand away, but your arms feel like lead. Your voice comes out strange and slurred. “What –”

“Overhaul requires your presence,” the man says, and your stomach twists. “Come with me.”

“Fuck you.” A pair of arms wrap around your waist and yank you backwards into your apartment. Mitsuko pulls you away from the door and keeps pulling, even when your legs give out and she has to drag you. “Sasegawa, get your shit together!”

The man steps across the threshold into your apartment, dropping the envelope on the floor. “Thought you’d be alone in here. This is going to get messy.”

He reaches for you, but before he can make contact, Ryuhei hops the couch and gets between the two of you. The would-be kidnapper’s hand collides with Ryuhei’s face instead, and Ryuhei’s quirk activates. You’ve seen Ryuhei’s quirk at work before, but it always amazes you just how fast the rebound happens. The kidnapper’s got next to no resistance to his own quirk. Most people don’t. He throws up all over himself and the floor. He’s throwing up blood.

“Okay, what the fuck?” Ryuhei snaps. “What kind of quirk was that? Who is this guy?”

“Hassaikai,” you and Mitsuko both say at once. Mitsuko keeps talking. You’re too busy trying not to retch. “See how his eyes glow green? His quirk’s called Irradiate. It can paralyze people if he wants it to. Or it can kill.”

“So how the fuck did you miss it? You’re supposed to read intentions!”

“His intention was to kidnap her, not to hurt her or kill her! Hurting her is just a byproduct! My quirk doesn’t do what you think it does!” Mitsuko sounds as pissed as you’ve ever heard her. She shakes you. “If you’d just listened to me –”

“We have to do something about him.” You cut her off and gesture at the delivery guy, who’s now having a seizure just inside your doorway. “Emergency services. I have to call them.”

“You want to get him medical help? He just tried to kidnap you!”

“I need him to leave. And I don’t need the cops here.” You know the Hassaikai are under investigation. You’ve already come into contact with them once that the heroes know about. If you’re documented making contact with them again – “This guy is just a delivery guy. We don’t know what happened. When I opened the door and took the package, he started convulsing. That’s it.”

“And what about you? You look like hell,” Ryuhei shoots back. “You’re a nurse. Isn’t helping with shit like this your job?”

Shit. It is your job. If the cops come here, they’re going to ask why you’re not tending to the guy who tried to kidnap you. “One of you needs to call,” you say. You pull away from Mitsuko, fighting the urge to throw up, and head to the delivery guy, tilting him onto his side so he won’t aspirate if he starts vomiting again. “Now.”

While Mitsuko places the call, you try to remember what you know about radiation sickness. Not a lot. You seem to remember that the symptoms correspond to the dose, and that instant vomiting isn’t a good sign. Vomiting blood is never a good sign. But you got nauseous right away, even though you didn’t throw up. If this guy actually irradiated you, you’re in trouble, too. Did Mitsuko say his quirk was radiation, or just that it mimics the effects? You need to ask her, but she’s still on the phone, acting really panicked and hysterical to ensure that the EMTs get here fast. You’ll ask once she hangs up. In the meantime, you’ve got one hell of a headache and a guy having a seizure on your floor. You’re busy.

The EMTs don’t question your story when they arrive. They get the gang member off your floor and onto a stretcher, give you a bodily fluids cleanup kit to deal with the vomit, and book it. Ryuhei’s too squeamish to help you clean, but Mitsuko isn’t. The two of you work on taking the stain out of the carpet while Ryuhei opens the envelope the Hassaikai member brought with him. “I should be the one to open it,” he says when you protest. “If there’s a quirk in here it’ll bounce off of me.”

“Why would there be a quirk in an envelope?”

“Why would the Hassaikai send a delivery guy to kidnap you? These people are insane.” Ryuhei rips open the envelope. “No quirk. Just a letter. It’s – well, fuck. This is bad.”

“Don’t just say ‘this is bad’. Read it,” you say. It’s quiet for a few seconds. “Well?”

“It’s not addressed to you. It’s for Shigaraki,” Ryuhei says. Your stomach lurches. “I guess the guy was supposed to leave it here for Shigaraki to find after he kidnapped you. Overhaul’s saying he doesn’t trust Shigaraki to behave himself just for Toga’s and Twice’s sake – wait, are they hostages? – so he’s going to hang onto you, too. And – fuck, this guy is a freak.”

“Wait, let me see.” Mitsuko strips off her gloves and goes to investigate. You come over, too, but she shoos you back. A moment later, she swears. “We can’t let him see this.”

“See what?” You’re not done with the bodily fluids cleanup, but you peel off your gloves and step around Mitsuko. “He was going to kidnap me. I should get to –”

“You don’t want to,” Mitsuko snaps at you. You’ve never heard her take that tone before, and you’ve heard her get really harsh. Then, to Ryuhei: “We can’t let him see this. If he sees this – look, I’ve been around the yakuza before. I’ve seen some shit. This is fucked up even for them.”

“What is it?” you say, exasperated. You’ve met Overhaul. He creeped you out plenty in person. You doubt a letter could do the same thing.

“I think we should show him,” Ryuhei mumbles. “Let him see what he’s up against.”

Your phone starts buzzing in your pocket, and you pull it out to find a text from Tenko. We got him. We’re on our way over.

They got who? And why are they coming here? How are they coming here without Kurogiri? Are they really traveling through Yokohama on foot? They’re going to get caught. You can’t think straight. Your head hurts. “Mitsu, is that guy’s quirk actual radiation or just the symptoms?”

“Actual radiation.”

You might be screwed. The thought that your would-be kidnapper is even more screwed than you are isn’t much of a source of comfort. You put on a fresh set of gloves and go back to cleaning up the mess of guess-it’s-radioactive bloody vomit on the floor.

Tenko and the others don’t arrive until half an hour after you’re done cleaning, when you’ve switched clothes and showered off and you’re sprawled on the couch, reading the Wikipedia page on acute radiation sickness and trying to decide whether the continued urge to vomit is the result of anxiety or whatever dose of radiation you caught from the kidnapper. You hear the secret knock, but Ryuhei’s at the door before you can even get up from the couch. The door opens, and a moment later you hear Compress’s voice. “Who are you?”

“New ally. Who are you?”

“We don’t have time for this,” Tomura says impatiently. “Let us in.”

Ryuhei lets him in, and the rest of the League piles into the apartment after him. The entire rest of the League – Twice and Toga are back, looking extremely pleased with themselves, and everybody else looks like they’ve had a great day, too. “Overhaul’s fucked,” Tomura announces. “Turn on the TV. I bet they’re covering it.”

You switch on the TV, and everyone comes to settle around it. Twice plops down on the couch next to you, only to scramble up a moment later when Tomura comes over. Tomura’s not shy about being affectionate with you in front of the League. He pulls you against his side, not quite into his lap, and you lean against him, squeezing your eyes shut. You didn’t want to tell him about the attempted kidnapping, and now you don’t have to. It’s a relief.

It turns out that the League’s revenge against Overhaul is just the final piece of Overhaul’s worst day ever. The heroes moved against him at last, destroying his headquarters and capturing his lieutenants, effectively destroying the Shie Hassaikai for good – and on top of that, Tomura, Dabi, Spinner, and Compress attacked the convoy that was transporting Overhaul to a villain-specific hospital. A hero’s dead. Two cops are badly injured. And Overhaul himself is now short both his arms, and his quirk.

“I was thinking,” Tomura says, “somebody who hates quirks shouldn’t have one of his own. We got revenge for Compress –”

“I took his arm myself,” Compress says proudly. Twice high-fives him. “And in revenge for Magne, we took everything else that mattered to him.”

“Those quirk-destroying bullets he had? Those are ours now,” Dabi says. “Smug bastard. He had it coming.”

“You have no idea,” Mitsuko mumbles. Dabi gives her a weird look.

“We messed with them during the heroes’ raid,” Toga sings out, grinning her sharp-toothed grin. “And I got to see Izuku! He’s so cute when he’s covered in blood. Ochako and Tsu were there, too! I wish I’d gotten to talk to them more – they’re so pretty –”

At least Toga likes the idea of having age-appropriate friends. She’s got a few screws loose already, but only hanging around with you and a bunch of older guys probably isn’t helping. On the TV, there’s another alert – something about a girl the heroes were trying to rescue from Overhaul, who’s since gone missing. “And on that note, Saintess,” Compress says over Twice’s crowing about just how badly they pissed off one of Overhaul’s lieutenants, “we have a present for you.”

He extracts one of his spheres from his pocket and uncompresses it on your coffee table to reveal a messily severed arm. Mitsuko yelps and recoils. “Wrong one,” Compress says hastily, and compresses it again. “This is for you.”

You have a bad feeling about it, and once he uncompresses the second sphere, you’re proven right. In place of the arm, there’s a tiny girl sprawled out on the table. She’s wearing a hospital gown, her arms and legs heavily bandaged. She has greyish-white hair, just like the girl in the picture on TV, and just like the girl in the picture, there’s a horn on the right side of her forehead. She’s also asleep, or maybe unconscious. There’s a hectic, fevered flush in her cheeks, and her breathing is rattling and uneven in a way that raises a whole host of red flags.

“This is Eri,” Twice says as you stare in horror. “Isn’t she cute?”

“She was the key to Overhaul’s plans,” Tomura says. “Her quirk’s Rewind. It activates when she touches someone, and it turns back the clock on their body, or parts of their body. Overhaul was using it in the deleter rounds to turn back quirk factors until they no longer exist.”

“He was being so gross with her,” Toga says. Her mirth from before is gone. “He kept cutting her and using his quirk to put her back together again. We could hear her crying if we went down to that level.”

“The heroes were trying to rescue her, but we nabbed her when their backs were turned,” Twice adds. “And we brought her back here! She should be with us, don’t you think?”

You can barely think. “Can she control it?” Mitsuko asks. “Like, is it active right now?”

“Maybe. Why?”

Mitsuko doesn’t answer. She grabs your hand away from your side, yanks it towards the coffee table, and slaps it down on top of the little girl’s hand. Your entire body jolts, and you struggle to pull free, but Mitsuko leaves your hand there for a second, two seconds, three. When Tomura grabs you and pulls you back, she lets you go. “What the hell was that?” Tomura demands.

Mitsuko doesn’t answer him. “I can Google shit just as well as you can,” she says to you. “Feel better?”

You do. Your headache’s completely gone, along with the nausea, and it’s easier to think – and now you get why she did it. The exposure to the little girl’s quirk Rewound you, past the point where you were exposed to the radiation quirk. You’re not irradiated any longer, which means that by bringing Eri back here, Compress and the others have saved you a lot of trouble. But they’ve also caused a problem. A really big problem. “We can’t keep her.”

The League stares at you. “Why not?” Spinner asks.

You’d expect that question from Tomura or Dabi. Not from Spinner, who lived at least adjacent to the real world until four months ago. “She’s a little kid,” you say. “Kids need stability. They need a roof over their heads and to know they’ll have food and a safe place to sleep every night. And if one of you is about to say that you didn’t have that and you turned out fine – no, you didn’t.”

Dabi snorts. “But she’s so cute,” Toga complains. “Look at her little cheeks. I just want to bite them!”

“No biting the kid. If you’re going to bite the kid we’re definitely not keeping her,” Tomura says. You can’t believe he’s still thinking it’s a good idea to keep her, and when he turns to look at you, you can see that nothing you’ve said has sunk in. “She could stay with you. It’s safe here.”

“No, it isn’t,” Ryuhei says, and you glare daggers at him. “Don’t. I’m not going to act like there wasn’t –”

Whatever he was going to say, it’s cut off when the girl on your coffee table startles awake. She pushes herself to seated with shaking arms, glancing left, then right. Her eyes are bright red, like Tomura’s, and as you watch, they begin to fill with tears. Her mouth is trembling, and so is her voice when she speaks. “Where’s Deku?”

“Oh, come on,” Tomura complains, and the girl cringes. “You want Midoriya? Really? I – hey!”

You’ve elbowed him into shutting up. The girl is curling in on herself, arms wrapping tight around her knees. “He was going to save me,” she whimpers. “Him and Lemillion and the man with the glasses –”

“They did save you. From Overhaul. Then we saved you from them!” Twice chirps. “It was no trouble. Say thank you!”

“Hey,” you warn. They brought Eri to you. It’s your job to help her. You turn to her and soften your voice. “Hey. It’s okay. You’re safe here. Nobody here is going to hurt you. I promise.”

She shakes her head. “Nobody here will hurt you,” you say again. You don’t even want to think about what it must have been like for this girl to live under Overhaul’s thumb, being tortured by him to manufacture the quirk-canceling bullets. “You aren’t in trouble. You’re not going to be in trouble, and even if you were, there’s nothing you could do that would make one of us hurt you. That’s not what we do.”

“Overhaul –”

“He’s gone,” Tomura says. Eri looks at him. “We got rid of him. I took his quirk away and left him for the heroes. He’s not coming back.”

“We’re not him,” Spinner adds. “He sucked.”

Eri’s shoulders relax slightly at that. Then her face crumples. “I want Deku.”

You preemptively elbow Tomura, then start strategizing. If you touch her, you might get rewound further than you want to be, so you need to find a different way to comfort her. You hand her a box of tissues first, pluck a few out to show her that it’s okay to take them, and get to your feet. “The rest of you, stay where you are,” you order. “I’ll be right back.”

Your apartment doesn’t exactly have kid stuff in it. You find a spare blanket in your hall closet and come back, unfolding it and settling it carefully around Eri’s shoulders. She’s picked up the tissue box, but instead of using it, she’s hugging it. At work, you keep a box of cheap stuffed animals to give to scared kids, for them to hold during their appointments and take with them when they leave. You don’t have any stuffed animals here, so maybe you can give her a pillow. Or –

You head to your room on autopilot, dig into the box of things you brought from your parents’ house, and come back. Tomura’s eyes go straight to the object you’re holding. You know he recognizes it. He wouldn’t be staring like that if he didn’t. “Is that –”

You nod and crouch back down next to the coffee table. “Eri,” you say, and she looks at you. You hold up the plush corgi Tenko gave you for your sixth birthday. “I’ll trade you for the tissue box. This is way more fun to hug than that is.”

Eri’s red eyes brighten ever so slightly, but she’s hesitant to reach for it. Maybe she thinks you’re going to take it away. You set it down on the table and push it towards her, making sure to pull your hand away so she knows you aren’t planning to snatch it back. You feel the smallest sense of relief when she drops the tissue box and grabs the plushie with both hands, hugging it tight against her chest. It’s really cute. Or it would be, if you didn’t know why this is happening to her. If you didn’t know why she’s in your apartment in the first place.

She peers at you from between the plushie’s ears. “Who are you?”

“I’m Saintess,” you say. You’ve never called yourself by your code name before. You feel twenty kinds of dumb. “It’s really nice to meet you. But I know it’s probably not comfortable to sit on the coffee table. How about you go sit in that chair –”

Dabi’s in it. Tomura glares at him until he moves, and Eri stumbles over to it, trailing the blanket and clutching the toy. “And get comfortable,” you tell her. She burrows into the blanket, watching all of you with enormous eyes. “Do you feel okay?”

“Cold,” she says. Chills, then. Probably a fever, too. “It hurts.”

All those bandages. You don’t want to know what’s underneath them. “Okay. I’m going to put on some gloves so it’ll be safe for me to touch you, and then I’ll take your temperature and check to make sure you’re okay. Is that all right with you? It’s okay if it’s not.”

Eri hesitates. “Will I feel better?”

“You won’t feel worse,” you say. She nods, and you go back to the hall closet for your first-aid kit.

You try to tune the others out as you tend to Eri, but you can’t quite make it stick. Dabi is asking Toga and Twice about which heroes they dealt with during the operation against the Hassaikai, Compress is raiding your kitchen, and Spinner is way into your personal space, wanting to know what’s going on with Eri. Tomura is, too, at first. You catch him watching you more than once, a weird look on his face. You know him well enough to know most of his expressions, and that one’s new. You wonder what it means.

Then, while you’re waiting for the thermometer you just put in Eri’s mouth to beep, you glance back to check on Tomura, and he’s gone. He’s over by the kitchen table instead. There’s an envelope in his hands.

No. No, no, no. You grab Ryuhei, order him to take the thermometer out when it beeps and memorize what it says, then race towards Tomura – but you’re way too late. The envelope and the letter inside it crumble to dust as you reach him, and when he looks up at you, his jaw is clenched so tightly that the tendons in his neck are standing out. “What happened?” he snarls.

“Lower your voice,” you beg. You don’t want him to scare Eri. “It’s not a big deal. Nothing bad happened. It’s just –”

“Don’t fucking lie,” Mitsuko says, coming up beside you. You don’t have to warn her to keep her voice down. “That yakuza bastard sent a hitman here to kidnap your girlfriend. It would have worked if Ryuhei hadn’t been here to give him a taste of his own quirk.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “The Hassaikai’s been dismantled, right? It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“They knew where you were,” Tomura says flatly. “When I find out who told them –”

“Nobody had to tell them.” The pieces are coming together in your head, slow and ugly. Overhaul saw the bandage on your hand at the warehouse. He’d have known that the League would need to seek help for Compress, and the free clinics are the only place where an injury like that won’t result in immediate police involvement. “A Hassaikai member showed up at my clinic. He asked about my hand.”

“Overhaul brought it up, too.” Tomura’s right hand lifts, clawing at his neck – lightly at first, then harder. “You – Inada – why did you use the kid’s quirk on her?”

“She got radiation poisoning. That’s the fucking hitman’s quirk.” Mitsuko ignores you when you tell her to shut up. “My guess is, Over-fuck knew he could fix whatever his hitman did when he got ahold of her. Him fixing it wasn’t an option. So I used the kid.”

“I owe you.” Tomura is still scratching, and now he’s focused on you. “They knew where you were. They’ve known since we made the alliance. It – fuck!”

“Hey, keep it down,” Spinner calls anxiously. “You’re scaring the kid.”

“Her temperature is 40 degrees,” Ryuhei adds.

Shit. “We need to table this,” you say to Tomura. His eyes flash. “That girl is really sick. It’s not safe for her to stay here, and I can’t help her the way she needs. She has to go to people who can help her.”

“The heroes? Fuck that.”

“She has to,” you say again. “They can help her. We can’t.”

“What makes you think they’ll do anything?” Tomura’s expression twists. One of his nails digs deep into the side of his neck and pulls up blood, and just like you did before, you cover his neck with your hand. “They won’t give a shit. They didn’t when it was – when –”

He breaks off. You wait, and he looks away. “Forget it.”

“They’re running her name and picture on the news,” Mitsuko says. “They care about what happens to her, and you all are in enough trouble without another kidnapping on your record. They’ll look for you twice as hard.”

Tomura’s fingernails scrape lightly across the back of your hand before his hand comes to rest over yours, index finger raised. “I’m not just dumping her on the street.”

“You won’t be,” you promise. “I’ll take her to the police station. I can say I found her wandering around –”

“So they’ll think we just dumped her on the street.”

“Or that she got away somehow. I don’t know.” You don’t have time for this. “Her fever’s high enough that she might not remember anything. If she does, she’ll remember we didn’t hurt her. That we took care of her while she was with us. She’ll know we aren’t him.”

Tomura’s shoulders relax slightly. It matters to him to be better than Overhaul. It matters to you, too. “Hang on,” Dabi says from where he’s leaning against the wall. “Maybe we shouldn’t send Saintess to drop the kid off. She’s had one run-in with the Hassaikai already, and the police already know about it. Her turning up with the kid is too big of a coincidence. Inada should be the one.”

“Two run-ins. Overhaul sent somebody here for her.” Tomura’s hand tightens around yours. “Her identity’s compromised. When we leave this time, she’s coming with us.”

Your stomach drops. “The kid trusts her,” Tomura continues. “And she’s a nurse. It’ll look like we left the kid by the clinic or something.”

“Why does it matter where we drop the kid off?”

“So we don’t end up looking worse than they do,” Tomura snaps. “What’s the point of revealing their hypocrisy if we just throw someone away?”

It’s quiet for a second. “Wait until nightfall, then,” Dabi says shortly. “So we can at least keep a lid on the number of people who see Saintess wandering around carrying a missing kid.”

“She’s sick,” Spinner says. “Doesn’t she need help as soon as possible?”

“Not if it gets us caught!”

You’re on Spinner’s team here. “What if Compress uses his quirk on me and Eri both? Then he can bring us near the police station, so we won’t have to walk as far and risk getting spotted. We won’t even show up on camera until we’re right there.”

“What kind of distance can you release your quirk from?” Tomura asks Compress, who shrugs. “If it’s far enough, you can give the sphere to Inada or Sasegawa to carry.”

That’s the plan they settle on, eventually. Compress will use his quirk on you and Eri, Mitsuko will carry you both to the police station and text when she’s there, and Compress will deactivate his quirk from a distance. Eri’s breathing is raspy. You need to hurry. You roll her up carefully in the blanket, making sure she doesn’t touch you. “The puppy,” she mumbles. “Can I keep him?”

“Of course,” you say. You were too old for it, and you don’t need a keepsake of Tenko when you have the real thing. “He’ll take good care of you as long as you take good care of him. Are you ready to go?”

She nods. You pick her up. Rolled in the blanket like this, she’s unwieldy but light. You turn to face Compress. “Okay, let’s do this. We –”

You get compressed mid-sentence, and the next thing you know, you’re standing in an alleyway a block and a half from the police station, face to face with Mitsuko. “Be careful,” she says. She looks pissed, and you’re not sure why. “Look, me and Ryuhei are activating the sleeper thing right after this, and you’re going with them. We’re not going to see each other for a while.”

Oh. “I’m going to miss you,” you tell her. Mitsuko laughs. “They still don’t know my face. We’ll see each other.”

“We’d better.”

“Keep an eye on Yoshimi for me,” you continue. “And Kazuo. I worry about them.”

“We all do,” Mitsuko says. “And now we have to worry about you, too.”

You feel a surge of guilt, one that melts into bemusement when Mitsuko leans in and plants a kiss on your lips. “Go on. I’ll see you around, Saintess.”

Saintess. That’s your name now, isn’t it? It’s the one everyone’s going to use. Mitsuko leaves the alley first, heading in one direction. You stand still and watch her go, watching a piece of the life you had before disappear around the corner. Then you adjust your grip on Eri and aim for the police station.

[clownprincehoeshi]

Parallel Hearts - Chapter 9

Synopsis: Never in your wildest dreams you imagined that you’ll meet your ult bias. Maybe you finally have your shot at love and happiness. Or not.

Pairing: fem reader x idol Jungkook fem reader x idol Mingyu fem reader x idol Hoshi

Genre: Fluff, Smut, Angst

Warnings: Kissing-Nudity-Sex 18+-Harrassment-Stalking-Death mentions-Cheating

Word count: 5681

Previous chapter

Masterlist

Rebloging is important and much apreciated. Leave your comments, oppinions, ideas, whatever you like. My inbox in open. Kpop writers, let’s be moots?

If you didn’t know before what you were feeling for Soonyoung, now you kind of do. That hug told you a lot. You had feelings for him, and these stupid feelings started creeping up here and there, without you realising.

You don’t know when it started or why. Maybe because he had such a soft and kind personality? Maybe because he was cute and fluffy like a teddy bear? And every time he smiled at you it made your day better?

You managed to pick yourself up and got that salad done. You all sat around the table outside, food and drinks all out and ready. You thought to taste some wine. Afterall, you were in a village filled with winery.

Being not such a big fan of wine meant you were not used to drink it so just one glass turned you into a talking smiley human.

It’s fine, you were among friends. Hana and Jun knew you very well. Then there was Vernon that would never judge or laugh at you. Joshua was completely drunk by now and Soonyoung seemed tipsy too, cheeks all red.

Now, maybe Seungkwan was the type to crack up some jokes, but he was too busy having fun.

Seungkwan: Ok, I have a proporsi…proprosi…porpo…shit. Let me try again. Pro po sit ion. There! Tonight is a night for deep conversations. We are among friends and I don’t know about you, but I would love to hear some touching stories and ideal from each of you. And maybe someone even has questions.

Joshua: I love this, Kwanie.

Seungkwan: Since I came up with the idea, I’ll start. I want to know what was the hardest moment of your life and what did you do to make it better.

Hana: Wow, that’s some deep shit there. The hardest moment for me was when my grandmother died. She practically raised me and I will never forget her. And I think you never heal from something like that, but with time, things get a little better and you cry less.

You try to show her some support by rubbing her back. You know the feeling of loosing someone close like that. It happened when you were in your home country few years back. You still think about that friend every single day. So yeah, it’s something that will always hurt.

Seungkwan: Ok, my hardest moment it’s similar. Everyone knows about my best friend and what happened. So….yeah, that was…really hard. I still struggle with the pain sometimes, but I have really good friends around me and my family. I know I am loved and it makes me feel safe.

Joshua: Yaaaah, this conversation while drunk hits different. Me next!! I think for me it was when I moved from the States. I didn’t know the language, the people, the culture. I was just a church boy that found himself in a foreign place. What about you, Hosh?

Hoshi: Ummm, there have been a few times when I had a really hard time. I can say that it’s hard to put one in front of the other because the contexts were very different. But for me, there were two moments. First one was when we first got hate from the public and antis. We were just kids and we didn’t deserve that much hate. I mean why would people be so mean? There is room for everybody. To tell us that we will never succeed. It made my blood boil. But we showed them. Look where we are now, there is no higher than this.

Vernon: And the second one?

Some of the guys were already prepared for what he was going to say, they knew it will be about his ex.

Hoshi: I mean…you know. Do I have to say it?

Seungkwan: Some of us don’t know, so yes. Not me, though, I know EVERYTHING!

Hoshi: It was when my at the time girlfriend cheated on me with one of my favourite idols. Caught them in bed. Something like that traumatises you for life. Really. I still have nightmares about it and I’m afraid of starting a new relationship. I think I better stay single.

Jun: Hosh, we talked about this before. You can’t expect that every future partner will act like that. For example, did you ever cheat?

Hoshi: No.

Jun: Then, Y/N here that was cheated on by an ex should think all guys cheat and never get involved with a guy again?

Hoshi: Someone cheated on you?

Hana: Yeah, silly. Your friend Mingyu.

Hoshi: I am sure he didn’t.

Hana: How can you know?

Hoshi: He’s one of the most genuine guys I know and I trust him, he would not lie to us.

Y/N: It doesn’t matter now, and yes, I have been cheated on, but by a guy you don’t know. It’s all in the past.

Hoshi: I want to know.

Joshua: Tell us, Y/N, we won’t judge. It’s a safe space and it stays between us.

Y/N: Sooo, I was 21 and we were together since I was 18. He was my first love, we met in college. I thought he was such a kind person, until I started to pay attention to the things my friends were telling me. I was just so blinded by love that I couldn’t see the big red flags. Turned out in our last year together he started a new relationship with a girl who used to be his best friend’s girlfriend.

Vernon: Shiiiieeeet, that’s so fucked up.

Y/N: And the way I found out it made me sick. We used to live together and when I got back to our shared apartment from a weekend of taking care of my sister, because she got very sick. I found long black hairs everywhere. All over the bedroom floor, in the toilet, even inside of one of my fucking t shirts. He gave her my t shirt, guys! My favourite t shirt with the picture of my dog on it.

Hoshi: Where does this guy lives?

Jun: What’s his name?

Y/N: It obviously still hurts knowing I was so disrespected and humiliated. Of course it still plays with my head whenever I meet someone new. So you can understand why I just couldn’t believe Mingyu and get back together. Yeah, maybe he didn’t cheat, maybe it was a trap for us to brake up, but for me, having such low trust, it’s a deal braker. The moment the guy I’m with makes me cry and hurtlike that and feel unsecure about our relationship, it’s done.

Seungkwan: Oh, now things are starting to make sense. I think you two could share your experience, since it’s similar. I never knew how is to be cheated on.

He said, pointing to Hoshi while looking at you.

Y/N: Jun, tell us yours.

Jun: It’s like Shua hyung. Leaving home for a foreign country. Man, it was so hard to communicate with the guys. They were very good to me though and I really feel loved. So all hardship paid off in the end.

Everyone looking at Vernon, waiting.

Vernon: Oh. My turn. For me, it’s not a specific moment that happened and that’s that. It’s something that keeps on happening and I find myself having the hardest times when it does. It’s when I see members having a tough time, whether they are sick, or exhausted, or just sad and depressed. Their mood is affecting me a lot and it’s really hard to help when it happens. Because you never know what are the right words or the right actions, you know.

Everyone looking at Vernon with heart eyes and nodding, like he said something amazing. Which he did, Vernon is a pretty mature and knowledgeable guy. We love him, we admire him and we need to protect him, ok?

Y/N: Noni, I feel really bad about all those weird ass fan calls you are getting. I wish I would slap some sense into those fans, you don’t deserve that.

Seungkwan: Remember when Mingyu just hang up to a fan that told him to show her his abs? That’s what we should do every time someone is rude or out of line like that.

Y/N: Yeeesss!!!!! And you should hire me as your bodyguard and I’ll slap some bitches.

Joshua: Really? That’s how much you love us?

In your drunken state, you didn’t realise that the next second you looked right into Soonyoung’s eyes while replying “yes”to Joshua.

When he blushed red, you realised what you did and moved your eyes from him.

Shit shit shit!

Hana: Juniiii! Did you know that I had the biggest crush on you?

You were just having a sip from your glass and hearing her, you spit that all out. Luckily, in the air and on yourself, not on someone else. You rushed to the bathroom, took your shirt off and tried to wash it as quick as you could.

Stupid wine! I knew I shouldn’t drink it.

You think you did a pretty decent job with getting the stains out and now you have to get out of the downstairs bathroom to go up to your bedroom and find a new shirt to wear.

Hurrying out the bathroom door into the hallway, your drunk mind had no time to intercept the person in front of you and you crashed right into them.

The crash was so fast and silly and it threw both of you to the floor, whining.

Y/N: Ooooowww, my butt!!!

Hoshi: What about mine? Don’t you watch where you’re going?

Y/N: Me? What about you? Were you going to enter the bathroom while I was still inside?

Hoshi: I didn’t know you were in there.

Y/N: What if I was naked?

Hoshi: Why would you be naked?

Y/N: Taking a shower is supposed to happen naked.

Hoshi: Well you are half naked.

Y/N: Uh?

And you look down. You’re indeed half naked, only shorts and a bra on. You forgot all about the wet shirt you had in your hand that went flying somewhere on the floor.

Y/N: Like you’re not enjoying the view. Huh!

Hoshi: Am not!

Y/N: You are, look how you’re still starring.

Hoshi: Not my fault, I’m just a guy and you’re…

Y/N: I’m what?

He gets up faster than Flash and walks past you, right into the bathroom.

Y/N: I’m what? I’m what?

Hoshi: Shut uuuup!

He panicked because he was this close to tell you “you’re beautiful”

Because why would you tell a woman she’s beautiful, she doesn’t need to know. Keep your feelings to yourself, make her wait. Let her wonder. Wait a while, let her think, let her want you. Let her find another guy, get married. Maybe then it’s the right time to tell her. right?

You’re such an idiot! He tells himself. For almost blowing up his cover or for not telling you? He’s not sure. Just like he’s not sure what to do about what he feels towards you.

Now he’s sitting on the bathroom door, back leaned on the door, mouth open and eyes wide. He thinks he needs to stop drinking. How is he supposed to manage this week with you around? Why did he come here? He could have stayed back at the hotel with the other guys.

15 minutes later he gets out and walks outside. Nobody’s there. He hears music on the beach so he starts walking slowly, passing the trees and bushes in his way.

All of you were dancing in the sand, under the Moon. The sea was calm and the breeze nice. He felt happy, so in that moment he decided that what’s done is done and he will try to enjoy the next few days, even if it will become harder and harder for him.

He joined in into your little dancing circle.

Of course, you needed to tease him now.

Y/N: Now Kwon Soonyoung, we know we’re mere peasants compared to your dancing skills, please don’t make us feel bad.

Hoshi: Ha! I’m not a meanie like you, would never do that.

Y/N: Oh, I’m a meanie now?

In a fraction of a second you take his bottle of water he was holding in his hand and you run towards the water. He starts running after you.

Hoshi: Yaaaahh!! Give me that? I need to get sober!

Y/N: Why? You’re more easy drunk.

You stop few steps into the water and turn to him.

Hoshi: Easy? I’m not easy!

Y/N: Yeah you are. If DK was here you would be kissy kissy.

Hoshi: Well that’s because it’s our thing when we drink. My lips are not cheap, you know. I don’t just kiss anyone.

You start putting your lips, making kissing faces.

Y/N: Who will you kiss tonight? Seungkwan? I know you like to get him angry and he would hate that.

He starts pacing to your direction, his eyes mad and face serious. He grabs your chin with one hand and plants a kiss right on your lips. A small, quick kiss. Didn’t really feel like a peck, because it was wet, hard and longer than one.

With his other hand he grabs his bottle then he turns around and walks to the others.

Hoshi: Is this answering your question?

And he left you there. Pouty and upset. Shocked. He left you with your thought. There is nothing to say to that, he left you speechless for the first time. Well, it’s the first time that he knows of.

He stops somewhere a few meters in his way and turns to you, almost like waiting for an answer. He had no idea where this courage came from. He really kissed you.

Hoshi: Tiger got you tongue?

He crosses his arms before his chest and looks at you, still waiting. He thinks you’re so cute flustered like that.

Then you start moving and walk to him.

Y/N: Why did you do that?

Hoshi: What did I do?

Y/N: This is not a game, Soonyoung. After that conversation we just had one hour ago? You pull this? You can’t just kiss me then act like nothing happened.

Hoshi: I needed to shut you up somehow, you kept being mean to me.

Y/N: So what, now you’re going to kiss me anytime I tease you?

Hoshi: I don’t know.

Y/N: Do you like me, or something? Because it’s giving crush.

Hoshi: Pfff, as if. It was just a peck and I got the reaction I wanted. Look at you all flustered.

You shake your head and walk away. You hear his footsteps in the back, this time he’s quiet.

You don’t stop walking, telling goodnight to the group and heading to your room.

Seungkwan: Ya, Hoshi! What did you do?

Hoshi: Nothing, I was just messing with her a little.

You go straight into the shower, taking a cold one and all you can think about, all you can see and feel is that kiss. Stupid Soonyoung!!!

You get into bed and minutes later Hana comes and lays next to you, pulling one leg over yours.

Hana: Pooks, what happened?

Y/N: Stupid Soonyoung kissed me.

Hana: Wha..when? why?

Y/N: When we were in the water. I was teasing him about kissing the guys when he’s drunk so I guess he took it as a challenge? I don’t know.

Hana: Didn’t you hit his nut sack again?

Y/N: Nah, I was just speechless and I was standing there like a fool. Then I scolded him for doing that and left.

Hana: What did he say?

Y/N: He was acting like it was nothing. Really, I don’t get this guy.

Hana: You think he was trying to get back at you for that kiss in front of Mingyu and JK?

Y/N: You know…that didn’t even cross my mind. But you might be onto something. Still, after the conversation we had, he goes and kisses me?

Hana: Well, babe, you’re both single and adults. Nobody is cheating anybody. But I have the best idea ever.

Y/N: Oh no, here comes the worst idea ever.

Hana: No, I’m serious, it’s so good you will think I’m the smartest person. Here it goes. What if.

Y/N: Yeah?

Hana: What if? And bare with me here. What if you play his game, but better.

Y/N: What the hell does that mean?

Hana: I feel like he’s playing here, wanting to see your reactions. Beat him at his own game. Play it, do crazy shit to get a reaction out of him, flirt. Like, heavy flirting. You know what I mean.

Y/N: Hana, you know I kinda like him, right?

Hana: So what?

Y/N: Like, I don’t want to hurt my own feelings. You know, starting to like him more from all the flirting and he rejects me.

Hana: Pleaaaase, it will be so fun. I promise, boo! If you want, I can give you the ideas on what exactly to do. He won’t know what it hit him. Look at me! If he isn’t in love after I’m done with him, you can do whatever you want, I will be your personal servant for the whole year.

Y/N: I will do it only because I don’t lose at games. You’re on, Kwon Hoshi!

At least you could sleep now, knowing he’s been challenging you with that kiss and you’re going to get back at him.

Next morning the plan was in motion. Hana helped you pick the sexiest swim suit and you wore it for breakfast, with just a thin unbuttoned shirt over it. He hasn’t seen you like this ever.

And when he lays eyes on you  while you’re coming down the stairs it all feels in slowmotion. Your long golden hair shining when you walked in front of the window right into the sunshine. A light breeze was blowing your shirt away, revealing your spectacular tanned body.

He thought you looked like a goddess. Walking slowly and sensual towards the kitchen, his eyes went to your thighs. Magnificent, he thought. He wanted to be squeezed by them. They looked so soft.

Eyes going up to your perfect waist that he wanted to grip and never let go, to your breasts that were barely covered by the swim suit bra. If he was never a boob guy, now he was. Your neck sensual and long. If only he could put his hand around it while thrusting into you.

And don’t even get him started with your lips. He loved them. So plump, soft and sweet. Now that he felt them he wanted more.

You reached the kitchen table where he was sitting and his mouth almost drooling, opened wide, made you chuckle.

Y/N: Soonyoung, are you feeling ok? Too much Sun for you here? What can I do to make you feel better?

You put your hand on his thigh and look at him with a cute pout.

He snaps out of it like your hand burned his leg.

Hoshi: Sorry, I just had too much to drink last night and I’m not feelings super.

Y/N: Did you eat yet? Want me to make you something?

Hoshi: I ate what Shua hyung made earlier.

Then you pat his head and leaned in a little to push your breasts together right in his face.

Y/N: Ok Soonyoungie, just tell me if you need anything.

All the guys were looking at each other lost, was clear you were teasing Hoshi and honestly, it was funny to them.

After you had something to eat, you saw the group outside around the pool and you signaled Hana that you’re going for another attack.

Hana: Girl! Already, a second attack? You trying to finish the poor boy?

Y/N: He started it, I’m going to finish it.

And like that you walked outside, slowly, moving your hips from side to side like a tease. You knew you will leave collateral damage in your path but it was war. You’re not weak.

Walking to stand in front of him on the other side of the pool, you drop your shirt and slowly sitting on the edge, dipping your feet in the water. At some point you lean forward to get some in your hands and splash it over your chest.

Droplets of cold water dropping down your sunbathed body, running down down to your belly and further into your bikinis.

Hoshi gulps loud, he fears the whole planet heard it. His throat feels dry like he just chewed a cactus and swallowed it.

He starts coughing agresively.

Noticing this and knowing it’s because of you, you raise the stakes. You look at Hana and nod and she immediately brings over some oil for tanning.

Since he drank some water to calm himself down, you took advantage and started to pour oil all over your barely covered body, massaging slowly and sensualy.

The worst thing for Hoshi was not that, but the way you locked your eyes with his while massaging yourself with the oil.

Jun knew already what was coming, Josh was quietly waiting, looking between you two, feeling the tension. Vernon was somewhere on a daybed sleeping. Again. Seungkwan was waiting for the drama like hot bread and Hana was trying not to die laughing.

You knew your acting skills were at a high level, in a funny way. But now you were trying to be more or the sexy side of acting.

So after you put oil all over your front side, you were pretending you couldn’t reach your back side so you grabed your little oil bottle and came to Hoshi.

Hoshi: Soonyoungie, help please?

Looking up at you with the bambiest eyes that ever bambied, he stopped breathing.

Hoshi: What?

You grabbed his hand to pull him up and he was just like a rag in your hold. He was just so weak and complient. He stood up and you handed him your oil.

He took without questioning any further; you turned your back to him.

He was like a lost puppy waiting for instructions.

Y/N: Come on, Soonie, the Sun will burn my skin. Are you scared?

Hoshi: Scared? Of what?

Y/N: I don’t know, you tell me.

 As soon as he heard scared, his competitive side came to life and he started to rub the fuck out of that oil on your body. When he finished with your back, he went down on your butt, being not very gentle with it.

You got a soft moan out of your mouth, could not figure out if it just happened or it was planned. You’ll tell your friends later it was planned 100%.

When he heard your little moan, he rolled his eyes so hard he could feel them on the back of his head. He felt tormented and tortured.

He felt getting hard under his shorts. He had half a brain to keep his oversized t shirt on, hiding his shameful hardon. He felt like a perv.

Then he had to kneel behind you to rub your legs too.  Just some 30 minutes ago he was thinking how would those thighs feel.

Well I’m dead already. Stop being such a pussy, you know she’s doing this on purpose. Keep your head up! No! Bad idea! Not right now, dummy, there’s that unbelievable ass up there. Keep your eyes to the ground and finish this quick. Mingyu, you idiot.

Hoshi: I need to wash the oil off my hands.

And he sprints to the bathroom upstairs where he can be sure nobody will bother him for the new minutes. The guy was beyond turned on. He hadn’t had sex in a few good months, they were on tour, he hasn’t  even had a passing friend with benefits since he can’t even remember.

Then it was this..thing he felt for you. Was it just lust? Just a horny guy who needs it bad?

As soon as he entered his bathroom, he locked the door, threw his clothes off, got under the cold shower and took care of that impossibly hard cock he had in his hand.

Thinking about how that hand also just touched your ass, your legs. Oh, he felt like such a big perv again. But he admitted he was weak for you.

He wasn’t usually like this. He was always drawn to feelings then came the lust and sex. He always needed some sort of connection with his partners to feel the need for sex.

But this? Now? He couldn’t describe, it felt animalistic almost. His hand up and down his thick leaking cock started to become faster and faster. He really needed to cum and calm himself down.

He thought this was the best orgasm ever, even better than when he had sex. What is he doing with his life? That’s not right.

You splayed yourself over a towel next to the pool. Hana was next to you, whispering in your ear about Hoshi.

Hana: I could bet that he went to jerk himself off. I just know it.

Joshua: Y/N, that with Soonyoung was fucking hilarious. Please do it again, I love watching him flustered.

Soonyoung appeared after a short while. He needed a cold cold shower too. He gave you a look, shaking his head, almost like wanting to say “you’re not playing fair, but it’s on”

He maybe be weak sometimes but he’s a fighter. He never gives up.

That same day at night it was time for your third and final attack of the day.

You baked some cake with chocolate and brought it to everyone to taste. The chocolate easily melted on the fingers when you took the small piece of cake with your hand.

You didn’t bring any utensils, exactly for this reason. Damn, Hana is such a menace sometimes, she has such crazy good ideas.

You hoped everyone will take the cake with their hands and it is like you suspected. You offered one to Hoshi, with a cute innocent smile on your face. If only he knew.

As soon as you saw his fingers covered in chocolate, you made a worried face.

Y/N: Oh no, you’ve gotten a bit dirty. Let me help.

And when you took his thumb and put it in your mouth to suck all that chocolate off, his legs melted. He forgot his own name.

With a shocked face he asked: What are you doing?

Y/N: Helping you clean up.

Hoshi: Aish, this girl.

He started smirking and pretending to scold you.

Hoshi: I had no idea you wanted me this much.

Y/N: I don’t, though. And I am not trying to do anything.

He leans closer to your face, locks ayes with you and runs his thumb over your lower lip, then puts it in his mouth.

Hoshi: You left some chocolate here. You’re welcome!

So he’s hitting back. Good, I would feel bad for having a weak opponent. I might like him even more now.

It went out like this the whole week. You did something, he did something. Every time you both got flustered. Your friends were getting tired of it, seeing the obvious tension between you too. And it was more of a sexual tension.

You two looked at each other like you wanted nothing more than to spend the next 24 hours in bed.

The last night before you had to go back in Barcelona, you decided to have a serious talk to him, because you felt overwhelmed. You felt like your heart would explode.

You knew it, you were in love. You didn’t want to be, you wanted to erase every single little feeling.

You were all walking to your wooden cabin in the woods where you spend the last 3 days. It was a narrow street that took to your place. Planning to hold him back to talk, you grabbed his wrist and just gave him a look.

He understood what you wanted and he took your hand telling you to follow him. He took you to a little hill where there was a big swing where you two sat, under a big jacaranda tree.

You both sat there in silence for a while, just enjoying the moment, knowing it doesn’t come often.

Hoshi: What am I going to do with you, huh?

Y/N: What’s that supposed to mean? Am I insufferable? You hate me yet?

Hoshi: Is that what you were trying? To make me hate you?

Y/N: Of course not.

Hoshi: Be honest. What were you trying to do?

Y/N: Ummm, getting back at you for that kiss.

Hoshi: I see, I see. So if I gave you a real proper kiss, you would try to stab be whenever you see me?

You giggle and push your shoulder into his.

Y/N: Soonyoungie, come oon.

He starts acting cute, calling you Y/Nie and touching your nose with his finger.

You stare at each other one minute too much.

Hoshi: What are we doing?

Y/N: I don’t know. You just annoy me so much.

Hoshi: Am I?

You nod, smiling cutely.

Hoshi: I thought I was one of your favourite people.

Y/N: My God, Soonie, what made you think that?

Hoshi: Hmm, you calling me those cute nicknames, for example. We have been teasing each other for months. And I am pretty sure we have gotten close. You know, it’s like my friendship with Kwan. It’s a love-hate relationship.

Y/N: Friendship.

You repeat.

 You look up at the night sky. He puts his hand over your hand that is placed on the bench of the swing. He smiles. You get up, not looking at him.

Y/N: We should head to the cabin, we’re leaving early in the morning.

He gets up too and grabs your wrists, standing so close.

Hoshi: You wanted to talk but you are not saying anything. Why do you keep running away when we’re having a serious conversation?

Y/N: Serious about what?

Hoshi: Our feelings. Don’t act like a little brat now, you know what I’m talking about and I think you owe me some answers.

Y/N: It’s not like you had some answers for me.

Hoshi: Did I hear any questions and I refused to answer?

Y/N: I… guess not.

Hoshi: So then stop being a brat and ask me. I’ll answer.

Y/N: Don’t treat me like I’m a baby, I’m just one year younger than you!

He pouts and cups your face with both his hands.

Hoshi: I like it when you get feisty and angry. Now you say something you like about me.

Y/N: I like…your silly jokes nobody laughs at, but you. I secretly find them so funny but I keep my laughter inside.

Hoshi: Wow, that’s mean. I like how you lose yourself in thoughts, it feels like you’re thinking about 1000 things all at once.

Y/N: I like how you’re actually really soft on the inside, even when you scream like a loonatic to make people think you’re dangerous.

Hoshi: Hey, I am dangerous!

Y/N: Not in the way you think you are.

Hoshi: Oh? Then In what way?

He gets even closer this time, his hands now falling from your face.

Y/N: You know, I can’t seem to figure out if you’re trying to kiss me or kill me, since you had your hands cupping my face for the last 5 minutes.

Hoshi: First your answer, then mine.

Y/N: You’re dangerous in the way you make girls fall for you for being too cute. Should be illegal.

Hoshi: Oh?

Y/N: Your answer?

 But he doesn’t answer. His hands fall on your neck, his thumbs rubbing your cheeks lovingly. His nose touching yours, his plush lips hovering over yours. You can feel his warm body glued to yours. It’s like you can feel his heartbeat. Or is it yours?

You don’t want to close your eyes, you want to see him. Those eyes that tricked you into falling in love again. Why did it have to be him? Why not a complete stranger? A random guy you met at work, on tour, even a tourist, a friend of a friend.

You whisper over his lips: What are you doing?

Hoshi: I really really really want to kiss you right now.

He said it.

You won’t go for the kiss and it seems he’s delaying the moment. He might still be playing with you. He might not even like you like that.

So you pull away just when his lips slightly touched yours.

Y/N: I can’t.

He looked at you with sad eyes, trying to understand what he did wrong.

Hoshi: Did I mess it up?

Y/N: No, I just can’t and shouldn’t.

Hoshi: Will you tell me why? Apart from the reason I already know about the past and not trusting men anymore? I won’t be a jackass and say that I’m different. All I can tell you is that I like you. I can’t tell you what the future will bring, if we are good for each other or not. Shit, I am scared too. I’ve never felt like this and I have absolutely no idea how to manage everything I am feeling.

Y/N: Soonyoung. I am so scared about everything. I don’t want a failed relationship anymore. I just want to be THAT someone to somebody, you know, not someone who’s left aside just in case the grass is greener on the other side. I don’t wanna feel like a second choice. I want to be wanted, completely, loved.

Hoshi: I want to give all that to you if you’ll let me.

Y/N: I don’t think I can, I’m sorry. Please, just let me go to my room.

He lets go of you and watches you slowly get further and further away. He just stands there, eyes filling with tears ready to burn his cheeks. Should  just give up? Is this the Universe telling me we would not work together? Why do I feel such a strong pull towards her then? Man, this sucks. Now what?

[redheadspark]

3. “We’ve known each other for so long. I can’t imagine my life - myself - without you anymore. And I really don’t want to.”

9. When they were in elementary school, they created a secret language to avoid their teachers reading their notes they passed back and forth in class. Now one of them uses that language to write a love letter.

with Ominis

A/N - STELLA! I love this for Ominis! He's been growing on me, thanks for requesting this, bestie!

Senses

Summary - Ominis finds ways to connect with you, which makes him fall for you more and more

Warnings - Just fluff!

Being blind since birth, Ominis had to rely on his other senses when it came to communication. 

Although his wand was an essential tool in both navigating around the castle and even conducting his work in class, Ominis still relied on his other senses.  It was now second nature to him to listen for certain foot patterns, the touch of his fingertips along surfaces to remember where he was, even tasing his favorite treats in Honeydukes or in the Great Hall during a meal.  

But when you came along and became his close friend, he developed a new “sense” when it came to communicating with you. 

He was used to chatting with Sebastian from dawn to dusk, his best friend and longest friend that he’s had at Hogwarts.  But there are times when it was tiring after hearing plenty of Sebastian rants and banter.  He dared his friend, he truly did, but he like the silence of the world around him every once in while.  Especially when his mind was too occupied with his family drama or the stress from school.  

The first thing that devleoped between you two, was touch.  

After the whole fiasco of your fifth year and all that you went through from Autumn to Spring, Ominis knew you too needed some space very once in awhile from school and your friends.  Things were going back to normal, though it was taking longer than expected, but they were.  No longer were there threats of goblins or poachers around the school or beyond, the students were going back to classes again as if nothing happened. But Ominis knew that you couldn’t forget it, you couldn’t go back to class normally anymore or simply enjoy the rest of your year in peace. 

So when he sat next to you, he left the palm of his hand open and upwards for you to take.  Whether it was on top of a table at The Three Broomsticks or sitting together under one of the massive trees in the courtyard at Hogwarts, he left this hand open for you to take.  Every time he did, you would take it.  Feeling his cool palm against your own, your calloused skin rubbing against his warm one, it was an anchor for the pair of you.  And unspoken way to telling the other that you were there and present.  There were times it was nice and light, you enjoying the sun setting and Ominis feeling the cool breeze on his face. Other times it was hard, tears maybe flowed or one would perch their head on another’s shoulder for comfort.  

But every time, you would still take his hand, and he would feel his heart grow a bit fonder for you.

The next sense that Ominis loved with you was sound.

He knew the crunching of leaves on the cobbles stone outside the school grounds, the scratching of quills of parchment, even the snickering of Peeves down the hall.  With you, he listened to your humming.  You would hum all the time, whether walking to and from class or reading your book.  Humming was a pass time for you, something you did without realizing it.  

Ominis loved hearing you hum, it was a soothing melody that would be in his ears and brighten his day instantly.  He could hear you coming down the hall with a pep in your step and the humming sound so light and airy.  That’s when he knew you were having a good day, you two walking side by side and your humming was floating over your heads.  

Other days, he knew you weren’t yourself in the way you hummed, or not hum at all.  Your bad days or days filled with guilt were hard for him to witness, you voice falling silent during class or as you were sitting on a bench with a book in hand.  It made him feel worse when he didn’t know how to help you at first, but he came up with a good idea one rainy afternoon in the library.  You were sitting against the window, looking through the stained glass to see the massive rain drops slide down the window with ease.  

Ominis tilted his head in your direction, not hearing you hum as he tapped his fingers nervously against the study desk in front of him.  Maybe the idea he had was horrible, it would not work in his favor and he would look like a fool.  But he was not going to let you sit in silence and in sadness.

So he cleared his throat, and started to hum.

You instantly looked over at him as he was humming, though it sounded a bit mushed together and uneven.  But still, it made you break out into a grin as Ominis was still attempting to hum along and keep his voice down before the librarian found hear him.  Ominis did sound out of tune, which made you giggle and hide your mouth behind your hand as Ominis smiled and stopped his humming.  

“Were you trying to hum the Hogwarts School song?” You had to ask him.  Ominis snorter and glared in your direction as you laughed again.

“I’m obviously not as good as you!” He retorted, then you two were laughing in your small little nook.  He was glad that he did hum though, hearing you laugh and almost feeling your warmth all over again from his simple gesture for you.  Though it was short lived when the Librian whirled around the corner and shushed the pair of your abruptly.  

You both snuck of the library in giggles and fits before she could get you two in trouble.  

Lastly, his sense of taste became greater thanks to you.

You two became a couple your 7th years, Ominis finally getting the courage to ask you out on a date into Hogsmeade during the holiday season and you accepted it with no hesitation. 

“We’ve known each other for so long. I can’t imagine my life - myself - without you anymore. And I really don’t want to.” Ominis confessed to you as he asked you on the date. He was surprised that you did, though he was scared that you would only see him as a friend.  But you both walked together along the path that lead to the cozy village, snow falling around you and he was finally able to hold your hand as your date and new boyfriend.  If he could, he would fly on a broom with how happy he was feeling in that moment.

To call you his girlfriend, not just his best friend.  

You both wanted to go to Honeydukes first before going to The Three Broomsticks, you asking him to stop at the sweet shop right away since you wanted to grab a few treats to keep in your dorm.  Ominis couldn’t say no to you, since he too wanted to grab some treats for his train ride home to see his parents in two weeks.  He offered to stay with you at Hogwarts since you weren’t going to go home for the holiday season, but you reassured him that you had Natty and Poppy Sweeting to hang out with whom were staying at the castle as well. 

Popping into the shop, you gravitated over to the Lemon Drops that were on display near the Pumpkin Pasties.  You knew the shop owner rather well since you were a regular patron of his shop, your eyes glazing over the Lemon Drops as the show owner walked over to the pair of you.

“I just made them this morning, and I have a special box for you since I knew you’re my best customer for these,” he explained to her, Ominis had to smile as you giggled and anticipation and thanked him.  Ominis himself loved breathing in the treats of the shop, including Chocolate Frogs.  Those were his favorite, and he was about to ask the shop owner where the Chocolate Frogs were when you slipped one of the dark blue pentagon packages in his hand.

“Thought you would like one.  I’ll buy this time, and you owe me a Buttebeer so we can call it even,” You explained, Ominis blushing as you then took a singular Lemon Drop in your fingers and gestured to the candy, “Here, wanna try it?”

He nodded, feeling you place the candy very gently along his lips as a sign for him to open his mouth.  The candy slipped in, the sour and tang hitting his tongue instantly as he then felt something else touch his lips like velvet caress. It was one of your fingers, and Ominis felt his heart stop for a singular moment from that notion that he tasted your fingers.

Stained in sugar from the candy, but still just as delicious.

“How was it?” You asked, not realizing that Ominis was going to have a small heart attack from the simple task of tasting your fingers.  He was glad that it was just the pair of you now since the shop owner walked on to talk to another cluster of students that came in.  Finally, when he found his voice, he sounded a bit nervous but still with a smile on his face.

“Sour…but delicious,” He replied.  It turned out to be the best night he had with you as his girlfriend, and something you two would remember years down the road. 

The End

June Prompt Session

[purplecherries]

Back on my Leona Ro’meave Bullshit

I feel like if that was the canon plot point. I think Kiki would have kept Leona in hiding as long as she could canonically Kiki is very overprotective over her so it would make sense.

Like Kiki and Leona always traveling from village to village never really settling down when Kiki hears whatever is going on in O’khasis. Think of it like the beginning of the Anastasia movie when the villagers are talking about her.

“I know the sons are missing, and Lord Ro’meave is growing old and senile. What will he do once he can’t rule anymore with no sons and a wife up in age herself?”

“Well, haven’t you heard? Apparently there is an heir…the old High Priest’s in fact. Before he disappeared he wrote a letter to his mother saying that he had a love affair with a woman in the old Phoenix Drop village…but the guards have searched that place many times they couldn’t find the woman he described”

“Could you imagine? Harboring the next Lord of O’khasis? Think about the riches and power you would have……”

Kiki immediately starts packing their bags and they’re off to stay with Nicole for a while. Leona being so young always saw it as having a vacation every month. Kiki vents her frustrations to Nicole and Nicole tries to give her best advice about running away from your problems, (which is not really good considering her track record). So Kiki and Leona keep traveling and at some point end up back in Phoenix Drop for a night before sailing to Brightport.

But when Kiki wakes up to a banging on her door she’s surprised to see Garte Ro’meave himself. Immediately she draws the parallels between him and Zane. He tells her her own name and says that she has something that belongs to Okhasis. Kiki begs him to let her break the news to Leona and she does.

Leona at 9 years old discovers that she is the daughter of that monster priest that her mom’s friends sometimes talk about and that she also has two more uncles that aren’t Uncle Brendan. She also has grandparents…although her grandpa is kinda scary. She’s heard that her grandmother is the sweetest woman alive, but her mom hasn’t met her so she really doesn’t know. She also discovers that she is to be the next Lord of Okhasis, a powerful village that was once a kingdom.

And it was the exact thing that Kiki wanted to avoid

[melimelissa998]

A Favor pt. 4

Part 3

“I still can NOT! Believe you asked him on a date” Mina says clapping her hands together, “It’s not a date” I say for maybe the 5th time today “Y/N, it is a date! He said so!” Jihyo is obviously on her side “He said, set the date, not it’s a date” I repeat but not sure if it was more for me than for them.

I lied to my friends about how I met Christopher and how we’re having a date dinner tonight. I had to go with a simple: we met at district 9, chitchat ever once a night and one thing led to recommending good restaurants and I mentioned one we both wanted to go and set a date to it…

“If he wasn’t interested, he wouldn’t have said something like that” Jihyo arches her eyebrows and me. I try not to laugh at her meme face, but I fail. “He was just being nice” I try one more time to make them stop “BUT! He said, ‘I’ll take you!’” Mina screams irritated at my denial. I roll my eyes and smile ignoring her, I later I realize I’m still smiling “Yeah, I, guess it is a date” I whisper hoping they don’t hear me, but I know they do. The 3 of us giggled as if we were 17 again and we just said hi to our crush passing by the hallway and he said hi back.

I still wasn't sure if i was nervous excited or nervous scared of what can happen tonight, was this even a good idea? I wish I wasn’t this excited over dinner with someone, but it’s been years I went out a date and Chris is such a mystery, but again, it’s just a favor he’s paying back I am reading all this as something it’s not…

“Soooo, what are you going to wear?” Mina’s voice makes me stop overthinking, I blink twice and come back to earth, “I was thinking of.” I’m about to show them the outfit, but Jihyo stops me “No.” she says firm and I look at her confused “You are not wearing a cute blouse with your jeans” she crosses her arms and I look at her surprised “I, I was not going to.” I lie to her and turn to my closet again. How the hell did she know?

I desperately look through my clothes for a second option and almost at the end of the rack, I see 2 nice dresses: a purple sundress with puffy sleeves and a navy-blue dress to the neck with long sleeves. I show both and they choose the blue one. “Isn’t it too much?” I take the piece to the mirror and try to imagine myself in it “You should do sexy tonight, not cute” Jihyo says, and Mina agrees “Leave the purple one for a day date, and besides, you do look amazing in blue” Mina tells me and I half smile “Okay, fine, I’ll go shower” I inform them and leave the room.

After I shower and change to something for now while I do my hair and makeup, I go back to my room and see Mina and Jihyo on their phones and internally laugh remembering Felix’s phone from the other night.

I walk to my vanity desk and start my makeup, simple, nude palette. “You should put on a red lipstick, that would be very, very hot” Jihyo suggests and laughs, I roll my eyes and I shake my head “Nah, I, will go with brown tonight, I can do red lipstick another time” I tell her, and she sees me through the mirror and tries not to do a frown but doesn’t say anything else.

I straighten my hair a little and go back to the bathroom to change to the dress, when I go back to the room I spin in the dress “Yeah, I like how I look” I tell them, and both of my best friends smile at me “You look great!” Mina compliments me and I fake a blush, I walk to the closet again and I look for shoes, black heals or brown flats “Heals” Jihyo says behind me, and I laugh again, “I knew you would say that.” I tell her.

I arrive at the address Chris texted and the uber left me in front of one of the 3-star Michelin restaurants there is in the world “God’s Menu”, I recheck the address on maps and the location was the same, as I walk to the entrance my heart starts to skip a beat and my hands start to sweat. Is this a joke?

A beautiful young hostess smiles and welcomes me “Can I have the last name for the reservation?” she asks while she pulls out a tablet “Oh, um, it’s under, um, BangChan? He told me to give you that name?” I pass on what he told me to say at the door, but it sounds more like a question. She looks at me surprised and clears her throat “I see, yes, follow me please” She leads me in the beautiful place, all so brown, and gold, so luxurious I felt even the air in here smells expensive.

“I, sorry to ask, but, is it a business diner?” she whispers and I shake my head “Not that I know of” I laugh a little to it and she nods trying to hide a smile, we do a right turn and as I’m looking around being distracted by all the details in the celling, she suddenly stops and I accidently bump into her “I’m so sorry” I apologize and she laughs “Don’t worry, it happens more than you think” we both smile at each other and then she points to the booth beside her and when I turn, Christopher is already sitting there with a drink in his hand, he’s looking at me with a smirk. “Hope you have a great night” she again whispers and this time she gives me a different smile, a soft smile. I see her go and I turn to Christopher “Hi” I wave at him and stand there not actually knowing where to sit.

Next to him? The other side of the booth? Am I going to slide all the way?

“You look gorgeous babygirl” he compliments me so daringly and I forgot to breath for a moment “Thank you” I feel my cheeks hurt from the blushing, he scoots more into the booth and with his head he points to the new spot he made. I swallow hard and sit next to him. “When you said ‘great place’ I thought it would be a pizza place like dominos or something” I joke and he smirks “I can take you to dominos next time” he shrugs, I don’t answer to that, but I feel my stomach flip inside me “This place is, just so, amazing, I thought it was hard to have a reservation here in with days” I tell him “It is, but the owner is a friend of mine” he says so nonchalant about it, I don’t speak and just stare at him, so casually, handsome, is face features are so drop dead gorgeous, his black suite looking expensive…

“Are you allergic to anything?” he asks taking a sip to his drink and hiding a smirk, I look away and felt embarrassed, he knows I was staring… “Um, yeah, shrimp? Seafood actually, it gives me like a rash and closes my throat” I explain, and he looks at me a little surprised “and my eyes get puff so that also looks ugly” I point to my eyes, and he chuckles “Got it, anything to drink?” He asks “lemon juice with whiskey” I answer and he nods, he does a sign in the air to call a waiter “Bring her a sour whiskey and today’s special make sure there’s no seafood related” he orders and the waiter agrees and leaves. Again, I feel my stomach all weird and I really don’t want to feel how special he is making me feel.

There’s a moment of silents between us and I wonder if he feels it as uncomfortable as I do, but his facial expression is so hard to read “So Bang Chan? Is that your last name?” I ask, he straightens up from his position and clears his throat “It’s my business name” he clears out “Oh, and Christopher is for friends?” I chuckle “Like Hannah Montana?” I joke and as soon as I say it I regret it, I am about to apologize for doing such a comment but before I can say I’m sorry, he laughs as if I said the funniest thing in the world “Yeah, you can say I have the best of both worlds” he joins a punch line and I bite my lips trying to avoid my smile.

The waiter comes back with my drink and an entrance soup. I thank him and he gives me a small nod, he leaves us alone again, Chris is looking at me as waiting for me to try the soup first, I take the spoon with soup and bring it to my mouth. “Oh wow, this is so amazing!” I sound too excited about it, but I can’t contain the happiness of the taste. He smirks and starts to eat too. There is another moment of silences and I try to think of something to talk about, I take a sip of my drink and remember the other night and see he still has painted nails “Does the whole ‘drug in the glass’ happens often?” I want to know, and he nods “yeah, we are kinda used to it” he keeps it simple “We? As in Lee Know, Felix? The other boys with you?” “Yes” I nod and talk again “Your accent, it sounds, not from here, it’s like a.” “Australian, it’s an Australian accent” he interrupts me “Oh! Yeah, it is, Felix too, right?” he nods, and I feel conscious of how many questions I made “Sorry, I’m doing too many questions” I explain and breath in and start to eat again “You’re fine” he says sincerely “Sorry, I just get nervous when there’s silence, I feel like I have to fill it up with my talking” I nervously laugh “You don’t need to apologize, it’s fine” he says again and I am about to say sorry again but he gives me a “don’t say it” expression which makes me shiver and the word gets stuck in my throat. His face expression relaxes, and he continues to eat which I do the same “You, have a job?” he asks after a while and I nod “Yeah, I’m an elementary teacher, at the Northwood school, the one that’s on top of the hill?” I question the last part waiting for him to answer if he knew which one I was talking about, and nods “Is it a hard job?” he asks, and I smile “Oh let me tell you about it…”

Through the night, I start to tell stories of my kids and how crazy it is to be an elementary teacher, I also tell him all the funny moments I’ve had and at first, I really felt I should shut up at one point, but Chris would give me a look as if he was very interested or as if I was telling the most amazing story ever and made it feel like if it was okay for me to keep talking. Every now in then he would also share a story of his elementary days or crack a joke between my stories making all uncomfortable feeling go away.

At the end of dinner, after have to most amazing dessert Christopher lets out a heavy breath “I’ve got to say, you are funnier than I thought” he says with a half-smile, I roll my eyes hiding mine “Thanks, sounded offensive but thanks” I joke with him and he smirks. He’s about to say something back at me but the sound of a ringtone stops him. He talks a very old phone from his pocket and looks at the screen. I look at the phone with a frown, but also let out a chuckle, he looks at me confused “What’s up with a modern phone? You and Felix seem to not like smartphones” I comment and laugh about it, Chris looks down and the phone and back at me “It gives me what I actually just needed it for” he kinda sound serious almost annoyed about my comment “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything abo.” I feel bad and want to apologize about it but he interrupts me “I, didn’t mean it like that, I, just don’t need a fancy phone” he says in a better tone but it stills make me feel bad, I nod understanding and he still seems uneasy “I’m not into social media or have time for texting with friends” he comments in a sad tone now. I try to think of what to say instead of sorry, “Oh, that’s sad, and here I was thinking we were going to be text buddies after this” I tease him and give him my best “it’s okay” smile. He looks at me with an expression I try to read.

Was it funny? Did he hate the joke? Did he even get the joke?

“In that case, I’ll have to change it” he wiggles the old phone in the air and takes me off guard, I feel a chill breeze all of a sudden and my back is shivers. I really try stop myself from showing any emotion on my face but I feel a stupid smile on my face trying creep. I think of something to say back but I don’t know what to respond. I look away and distract myself with whatever I see first, I hear him chuckle but still don’t say anything else. I take a deep breath and look at my watch “I, should probably get going before it's late, then the Ubers get really expensive and I.” “I’ll take you home” he interrupts “Oh, I didn’t mean it to sound like.” I panic and try to explain myself but he ignores me “I’ll drive you home, getting in a car this late isn’t a good idea.” He again interrupts me and takes the last sip of his drink. I sit there looking at him getting up and out the booth, how can he just be so fine and cool about it… “. Let’s go baby girl” he sounds like he’s ordering me which I instantly react to it by getting up. He guides his hand to the bottom of my back and gives me a little push to start walking. I again feel a shiver down my back and my heart in my ears, I am so glad he can’t see how my face is probably damn red right now, I take small breath to stop my heart race and hope he can’t sense my nervousness.

We walk to the entrance of the place and a black Mercedes probably car of the year pulls up, a valet steps out and gives the keys to Chris, the valet guy is about to open the passenger door from me but Chris stops “I’ll take it from here” he again speaks in a demanding order in which the guy steps aways “Yes sir, have a great night” he says goodbye and leaves. Chris opens the door of the car and also closes it after. I take the chance to let out the air in my lungs and wait for him to get to the driver’s seat. The drive to my department was silent, not even music playing to make it feel not weird at this point. My need to vomit talk was making me go crazy. “Thank you!” I say out of the blue “. F-for dinner and the ride home” I look at him but he doesn’t seem to react about it “I know I talked a lot and sorry if I annoyed you, but.” “You didn’t at all, I enjoyed it” he interrupts and stops in front of a red light. He looks at me and just stays like that. The light makes his skin glow and I once again I look at his face, the scar, his lips, his nose, and into his eyes. The light turns green and he turns to face the road.

I then feel so unreal, the night, the air, this isn’t real, it’s so unreal, he’s unreal.

I stop overthinking as soon as I hear Chris get out of the car and walk to my side to open the door, I am about to say goodbye and thank him again but he speaks first “Let me take you out again.” I stand there a little confused “. But this time not as a favor…”

He just really knows how to take my breath away…

5.

[yvisoul]

Hamilton & His daughters

1. Hamilton's letter to Angelica “I was very glad to learn, my dear daughter, that you were going to begin the study of the French language. We hope you will in every respect behave in such a manner as will secure to you the good-will and regard of all those with whom you are. If you happen to displease any of them, be always ready to make a frank apology. But the best way is to act with so much politeness, good manners, and circumspection, as never to have occasion to make any apology. Your mother joins in best love to you. Adieu, my very dear daughter.” — Nov 1793

2. Hamilton worrying about little Betsey's health “I was quite disappointed and pained, My Dear Eliza, when I found, that the Post of Saturday had brought me no letter from you; especially as I was very anxious to hear of the health of my little Betsey.” — 27 Jan 1800

3. He's happy that she recovered “You will easily imagine, My Dear Eliza, how much I have been relieved by the Post of today. My darling infant is then recovered. Happy news and very contrary to my apprehensions! Let us unite in thanks to that kind being who has thus far protected our little family and ourselves and let us endeavour as far as in us lies to merit a continuance of his favour.” — 30 Jan 1800

4. Then he send her kisses. “Give Ten Kisses to my sweet little Eliza for me.” — 10 Feb 1800

5. When Hamilton forgot to take Angelica's pie with him lol “Give my love to Angelica & assure [her] that I did not leave her pye out of resentment for her having changed its original destination; but because it was impossible to take it with us without abandonning a basket of Crabs which was sent to my care for Mrs. Rensselaer. It has always been my creed that a lady’s pleasure is of more importance than a Gentleman’s, so the pye gave way to the Crabs. It was a nice question, but after mature reflection I decided in favour of the latter. Perhaps as a Creole I had some sympathy with them.” — 1801

6. Hamilton asking Pinckney to send birds to her daughter (most likely Angelica) “My daughter adds another request, which is for three or four of your peroquets. She is very fond of birds.” — 20 Dec 1802

7. Him playing with little Betsey “The remainder of the Children were well yesterday. Eliza pouts and plays, and displays more and more her ample stock of Caprice.” — 20 Mar 1803

8. During August 1794, with Eliza and her two youngest sons in Albany and Philip and Alexander in Trenton, Angelica was the only one staying with her father so they must have spent a lot of time together! “Philip & Alexander are gone to Trenton. Angelica is in good health.” — 21 Aug 1794

9. Hamilton used to sing and play the piano with Angelica “Hamilton's gentle nature rendered his house a joyous one to his children and friends. He accompanied His daughter Angelica when she played and sang the piano. His intercourse with his children was always affectionate and confiding, which excited in them a corresponding confidence and devotion.” — Reminiscences of James A. Hamilton

10. Allan MacLane Hamilton also stated this “Angelica often accompanied him upon the piano or harp, and appears to have been given all the advantages of a musical education” — The Intimate Life

11. Angelica played these songs till the end “Her music, that her father used to oversee and encourage, stayed by her all these years. To the end she played the same old-fashioned songs and minuets upon the venerable piano that had been bought for her, many years before.” — The Intimate Life

maybe there's more but this is all i could think of right now!

[alovesreading]

'tis the damn season | Part 1

Summary: Christmas has been your favourite season since you met Ross MacDonald back in Year 9 when you had just moved to Wilmslow, coincidentally on the same road as him. He becomes your very best friend for the rest of high school, but when that ends, life happens and you just can't stop it. And life is certainly cruel to you and Ross. Every December is a reminder of it, somehow always bringing a chance to ruin things even more. After so many mistakes, how can you get back the times you've always cherished with the silly boy with the dimpled smile?

Word count: 16.5k

Warnings: a bit of ansgt. well more than just a bit. @imagine-that-100 and @kennedy-brooke have made it very clear to warn you that they cried (a lot) to this so here's your warning to read this at your own discretion. i promise I'll make it up to you in the next part lol

A/N: Last month I made a poll here to see which Ross fic everyone wanted to see next (since people were asking for more Ross and I had a few fics plotted out but didn't know which to write first) and this one won by a few votes. So here it is, a bit shit and a bit angsty but I hope you enjoy it!

Masterlist

Part 2

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

Slowly but surely, Ross MacDonald had made his way into your heart all those years ago.

And it all could be traced back to Christmas day 2002, when an act of kindness set the tone for a friendship that had been silently brewing between the two of you.

You had moved to Wilmslow as soon as you finished Year 8 and the anticipation for the start of Year 9 in a new school had been dreadful.

Thankfully, moving in had kept you and your parents busy enough to hide away in your new house as you waited for the first day of school to arrive.

Your parents hadn’t even pushed you to go out and make friends throughout the horrendously hot weeks of August for they allowed you to settle in the new house—they knew how badly you coped with change, and they were at least being kind enough to leave you to your own devices before school started. You kept your days busy by burying your nose in the few books you’d managed to keep after convincing your mom not to donate the entirety of your bookshelves.

But far too soon, the first day of school loomed on you and the first week at Wilmslow high school had been atrocious.

You kept to yourself like you always did, however, this time, it was an exaggerated amount. But you just felt so out of place, you couldn’t help it.

You’d look up at the sky with a pained expression every time during lunch, when you would finish yet another chapter of a book you’d read over and over since you’d gotten it, asking why? Just why would your parents make you move to a new town, and start from scratch at a new school when you were halfway through high school?

By Year 9, everyone’s friend groups were settled, the last year of school when everyone felt carefree enough to enjoy every single day before having to choose and start working towards getting their GCSEs.

So you felt like a proper outsider, not really welcome, like a new organism trying to push their way into an established ecosystem. And you hated it so much. It only pushed you further into your shell, making you want to disappear and remain under the shadows as you walked through the hallways to get to class, recoiling into yourself when hearing the loud chatter and laughter going on around you, failing horrendously at even smiling when people would make eye contact with you.

You were at least glad that you could walk home to and from school. The few minutes of silence and peace were something you cherished a lot now; the thudding of your leather shoes against the pavement lulling your thoughts as you made your way to the building that you were starting to dread seeing on the daily.

The second week had brought a surprise when you were halfway through yet another read of ‘The Perks of Being a Wallflower’ and a group of girls approached you. You’d flinched when one of them spoke up as they sat around you in a menacing circle.

“S’a bit of a sad read for such a lovely day, no?”

The girl had been kind enough to let out a genuine giggle by the end of her lighthearted words so you braved up enough to put your book down softly and offer her a half smile. You had managed to joke back, a reference to the book that the three girls thankfully caught and then, with an ease that soothed your soul, you found yourself making your first few friends by talking about the books you loved so much.

As the days went by and you found yourself surprised when having people to share lunch with and greet when you got to school, you were sure this was as far as you’d get to with your luck. And, in all honesty, you were grateful. You had never been one to have loads of friends, and even with the few you’d made throughout the years, you knew you weren’t lucky to form strong bonds like everyone else did at your age.

So when you were walking down the roads that lead you to school, the last thing that you were expecting was for the boy who startled your silent and peaceful walk to become your very best friend.

Ross had seen you around school a few times by the end of the first week and the talk about the mysterious new girl had been doing rounds enough for his curiosity to be piqued, when he saw you walking into the house down the road from his house at the start of the second week of the school year.

He had made an effort waking up at a reasonable time and leaving for school way earlier than he always did every morning then, to see if he could catch up with you.

There wasn’t really a plan, there was just his growing curiosity to know about the girl who lived on the opposite corner of the road, the one who walked a block ahead of him every morning and got to school a minute before him, being whisked away by three girls that you gave the honour to see your smile unlike the rest of the students who crossed you through the halls.

One morning in particular, when Ross had just been annoyed at himself for missing you every damn time he walked out of his house, he decided to rush his steps until he reached you. Stumbling the last few and successfully startling you when he managed to catch up to you about a few minutes before you’d get to school.

His mind went blank when you looked at him expectantly for a few seconds, nothing but the birds chirping around you and the sound of cars driving down the roads enveloped you as you waited for a reasoning behind his sudden appearance.

But Ross gave you nothing but a dimpled smile and offered his hand out for you to shake.

Your grip was firm and the smile that broke on your face was as sweet as the ones you gave your new friends.

He foolishly hoped that meant you were friends now, but just to be sure of it, he let you know his name.

“Ross,” he started a bit shaky, clearing his throat before adding, “MacDonald.”

The chortle you gave at his formality made a pinkish blush creep up from his neck to his cheeks.

The sight made you smile a bit harder.

“Y/N,” your voice made him melt. “Y/L/N. If the full legal name is really needed.”

He shook his head at himself, snorting out in laughter and dropping your hand softly. He clenched his fingers in a fist and then loosened it when his arm fell to his side. Even though the day was warm and he didn’t like it at all with the horrendously suffocating uniform they had to wear, he found himself not minding the warmth that holding your hand had brought.

Frowning at the thought, he fell silent just like you did and followed as you resumed your walk.

That was the first day you walked to school together.

Every morning after that, he ran to catch up to you and walk together to school. And little by little, your conversations elongated and you two shared more about yourselves to each other as the days went by.

“So who’s that girl then?” Matty asked one day after seeing you and Ross part ways at the entrance of the school.

Ross tensed at the line of questioning, especially at Matty’s tone and the way he wiggled his eyebrows at him.

“Just my neighbour,” he said almost dismissively. “We walk the same way to school so I bump into her sometimes.”

It wasn’t in bad nature though, he just wanted to keep the details of you that you kept hidden for everyone else to himself. It wasn’t selfish, Ross convinced himself, just giving you the chance to open up to Matty if you ever decided to do that.

But the curly headed boy knew well enough he hadn’t seen you before when he’d come over to the MacDonald’s residence, and he also knew very well that Ross walked into school with you daily. Sometimes my arse.

“Don’t remember seeing her around when I’ve come over to yours.”

Ross held back a huff but he freely let himself roll his eyes, “She’s just moved into the house on the other side of the road from mine.”

Matty hummed, smirking as he looked around until his gaze fell on you, “She’s fit.”

You were laughing with your friends, chatting excitedly as you sorted through your bag and pulled out a book.

Ross frowned at Matty’s comment but not because he disagreed, he actually wholeheartedly thought his friend was right, but because he didn’t like it coming from him.

“Maybe you should introduce us to the other,” Matty added with a cheeky grin when he saw the expression on Ross’ face. “Be a good mate and play cupid for me, MacDonald.”

Ross scoffed loudly at the forward suggestion from his friend. It was settled then, telling Matty you lived in the same road as him and that you’d just moved into town was enough for him to know.

He kept to himself what your favourite movie was, which album you’d last become obsessed with, the names of your friends back home who you didn’t talk to anymore now that you’d moved, how you had broken your arm at five years old in the playground and had put stickers all over your pink cast to show it off at school. Ross definitely wouldn’t tell him how that book had been lent to you by Danielle, one of your new friends, and how you’d stayed up until three in the morning reading it so you had spent half your trip up to school yawning and rubbing your eyes.

Yup. He would definitely keep it all to himself.

And so he did. He kept every bit of yourself that you shared with him to himself and himself only. And along with all those little facts about you, he also kept to himself the way he perked up every time he saw you slowly walking down the pavement, the warmth that spread through him when he saw you smile at him.

He would frown at himself in the mirror when he thought about it at home. He was thirteen years old, there were so many things much more important than thinking about how pretty you were or how your smile made him all gooey inside. He huffed every time, convincing himself he was just being objective and not developing a crush. He liked you as a friend and that was it. He had much more important matters than his feelings, which he definitely didn’t have.

But after the half term break, there was a change that made his stubborn thoughts falter.

He walked out of his house ready to see your figure already ahead of him, ready to power walk his way up to you.

But he saw no one but the trees and bushes lining the road and he deflated instantly.

He thought about walking up to your front door and knocking, asking if you’d gotten ill and you weren’t going to school. He pondered about what could’ve happened as he walked, eyes down as he went over the possibilities.

So he didn’t see you sitting on the step of your front door, waiting for him to walk by.

Taking in his distracted complexion, you decided to startle him right before he walked past your mum’s car.

A loud and slightly high pitched yell stumbled out of his mouth, and you somehow overpowered the sound with a loud fit of laughter that certainly felt like a nice apology for the scare.

You wouldn’t stop giggling about it as you walked to school, somehow managing to make him laugh along despite embarrassment tinting his cheeks red. Ross had never heard you laugh this much in his presence so he’d let you indulge in it, and when he did, you let yourself grow more comfortable around him.

He felt it from the way you’d now wait for him to walk by sitting on the step of your front door every morning, and how you’d greet him with a smile and an excited, “Hey!” He felt it from the way you’d lean into him as you walked, how you’d nudge his hip with yours when you’d tease him.

Just like you had done one day when you asked about the band.

“So he got promoted, huh?”

Your question had been thrown out into the chilly air of early November, suddenly and without context, so Ross looked at you confused and asked, “Who?”

His group of friends and yours didn’t really share much at all. Whilst you and your friends shared the growing love for books and films, you knew Ross was in a band with some of his friends and they were always messing about, playing video games or going to the skate park, if they were not recording themselves covering songs like the Ghostbusters theme song, which you’d seen on myspace, or just rehearsing in someone’s garage.

So you knew a little about the band from the few videos that went around the school, seeing them hidden away in the music room at school sometimes, or just the talk going around the halls. It was exactly the gossip which had brought the piece of information to your attention and you’d been curious about what had gotten Elliot, some lad who sang for their band, to quit in the middle of rehearsal and left that job open for his friend, who you knew played the drums, to take it.

“Your friend, the one with the curly hair and glasses? Used to be on the drums until a few days ago no? Or so the chatter going ‘round says.”

Recognition melted the frown away from his face, “Oh Matty? Yeah, yeah. We got George in the band now. T’was sorta logistically impossible to have Matty singing and on the drums at the same time. He had to do one thing at a time for it to properly work.”

You hummed, cocking your head as you took in the information. It made sense. “How’s that arrangement going on then?”

“Erm, well he likes being up on the front. The attention and all.” Ross joked a little, even though it was mostly true.

You snorted out in laughter, “Yeah I bet.”

He hummed as if asking for you to elaborate.

“He looks like he likes attention. Not a bad thing, just–” you stuttered as you tried to look for the words, settling for, “It’s funny to watch, s’all."

Ross snorted as he nodded, “It is.”

Already seeing Jodie, Sarah and Danielle waiting for you by the school entrance, you turned to look at him and offered him a cheeky grin to play, “Good luck with that then, MacDonald. Don’t let him steal your spotlight too much.”

It was things like that that you’d say that would stay with him for days in the forefront of his mind. Weeks swirling around his subconscious and keeping him up at night, nothing really came from thinking about them so much, only the need to spend more and more time with you but he had no clue how or when to even suggest that.

The need only grew stronger when the holiday break came around and Ross hadn’t seen you in five days. Sure, two of those were the weekend but he had only really endured going without seeing you on the weekends, reuniting with your voice and your smile and your laughter the following Monday.

So Ross had been thinking about how he could even come around to seeing you during the holidays. Especially since it was actually Christmas day.

He could knock on your door, easily, but then what would he do? Was he coming over just to say hello? What if one of your parents answered the door? What was he trying to do? What excuse could he have?

Turns out, he didn’t have to think of an excuse because as he walked back home from Matty’s, Ross found you grumpily walking back home too.

He called out your name in the distance and thankfully, you heard him enough to turn around to see him and stop in your tracks.

It wasn’t until he was next to you that he said, “Why the long face? It’s Christmas.”

You could hear the hint of playfulness in his voice, but the annoyance that filled you mixed with a bit of sadness so you couldn’t find it in yourself to play along.

Instead, you sighed and shoved your gloved hands back inside your coat’s pockets. Shivering, you replied, “I know. There’s always a Grinch though, no?”

He nudged your hip with his, a smirk tugging on the corners of his mouth as he joked, “Doubt you’ve just stolen all the village’s gifts.”

When you only gave him a soft chuckle that got lost in the sound of the wind, he turned serious and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Taking a deep breath so you didn’t let it get to you again, you took a second before explaining, “Mum’s forgotten to buy the potatoes and sent me out on the impossible quest of finding some at a quarter past four on the 25th of December.”

Ross gave you a soft, understanding smile then. “Ah, so no potatoes acquired.”

“Not one,” you mumbled in despair, shivering again when a cold rush of wind blew the hoodie off your head.

He had to hold himself back from throwing his arm over your shoulder and pulling you into him. All to help you get warm, of course. But he thought against it at the last second, instead thinking about what he could do to help.

“You know, me mum always buys way more than needed. It’s only us three so she definitely has some to spare.”

Horrified at the thought of taking from what should be his Christmas dinner, you quickly dismissed his suggestion. “No, Ross. It’s okay, it doesn’t matter.”

But Ross wouldn’t accept no for an answer. Kissing his teeth as he shook his head, he nudged your hip again, a cheeky grin on his face, “C’mon Y/N, today’s all about giving, is it not?”

Damn him and that dimpled smile that made it so easy for you to smile back. You hummed as you pressed your lips, trying not to beam at him too brightly but letting him win, “I guess it is.”

It was strange walking up the road and past your house. You had waited outside but still gasped under your breath at the glimpse of his house all decorated when he walked in through the door. When he closed the door behind him as his mum peeked her head out of the kitchen door, you sighed out in relief. Yes, he was your friend now but you were far too shy to go in and meet his parents only to take their potatoes.

Your cheeks and neck warmed with a flush that went all through your body when you thought about how he’d be telling his mum about the vegetables. God, how fucking embarrassing. You were cursing your mum’s forgetfulness in your mind when Ross walked back out, a bag of potatoes in hand.

You wanted earth to open up and swallow you whole.

But when that didn’t happen, you accepted the bag with a genuine smile and thanked Ross profusely. He said it was alright over and over but your mind was going over how you could repay it already.

An idea sparked in your head just as he was waving off yet another thank you that stumbled out of your lips, so with a sudden hurry, you wished him and his family a merry Christmas and walked back home.

A handful of hours later, you were back at his door. This time with your hands full, holding a tray of way too many Christmas cookies for three people.

“Special delivery?” You muttered softly, holding up the tray towards Ross as he peeled the door open further when seeing it was you.

He walked out, brave enough to face the bitter cold of the night without a proper coat. In just a beige knitted sweater, he rubbed his hands to warm them as he frowned, “What’s this?”

“Cookies, of course,” you replied with sarcasm dripping thick from your words. Ross glared at you, unimpressed by your answer and making you sigh, correcting yourself, “A thank you.”

“I told you it was alright.”

You knew he meant it but when you came back home, bag of potatoes in hand, your mum had gasped in surprise at you actually managing to get them. Not allowing her to get excited about being right about maybe the corner shop being open, you let your annoyance be known as you told her what had actually happened: you’d walked to the shops in the freezing cold for no reason because they were all closed like you very much knew they’d be, but Ross had been the one to give her the bag of vegetables. Just like you’d been thinking of doing already, your mum suggested making something extra to send over to Ross’ family as a thank you.

So here you were, with a double batch of sprinkled sugar cookies that you’d just taken out of the oven about twenty minutes before, standing in front of the MacDonald’s home, trying to get Ross to accept a humble—and quite tasty—offering as a thank you for his help.

“Well today’s about giving, isn’t it Ross?”

He couldn’t help but smile when hearing you use his very own words to push him into gracefully accepting the sweet treats. And so the only way to answer was by using your very own answer from earlier, “I guess it is.”

“Then take them, please.”

Truth be told, you had gotten to work on them quickly after going back home. It was a recipe you knew by heart so it wasn’t hard for you to make batch after batch. Your parents had been happily having some with hot chocolate whilst you’d come to deliver Ross the cookies you’d made for him and his family.

Ross smiled brightly, “Thank you, you’re a sweetheart.”

Your cheeks had warmed at the pet name, he’d never referred to you any other way than your name.

It was to be expected that the stupid smile on your face didn’t leave you until you went to sleep that night, and you’d been replaying him calling you that in your mind over and over.

You didn’t really see him after Christmas, not even on New Year’s Eve or New Year’s day, so you had to wait for the first day back at school to see him. To hear his voice, watch that infectious smile of his break on his face.

But on Monday, you waited for him far too long, sat on the step by your front door until it got late. You had walked to school alone, quickly and panicking as you tried not to be late but also worried about what could’ve happened with him.

Everything was alright though, Ross had just stupidly slept in until his mum startled him out of bed when he was already running late. He’d gotten dressed in record time, and basically ran to school and barely made it. There wasn’t any sense of relief overcoming him when he made it just in time, he was filled with dread after having missed your daily morning walk together, the one he’d been looking forward to since he’d gotten a taste of those cookies you made—he had basically hoarded them and left his parents only a handful to eat, they all had reached the conclusion that you’d done amazingly with the cookies and that it had been incredibly sweet of you to drop them off for them; so he really needed to tell you all that.

To his dismay, Ross didn’t see you at all throughout the day. So when the school day was over and everyone spilled out of the building, he rushed outside to catch you before you left for home.

In the distance, you heard him yell out your name and even your friends froze in their places beside you.

They smirked when you all turned around to see him clumsily breaking through the crowd to get to you, wiggles of their eyebrows and widening eyes letting you know that they were definitely curious about what was going on for your ‘walking-to-school buddy’, as they’d nicknamed him, to be so desperate to find you.

Waving them off and forcing them to say goodbye, you walked away from them and tilted your head slightly so Ross would follow you along as you started walking away from school.

The apology was imminent, you just didn’t know it would come this quickly, “M’so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t hear my alarm and slept in.” He took a deep breath when he got to your side and added, “Mum had to wake me up, fucking hell. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten dressed this quickly in my life.”

You laughed at him, the way his eyes flashed with dread at the recount of his morning.

He continued explaining, for no reason other than feeling like you deserved the whole truth behind it, “We got fucking plastered on New Year’s at Matty’s. Fully had to take a few days to recover from that nightmare of a hangover, but I’m still feeling rough so I just kept sleeping.”

Another string of giggles fell from your lips, “Right.”

Despite still being very sure of wanting to keep Matty away from you, Ross couldn’t help but suggest, “You should come along next year. You’d enjoy yourself.” He had been thinking about how it could’ve been with you there the whole time—or at least until he blacked out—, wishing he had invited you over. So he did just that, but just in case, he added, “Plus the guys are funny, even though they can be really obnoxious.”

Amused, you looked at him with raised brows and a cheeky grin, “I think Adam should be exempt from that.”

You had met Adam at school, he had been kind enough to say hello one day in the halls knowing that you were one of Ross’ friends, and he’d been really sweet chatting to you from time to time when you bumped into him around school. He definitely was nothing like Matty or George, who you’d seen causing ruckus around the place a fair few times.

At the dig, Ross asked, “What about me?”

But you tried taunting him by ignoring his inquiry and saying, “I'll be counting down the next 365 days,” successfully accepting his invitation over to Matty’s for the welcome of the next year.

Frozen in his place, his mouth fell agape at your blatant dismissal of his words, and so you left him behind with a chuckle, continuing walking towards your house.

From behind you, you heard him ask again, a bit louder this time, “Oi! What about me?”

You just laughed, shaking your head and not turning to see him. He had run up to you and poked your side as payback, making you squeal in surprise.

Your laughter hadn’t stopped until you were almost halfway to your house and answering his question had been long forgotten.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

The weeks that followed that first Christmas had seen you and Ross becoming proper friends and causing a domino effect on the mixing of your friend groups. Friendships bloomed easily when everyone started hanging out together thanks to you and Ross wanting to share more time together other than your walks to and from school.

It was an odd group of people, but you managed to bring out different sides of each other and it was pure laughter and joy every time.

Before you knew it, birthdays, half term breaks, weekends, Halloweens, and evenings after school were spent with you all together. Messing about, watching the guys rehearse in Matty’s garage, being front row in every gig they played, helping each other study for your GCSEs, coming over to watch films and sneaking out to the skatepark.

But when December came around and school had closed for Holiday break, you realised that it was that time of the year that would become your absolute favourite.

For Christmas 2003, you had made sure to make something for his family again. After Ross had told you how much his family had enjoyed the cookies you’d made, you wanted to surprise them with something again; even if this year you’d made sure your mum didn’t forget a single thing for your Christmas dinner so you weren’t asking for something back from the MacDonalds.

You had made a glorious batch of Yorkshire pudding that Ross and his parents enjoyed thoroughly with their gravy. You’d told your mum how surprised and grateful your neighbours had been for the treat, and you were secretly hoping Ross would come knocking on your door to tell you how they found your cooking but you had been the one surprised instead when Ross had come over on Boxing day morning with a delicious English trifle that his mum made as a thank you.

After having a healthy portion of dessert, you had basically dragged Ross upstairs to show him the presents you had gotten that year, and he had enjoyed every second with a silly grin on his face.

He hadn’t missed a beat to invite you over to his house so he could show you what he had gotten that year. But you hadn’t been allowed to leave before your mum could take a few pictures of you and Ross with the brand new Polaroid camera your dad had spoiled her with that year.

Her obsession with hanging mistletoe had ended up with Ross kissing your cheek for a picture after your mum had cheekily pointed out you were standing right below it.

You had felt the burning imprint of his lips on the skin of your cheek for hours as you were thrown on his bed admiring the beauty of his new bass, hearing him tune the instrument and practise the songs he knew how to play so well with what he had been obnoxiously referring to as his new ‘baby’.

That afternoon you had gone to Matty’s house, the rest of your friend group arrived shortly after you and Ross, and soon enough you started exchanging the gifts you’d gotten each other. The presents weren’t big or something too special, you all had to make due with your pocket money, but it had brought you so much happiness to see everyone’s reactions to what the other’s had gotten for them.

The days in between Boxing day and New Year’s Eve had been spent with either you over at Ross’ house or him over at yours.

By then, it wasn’t odd to spend time at each other’s houses, watching films and eating chips or helping each other with homework and studying. But the cold December had assured that every time you fell asleep as you watched a film in your room or his, you’d wake up cuddling tightly to keep warm.

It was a drastic change to wake up with your limbs tangled together instead of your heads resting on the other’s shoulder like it had happened before. So the first time it had happened, the two of you had jumped away from the other like you’d just been shocked by electricity. The truth was that a buzz had gone through your body to every single one of your nerve endings and you both had felt it, it was obvious in the foolish grins that you tried to hide as you apologised to each other.

But it was tempting to get lost in the feeling, and it proved impossible for you to have the heart to stop it from happening when you woke up resting on Ross’ chest, his arms around your waist to keep you in place and your legs tangled together.

You had blinked awake and seen the situation in which you were stuck in, and despite knowing it would be best to peel yourself away from him as your heartbeat grew louder in your ears, you just couldn’t do it.

Closing your eyes, you willed yourself to fall back asleep and leave the decision for Ross to make. Yet, he had felt you stir in his hold and it only took him a few seconds to wake up.

He groaned lowly and you felt your face heat up at the sound rumbling through his chest under your cheek. This was definitely not helping you ignore the way his presence had started making you fluster and get giddy every time, not helping the need to spend all of your time with him; definitely not helping your thoughts from going to a conversation with your friends who were willing to bet that you had a crush on Ross.

Softly you apologised and went to push yourself away from him, but Ross held you tighter and shook his head, half lidded eyes that fought against his sleepy haze on you with determination.

“Don’t. You’re so cosy.”

It was clearer than ever that you couldn’t say no to him and it made you curse at yourself in your mind.

By the time New Year’s Eve came, you and Ross had made it a habit to cuddle whenever either of you was at the other’s house, and with the cuddles came the need to have the other close at all times.

Therefore, you were glued to each other for the entirety of Matty’s house party. Even when one of you ran to the bathroom to be sick—yes, one if not the both of you, would definitely be shit faced before midnight—, the other was there to help.

When the countdown happened, you would laugh at the crowd of drunk teenagers trying to properly sync up to the clock. And when midnight struck, you’d all go around the room to clumsily hug everyone and wish them a happy new year.

And, of course, when you would wake up after knocking out on one of the settees, you’d be cuddling Ross tightly into you like you had grown used to doing in the past couple of days.

When the holiday season of 2004 came around, everything you had done the year before had become a tradition. From making something for the other’s family to spending the lazy morning of Boxing day together, walking over to Matty’s house side by side with the gifts for your friends in hand, spending the days leading up to New Year’s Eve together and then going over to the Healy’s residence to get pissed as you welcomed the new year.

You found yourself wishing for every year to be the same.

Your heart swelled in your chest when December 2005 loomed around the corner, and your cheeks hurt from how hard you smiled when your traditions continued just the same during Holiday break.

Another recipe was made as you tried to impress the MacDonalds, another picture of kisses on cheeks was added to the collection, another handful of presents bought for your friends, another show and tell of your gifts thrown for Ross, many more movies watched as you nuzzled in his neck, another countdown shouted with your best of friends, another hangover cured with Ross’ help.

But everything was slightly different this time around, for 2006 meant that this would be your last Holiday season at home before you were off to university. And though you were definitely coming back home to celebrate the Holidays every year, it was different enough to make it a proper last celebration.

That meant Ross and his parents coming over for Christmas dinner at your house.

“Wish we had done this sooner,” you tell Ross as you cut pieces of the sticky toffee pudding you made earlier today.

He hums beside you, sliding a plate closer to you so you could place the first piece down, “Me too.”

It’s hard not to be nostalgic already when you’re all chatting and laughing together, your chest feels heavy as you long for a memory in the making, one that you know you will cherish forever, even if you don’t have to because you’re sure you won’t ever have to spend the Christmas holidays without Ross—you’re determined to never let that happen.

Everyone sitting around the table showers you in compliments for the delicious dessert you’ve made, Ross’ mum asking for the recipe while everyone else asks for seconds.

“Can I get a double serving, sweetheart? You know, since I’m your favourite person here.”

You roll your eyes at him, but Ross knows far too well that you can’t say no to him. Not when he calls you that.

He could admit that sometimes he uses the pet name selfishly, but most of the time is just to see how you squirm under his gaze, completely unable to keep your cool.

Ross thinks you’re so fucking cute.

He has been for a while. And that crush he knew he had on you, only grew stronger and deeper the more days he spent in your presence.

Matty had said once that Ross was in love with you and the bassist had never been more grateful that his best mate had at least waited until you were out of hearing distance for him to point that out.

But that comment swirled in the back of Ross’ head ever since it had fallen from Matty’s lips and it echoed loudly in his mind when you were near him, and it got horrendously louder when you were cuddling or hugging him.

Just like you are right now as you pose for your mum’s camera.

That Polaroid which had been the reason for your growing collection of pictures with you and Ross as the main focus of the frame. From your birthday pictures to pictures your mum had sneakily taken when the two of you fell asleep on the settee, pictures of you in your fancy dresses before you were off to a house party for Halloween and all of your Christmas pictures throughout the years.

Your arms are wrapped around Ross’ waist, one of his hands over your hands as if to keep you there and his other arm over your shoulder. The smiles are wide on your faces for the first picture but you know what’s happening next. Like clockwork, Ross is pressing his lips on your cheek for the yearly kiss picture you take under the mistletoe that hangs above you.

Mockingly, really.

Because Ross has long gotten tired of kissing your cheek, he wants to kiss you properly under the mistletoe and has been wanting to since the second time your mum made the two of you pose for pictures under the hanging arrangement of little branches. He remembered the twinkling lights around your house reflecting on your pretty eyes and he was gone; his lips itched to press on yours but he had held back, only because your mum was always right there.

But this time the obnoxious whirring of the empty camera alerts you all that the film has run out and your mum excuses herself to make a dash upstairs and get a new pack, warning you to stay right there for her.

You loosen up your embrace and let your arms fall limply on your sides to give Ross his space until your mum is back but he frowns as he looks at you and scorns, “Where are you going?”

It isn’t like you are leaving though, you’re staying right beside him but letting him free for a minute or two because you know how annoying your mum can get about pictures and how, despite his lack of comment on it, he only just tolerates it.

“She’s gonna take a while. We’ll pose again when she’s back.”

He huffs under his breath because he really didn’t want you to stop hugging him. But he takes the moment to look up the stairs as the noise of your mum making a clutter in her room as she looks for her film bounces down the halls and reaches the two of you. A loud ‘for fucks sake’ is heard from upstairs and your best friend hears you snort beside him.

Just when he was about to look back at you, Ross catches a glimpse of the neatly hung arrangement of mistletoe and, now really aware of the fact that your mum is out of sight and both your dads are heavily engrossed in conversation far away from where you stand, he knows this is the moment he’s been wishing for.

The feeling of his hands coming up to your face surprises you, but what’s more surprising is seeing him slowly leaning into you and you do nothing to stop it.

How could you stop it? When it’s something you’ve been thinking about obsessively for months now. The feelings that he brought you only heightened with time and you didn’t do anything about it other than keep it to yourself and sigh endlessly as you thought about him every day when you were alone in your room, writing everything down on your battered old diary.

Ross pauses when your noses brush, your breaths mixing with him this close to you and he’s about to ask when you just nod, almost missable if his forehead wasn’t pressed against yours and the movement causes his own head to move.

That was all he needed to close the distance and your heart explodes in your chest when his lips press against yours and his stubble itches your face as he starts to move his mouth on yours.

It’s quick because your mum’s footsteps coming quickly down the hall startle the two of you away from each other, but the kiss is enough to assure you two that the crushes you had on each other are much more than that.

And your mum captures the foolish smiles on your faces when that notion becomes apparent to you and Ross. This time, a kiss falls on Ross’ cheeks and your mum coos loudly at the dimpled loopy smile that breaks on his face.

You don’t say anything, because you really don’t know what can be said, and Ross doesn’t either, so you go on about the rest of the night like nothing’s happened. But the ache in your cheeks from how much you two are grinning dares to say otherwise.

Neither of you says a thing when the night’s wrapped up and you say goodbye. Ross really has to hold back from stealing another kiss from your lips when he hugs you goodbye, the attentive gaze of your and his parents posing a burden for his growing need to do that again.

But even the next morning, he’s wary of trying his luck again and, since you’re expecting him to make the first move again, you stop yourself from getting your hopes up and put it down to him just getting excited about standing under the mistletoe. After all, it is the rules of that tradition. So yes, you’re blaming it all on the mistletoe and you hope that singular word is enough of a bandaid on the little crack of your heart.

Yet, the heartache that the rest of Boxing day brings is a different and much stronger one when you and your friends are all splayed around Matty’s living room with sad smiles on your faces after having exchanged presents.

“It’s okay. We’re all coming back every Christmas and it’ll never change,” says Danielle, hoping that saying it aloud makes it become real.

The weight of the fact that half of you will be leaving town in September and it will all change, because growing up has been something none of you could avoid and life moves on, and unfortunately you have to move on too.

It’s somehow harder knowing that it’s you moving away. Matty had managed to convince the guys’ parents that the band was going to be a thing, something huge in no time, and therefore getting Adam and Ross to stay in Wilmslow—George was still dealing with his GCSEs, but even he wasn’t planning on doing his A Levels and going off to uni.

The thought of leaving everyone else behind, once again, makes you shake from anxiety when you think too much about it.

Losing all these people is enough of a nightmare to make your eyes well up with tears, ones you struggle to keep from spilling down your cheeks when everyone promises to be back every Christmas, speaking out what their plans will be for when the time comes.

Ross throws his arm around your shoulders when he hears you sniffle, hugging you into his side. That’s enough for you to start crying and in a matter of seconds everyone is suffocating you in a group hug.

It’s settled then that everyone is gonna make the most out of the rest of the week and your annual New Year’s Eve house party will be one to remember, to part with the best memories and only make the following years even better.

And you do just that.

Instead of spending the days leading up to New Year’s Eve with Ross, the rest of your friend group sticks together and you all spend the days in different houses, watching movies, messing about, playing video games. A few afternoons you all escape to the skatepark and hide away to smoke or drink, enjoying the last bits of the togetherness that you have a bad feeling will be broken despite the promises.

When the 31st of December approaches, and you walk into Matty’s house with Ross behind you, you gasp seeing the scene set up for the night.

There’s much more alcohol than needed for how many of you there will be, rolled spliffs on the coffee table ready for anyone to smoke, an unnecessary amount of snacks that you know will do absolutely no help to help you from getting pissed quickly.

You’re grateful you ate enough to survive a few hours of drinking before blacking out, if it even gets to that point. Unfortunately, George can’t say the same because by the time everyone has arrived at Matty’s, he’s already stumbling around the place with those silly giggles of his stumbling out at absolutely everything around him.

Everyone else followed, knocking back drink after drink and smoking to their heart’s content until there’s nothing but loud laughter and yelling, and the place is trashed by careless teenage behaviour.

It’s wild to say the least, everyone is on the verge of losing memory of the night with every shot and puff they take, the drinking games do not help in the slightest and George has been picked up from having passed out on the bushes twice already.

No one really is sober enough to care about the countdown. Matty and George being the menacing duo they are when intoxicated are entertaining everyone inside with the shit they spout, everyone’s eyes are on them like they’re the most captivating clowns anyone has ever seen, getting loud laughs from everyone.

But despite the amount you and Ross have drank, you’ve got enough grasp on your logic to walk out and close the door behind you, ready to watch the fireworks go off as everyone greets the new year.

Ross lights up a cigarette beside you and takes a long drag with an ease that makes you roll your eyes. You’ve always struggled when smoking with them, trying to take a drag of a spliff always ended with you erupting in a horrendous fit of coughs that end up hurting your chest, you were a bit better with cigarettes, only that meant you coughed a little less and you could take multiple drags of it instead of just the one.

He still offers you it, knowing that since you’re drunk you are most likely to crave a puff or two. Your fingers pluck it out of his accompanied with a soft, “Thanks.” that he smiles at.

As expected, you cough when the smoke hits the back of your throat but you don’t give it back, you hold your breath to stop yourself from coughing and try again. This time it burns way less so you can let the smoke go down until you can relish in the feeling and then let it out upwards.

Ross is staring at you with glistening eyes, fighting a grin that wants to break on his face just from seeing you like this. He finds even the most mundane things you do so incredibly endearing, it’s tragic how much of a hold you have on him and he just can’t stop it nor does he want to.

Yet, the real tragedy is that he doesn’t know exactly what to do. He knows what he wants to do: kiss you and cuddle you, hold your hand in school, have you close to him all the time; but he has no idea how to make that happen.

And time is ticking now, your imminent goodbye looming on him like a dark cloud in the horizon and he can’t help but think it might be stupid to risk your friendship selfishly when it’s soon that you’ll be gone.

But when everyone inside starts counting down in a horribly loud and drunk choir, Ross is brought out of his head. There you stand in front of him, fingers holding out the cigarette for him to take, a smirk on your face as you wiggle the stick for him to take, and there’s only one thing that Ross is thinking.

After that taste on Christmas day, he can’t just let this opportunity go. Not when it’s set so perfectly for him to make the move.

Ten, nine, eight…

He steps right in front of you, plucking the cigarette out of your hand and tossing it to the ground before wrapping an arm around your waist, his right hand coming to cup your face.

Seven, six, five, four…

Your breath leaves you in a gasp, your mouth hanging open as he starts leaning in. Your gazes stuck on the other, pupils dilating as the moment you’ve been both thinking about for days seems to happen all over again.

Three, two, one…

His lips are on yours before everyone can even finish saying one, their loud “Happy New Years!” doesn’t even startle you out of it. The noise only makes his fingers dig harsher on your face and his mouth grows more intent on yours, tongue licking your bottom lip and with a breathy whimper, you welcome him by parting your mouth.

Your lungs burn after what feels like minutes, but you can’t be sure it isn’t your brain stretching time out like a string of melted candy. The only thing you can do is curse yourself for ruining your lungs' capacity by having a brief smoke; if you’d only known Ross would be stealing your breath with a kiss, you would have declined.

You pull back with a gasp, trying to take as much oxygen into your lungs, chest heaving with your ragged breaths.

Yet Ross is composed as he lets his eyes flutter close and presses his forehead against yours. Your heavy exhales hit his parted mouth, your noses brush, and you feel your heartbeats in your ears.

“Happy New Year, sweetheart,” he whispers, lips brushing against yours as he talks and your body betrays you when you dip forward to join your mouths again.

It’s barely a kiss, more of a string of pecks that you manage to drop on his parted lips as you try puckering your lips in between trying to catch your breath.

Ross giggles breathily.

You stop, pulling back and looking into his eyes, “Happy New Year, Ross.”

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

It was foolish of you to expect that university would be an easier change than moving towns in the middle of high school, yet you had held out hope that this time things would be easier; with your age and the aspirations you had, you expected all that to fuel you into fighting your struggles when change happened, but how wrong you were.

A miraculous day was one when you wouldn’t cry, staring at your phone as you tried to decide whether or not it would be a good idea to bug your parents once again, or if it was time to come clean to your friends back home about how you actually were feeling.

You never really made a decision. You felt guilty enough keeping this from your friends but you didn’t want to burden them with your stupid issues that all were rooted in your lack of ability to adapt to new places. Your parents were really the only ones who half knew how you were coping, but even then it was a very tame account of what you were really going through.

That is why you’re incredibly giddy now on the coach back home. You don’t even care about it being crowded and feeling way too observed by eyes you’ve never met, neither do you care about the smells around you nor the loud snoring coming from behind you.

All you can think of is how excited you are to be home during your favourite time of the year, to see your friends, to hug Ross so tightly you are sure it will rid you of all of your troubles.

You really wanted to see Ross.

It wasn’t like you never spoke on the phone but with your inability to cope with change, there were only a few evenings throughout the week when you weren’t sobbing your eyes out enough to deal with your academic responsibilities and then make calls back home.

So it was needless to say that you’ve been counting down the days until holiday break, and you just couldn’t wait to get to that road you had met Ross and run down to knock on his door and crush him in a hug.

Your knee bounces up and down as you think about all the things that have been going on back at home, how the world back there has kept spinning around without you and it makes your anxiety creep up your spine.

With a shake of your head, you force yourself to stop.

It’s okay. Everyone will be glad to see you and it’s gonna be as if you’d never left. It’ll be alright.

When your dad picks you up from the Manchester airport station, your smile breaks on your face. It has been so long since you’ve genuinely smiled that your cheeks start hurting shortly into your drive. Your heart slams against your ribcage, your fingers fiddle with the sleeves of your jumper, and your words tangle on the tip of your tongue as you try to chat with your dad.

You can’t wait to get home and feel some sense of normalcy, that familiarity you’ve been longing the very second you went away.

But, despite the warm welcome the familiar walls of your fully decorated house gives you, when Ross comes over, there’s a shift around you that makes you frown.

The unrelenting knocks on the front door have you dashing downstairs, and when you open it, your eyes widen and a gasp slips past your lips when seeing Ross standing in front of you, “Oh my god, hi!”

He envelopes you in a hug that makes a knot tie in your throat, and the sound of his voice would have pushed a sob out of you if it wasn’t for a correction that hit you like a gut punch, “Missed you so much swee– Y/N/N.”

The both of you tense in each other’s hold, impossible not to have missed the awkward correction. Your brows furrow as you look over his shoulder, not wanting to look at his face just yet because your confusion is clear on your face, but you try your best to sound unnerved when you reciprocate, “Yeah. Missed you too.”

A half smile is what you offer him when you pull back, and when he gives you a grin of his, you just want to scream seeing the dimples on his cheek after so long.

Yet, you can’t let yourself enjoy his presence fully when he walks into your house and he greets your parents, because all that you’re thinking about is why on Earth he could’ve stopped himself from calling you a pet name he’s used for you for years.

Your chest hurts already, thinking about a loss that you have no idea the reasoning behind. Little did you know, you would be mourning more losses with the days to come.

In the kitchen, your parents, Ross and yourself are all chatting and catching up over cups of hot chocolate. There’s laughter and smiles, loads of news about what’s been going on in Wilmslow while you’ve been gone, many more stories of the lads and another name the band had acquired.

Soon enough, your mum and dad leave to finish wrapping presents and leave you and Ross to catch up alone.

He’s helping you make cookies, the same ones you had made 5 years ago to thank him for the potatoes. And you can’t help but smile at the memories the two of you have made over the years during the Christmas season, heat creeping up your neck when remembering what had happened merely one year ago.

But you can’t relish too much on the ghostly feeling of his lips on yours because suddenly, he clears his throat and shyly starts talking about something he has been hiding from you for a bit.

“I, erm, met this girl in uni,” he trails off with a soft voice that makes you freeze in your spot. “She’s teaching history, like I do. She’s much smarter than I am, though.”

Ross laughs, that dimpled smile breaking on his now flushed face. All you can do to hide your surprise is chuckle along, breathy and not at all genuine.

And it seems like he takes your giggles as a seal of approval for he lets every thought about this mysterious girl out.

Her name is Katie and she’s the same age as you and Ross. They met the first day of classes when Ross was so confused about where he had been told to go, his inability to take his eyes off the papers in his hand had caused him to crash into her and, after gathering each other’s things which had fallen everywhere on the hall, they chatted enough to know they were both lost on their first day as teachers and they had been inseparable since then.

She has a brilliant memory and is an amazing teacher. Everyone adores her and Ross is still surprised she chooses to hang out with him most of the time. She’s pretty, gorgeous even from what you can see on her myspace page Ross shows you. She loves LCD Soundsystem and The Streets so she’s basically perfect. Added to the fact that she plays the guitar, and of course is quite good at skateboarding.

The bitter feeling rising up your throat burns a hole in your chest, like acid burning through your skin and bones.

“Can we change topics? Please?” You snap out, smacking your hands on the kitchen counter. “Not in the mood to hear about how perfect this girl is. I’m sure I’ll see how fucking wonderful she is when I have to meet her.”

A loud sigh follows your sudden outburst, and then silence falls. Each second hurts, the silence is far too loud and then dread falls on you, a heavy weight on your shoulders that makes you slump forward.

“Right,” he says to pierce through the agonising silence.

You want to disappear right then and there. It’s unfair of you to shut him up like that when you’ve been gone for months and you barely have had the time to chat properly on the phone. It’s unfair of you to not listen to him talk about a topic that clearly has him excited, someone who has him foolishly smiling and rambling.

But maybe it is that. That you are back after the most horrible months you’ve been through and all he can talk about is this gorgeous perfect girl that claims his every thought.

You’re annoyed she’s pushed you away to a corner of his mind. Annoyed that whilst you were crying your eyes out every fucking day, he’s been getting closer to this girl.

It’s odd because it isn’t like Ross hadn’t had girlfriends before. You have witnessed him with girlfriends since you met him.

But there was an end to that and it was when you first kissed on Christmas day a year ago. Ever since that day, your dynamic had shifted and you had been perhaps flirting a bit more, but it never went further than that. But he also didn’t get a girlfriend after that and maybe, despite having to leave for university, you had held out hope that it would stay that way.

How foolish of you.

Cookies are finished and put on the oven in deafening silence, a very awkward one that makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

You can breathe again when he leaves as soon as your parents come back downstairs with more presents to place under the tree. He says something about going back home to get ready and making sure his parents don’t come over late before he closes the door behind himself.

Suddenly, the prospect of having Christmas dinner with the MacDonald family is suffocating and you want to be able to hide in your room and avoid it entirely, but you can’t.

Not when Ross’ mum and dad envelope you in the tightest hugs and tell you how much they’ve missed having you around. You have to bite your tongue not to start crying, especially when you see Ross standing behind them over their shoulders with a forced smile that reminds you how badly you had fucked up earlier.

You’re incredibly grateful for the fact that your parents take over the conversation aspect of dinner, because Ross barely looks at you or speaks to you all throughout it. It only saddens you more, a bit of anger brewing inside you too.

It’s too tense to enjoy, too awkward to even feel a hint of the warmth Christmas day often brings you.

When dinner is over and your mum tells the both of you it’s time for your annual Christmas pictures, it becomes even more awkward—as if that was possible.

His arm falls over your shoulder like dead weight, his fingers don’t even hold you in place. So when you wrap your arm around his waist, you barely make an effort to hold him close to you. Your smiles are forced on your faces, no dimples biting at his cheeks, your lips almost look pressed together instead of showing a toothy grin to the camera like you’ve always done before.

Your mum sighs but takes a picture anyway. She has no idea why you two are acting this way but she doesn’t care, she just wants a cute picture. “Oh c’mon kids, where’s the kiss?”

A roll of your eyes is what your mum sees, and she’s about to scold you when you say in a forced amused tone, “Think we’re a bit too old for mistletoe kisses now, no?”

Silence again. Second after second of quietness that only makes the weight on your shoulders heavier.

It’s ironic how much heavier it feels when Ross lifts his arm off your shoulders and lets it fall limply on his side at the same time as he agrees, “We are.”

You take your arm off his waist instantly. You’re left standing awkwardly beside the other and despite your mum’s confusion, which is clear in her frown, she presses the shutter and the picture is taken and begins printing in a blink of an eye.

As soon as the whirring of the printing polaroid stops, you regret ever letting those words out of your mouth.

Because not only do you get a hasty hug from Ross when he and his parents leave your house, the next morning is accentuated by the lack of his presence.

No more ‘sweetheart’. No more pictures of kisses on cheeks under the mistletoe. No lazy Boxing day morning.

And, apparently, no walking to Matty’s together either.

You’ve been waiting for his call all day. First, to see if he was coming over to show each other your presents like you always do, but no call came through. And now, you’re three hours into waiting for him to call you and tell you to walk out so you can go to Matty’s together for the gift exchange.

No call comes and since you’ve been ready to go for a while and you don’t want to be late, you just rush downstairs and leave.

Walking down the roads you’ve missed so much, alone, is another wave of pain that you didn’t know you could feel just by the absence of someone. No one has ever meant this much to you before that the lack of their presence chips away at your heart, piece by piece.

When you get to the Healy residence, you get crushing hugs from everyone that’s already there. Except from Ross, of course, because he’s already there, splayed on a loveseat and he barely makes the effort to hug you hello.

As the inevitable catching up happens all over again, since you’re still waiting for the rest of your friend group to arrive, you have to hide the truth and put on a fake smile when talking about how university is going. But it’s hard when you have no new friends, and you’re struggling through most of your classes thanks to how homesick you feel.

Change is a nightmare to you and you’re reminded of how much things are changing at a quick pace when an hour goes by and no one else shows up.

Seems like no matter how vocal about the promise of always coming back Danielle had been, she and Sarah weren’t coming at all. Jodie shares a sad smile with you and puts away the gift bags from them, leaving only the ones for everyone who’s currently there.

The warmth you have been craving since you got there finally washes over you when everyone opens up their gifts. Laughter, cooing and many thank yous go around the living room, it gives you the hope that maybe it’s not been all ruined.

You’re looking forward to the New Year’s Eve party until George asks Ross if he’s asked Katie about it and the way Ross blushes is enough for everyone but you and Jodie to start a ruckus, teasing and making jokes about the girl and Ross.

“Yes, she’s coming over on the 31st…” Ross sighs, rubbing his flushed face to hide how flustered he’s gotten. But then he drops his hand and looks around the place, brows shooting up and eyes widening like he’s giving a warning, “You lot better play nice.”

However, it’s the way his eyes grow stern when they fall on you that you know he means it seriously when it comes to you.

So you take it seriously.

You know you’ve been the one to put this tension between you and it’s in your hands to right your wrongs, so you want to take this opportunity to apologise for your irrationality on the previous days.

You’ve mentally prepared, gone over what Ross told you the day you got home and recognised how great of a person Katie sounded like. It actually makes you smile when thinking she’s been such a good help for him to adjust to his new teaching gig, how she and Ross have gone through the novelty of it together; and convincing yourself that despite the horrendous feeling that clouds your insides, she’s been a good addition to Ross’ life.

But it doesn’t matter that you’ve reached those conclusions and that you’re actually gotten yourself excited enough to meet her, because when you get to Matty’s with two bottles of vodka and a pack of Ross’ favourite beer—an apology gift if you will—, Ross fully avoids you.

He gives you a tight lip smile and a nod of his head as a hello, he turns to Katie and says, “Katie, this is Y/N.”

You’re left trying to awkwardly act like the fact that Ross has left you with your arms open and awaiting a hug hasn’t hurt you, and you really try your best to push the ugly feeling aside when you smile at her and offer your hand out for her to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Katie. I’ve heard loads about you.”

She blushes and lets out the cutest giggle, and of course it’s that which finally makes Ross smile.

“Oh, really? That’s erm, good to hear.” She finally grabs your hand after giving Ross a side look to which he smirks. You really have to fight the scowl that wants to take over your face when she shakes your hand, “Nice to meet you too.”

He snakes an arm around her waist and you take that as a sign to get yourself away from the situation. Before you can say something you’ll regret even more, or even pick a fight with Ross for his indifference.

The need to call him out for it grows as the night continues, for he doesn’t even look at you. He keeps a straight face when you speak, doesn’t even look at you when you clearly throw a comment or ask a question to him, he doesn’t speak to you at all. And everyone fucking notices, the looks they keep sending your way are enough to know that they know something is wrong.

But you can’t explain, not right then at least. So you keep to yourself, pouring yourself drink after drink, and you start being petty and mirror his behaviour: you laugh louder to annoy him, messing about with George and Matty obnoxiously, ignoring any comment or joke he could make to the rest of the group.

You walk past the line of tipsy and start getting drunker and drunker when midnight gets closer. The memory of how it had been the previous year makes you glare at him. He has her almost sitting on his lap as she delicately takes sip after sip of her cup, and it enrages you that he’s drinking the beer you bought him when he hasn’t even thanked you for it!

How is it that you were kissing him a year ago and now you’re watching him being all lovey dovey with a girl he has just met?

It’s an understatement to say you’re fucking pissed by midnight. George has been laughing at your clumsiness for a while now, but he has joined you when you started drinking the vodka straight from the bottle instead of mixing it with fizzy lemonade like you had been all night.

When the countdown starts, you set the almost empty vodka bottle on the coffee table and start screaming along.

Matty is beside you and he grabs your shoulders and shakes you in excitement, making you laugh loudly, but you let yourself fall back so you’re resting over his chest and he rests his chin on your shoulder, counting down right in your ear.

It is the second everyone yells, “Happy New Year!” that you act before your brain can process and, suddenly, you’re kissing Matty.

He gasps when your lips meet and you lick into his mouth, but the curly haired brunette doesn’t pull back, instead he cups your face and tilts your head to put you in an angle where he can kiss you comfortably and he even moans into your mouth when your fingers tangle in his curls and pull on them.

The surprise of what’s happening is enough to make everyone gasp instead of wishing each other a happy new year, and soon whistles and ruckus drowns the room. Everyone but Ross participates in the disturbance. The bassist is biting his tongue as he sees you basically eating Matty’s face. His fingers tighten around Katie’s waist and she turns around to see him when she feels the change in his hold.

Ross forces a smile and Katie gasps, “I didn’t know they were a thing!”

“Me neither,” he manages out through his teeth.

It doesn’t matter that he’s doing a poor job at hiding what’s going through his head because Katie is more interested in seeing what happens next with you and Matty.

The feeling of tears rolling down your cheeks and tasting the saltiness in the kiss, makes Matty pull back. He hears you whine and you pucker up your lips to continue the kiss but Matty pulls back, clutching your face a bit tighter so you can open your eyes and look at him while he whispers, “Do you wanna leave Y/N/N?”

Matty knows you far better than you think and he knows that this kiss has no other meaning behind it other than the fact that you’re too drunk and he’s quite sure he knows why you have been so reckless with your drinking tonight. And, despite being drunk himself, he has to try and get a hold of his bearings and help you out.

You nod, embarrassed when another tear rolls down your cheek. When he wipes it with his thumb before anyone can see it, you whisper back, “Can we go up to your room? Can’t be here anymore.”

His curls bounce on his head when he nods and you’re grateful he holds you by your waist when you stand up and walk upstairs to his room.

“Y’alright?” Matty asks when he closes the door behind the two of you.

You wait until he sets you on the edge of his bed to answer, “No.”

He knows it’s all because of Ross, not only because of his behaviour tonight, but maybe because you felt some type of way for his best mate and now you were stuck in this situation. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not– Don’t apologise. This is just me being fucking stupid, expecting everything to be the same when I came back home.” The despair is clear in your voice and he kneels in front of you when you let your head hang for the tears can’t be stopped anymore. You shake your head as you think about all that you have felt for months and how, after tonight, the feelings that have flooded your system are just the same, “But I’m so sad, Matty. I’m so lonely.”

It breaks his heart to hear you like this, when your shoulders shake as you silently sob, he squeezes your thighs to make you look into his eyes when he says, “You’ve got us. Always.”

Another shake of your head breaks his heart, your words not helping at all when you say, “Not back there. I wish I did.”

Matty knows it is not the moment to ask about it, but he will ask how you truly are doing in London afterwards. For now, he brushes your hair behind your ears and asks, “Do you want me to stay?”

“Please?” Your voice breaks when you add, “I don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

He quickly stands on his feet and crushes you in a hug, “I’m right here, darling. I’ve got you.”

Matty stays with you for a while, and Ross sees red when another ten minutes go by and neither of you come back downstairs. He grabs Katie’s hand and convinces her to leave, and the girl of course accepts because despite really having enjoyed herself, she would rather have Ross all to herself.

Ross stomps his way back home with Katie in hand. He’s fucking fuming at both you and Matty, because of course you would act all childishly when finding out he has met a girl and has been taling to her, and use one of his best mates to get back at him.

He shakes his head and huffs angrily, deciding right then and there that he’s done with your behaviour. And he ignores the feeling that burns his insides at the thought of you and Matty together on a night like this. He chooses to focus on Katie, sweet Katie who’s giggling and sharing her favourite things about tonight.

Stopping in the middle of the road, he wraps an arm around Katie’s waist and presses her flush against his chest, brings a hand up to her face and kisses her passionately.

He shuts his eyes tightly and tries his best not to compare this kiss to the one you had shared a year ago, willing himself to have Katie be all he thinks about from now on.

Even when you come knocking on his door two days later.

A soft smile is on your face when he opens the door and you greet him with a quiet, “Hey.”

“Hi.”

He sounds and looks wary, like he’s trying not to say too much either with his words or his facial expressions.

You sigh, fiddling with your fingers as you let him know, “Erm… I’m going back.”

He frowns, “Already?”

You know it’s odd, it’s the middle of the week and classes don’t start again until Monday so there’s no reason for you to leave in such a hurry, but you just can’t stay here when everything is like this. You had wanted to come back home to spend your time with him, not ruining your friendship in the worst possible way and now, all you wanted to do was run away before you could get yet another chance to fuck things up even more.

“Yeah. Gotta go back.”

“Did you have fun?” Ross asks with a tone in his voice that makes you freeze in your spot.

It feels like it’s a trick question but you can’t really think about why. Mainly because you can’t remember much about the party other than how awful Ross had acted with you, but you don’t want to give him the pleasure of knowing he had been the reason for the way you had drank.

So you try to smile even brighter now, nodding as you reply, “I did. It was really fun.” It hadn’t really, because not only had you been feeling so awful because of him, you had woken up with the worst fucking hangover of your life. Matty had been lovely and helped you until you felt well enough for him to take you back home, but you were still feeling the effects of such a horrible night.

You made a joke of it, very nonchalantly adding, “Still feeling a little rough but it’s alright.”

But since you have no clue of what Ross thinks happened, your words make his stomach churn and he scoffs humourlessly, “Right. Well, I’ll see you next year then.”

The way he says it makes you feel like instead of saying goodbye like you had come over with the intention of doing, he’s pushing you away with a halfhearted farewell to just get it over with.

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek as you try not to cry, and with a small voice you agree, “Yes. You will.”

“Good,” Ross says, though he isn’t sure if he means it or not.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

Katie and Ross had gotten together officially on Valentine’s day of 2008, or so you saw back then when she posted it on Facebook—after Matty had begged you to make yourself a profile on the new social media page, the lads had sent you friend requests and along with them came Katie and a bunch of people from school you had barely ever spoken to.

The biggest change since you left Wilmslow at the very start of the year has been that you barely ever speak to Ross, either through the phone or through messages on Facebook. You had called him on his birthday to congratulate him and so he had done the same when yours approached.

Matty has been the one to take his place, even if it has been in a way different way than what Ross ever was to you. You’re still so incredibly grateful for Matty, he’s the one to help you on your worst days and is a great person to vent to when you couldn’t keep everything to yourself any longer.

With someone there to be entirely transparent to, hearing you and helping you through your struggles, university got the tiniest bit easier.

And though it still wasn’t the greatest thing ever, you were scared of leaving your dorm to take a coach back home for the holidays with how everything had turned out the year before.

So you’re more anxious than excited when you sit by the window and open a book you’ve brought to keep you distracted from your thoughts on the long drive up to Manchester.

It’s futile, for you have to read each paragraph twice and you barely have gotten halfway through the book with how distracted you’ve gotten by your own mind throughout the ride home. Any other day, six hours would be enough for you to finish a three hundred and something pages long book, but not today.

Your dad greets you with the biggest hug at the airport station and once you get inside his car, it feels real enough that you can’t stay still. Not even when you get home and go upstairs to your room after hugging your mum hello.

You’re pacing around your room, sitting on the edge of your bed for a handful of seconds only to spring back up and start pacing again. A vicious cycle that continues for far longer than you would like to admit, until the loud knocking on your front door startles you out of your trance and poses a good excuse to do something.

“I got it!” You yell out to your mum who’s making hot chocolate in the kitchen, and you hum when she thanks you.

When you open the door, Ross greets you with a loud, “Hi!” and a toothy smile that you haven’t seen in ages.

Through the shock, you manage to say, “Oh hi!”

And you become even more shocked when he goes straight to the point, “Heard you’d finally arrived so I thought I’d come by and ask you if you wanted to come over later? You know, to catch up, maybe watch a film and have some hot chocolate…”

“Oh? Yeah, sure. That sounds good,” you somehow manage, but you’re sure your wide eyes and your parted mouth is enough for him to know you’re surprised.

“Brilliant,” he smiles easily and asks just to be sure, “Around six?”

You nod, swallowing hard before answering, “Sure. I’ll be there.”

“Great. I’ll see you then.”

In all honesty, you thought he hated you. With everything that happened a year ago, most of it all being your own fault, you expected to not see him until Boxing day at Matty’s when you were due to exchange gifts, but here he is inviting you over to have a day to yourselves like you used to back in the day.

There’s a spark of hope that brings tears to your eyes. Maybe you haven’t lost him just yet and you couldn’t be happier about it.

Your parents see the change in your demeanour when you come into the kitchen with the brightest smile and let them know you’ll be going to Ross’ house around six to hang out. They truly couldn’t be happier because they had always loved the friendship the two of you shared, and your mum had been highly suspicious about your lack of Ross talk ever since last Christmas.

But you had cheered way too early for when you knock on Ross’ door and he lets you in, you’re met with a smiling Katie in the middle of the living room waving you over.

The shock leaves you frozen in your spot and Ross watches as Katie’s smile falters when she asks if you’re alright. Ross doesn’t even have to see your face to see how tense you are and the tone in your voice when you say, “Yes! I’m fine. Sorry. It’s so good to see you again.” is enough for him to know this is gonna cost you some effort.

You take one of the settees while Katie takes her place on the loveseat across from you and Ross is off to the kitchen to bring the mugs of hot chocolate he had promised.

When he’s back, you and Katie are exchanging some lighthearted small talk. He hands you a mug and hopes that with his presence there, he can help you and Katie to get to know each other better. After all, he still considered you one of his best friends and Katie had now been his girlfriend for ten months, so it’s well overdue to have you and Katie properly getting along.

But it seems like that isn’t happening any time soon. You’re trying your best not to be awkward, to be nice and find interest in everything she’s saying but Ross knows you so well, anger starts boiling his blood when he sees how much you’re forcing it all.

It doesn’t sit well with him how you can’t even hack simple conversation with his girlfriend, and despite a voice inside his head pointing out that you really are trying, he can’t help but become more and more infuriated by the lack of sincerity of your words and behaviour.

The last nail in the coffin is when you cut short one of Katie’s stories about one of her and Ross’ dates and say that you’re sorry but you need to head back home. And, even when Katie points out it’s just a quarter to ten, you hold your ground and continue saying you really needed to go.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you,” Ross says once he’s shut the door behind him as he walks you out.

You turn around to see him rubbing his face in exhaustion, “Excuse me?”

He groans, exasperated, “Can you just, for once, not be a bitch to her?”

Your mouth opens agape at his choice of words and you struggle to find your words, “What? How am I–”

“You are! You know damn well you are!” He interrupts with fury, “I thought it had just been bad last year ‘cause it was your first time coming back home for the holidays and it was a bit of an intrusion to have her join our friend group, but now? There’s no excuse for how fucking fake you’re being to her.”

Like a fish out of water, your mouth opens and closes as you try to find what to say, “Ross, I–”

It isn’t good enough for him and he interrupts, “No, I don’t wanna hear it.”

He can see the tears welling up your eyes and he has to stop himself from rolling his, “You either treat her like a decent human being or–,” he trails off as he thinks. It is then that he looks at you sternly and spits out with venom laced through his words, “Or maybe, you know what? You should just leave. Go back to London.”

Words could never describe that pain that ripples through your body when he says that, you can barely say with a broken voice, “If that’s what you want.”

And not even the fact that you’re about to sob stops him from being so harsh on you. He nods, “I do. It’s for the best of everyone here that you just go.”

“Okay,” you whisper before turning on your heels and walking quickly down the road, rushing to go into your house.

Your mum and dad see the desperation with which you open the door and slam it shut behind you, and they barely catch the tears running down your cheeks when you run upstairs and lock yourself in your room.

Toeing off your shoes, you walk up to your window and shut the curtains, to then turn off your lights and in utter darkness, you shed yourself of your clothes and put on your pyjamas before hiding yourself under your sheets and starting to sob.

Your chest hurts with every cry that you try to smother by pressing your face into your pillow, and it is right then that you know you won’t be able to stay for long. You will unfortunately give Ross the pleasure of listening to his words and go back to London, but not before actually having Christmas dinner with your family and giving everyone their Christmas gifts on Boxing day. You would endure only two more days and then you would be gone. Spending New Years alone in your dorm didn’t sound as depressing as spending it here where you didn’t feel welcome anymore, not with Ross right there.

Before Christmas dinner, your mum sends you over with a big gingerbread cake for the MacDonalds; since they aren’t coming over for dinner that year, as Katie was spending it with Ross and his parents, the tradition of sending over treats has come alive again.

You’re so grateful that it is his mum to open the door, not feeling strong enough to see his face again. But it’s extremely hard for you not to let your tears spill down the corners of your eyes when she invites you inside to share the treat with everyone. You politely decline and instead make her laugh when you have her promise to let you know how she finds the cake.

Throughout the whole of Christmas dinner with your parents, your mind is gone somewhere else. You barely touch your food and can’t really keep track of the conversation they try to lure you into. After dinner is over and you’ve put the dirty dishes on the dishwasher, you manage to focus enough to appreciate the gifts your parents got for you and to relish in the reactions to the gifts you got them.

Unfortunately, as you go on Facebook to wish Matty, George and Adam a merry Christmas, you catch a glimpse of a picture Ross has uploaded only a few hours ago, and it’s needless to say that your heart breaks in a billion pieces and you sob yourself to sleep like a fool.

How could you not when he’s posted a picture of Katie and him kissing under the mistletoe, reminding you of a tradition that’s now long gone, along with your friendship it seems.

And when you wake up and spend the entire morning of Boxing day alone, falling in and out of sleep, you’re reminded of yet another tradition you used to share that is far gone and adds to your heartache.

Your anguish makes you lose track of time and your appetite, and apparently your rationality as well because you spend hours making a pros and cons list in your mind about showing up to Matty’s before you realise you should just go and give everyone the presents you had already spent your money on. You’re leaving anyway and it would be far better if you just didn’t have all those gifts to look back to and remind you just how everything has turned out this year.

Plus, you had made a promise to keep coming back to see them every year and, after Sarah and Danielle had broken that promise the very first chance it had been time to prove it, you didn’t want to follow their steps.

However, since you’ve wasted all day trying to make that decision, you’re definitely late to the gift exchange.

By the time you get there, you look like an utter mess from how quickly you had gotten ready and how fast you had walked over there, but everyone greets you with sweet smiles and warm hugs.

Everyone but Ross. Yet again. Even Katie envelopes you in a tight hug that you reciprocate, but Ross merely pats your back when you swing an arm around his shoulder to hug him.

You sigh and try brushing it off as you sit beside Matty, who wastes no time to hug you into him and ask if you were alright. Nodding, you assure him wordlessly you were but your eyes say you’re going to talk to him about it later and he nods in understanding.

“Are we gonna start now, then, or what?” Ross says grumpily. He had been the one annoyed at your impunctuality, pushing everyone to just get on with it and not wait for you anymore.

No one will tell you this because it just wouldn’t help at all.

Everyone in the room can see that things between you and Ross are somehow worse than last year, even Katie can tell and it confuses her a lot, because all had been fine when you had come over on Christmas Eve and the three of you had spent the evening together.

Katie doesn’t even know if she should ask. In all honesty, she doesn’t know how to even ask or if she should ask you or Ross or both.

But she puts the matter to the side when you all start exchanging gifts—knowing that Katie was joining this year, everyone has gotten her gifts as well so the girl truly feels like a part of the group—and it is a nice distraction from the clear tension in the room when everyone gets to open their presents.

When Ross thanks you last for what you’ve gotten him with the meekest tone, you have to really force a smile to say, “You’re welcome.” But everyone can see just how much of an effort it is for you to sound nonchalant about it.

Matty is about to snap out at Ross for being an absolute twat when you stand up after gathering all of your gift bags and announce, “Well, I unfortunately gotta go now boys.”

George frowns, “What? Why?”

“It’s barely eight, Y/N,” Adam reminds you softly.

The shake of your head confuses them more and so do your words, “I mean go back to London. I can’t stay longer this year.”

Matty is the one who’s more vocal about his confusion, his words clearly a brutal inquiry as to your reasoning since he knows how much you’d rather be anywhere else but in uni, “Why? Where are you spending New Years? In your dorm?”

“Yeah, it’s just,” you trail off when you can’t really find something to say. Your eyes shift to look at Ross, the reason for your early goodbye, and the second your eyes lock on his, he averts his gaze like he has nothing to do with this. You sigh and excuse, “Something came up, and I really gotta go.”

No one buys it, but they still hug you the tightest they can before bidding you farewell.

“Hope you have the best time on New Year’s Eve. Happy New Year you lot!” You call out as you walk to the front door, “Love yous!”

Alone and in a silence that sickens you, you walk back home.

When you get there, you can’t stop the tears that slide down your cheeks when you tell your parents you’re going back early and you don’t even let your dad offer himself to drive you to the station for you swear you’ve got a ride and it’s all fine.

They want to ask what’s wrong but they don’t when they see the fact that you don’t want to talk about it written on your face. So they leave you to go upstairs and into your room to pack your things up as you silently cry over how poorly it has all gone.

This is the second year you feel like Ross is slipping away from your grasp, and it has you desperate but the only person you have to blame is yourself, for feeling that stupid ownership over him when he isn’t yours, when he has never been yours.

You should be mature enough to keep his friendship, not ruin it because you’re jealous and you feel alone. You should be happy he’s found someone to appreciate him for who he is, to give him the love he deserves when you are gone.

The feeling of disappointment in yourself haunts you as you walk down the stairs and hug your parents goodbye. And that feeling slaps you in the face like the cold winds of December, when you open the door and walk out to Ross waiting there.

He doesn’t say anything though, not when you gasp at his presence, not when you walk up to him and stand right beside him as you wait for the taxi you had phoned to pick you up.

You’re there staring ahead, wishing he was as selfish and horrible as yourself, wishing he would just beg you to stay and say he’d leave his girlfriend behind so you could take her place.

But Ross isn’t selfish nor a bad person like you are. He just stands there in silence and lets his presence be company and goodbye enough for you to settle before you’re gone again.

He offers you a cigarette that you take gracefully, and he lights it up for you without needing to hear you ask for it. The two of you stand there, side by side, smoking together in utter silence.

Your taxi gets there shortly after and he silently watches you put your case in the boot of the car before you throw the cigarette onto the pavement and stomp on it. You open the back door and take one last look at him before getting inside the vehicle.

Not a wave nor a goodbye, much less a hug. Nothing but silence is what he offers as you go.

It isn’t until you get further and further away, disappearing in the distance and becoming smaller as you drive away in the back of that taxi that his gaze drops to the pavement to watch the bud of the cigarette crushed, and it is then that Ross realises he hadn’t heard you cough, not even once, and he frowns to himself.

He really doesn’t know you anymore and he can’t help but wonder if that is for the better. 

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A/N: Part 2 is coming to you in exactly a week so don't yell at me just yet please!!! I promise I'll make it up to you. Let me know what you thought and what you hope happens next! It seems a bit cruel to wish you a merry Christmas after this but I really do hope yous all have a lovely Christmas! xx

Taglist: @imagine-that-100 @kennedy-brooke @abiiors @everythinggetsfuzzy103 @on-administrative-leave @ughgoaway @harryssiren @2kwreck @obses-sedd @scarlett-grace-2 @taylorswiftsrep-blog @solitariodecartas @cherryofmydesire @momentum2023 @soggynoodles02 (i wasn't sure who wanted to be tagged or not so send me a message if you wanna be off the taglist for this story)