#i am grateful. you just make me late every goddamn time. i almost missed it two weeks ago because you can't balance your schedule

[billgenbrough]

Being disabled and relying on someone who sees you as a burden is not something I'd recommend

[graciesbow]

can't catch me now

Hello! This is my second fanfic, cross posted on ao3

You can request anything in my bio under "requests here!" I hope you enjoy!

...

but I'm in the trees,

im in the breeze, 

my footsteps on the ground,

you'll see my face in every place,

but you can't catch me now

Making your way through the woods swiftly, doing your best to avoid the sharp rocks and twisted branches, you realised it's almost curfew. Your breathe is shaky, the beginning of December upon Scotland, a thick layer of snow layering the ground. 

I am definitely not dressed for this...

You're almost to the edge of the forest, when you hear soft footsteps. You freeze. Who would be out here this late? 

Well you're out here dumbass.. 

As the gentle breeze and the light falling snowflakes cascade down your bare arms you slowly look around, looking for any sign of who could be out here. As you're looking around something catches your eye, a mass of black striding through the thick snow. 

You knew exactly who that was. 

Professor Snape.

What the hell is he doing...

If he sees you you're done for...

As you're go to quietly turn away, a branch snaps under your foot. Fuck. You turn your head back to the place you saw Snape, hes staring right at you. That man has the awareness of a goddamn hawk. Accepting your fate, you slowly start walking over to him. Trudging through the snow with your unsuitable shoes. As soon as you reach him, you brace for a some sort of outburst as to the reason you were out here so late. 

But it never arrives. 

He stares down at you with an unreadable expression. Anger.. maybe, disappointment.. no.. curiosity?.. sort of. "Miss Y/N," he finally speaks. "Why tell me, are you outside, in the freezing cold, in nothing but your pajamas." He sternly says as raises an eyebrow at me. 

You look down, embarrassed at the real reason you're out here. "I was just trying to enjoy the snow at night, I think it looks better with the dark sky." You spoke, barely above a whisper. You weren't completely lying, you did like the snow, you just didn't like going out at night. The real reason you just didn't want to talk about.

Snape, still staring down at you, finally sighs and mutters, "come on then". You finally look up to see him walking away towards the edge of the thick wood. You silently follow him with your arms wrapped around your torso, trying to warm up. As he leads you through the trees and up to the courtyard, you both finally arrive at the double doors. 

He ushers you inside and closes the doors with a bang. He suddenly turns to you with his wand in hand and mutters a spell. You instantly feel warm spread throughout your entire body. "Oh, thank you sir." He grunts in response and whips around again suddenly speed walking down a hallway. You take that as a indication to follow. 

"Where are we going?" You spoke after a while. "Your common room." He said with a hint of obviousness in his voice. Right..

As you both arrive to your common room double doors, he turns again and waits for you to say the password. You speak it aloud, the door cracks open with a creak. He swings it open without stepping inside. You leisurely walked inside and spun to look at him again. "Goodnight, Miss Y/N. I hope to not see parading around in the snow at a time like this again." And with that he shuts the door, quite harshly if you might say. As you turn to head to the dormitories, wondering how you managed to escape a punishment... 

Be grateful you didn't and just go to bed..

Time skip about 3 years. Now the half blood prince era.

Sitting in Transfiguration class, now in your seventh year, you couldn't help but think back on that moment in your fourth year. It was the start of a sort of friendship you had with your professor. You knew things he liked that no one else knew, and he knew things about you no one else did. You had trinkets in his office you specifically liked, or books that you always re read when you sat in there after dinners.

You also thought about how much the wizarding world was changing, with voldemort being confirmed back, everyone was scared. Death eaters escaping, people dying. It was terrifying. The only place you truly felt safe was when you were in Professor Snape's office. It just had to be you two, reading or drinking tea talking. Being in each other's presence was enough to calm you. 

As this was your last class of the day, you rushed down to change as soon as you were released. After you changed into more comfortable clothes, you sat on your bed reading a book borrowed from Professor Snape as you waited for dinner.

                                       ...

Now, sitting in Snape's office, you were feeling nervous. There was no reason to feel that way. You were sitting here on his couch, with him on the armchair reading. But you couldn't shake this feeling in your stomach. Almost like... betrayal..

You didn't realize you were sitting weird until Snape spoke. "Are you alright?" His voice rumbled calmy. Your gaze snapped from the fire over to where he was sitting. "Oh, yes I'm fine." You replied with a slight smile, and turned your attention back to the blazing fire. 

What you couldn't see, is that his eyes stayed on you, narrowing. He suddenly stood up and declared he was going to put a pot of tea on. 

When you still didn't reply he glanced at your form sitting still as a statue. What is wrong with her?, He thought to himself. He shook it off and went to go steep the tea, but couldn't get rid of the a feeling. 

Guilt. 

He hadn't done anything to her, he thought. 

As he made the tea, the anxious feeling still in the out of your gut. You shook it off, thinking it'll pass. You turned to watch him make the tea and your stomach sunk as his sleeve on his left arm lifted a little. 

The dark mark.. 

No. No. NO.

You couldn't breathe. It felt as if you were suffocating. Is he one of them? Has he killed people? Would he kill you? Oh god... 

You shakily stood up off the couch without taking your eyes off him, making your way to the door when he looks at you. "Y/N?" He asked carefully. He looked down to where you were staring at, and his heart dropped. He snaps his gaze back up to where you once stood but now is replaced with an open door and no you. His pulse started racing with panic as he bolted out the door to look for you. There was no sign of you, left or right. You were gone.. 

A few days past and there was no sign of you. Not in classes. Not at meals. Not in the hallways. Its like you had vanished into thin 

air. He asked teachers, students, everyone if they had seen you. Nothing. He finally decided to go up to Dumbledores Office, find out where you were. 

As he ascended the spiral stairs, he grew nervous. What if you weren't alright, what if you were hurt? What if he never saw you again, just because you didn't let him explain. 

                                       ...

As he retreated back to his office, he couldn't believe his ears. You had unenrolled. He didn't even know that was possible. He was angry, confused and frustrated that you didn't let him explain. That you didn't hear him out. As he sat in his arm chair, he looked around the room. Nothing had changed from that night. The last time he saw you. 

The book you were going to read sitting on the couch, the kettle still on the stove. He blew out a breath a stood up, walking over to the opposite couch to store the book away. He flipped it over and read the cover. Your favorite book he had. He put it away in the nearest bookshelf and turned toward the mantle piece. 

His gaze immediately caught the miniature globe on the left side of the frail wood. Pins sticking out of it of all the places you planned to visit after you graduated. 

It made him angry. How dare you leave him with no explanation, how could you not listen to him? He always had an answer whenever you asked a question so why did you leave for this one? Didn't you know he wouldn't do something like this? 

In his rage, he completely destroyed everything you had ever expressed even liking the tiniest bit. He soon realized it was almost everything, almost every trinket, many of his books, cups, quills, inks. He wanted you gone for good. If you couldn't even find it in yourself to sit down and listen for a moment, then fine. 

But as the months passed, he realized, you were in things he couldn't destroy. Everytime a cool breeze would blow by he would think of you. Anytime the grass would sway, you would be haunting the back of his mind. Everytime the golden hour would start you would be there. He caught himself looking for you in the midst of students. At meals, Hogsmeade trips.

And as he sat in the headmasters office, his new position upon him. He realized...

You would never leave. 

But he could also never catch you.

[ikeupedia]

pairings. classmate! Riki x fem reader

sypnosis. reader is about to confess to riki but someone did it first.

wc. 0.7k

genre. a tiny little bit of angst

warnings. cliffhanger, swear words

note. this is my first time writing 😭😭 so it might be a lil corny 🏃‍♀️ tell me if i did anything wrong?

italicized texts - thoughts

MAY 24TH, the day you and riki met. usually both of you would celebrate it, but since exams are coming, you arent sure if you guys would be able to celebrate

You won't lie you do miss riki alot, it's been awhile since both of you hung out. stupid exams

"God I can't wait for the exams to end, I'm so drained from studying." you say as you pack your things from the library and leave. I wonder if riki and I will be able to celebrate? Lost in your own thoughts, you did not notice your surroundings and bumped into someone.

thump

"ow-" you said. You were about to fall when a certain person catched you.

"be careful y/n" you look up to see... riki, such perfect timing you thought to yourself

"Thanks riki.. sorry for bumping into you" ill use this opportunity to ask if we could celebrate..

"It's no problem y/nie" riki says.

"i was thinking if we could celebrate? for you know.." I say as i look on his lips, fighting the urge to kiss him. if only i could confess but i'm scared of ruining of our friendship

"oh sur-" he was about to reply when someone called him.

"Riki!" his friend calls him. "What's up man? You still down for later?"

Riki stands there frozen, shit i forgot about my plans with jake.. i'll just celebrate with y/n tomorrow he thinks

"yeah jake, you don't have to tell me twice" he rolls his eyes.

the atmosphere gets awkward as you watch them interact with eachother, i guess he's busy today, we'll just celebrate another time.

Riki then turns to you, staring at you with those eyes you love most. If he keeps staring at me like that im gonna melt

"hey um.. i'm a bit busy today but we can celebrate tomorrow though? If you're cool with that" the boy says

"oh yeah totally! Im fine with it, I understand.." I am not fine, its been days since you guys hung out! Yet he chooses to be with jake rather than celebrating with you

Feeling dejected, you walk away and go home to call jungwon

--

jw: so, have you confessed yet?

y/n: no.. im too scared, what if i ruin our friendship?

jw: come on y/n.. you know it's not healthy to bottle your feelings up, it's best if you just confess already!

y/n: it's not that easy wonie.. I don't even think he likes me back

jw: it'll be fine y/nie..

jw: i have to go now ill see you tomorrow

y/n: alright.. bye won!

--

you sigh, jungwon always had your back and you were grateful for it. At some point you feel that you like jungwon a bit..

crushing on jungwon?!

why would i even like jungwon? Ive been curshing on riki for almost a year.. now that i see it, jungwon always had a way to make me smile.. his cat eyes..

"I shouldnt be thinking of this." I shake my head. what is wrong with me? Maybe jungwon is the one afterall

--- MAY 25, after exams

"okay this is it" i'm finally going to confess, he might reject but i don't care anymore. Im going to try my shot

I walk through the halls looking for riki "where the hell is that kid" i was having a hard time finding him since it's crowded..

"found him!" I quickly run to him but abruptly stopped due to what i saw..

Riki was kissing another girl!

I guess I was too late.. I immediately try to walk away but i guess he saw me

"Y/n!" well shit

i turn around and see riki waving at me with his hands around that girls shoulder. Every step i take towards them shatters my heart

"hey riki!" i say trying not to sound broken, tears are starting to form

"are you okay? you look like you're about to cry.." Goddamn he noticed

"oh it's just about the exams, i got a low score" great lie y/n

"just so you know grades dont define you okay?"

"yeah i know.." i cant stand it anymore.. i feel like im about to burst into tears

"also meet my girlfriend!" wow girlfriend huh.. i feel my heart drop, i guess i really am too late

"congrats riki! you better treat her right, anyways i have to go bye!" i say as i run away from the both of them

i arrive home balling my eyes out, i call the first person that comes into my mind..

Jungwon

JUNGWON AND READER END UP BEING TOGETHER?????!? who knows

[scuttling]

Those Who Wait

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader Word Count: 4,985 Tags: 18+, Loss of virginity, Insecure reader, Fingering, Protected sex Summary: When you let it slip to the team that you've never had sex, they make it their mission to help you find someone who will make your dreams a reality. *Requested by anons!

Link to A03 or read below! “I don’t know how many times I have to reiterate this, but I am not a virgin,” Spencer says, palms up, and it’s clear this is something he’s reminded the team of on more than one occasion. You’re on the jet on the way home from a case, all of you gathered around chattering mindlessly to decompress, with the exception of Hotch, who is in his usual seat, working on his computer.

“And I never said I was talking about you,” you reply, with a tone just shy of smartass. You regret bringing it up already, because this will open the door to a topic you did not want to discuss with the team, ever, but you can’t put the cat back in the bag.

“Hold on. Are you…?” Emily grins a little, but her face drops into a frown when she notices the change in your demeanor, the tension in your shoulders. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, at all.”

“You’re a virgin? Really? You’re almost thirty,” Morgan says, leaning forward to look at you, and you nod, shrug. “Is it a religious thing? Saving yourself for marriage?” You scoot back in your seat, blow out a breath, use the casual posture to try to mask your discomfort.

“Nope, it’s not a religious thing. I’m just waiting for someone who’s worth it.”

“If you’re waiting for the perfect person,” JJ says, folding forward, hands clasped in front of her, “you’re going to be waiting forever.”

You sigh, because this is exactly the reason you didn’t want to bring this up.

“I’m not waiting for the perfect person. For a long time, I didn’t have time to date, and I was—you know, satisfied, without it, so it wasn’t an issue.” Your cheeks heat a little when you say it, and you rub a hand over the back of your neck. “But lately I’ve kind of shifted toward wanting to have sex, to find someone to make the connection with. It doesn’t have to be perfect, but I do have standards.”

“Don’t put pressure on yourself to do it. You’ve waited this long, why rush into things?” Emily says with a soft smile, and you reciprocate, grateful.

“I actually think it might be better if she just goes for it,” Morgan disagrees. Why aren’t you surprised? “Get it in, get it on, and get it over with. Then you won’t feel like it’s hanging over your head.”

“I’m trying. It’s not that I’m not trying. I’m going on dates; they’re all just really, really bad dates—like, the worst I’ve ever been on.”

“How many dates?” JJ asks with an arched brow, and you grimace.

“In the last month? Twelve.” Morgan laughs out loud, and you kind of want to punch him.

“Twelve first dates in the last month and you can’t get laid? Where are you finding these guys?”

“This stupid dating app Garcia convinced me to sign up for. They all seem fine on their profiles—”

“Oh, no, you can’t go by their profiles. Complete bullshit,” Emily says, and you throw your hands up in frustration.

“How else am I supposed to know what they’re like? They’re strangers.”

“Your first time shouldn’t be with a stranger.” You’re a little surprised when it’s Spencer who chimes in; everyone turns to look at him. “You’re a lot like me, and I know that I was nervous and insecure, and waiting for the right person made it a really great experience for me. I think you should wait for someone you know will make it meaningful.”

“She’s going to be waiting ‘til she’s eighty,” Morgan says with a grin, but he pats you on the back. “And if you do, I guess that’s okay. Not every guy can be a catch like yours truly.”

“Oh, spare us,” JJ says with a laugh, and you move on to other topics for the rest of the flight.

When you go to grab your luggage before heading back to the office, it’s just you and Hotch left on the jet; he’s been quiet for most of the trip, but when he steps up next to you, he says your name, low, to get your attention.

“I just wanted you to know, you deserve to be treated well… your first time. You should wait for someone you know will make it meaningful, like Reid said.” You just look at him for a moment, not sure what to say.

Part of you knows what you want to say. You want to say, is it worth it? You want to say, how will I know? You want to say, would you make it meaningful?

What you say is, “Thanks, Hotch.” He nods, hands you your bag, then takes his, closes the luggage compartment; he gestures for you to go ahead of him, and the two of you exit the plane.

You all go back to the office. Everyone hangs around for a few minutes, but Hotch goes up to his office, turns on the lights, sits down at his desk, and takes off his jacket. He’s in for a long night, then. You’re just getting ready to leave when Garcia strolls over, bag in hand.

“Hey, girl. How was that date the other night? Haven’t gotten to talk to you about anything other than murder the last few days.” She notices that your eyes are on Hotch’s office, looks up at him and back down at you. “Is everything okay, hon?” The concern in her voice snaps you out of it, and you look to her, smile.

“Yeah, everything’s okay. The date was not, though. I’ll walk out with you.” You grab your things, throw your jacket over your arm, and take one last look up at Hotch’s office before making your way to the parking garage. You go on seven more dates over the course of three weeks that are a complete waste of time and effort. Who knew having what you consider relatively basic standards would make losing your virginity so goddamn difficult? You know you’re not a knockout like JJ or Emily, and sometimes your nerves get the best of you, but you’ve been pretty charming, funny, all dolled up and putting out clear, but not desperate, DTF vibes.

The longer your quest drags on, the more embarrassing it gets. It actually becomes a part of the morning meeting: as soon as you enter the briefing room each day, Morgan raises his eyebrows, and you shake your head. He’s keeping a tally. You want to die a little bit.

Finally, you’re sitting at home one evening when you get the call from JJ that you’ll be heading to Miami for a case first thing the next morning. You thank her for letting you know, but before she hangs up, she says, “Bring a dress, something sexy. If we have an extra night, we’re going to a club and getting you laid.”

You stammer, a little embarrassed at the directness, but you pack a short, light, red dress, something appropriate for a humid Miami night, on the off chance you’ll actually get to go out.

The case is solved in a day and a half, and you are going to stay the night again, so JJ and Emily make it their mission to get you ready for a night out, and Morgan and Spencer make it their mission to scope out your potential partners and check for red flags before you even get close to them.

It’s sweet, kind of wholesome, when you ignore the fact they’re trying to get you fucked.

You have a drink at the outdoor bar, try to loosen up a little; the place is swarming with gorgeous, supermodel looking women with very little clothing on, breasts and ass everywhere you turn, and you feel inadequate, self-conscious in your little red dress. You freaking hate Miami.

You get glances from Morgan and Spencer, nudges of encouragement from Emily and JJ—even Hotch is around somewhere, part of the red flag detail, which you hadn’t expected—and you’re so close to giving up when a song comes on that you know and absolutely love.

Sex is outside your realm of knowledge, but dancing you can do, and you wrap your hand around Emily’s wrist and tell her you want to. JJ takes your drinks, sets them on the table, and the three of you head out to the dance floor.

It’s clear they didn’t expect much of your dancing, because they looked surprised as hell that you know how to work your body to the music, putting your arms on JJ’s shoulders and moving against her. She looks up, grins at Emily over your head, and cocks her eyebrow, impressed.

“Not that innocent after all,” she says, and you toss your head lightly, laugh.

“Said I was a virgin, not that I was innocent.” The three of you dance together, and you’re approached by several guys who try to get behind you, in between you, closer anyway they can. JJ and Emily are selective with who they entertain and who they give the brush off, and you’re grateful, because despite the outcome, you’re having a good time, and you never would have done this alone.

Eventually, a man comes over, wants to dance with you specifically; the girls exchange looks, give you a nudge, and you put your arms around his neck, let him rest his hands on your hips.

He’s pretty hot, you have to admit, a little under six feet tall, with dark hair and eyes and a nice smile, and dancing against him feels good. If it’s any indication of what if would be like to have sex with him, you’d let him take you home in a heartbeat. Of course, it’s been pre-planned that you’ll go back to your room upstairs if you hook up, so your people are nearby in case anything goes wrong; it’s maybe a little weird, the thought of your coworkers being cheerleaders while you lose your virginity, but what about this isn’t weird? At this point, you’re just going with the flow.

This guy is nice enough, doesn’t go straight for your ass like other guys you danced with, but you can’t help feeling like something’s missing; you pull back, get his attention so you can tell him thanks for the dance, but you’re going to go back to your friends.

You don’t get a chance to say that, because you’re guided away from him by two strong hands on your waist. You turn, ready to tell someone off for getting handsy with you, but it’s Hotch, so the defensive posture you’d slipped into softens.

“Oh, hey. What’s going on? Is everything okay?” you ask loudly; his expression is serious, his brows pulled down in a frown. He shakes his head, leans in closer.

“I can’t let you go through with that—with him,” Hotch says in your ear, still hard to hear over the thrum of the music, and you put your hand on his shoulder, lean up so you can speak into his.

“What? Why not?” you ask, breathless from dancing and the heat. “JJ and Emily thought he seemed alright.” You didn’t actually want to go through with it, but that’s not important at the moment, not when Hotch is clearly trying to get some kind of point across.

“It’s not that, I just—you deserve better.” You frown, not sure you heard him right, and one of the hands on your waist moves lower; he presses you closer. “I don’t know if you would consider it, but I could do it. I could be the one.”

“The one?” you breathe. You need to hear him say it to confirm it’s not all in your head, that you aren’t taking anything out of context.

“The one you sleep with. The one to show you how good it can be. The one who will treat you well.”

You take a step back, have to see his face; is this pity, kindness, genuine interest? Because for the last few weeks, after every bad date, you’ve come back to the thought of Hotch kissing you, touching you, taking you apart. You know his hands are capable, you know he is kind and gentle, and it’s only the thought of him that keeps you from leaving with the first guy to show you attention. You’re so frustrated, never more desperate to feel than you have been since he told you you deserved something good.

He swallows when you look up at him, and your heart races.

“If you want to, I want to. No pressure if you don’t,” he assures you. What he’s saying is so unexpected, but so perfect, and you nod, wet your lips, lean back up on your toes to put your mouth to his ear.

“I want to. I trust you.” Feeling bold, you brush a hand over the back of his head, press your lips to the side of his neck. “Please?”

“Are you sure?” He sounds as tense as you feel, holds you tightly, like he needs to make sure this is really happening. You cling to him just as tightly, nod your head against his throat, and he squeezes your waist, ushers you across the crowded patio and inside the cool air of the hotel. You both sigh, because it’s quieter, more comfortable, and your gaze lingers over his body until he pulls you in for a gentle kiss.

You’ve done your fair share of kissing, and Hotch is so good at it, his hands on your face, his lips softer than you would have imagined, but firm in the way they press against yours. When the kiss breaks, you bring your hands to his wrists, breathing heavily, and then lean in to follow up with a kiss of your own.

He smiles softly, and you smile back, then slip your hand into his and let him lead you to the elevator. You’re not sure if it’s the night of dancing, the heat, the thrill of not only having sex after waiting so long, but having sex with Hotch, or what, but you feel changed; you’re a grown adult, you know that losing your virginity doesn’t mean much, doesn’t change who you are fundamentally, but the thought of experiencing it gives you a stomach full of butterflies in the best way possible.

“Would you like to go to my room, or yours?” he asks when you board the elevator, and he presses the button for the third floor. You plan to say it doesn’t really matter to you, but a thought crosses your mind.

“We can go to mine. I have condoms.” You’re not shy about using protection, know it’s just plain stupid not to, when you've been essentially searching for a new partner whose sexual and medical history you know little to nothing about, but telling Hotch makes your face heat a little. “I bought a variety pack—you know, when I started going on the dates.”

“Good. That’s good,” he says, nodding, and then he bends to kiss you, brushes his fingers over your jaw. “How are you feeling? Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. Good,” you clarify. You feel so much better than okay you barely know how to say it, but there is one thing you didn’t think to ask before. “Hey, are you… are you attracted to me?” You look him over curiously, and the elevator dings; you step forward to get off, walk down the hall, but Hotch puts his hand out to stop the door, which stops you.

“I’m attracted to you. You’re gorgeous, and ever since you mentioned on the jet that this was something you were looking forward to… I can’t deny I’ve thought about being the one you share it with. Are you attracted to me?” You wet your lips, ready to reply with an emphatic yes, but he must take it for hesitation. “I understand why you want to do this, but if you aren’t attracted to me—it’s important that you want this with me, not just that you want this. I don’t want us to do anything that will make you uncomfortable.”

His words make you lose a little of the nervousness you were still holding onto, and you decide to show, not tell, how you feel about him; you wrap your fingers in his shirt and guide him down for a kiss that is hotter than before, still soft and slow, but wet and deep, too. After a moment, the elevator dings—likely due to the door remaining open for so long—and you break apart, breathless, and exit the elevator to head down the hall to your room.

Your interaction isn’t exactly awkward at first, but a little stilted: you both take off your shoes, and you grab waters from the mini fridge, hand him one and take a long sip of the other. It’s almost as if you are delaying the inevitable, but it’s not because this isn’t something you want to do; if pressed, you’d say the idea of having this time with Hotch is actually something you want to savor, not rush into too quickly. You aren’t delaying, but prolonging, and eventually you have to snap yourself out of it and just enjoy what you have while you have it.

You cross the room, walk over to him, and put your hands on his stomach, look up at him with clear eyes. His fingers ghost over your bare arms, and for a moment you just share breath, a lingering stare, until you stretch up to meet him in the middle for a deep kiss.

Hotch moves his hands to your hair, tips your head up, and you wind your arms around his back, pulling him closer and stepping forward until his legs hit the foot of the bed. He is warm, broad, solid beneath your hands, and you push them up the back of his shirt, skim them over his skin.

“Can I take this off?” you breathe when you separate, and he nods, helps you work it over his head and drops it to the floor.

Your hands rest on his stomach again, glide up his chest, and when you kiss this time, he turns you so your back faces the bed, eases you onto it. He lays between your legs, kisses until you’re both panting with need, and when you lean your head back to catch your breath he moves his mouth to your neck, trails it slowly up, then down, softly bites at the base of your throat. You hum softly, clutch his shoulders, bring your knees up around his waist.

“God, I want you.” He pulls back, looks down at you, his chest heaving, and you nod, brush fingers through his hair. “I want you, Hotch. Please touch me.”

He begins with the slow drag of big, careful hands down the outsides of your thighs, over your hips, pushing your dress up around your waist. You can’t stop looking at his face, serious and handsome, even though the rest of him is perfect too; you like that he looks affected by this, like it means something to him as well, like you’re not alone in feeling a bit overwhelmed. He moves his hands to the soft insides of your thighs, squeezes them, then leans up on his knees so he can pull your panties off, sets them on the bed beside him.

“I’m just going to rub. Tell me if it’s too much, not enough.” He curls over you for a kiss and slides his fingers along your pussy, three of them, long and thick. You close your eyes immediately, because the first touch is so good, his fingertips gliding through your slick and spreading it over your lips and clit; you are both breathing heavily, mouths hovering over each other, and you clutch at his biceps while he rubs where you are soft and aching.

It’s not that it’s not enough—you could get off this way, easily, you’re halfway there already—but you want more, imagine yourself clamping down around his fingers, digging your nails into him when you come.

“Can you…” You trail off, bite your lip, and he smooths a palm over your cheek, your hair.

“Ask me. Tell me what you want, sweetheart. I want to give it to you.” A soft, needy noise leaves your throat, and he presses his lips to yours, slips the pads of two fingers over your clit, rubs circles against it. “Is it this? Is this what you want?” You wet your lips, think no but yes, move a hand to his face.

“Can you put your fingers inside me? I want to feel you inside.” Your voice trembles over it, not used to being so direct, not used to asking for what you want, and his answering kiss is deep, wet; he pulls back to look at your face as he presses one finger inside, and you feel your expression shift, from desperate to intensely pleasured, your mouth open, eyes wide. “Hotch, oh.” He pulls it out slowly, nearly all the way, and pushes it back in, rubs your cheek, brushes his thumb over your lips.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” Good is an understatement, and you clench around him, slide your hands down his forearms, nod. “Good. It’s okay if you’re just quiet, but if you’re nervous about how you’ll sound, don’t be. I’d like to hear how you’re feeling.” Another reason to feel so good about this—because you are self-conscious of the way you’ll sound, and you should have known he would pick up on it, try to ease your insecurities. You wet your lips, nod, and he moves the finger slowly in and out, adds another when you ask him to.

“Mmm. Mmm.” You bring a hand to your covered breast, squeeze it, and he moves to push your dress up further, to bare it, maybe, but you tense, then instantly feel silly.

“What is it?” he asks gently, running his hand over your stomach instead, and your muscles relax, you sigh.

“Just a little self-conscious… about my breasts—especially after everything I saw downstairs,” you say, huffing a laugh, and he chuckles, nods.

“Miami is a bit much. But you’re so beautiful, sweetheart, just as you are, and it’s clear they bring you pleasure. If you’ll let me, I’d like to take your dress off all the way, touch them… kiss them.” The prospect sounds so tempting—your nipples are sensitive beneath your own hands, but under his? His mouth?

Your breathing picks up again, and you nod, rest your arms over your head so he can pull it up and off. You swallow, trembling and bare beneath him, and he steps off of the bed to push the rest of his clothes off, too; you know you feel vulnerable, so maybe he sensed it, wanted to make you more comfortable? Either way, he is gorgeous, and you’re so grateful to be doing this with him.

“Where are the condoms?” he asks, bending over the edge of the bed to kiss you with a hand on your cheek. You direct him to your bag, and he opens the box, takes out the one he needs, walks back to you; you lean up on your elbows to watch him intently as he tears the package open, rolls it onto his cock. When he climbs on top of you again, when he pushes your knees gently apart and makes himself at home between them, you shudder; you can feel his dick for the first time, hard against your thigh, and he leans in to kiss your throat, your shoulders, and eventually, your breasts.

His mouth covers one, his hand covers the other, and you gasp when his lips close around your nipple, suck softly. “Hotch, oh my god.” You lift your hips, looking for contact, and he removes the hand from your breast, uses it to line his cock up so it can slide over your pussy as you rock against him, wet, perfect pressure, as he pulls your breast more roughly into his mouth, nibbles it.

You arch your back, pushing your chest closer to him, and he moans, slowly glides his hands over your throat, into your hair. He shifts the angle of his hips, and he slips out from between you, making you sigh at the loss. Now that you’ve felt him, it’s maddening to be without, and you wet your lips, touch his face.

“I’m ready.” He leans in to kiss your cheeks, your chin, rubs his nose softly against yours, and you meet for a deep, slow, wet kiss.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Please.” You move your hands to his waist, guide him closer, and he pushes slowly inside, lets you get used to the stretch it brings. It just feels good, not really a new sensation, since you’ve put toys inside before, but he is so much thicker, more satisfying to feel along your sensitive channel, his body warm on top of yours.

“How does it feel?” he murmurs, lips grazing yours, and you curl your hand around the back of his neck, just kiss him, enjoy the fullness and the slide of his tongue.

“So good. You can move,” you say, and your voice sounds strained, but it’s with arousal, not discomfort. You hitch your knees up higher, put your hands on his arms, pull him in so he’ll know that. “Want to feel you, Hotch.” You share breath for a few moments, and then he pulls back and thrusts forward, repeats it a few times, slow and steady, looking into your eyes.

You moan, carefully roll your hips in time with his, and he pumps inside a little deeper, a little quicker. You grip his arms, move your hands to his face, unsure what part of him you want to touch, anchor yourself against. He leans down for a kiss and you press your fingers to his cheeks, kiss him more passionately, less timidly than you’ve been so far. He groans against your mouth, and you pant as your bodies work together; it’s almost instinctual, the need to take him deeper, to meet, thighs hard against each other.

“Are you okay?” he asks, sliding his hands over your sides, hips, and you nod, gasp when he shifts up, gets his mouth on your breast again, kisses it wetly while his cock glides inside. That’s enough to have you moaning, loudly, head back, your hands on his body now, to feel his muscles flex while he thrusts inside you.

“Hotch, oh. Feels so good, I—” He bites down, lightly, just the edge of his teeth, and your legs snap tight against his body, shaking while you come around him. “Oh, oh. Mmm.” Your muscles contract so hard he grunts, your pussy all but trapping him there, and he grinds against you, grips your thighs.

“So perfect. You feel so good coming for me, so tight.” You ride out the pleasure, rolling your hips against his, and when you’re a little looser he thrusts again, slides an arm behind yours, his hand carefully around the back of your neck, kisses you until he comes, groaning, in your ear.

You look up at him as he gathers himself, wets his lips, and you curl around him for a hug; he holds you tightly, rubs gentle palms over your body, murmurs that you’re incredible and he hopes you know that was special. It's the connection you were looking for, intimacy, and you are so incredibly happy you found it, even if you did find it in the unlikeliest of places.

You lay together for a few minutes before he pulls out, ties off the condom, takes it into the bathroom, and then you go in to pee. You look yourself over in the mirror—again, fully aware that losing your virginity changes almost nothing—but you can’t help feeling like a missing piece has locked into place.

If makes you wonder if the missing piece maybe wasn’t sex, but Hotch.

When you head back into the other room, you expect him to be dressed, or at least getting dressed, but he’s laying back on the bed, covers turned down, body still bare—what you can see of him is bare, anyway, because crisp white sheets cling to his waist, make him look only that much more delicious as he waits for you.

You suddenly ache with desire again, touch your chest at the rush of emotion, of sensation, and then you climb on the bed, slip into his lap, kiss him again. This time it’s different, because your lips and tongue are all saying what you can’t, and it’s intimate, passionate, vulnerable, intense.

Except, maybe you can say it, because he kisses back just as furiously, and it translates into something as strong as what you’re feeling, his hands on your face and lower back holding you close.

“I want you,” he whispers, looking into your eyes, and you’re panting hard, desperate for more. “Not just tonight—I want every night to feel like tonight. I know you weren’t planning for anything more than this, but if you like, maybe I could take you to dinner when we get back. We could see if there’s something more?” He looks nervous, like the offer won’t be well received, but you just nod, smile, lean close for a gentler brush of lips.

“I’d really like that. I don’t want to only feel like this tonight.”

You kiss a little more, softer, sweeter things, eventually moving from his lap to curl against his side; the two of you cuddle, talk—it’s not awkward in the slightest, just feels right, and you drift to sleep warm and content in his arms.

Maybe Miami’s not so bad after all.

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner @hotforhotchner11 @itsmytimetoodream

[taesspark]

A Normal Friday Afternoon

drabble #1 from the Spellbound series

pairing: Jungkook x reader

genre: enemies to lovers (but mostly enemies so far oops), hogwarts au

word count: 2.2k 

warnings: violence (oc punches jungkook in the face), swearing

It’s a normal Friday afternoon at Hogwarts, meaning everyone is going insane. You wonder why Professor Snape even bothers teaching Potions right now since it doesn’t look like anyone is paying the slightest bit of attention. He even chose a hard potion for the class to make, individually this time. As if making it an individual assignment could stop a group of annoying 17-year-olds from wreaking havoc. 

You flicker your eyes in annoyance at Jeon Jungkook and his rowdy group of friends. They had created a game where they launch the ingredients into each others’ cauldrons, giving each other points based on how close it got. Usually you try to get along with your classmates, especially fellow Gryffindors, but Jungkook has always been the sole exception. There’s something about him that grates all of your nerves like a carrot. Maybe it’s the way he’s good at all the same things you are, but he makes it seem more effortless. Maybe it’s the way everyone thinks he’s so innocent and kind, when he’s been metaphorically (and literally) pulling on your hair since first year. 

It started with the little things. You were friendly to him, like you are to everyone, and as an 11-year-old, you had nothing to complain about. Something changed one day when you were walking past him in the hallway to class and he hit you with a hex that he hadn’t mastered yet. You remember falling to the ground in pain, watching your stinging flesh go boneless. And Jungkook? He was laughing.

You’re no less of a witch or a Gryffindor though. With your limp arm, you cast the strongest dancing hex you could muster. It worked, of course, and Jungkook was known as “Happy Feet” for at least another year for the way he danced around Hogwarts that day. 

It’s a memory you keep close, as a reminder to never trust the sweet smile and starry eyes of Jeon Jungkook. 

If you looked at all of the detentions you’ve served in your 6 years of being a Hogwarts student (and there are plenty), you’re sure 99% would have been from fighting with Jungkook, whether it’s yelling at him, cursing him, or swatting him with your broomstick in midair during Quidditch practice. Because of course he would join the Quidditch team at the same time you did. 

You’re not in the mood for fighting today, though. You’re exhausted from a frankly awful week, and you just want to finish your stupid potion, get your stupid grade, and go to your stupid dorm so you can sleep. 

Your only good friend in this potions class is a Ravenclaw girl named Nina. For a Ravenclaw, she’s chatty, and she flits around you while you grind up asphodel root for your potion. With a quick slide of your knife, you dump the crushed root into your potion. It bubbled. Beside you, Nina bubbled even more, her personality like soda that had been shaken too hard. 

“-and then Emilia told me that she asked Irene if she would go with her to Hogsmeade next weekend, but Irene said she’s already going with Jieun, but Sam told me that Jieun is going alone, so what’s even the truth? You’d think that she’d at least-” 

“Maybe you should mind your business.” You give her a sour look, and you hope it isn’t too harsh. “Just a thought.” 

Nina’s mouth curls into a rueful smile. “You’re spending too much time with Yoongi lately.” 

You crack a smile at the thought of your best friend and his (only partly true) reputation. No one dares cross Min Yoongi, a 7th year Slytherin with a killer poker face. As one of his best friends, you can see right through it. 

“There’s no such thing as too much time with Yoongi,” you grumble. 

Nina leaves you alone after that, thank god. You usually have a higher tolerance for her chattiness and gossip, but today your patience is running thin. Luckily, she knows you well enough to not seem upset at your attitude. 

You sprinkle a serum into the potion before stirring it clockwise ten times. It’s the last step of the potion, and yours is already turning the perfect shade of mint green. You count to yourself as you stir: One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight-

You don’t make it to ten. You were so goddamn close. 

“Oh, shit-”

You don’t register who curses. All you can see is a bottle of serum—someone else’s bottle of serum— being launched straight into your cauldron, and your entire potion splattering onto your front. Your robes sizzle where the potion hit them. 

“Oops.” 

You recognize that voice. How could you not? You almost want to laugh. 

Fucking Jeon Jungkook. 

The leech lumbers up to you sheepishly, scratching at the back of his head. “My bad. We were playing a game, and I missed pretty bad.” 

He chuckles a little, surveying the green ooze all over you. “Green is your color, Y/N. Maybe they should’ve put you in Slytherin.” 

You’re seething. 

A temper is not one of the traits associated with Gryffindor, but at that moment, you think maybe it should be. Lions do roar, after all. 

And roar is exactly what you do. Roar and knock Jungkook the fuck out. 

The room is in chaos: Professor Snape is yelling, Nina is telling you to calm down, Jungkook is on the ground in front of you, more shocked than hurt, and half the class is chanting “Fight!” because the adolescent urge to create violence never truly dies. 

“Take this outside!” Snape shouts at the two of you, grabbing you both by the collar of your robes. “Fight in the hallways, I don’t care, but this is not going to happen in my classroom. When you’re done, head to McGonagall’s office. I’m sure she’d like to have a word with you two delinquents.” 

Jungkook stares at you, rubbing at the bruise blooming on his cheek. 

The door swings closed, slamming in your face. With a huff, you turn around and vanish the potion residue still left on your clothes with a quick spell. You barely spare a glance for Jungkook. He stands several feet away, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. 

“Do you have something to say?” You snap. 

He opens his mouth. Then closes it. 

You roll your eyes. “Listen, Jeon. I know you did that on purpose. Very funny prank, absolutely hilarious. Truly, I’m rolling on the floor laughing right now.” 

Jungkook’s eyes drop to the floor as if he expected to see you there, laughing. 

“Let’s just go to McGonagall’s already,” you say, posture slumping at the thought of being yelled at by the intimidating professor.  

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” he says. Jungkook rolls his shoulders, and you see him gain some of his usual bravado. “We were playing a game, I already explained this to you.” 

You bark out a laugh, just one. “I’m not stupid.” 

He cocks a brow. “Are you sure? I bet my potion was better than yours even though I was dicking around for the entire class.” 

“Fuck off.” 

“Hit a nerve?” 

“No.” 

It’s like this, for the long, long, long trek from the dungeons to Gryffindor tower where McGonagall’s office is. 

“You know, you don’t have to be such an asshole all the time,” you say, turning the corner. Jungkook jogs after you to keep up. 

“I don’t? No way, all this time I thought it was mandatory.” 

He sounds more upset than snarky, and in your present state of blind rage, you don’t have a single clue why he would be upset. He’s the one who ruined your potion and got you sent to McGonagall’s office. He’s the one who has been a splinter the size of Greenland in your thumb for five years and counting. 

“Besides,” he adds, as if you wanted to have a conversation with him, “you’re the one who fucking punched me in the face. It’s kinda hypocritical to call me an asshole in this situation.” 

“That’s a really big word, Jungkook. Did you finally learn how to read?” 

Jungkook’s face crumples into a frown. “Shut up.” 

“Hit a nerve?” You mock. 

You think getting to McGonagall’s office is a relief until you’re finally there. McGonagall is all but screeching at the two of you. You’ve heard the same lecture several hundred times, but never in such a high pitch. You offer to make her some herbal tea for her throat, and she only gives you the evil eye. Jungkook snorts beside you. You ignore him, nudging him in the ribs with your elbow. 

“Never in my days…”

“...Such stupidity from my own students!”

You fade in and out of consciousness during the lecture, and one look at Jungkook tells you he’s doing the same. 

“Detention for both of you. I will see the two of you here at 9 pm sharp every day for the rest of the week,” McGonagall finally says. 

Jungkook groans. 

“I’m being generous,” McGonagall says. “If I see the two of you acting like violent animals again, I can and will suspend you both from the Gryffindor Quidditch team.” 

You and Jungkook both make sounds of protest, only to be drowned out by McGonagall. 

“I hate to see my own team lose, but it has been five years of your childish fights. You two will learn to be civil to each other, and I will make sure of it.” 

The tone of her voice makes you uneasy. Jungkook beats you to the question that’s on both of your minds. “What are you going to do to us?” 

The fear in his voice would make you smile if you weren’t practically shaking in your boots yourself. 

“As you know, in Transfiguration, I am going to be having everyone work in teams this year. I was going to let you choose your partners, but you two have not earned that privilege.” 

You turn to face Jungkook. He’s staring back at you in wide-eyed horror. 

“You both are now partners in Transfiguration. Sit by each other and complete the projects together. I will not tolerate any misbehaving in my class, and if you don’t work as a team, you will be risking your own grades.” McGonagall stares at the two of you with the smallest of smiles, disgustingly smug. She’s enjoying this, and you hate her for it. 

“But-”

“Professor!” 

“I won’t hear it!” She shouts. Jungkook recoils. “This is final. If you have a problem, you should’ve thought about that before brawling like wrestlers in Potions.” 

You hang your head, staring at how the end of your robes skims your shoes. You don’t like to be dramatic, but this sure feels like the end of the world. The rest of your year is probably ruined, thanks to McGonagall essentially sentencing you to Jungkook duty. Not to mention Transfiguration is your hardest class, even without having to compete with Jungkook. You don’t doubt that this would make everything so much harder. 

“That’s all I have to say to you. Please leave,” McGonagall says, pressing a thumb and index finger into her forehead. 

The two of you file out of her office, stumbling down the empty hallway. You walk in silence, thankful that classes aren’t out yet. You stop a few corridors down, and Jungkook stops next to you.

You look at him, really look at him. Other than the bruise on his face a la you, he has a sweet face and kind eyes. You remind yourself that it’s fake. 

You take a step closer to him, and he tilts his head at you, nonplussed. 

“Y/N?” 

You brush a hand on his cheekbone, where you hit him. 

“Does it hurt?” You ask. 

The hallway is empty, but Jungkook still looks both ways before responding to you, as if you were a car hurtling towards him on the street. He gulps at your proximity to him, how he can feel your breath mingling with his own and your fingertips’ gentle pressure on his face. 

“A little,” he says, quieter than you. “You really know how to use your fists, huh?” 

He laughs. To your ears, it sounds forced. You smile. Checkmate. 

Without warning, you grab his tie and jerk his face down to yours, leaving just a breath of space between your noses. You lean even closer to Jungkook, and a smile ghosts your lips when you feel him moving closer to you at the same time. You wait for one more moment, letting your warm breath hit his skin. The moment he closes his eyes, you whisper, “Good.” 

His eyes flutter back open, confused, and you take your foot and slam it down on his. He all but howls in pain, nearly knocking his head into yours as he hops away. 

"What was that for?"

"If you still don't know, then maybe I need to step on you again." You narrow your eyes at him, still close enough to register the clean linen smell of his clothes. “Do not cross me again. I need a good grade in Transfiguration this year, and I won’t let you ruin that for me.” 

"McGonagall is right there. I could go tell her," he threatens. His eyes are wide, and you pick up on the slightest fear under his façade of arrogance. 

"Okay, do it. See if I care, asshole." 

You spin on your heel and storm down the corridor, leaving a stunned Jungkook in your wake. 

[rawdogmeharry]

will you write something about reader and harry having a 12 year age gap, but fans and everyone are really supportive of their healthy relationship? like they’re so in love. lots of fluff and maybe a tinge of smut? 🥺 love your writing 🥺🥰

old man

or, the one where Harry’s family loves Y/N and he loves her even more.

]part 2: old bones]

sorry for the wait, hope you enjoy babe <3 and thank you very much, that’s lovely to hear!!

requests go here:)

masterlist

•

“What d‘ya say, baby, red or white wine?“ Harry ponders, leaning one hip against the kitchen counter and holding up the two dark glass bottles in his hands, showing them to Y/N.

“I dunno, I‘d say red but Anne‘s not really a fan of it, so let‘s just take the white,“ she shrugs her shoulders, little animated hearts dancing around in her eyes from watching Harry look so fucking effortlesly hot for no damn reason. His sheer button-up that shows his vast collection of body ink and the way his black jeans fit snugly on his juicy thighs are the reasons her panties are drenched inside out.

Little does she know, he‘s thinking the exact same thing.

She stands in the kitchen doorway, dressed in a tight, sand colored turtleneck, black bell bottomed pants and the pointed-toe nude Louboutin heels Harry had gotten her for her last birthday, looking like Harry‘s next meal. All he wants to do, is take those pants, shove them down to her thighs, bend her over their glass dining table and bury his face in her cunt and ass.

But, they‘ve got places to be and people to see at the Styles-Twist family gathering.

Dead puppies, grandma boobs, cow udders is all that circles his head because nothing else can bring his boner down.

“Hey, where‘d you go?“ Y/N waves her hand in his face, seeing his spaced out face and eyes weirdly zoned in on her tits.

“Huh?“

“Y‘zoned out on me, Har, y‘okay?“ she slowly walks towards him with her brows furrowed, her heels making a really satisfying noise on the gray kitchen tiles.

“Oh, yeah, ‘m fine, kitty, just thinking ‘bout how pretty y‘are,“ he grins and tugs her in close by her love handles, then gradually migrates his hands down to her ass and gives it a firm squeeze once she‘s fully enclosed in his arms. And about how hard I want to fuck you, you fucking Goddess, he thinks to himself.

“Let‘s go then, bub, don‘ wanna be late. Been a while since we last saw your mum, I‘ve missed her,“ she smiles up at him. “And, wanna get home as soon as possible as well, also been a while since we used those handcuffs, huh?“

Harry watches as she bites her bottom lip and feels her dainty hands stroking up and down his back, and just as he‘s about to ram her against the wall to spank her and remind her how daddy doesn‘t like to be teased like that, she quickly slips out of his embrace and spanks his firm bum, telling him “let‘s go, Har“ and giving him a pointed look as if to silently tell him that she knows exactly what he‘s thinking.

‘‘‘

“Oh, yeah, since ‘m on winter break right now, me ‘n Harry started re-watching Friends, but my old man can barely keep his eyes open past 11, so it‘s been goin‘ really slowly,“ Y/N giggles, and that‘s the only part of the conversation Harry hears as he‘s approaching his lovie and Gemma, the two of them talking alone on the outside bench of Anne‘s back garden.

He feels finally free after hearing his uncle talk about the new corn he‘s been growing and how the high fiber content has really helped with his digestion for the past half an hour, and all he wants to do is throw Y/N over his shoulder, go home and fuck the ever living shit out of her. Maybe they won‘t even make it inside the house, he thinks, maybe he‘ll just take her in the car in the driveway.

“Hey, is the old man you‘re talkin‘ about supposed to be me?“ he pretends to be offended with raised brows and mouth open in mock offense, throwing his arm around his lovie‘s shoulders and leaning against the side of the bench in a hunched over sitting position with his bum right at the edge.

“Well, I don‘ really have any other old men watchin‘ Friends with me,“ she shrugs, her eyes regaining the light they get whenever Harry‘s around.

“Better not,“ he says in a stern tone, expression softening once again as he feels her hand on his thigh, rubbing softly in reassurance.

Then, he hears someone else giggle beside his baby, completely forgetting that Gemma‘s been sitting beside Y/N, because all he sees, knows and breathes is Y/N.

“You guys are so cute,“ Gemma giggles again and Harry notices just how tipsy his sister is from the sparkly look in her eyes, no doubt from the delicious wine set out on Anne‘s kitchen island. “Can I tell you a secret?“

“Go ‘head, Gem,“ he chuckles, brushing his fingers through lovie‘s soft hair, “jus‘ don‘ be mad at me if y‘gonna be embarassed by it for the rest of y‘life.“

“Oh, shut up,“ Gemma rolls her eyes, “I may be drunk, but ‘m not stupid, it‘s nothin‘ embarassing. Jus‘ wanted to tell you both how glad I am you two ended up together.“

“We‘re glad too, Gem, thank you,“ Y/N smiles at her, a fond look taking over her face from the realisation at how lucky she got with her sister-in-law. Or actually, Harry‘s whole family, really, and she feels beyond grateful for how accepted and loved she feels in it.

“No, like, ‘m sayin‘ just-just how grateful I am my brother ended up with someone so amazing, so understanding and just—overall such a great person. Really, at first, me ‘n mum were a bit skeptical because of—you know—the pretty big twelve year age difference and all, and Y/N bein‘ only eighteen when y‘met. But over time when we got to know you, you‘re mature beyond your years and I wouldn‘t wish Harry any other person. ‘M really glad that all the negative comments, looks and hate y‘both got at the start of your relationship didn‘t break you up or put any tiffs between you. Y‘gained the fans‘ trust, didn‘t let them overwhelm you. Just proves that no hardships can separate you‘s, you‘re meant to be.“

And Y/N‘s got tears in her eyes at the end of Gemma‘s mini speech, because she couldn‘t imagine hearing nicer words from her boyfriends family. If everyone genuinely thinks all of this about her, she‘s quite literally the luckiest person in the world.

Harry watches as Y/N doesn‘t hesitate to give Gemma a big, fat hug once she‘s done talking and all he thinks is how right Gemma is.

How right she is by saying that Y/N is the most fucking amazing thing to ever happen to him, how nothing can separate them and how they‘re meant to be. That‘s all  Harry thinks about all day every day, and to think that his sister and probably the rest of his family have the same outlook on their relationship is like putting in the last missing piece of the puzzle.

Y/N pulls away from the hug and subtly wipes at her undereyes, “thank you, Gem. I just-I don‘ really know what else t‘say except thank y‘so much.“

“No, but seriously,“ Gemma grins at the next part she‘s about to say, “jus‘ the other day me and mum were talkin‘ about the adorable little buggers you‘d make with your good genes and all an-“

“Okay, Gem,“ Harry chuckles and takes the almost empty wine glass from her hand, “thank y‘for the kind words, but tha‘s all for tonight, I think.“

Gemma pouts, “hey, why‘d y‘take my wine?“

“C‘mon, let‘s go find Michal, he‘ll know what t‘do with ya,“ Harry smiles at his sister and helps her up from the bench and watches as she uncoordinately trots towards the door, heading inside of the warm house where the rest of his family are chatting away amongst eachother.

He stays behind and quickly leans down to whisper in Y/N‘s ear, gripping her thighs in both of his hands, “bathroom upstairs. In five minutes. Daddy doesn‘t like to wait.“ And walks away, catching up to his sister and leads her away to her boyfriend. He wants her, and he wants her now, because he physically cannot contain all of the love and absolute appreciation he has for her inside of him any longer.

Y/N just sits there with clenched thighs and an irregularly beating heart.

‘‘‘

“Fuck,“ Harry pants against his lovie‘s neck, keeping her hands pinned to the wall above her head by her wrists, “how are you this fucking beautiful, huh?“

“Fuck, please do something, Har,“ she mewls into his ear, desperately wanting to grind against something and longing to feel his cock lodged deep into her pussy.

“That‘s not my name,“ Harry growls and grips her wrists tighter.

“Daddy. Daddy, please fuck me, just-please, do something.“

“God, bunny, y‘drivin‘ me crazy. Can‘t fuck you here, don‘t want m‘family t‘hear you screamin‘ fo‘ daddy to fuck y‘ass harder. Gonna make it home, first. Or halfway.“ He grinds against one of her thighs and his cock is leaking so much precome he‘s sure there‘s gonna be a wet stain on his dark jeans once they get out of this Goddamn bathroom.

“Just stop talking, Daddy,“ she pants out, not really caring for the consequences of talking back to daddy at this exact moment and slots her lips to his own, immediately sucking his tongue into her mouth.

And Harry thinks he‘s gonna let her off for this one, because they both need it so much that the bloody rules daddy made can fuck right off through the window.

He moans into her mouth and takes his tongue out of it, quickly pulling back and looking into her eyes, “put your hand into your panties and feel how wet y‘are for me.“ And let‘s go of her wrists.

She does as she‘s told, feeling so fucking thankful for the small amount of friction she gets from her fingers quickly brushing on her clit as she passes it to her weeping hole and rubs her her pointer finger at the entrance of it.

Taking her hand out of her pants, she shows Harry her shiny, slick fingers coated in her juices.

“Suck on them like you‘d suck my cock.“ He rasps out with his hands put on either side of her head.

She takes them into her mouth and moans at her own mouth-watering taste, sucking her fingers to the back of her throat and gagging on them like she‘d gag on Harry‘s cock.

Harry moans out from the filthy sight and locks their lips together for a final time, “five minutes to say goodbye t‘everyone and then I want y‘in the front seat of m‘car with your pants in the back.“

[azurevi]

Fluff 49 with the octa trio please? Thank you :333

49. “Is somebody jealous?” with octavinelle

Thanks for requesting! I hope this is good enough 😔

Azul

Your relationship with Azul is so secure that one might even comment about how laid back you are. But both of you know better than anyone that you love each other, and there's nothing to worry about at all.

Well, that's what Azul would like to think, but recently his heart has been betraying his words a lot. In his defense, you've been getting pretty close with someone else. It's not as though he doesn't trust you, no, it is your friend whom he doubts.

He's pretty sure he isn't imagining things, that the flirtations and sly glances and unneeded physical touches are signs that your friend wants more than just friendship from you. Although you've never responded to any of his attempts, he still feels a weird feeling boiling in his chest everytime they get a little too close to you.

It sucks more when he has to stay at Mostro Lounge and work overtime, because that means your friend can take the opportunity and snatch you away. He's grateful that you always come back to him after the day, but he can't get rid of the uneasiness. Perhaps he's scared. You may have told him times and times that you love him, but he admits that there's still something which your friend possesses and he doesn't. There's a constant voice in the back of his head, taunting him about how he isn't as good as them. Sometimes it's so loud that he just wishes to turn it off.

Your friend is getting bolder and bolder by day. Even when you and Azul are clearly having alone time, they will shamelessly join in, and being a nice person you never turn them down. Azul wishes you would though, but he doesn't want to upset you by being selfish.

You aren't oblivious though. It's clear as day how uncomfortable Azul acts around them -- his posture stiffens and his head tilts up slightly, eyes ever so cold but his fingers are always restless. He never confirms anything though, so for a while you just decide to let it slide, but he's been looking so bothered lately that you make up your mind to lure the truth out of him.

"Hey," you knock on the door to his VIP room. His eyes basically shine at the sight of you. 

"I thought you're going out with your friend," he says instead, once again lacking subtlety.

"I was, but I turned them down at the last minute,'

Azul flicks his gaze up. "You did? Why?"

"I don't know, maybe because someone is sulking?"

He doesn't have to say anything. His avoiding glances already reveal enough. "I'm not sulking," comes his futile, weak defense.

"Really? Then what's going on?"

After a moment of silence Azul puts down his pen, burying his face in his head as if in exasperation. "It's nothing… you've just been spending time with them a lot,"

Your brow arch curiously. "No way. Is somebody jealous?"

Blood shoots to his cheeks, painting the tips of his ears red. He looks like a child caught red handed for stealing candies during midnight. 

"I'm not- I- fine. I am a little jealous, alright? But I trust you. It's them I don't trust," he nudges his head to the side, as if your friend is standing right there. "I may be overthinking things, but I think they're interested in you,"

"Are they?" you recall the times you spent together, trying to pick up possible hints. At your serious expression Azul waved you off, "As I said, it's just me overthinking. Don't fuss over it,"

"That won't do, you're clearly troubled," you walk to his side, prompting him to turn to you. "How about we do this, I make sure to draw the line between us and spend more time with you. Will that make you feel better?"

"You don't have to. I'm not a child who whines when his mother disappears for a minute."

"No you aren't. What you are is my partner, and I am willing to do anything to comfort you, alright?" you plant a kiss on his cheek, noting how hot his face is. "I'm sorry for neglecting you,"

"You don't have to apologize…" he mumbles, although his originally furrowed brows have relaxed significantly. Knowing that you're going to be there for him no matter what is already enough for him to ease his worries.

Jade

Jade adores you. It isn't anything surprising, basically the whole school knows about it. It isn't as if he tries to hide it anyways. He loves to shower you with affection even when you're in public, more so when you're having alone times. His affection is gentle and understanding, which is one of the many reasons you fell for him, but you've never expected these qualities to become the source of your plaguing worries.

Jade's smile is one of a kind. It can be benevolent and hostile at the same time, and it can be as venomous as it can be soothing. As someone who has to constantly deal with customers by Azul's side, he has mastered the ability to please someone with his appearance. And being the serious businessman that he is, he seldom acts recklessly.

That explains why he's caught the attention of one business partner, and for the past few days they've been asking Jade to accompany them around the campus. You shouldn't feel jealous about it, really, it's part of his job after all, but you can't help comparing the both of you and realizing how you lack the same charisma that they hold. However, you decide to keep it to yourself, not wanting to come off as a clingy and inconsiderate partner.

There's only one thing that you fail to realize, which is how sharp Jade's eyes are. It's true that he has been spending less time with you lately, but during the scarce moments when you're together he can already figure out what is clouding your mind.

"Good evening, my dear," Jade arrives at the Ramshackle dorm after work as usual, to steal more time with you. His workload may be burdening, but he never misses any chance to be around you.

"How's work?" you ask casually, trying not to bring up the fact that he was once again asked to entertain the client and had to cancel your lunch together.

"Work's fine," he reaches out and pulls you towards him just as you walk to hang his jacket, planting a long, deep kiss on your forehead. "How was your day?"

"Fine," you frown a little.

"Is that right? You seem to look upset though," he leans back to get a good look at your face, but you bow your head down in embarrassment. "I'm not upset,"

It seems that you're not going to give up your secret easily.

"Is somebody jealous?"

Your head shoots up, eyes widened in surprise. "What?"

Jade chuckles. "I asked whether you're jealous. I know I've been occupied lately, and I don't want you to feel lonely,"

"I'm not lonely. I understand that you have responsibilities," you mumble, still too stubborn to admit what's going on in your mind.

"That's true, but I am also your boyfriend, am I not? Making you feel loved is my responsibility too," he cups your cheeks with his palms, fitting your face in his hold and looking at you with the soft look that's reserved only for you. "Don't worry. Even when I'm busy, I'm always thinking about you,"

His honesty brings a blush to your cheeks and you wrap your arms around him in an attempt to hide your flustered countenance. 

"Thank you, Jade."

"Of course, my love."

Floyd

Dating Floyd means that you're going to be loved for every single moment in your life. Floyd is physically affectionate, and he's definitely going to give you tackle hugs at any given chance. Be prepared to have him stick around and shower you with kisses and touches. With his constantly overflowing affections for you it's really hard for you to feel jealousy and envy.

Well, that's before the rabbit comes between the two of you.

You still can't believe that you're jealous of a goddamn rabbit, but here you are. Perhaps you've been getting too used to Floyd and his intimacy that the moment he averts his attention, you immediately feel hollow.

The two of you found this fellow outside your dorm, shivering in the cold and seemingly lost. Floyd took an interest to the small creature almost immediately and seems to have forgotten about you. You're sure he doesn't intend to ignore you, but suddenly losing his fondness just makes you feel out of place.

You refuse to act on your feelings though. What will he say if he finds out how needy you are? Perhaps he will deem you too hard to please or even a nuisance… you shake your head at the thought, returning to watching him play with the bunny.

"Oh, aren't you the cutest~" Floyd buries his face into the soft white fur, giggling at himself. At your silence he turns to you, only to find you seemingly troubled as your eyebrows knit together. 

"Y/N~" he calls out and pouts when there's no response. He scoots over to you and pokes your face, only then is he successful in getting your attention. 

"Is something wrong?" he asks, resting his jaw on his palm with an interested shine in his eyes. 

"Nothing," you shake your head, nudging your head towards the rabbit. "Why don't you go and spend some more time with it? I'm sure it's getting lonely,"

Floyd is quiet for a while, face blank as the gears in his head work. After a moment, he breaks into a small smile. "I only left for a minute, it's not going to get lonely that easily…" you gulp at his words that suddenly seem to carry a hidden meaning. "What about you? Are you feeling deserted, somehow? Or better! Is someone jealous~?"

"I'm not," you quickly retort. Floyd laughs, throwing his head back carefreely. "I think you are though? Are you sad because I haven't been giving you love lately?"

You grunt, unwilling to answer any more of his questions which he already has the answers to. Seeing your annoyed expression, he decides to drop his teasing. "Alright~ I will show you more love, alright?" he wraps you in his arms, bringing you close to his chest and swaying you from side to side. You're not going to admit it, but you've missed this.

"Next time you want hugs and kisses, you only need to ask~" he says in a sing-songy voice, chuckling as you denies ever having such desires.

[regretthatsme]

The Doe - Harry Potter x fem!reader

A/n: Harry's second child is named Arthur Remus in this. Albus Severus is a god awful name about two god awful people.

Harry was quickly running to the seventh floor. He was running late for class.

You see, Harry was a teacher. An illegal one, maybe. But, a teacher nonetheless. He was certainly a better teacher than toad-face.

Today, Harry was going to teach a very important lesson. Today was the day where the students would learn expecto-patronum.

He was watching the students file into the Room of Requirements. The excited chatter of teenagers filled the empty room.

"Alright. Alright!" Said Harry, immediately silencing any conversation. "Today, we will be learning the patronus charm. It is one of the most difficult spells to learn, so don't be discouraged if you don't get it on your first try."

Harry did the demonstration of the spell, a bright white stag erupting from the end of his wand.

"Think of your happiest memory. Allow it to fill you up." He said while circling around the room. "A full body patronus is the most difficult to produce."

He was getting lost in the magic and pure joy that echoed across the room, and that's when he saw it.

A glittering silver doe standing right in front of him. Some students stopped to stare at the marvel aswell. Harry's patronus seemed to notice, and it began to walk towards the doe. The stag bowed his head. The doe reciprocated, only to scamper off seconds later with the stag following suit.

Harry stood in awe for a few moments. He tried to think back to his teachings, but his mind kept going back to that damn doe.

And that one class became two. Then three. Then the week.

One month.

It's been one month. And that's when he told Ron.

"I don't know, Ron. I can't stop thinking about it. It keeps coming back. And I tried to ignore it, but then it comes back stronger than ever before." Harry expressed to his friend.

"I don't know what to tell you mate." Said Ron as he bit into a chocolate frog.

"I know... it's just... I feel... something."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know! Just.... will I ever find her?"

Ron looked at his friend. Harry was hunched over with sullen eyes. He was deep in thought. He's serious, Ron thought.

"Cheer up, mate. I'm sure you will find her again."

Harry got up from his bed and started pacing. "What if I don't? I saw something incredible. Indescribable even... I found my soulmate, Ron!" Harry was almost shouting in frustration.

"Relax! It's not my fault. Stop screaming at me!" Ron told Harry. Harry began to take deep breaths and sat back on his mattress.

"I've never felt this way about anyone before. I've never had someone to love, you know? I don't want them to slip away like everyone else."

"Hey, not everyone has slipped away. You still have me and Hermione!"

Harry chuckled. "Thank you for listening. I know it's weird to talk about sappy stuff with me."

"Hey. If you can't talk to your friend about your soulmate, what good are they?"

-*-*-*-

Harry prepared for the next lesson, this week focusing on protego. The library was quite empty, only a few second years and one other fifth year.

That fifth year in question is a certain Y/N L/N. She was.... wow. She was one of the most beautiful people in her year. Her H/C hair was so lush and thick and shined in the sun. It shined almost as much as her eyes, which captivated whoever looked into them.

But it's not just her looks that captured the hearts of many, it was also her mind. Her brilliant mind. She could answer any question in the blink of an eye. She could pass any test with flying colors. But, she was creative and oh so kind. More kind than anybody Harry had ever met. Just being in her presence was enough to brighten anyone's day.

Certainly enough to lighten mine, thought Harry.

"Hello, Harry." Y/N said. She had moved to sit across from him.

"U-um. Hello, Y/N." Harry studdard.

"Did you need me? You were looking at me so I thought you might need help."

"Oh. Um-no. It's nothing. Don't worry."

"Well, alright. Just out of curiosity, what are you researching."

Harry looked down to his roll of parchment. "Protego. I'm going to teach it next class."

"That good. It's important to be able to protect yourself. Be sure to discuss protego maxima. It protects against even stronger spells. Seems quite important for an 'army'."

"Of course. Thank you for the recommendation"

Y/N leaned closer to Harry till her lips brushed against his ear. "I'm very excited about our next class." She pulled away, winked, and walked away.

Harry's heart couldn't stop beating. He was panting, yet felt like he couldn't breath. No. No. No. No. I have a soulmate. I can't fall in love with someone else, thought Harry.

-*-*-*-

Harry wondered aimlessly down the corridors under his invisibility cloak. The night was peaceful. Just him and his thoughts, no interruptions. Until he heard a choked sob. It sounded like it came from a first year. What did the toad do the poor first year.

He rounded the corner to see Y/N comforting a young Slytherin girl. "I know. I know, Amelia." The Slytherin was still sobbing hard as ever, no matter how much consolidation she recieved. "Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"

"No. Just be here. Just hug me." Said Amelia. Harry could see a tear trickle down Y/N's face.

"You want to see something cool?" Amelia nodded, though it seemed a bit reluctant. "I'm going to cast a spell. Are you ready?" Amelia nodded again, much more vigorously.

"Expecto Patronum."

And there it was.

That damn doe.

That damn doe that haunted him since the day he saw it.

That damn doe that made him rethink so many choices.

That goddamn doe... the love of his life.

He knew that he probably shouldn't do it. He knew that he could be caught if he were to. But, he couldn't help himself. He couldn't fucking help himself.

"Expecto Patronum." Harry whispered.

A stag erupted out of the top of the wand. It immediately ran towards the doe, almost as if he missed her. The stag pranced around both Y/N and doe before bowing down. Just like in the Room of Requirements.

"Can I touch it?" asked Amelia.

"I don't see why not."

She reached up to touch the deer. As soon as she did, Amelia started giggling. Y/N did as well. It felt like pure happiness.

They backed away, and the doe took their place. She bowed down as well. They raised their heads and look into each other's eyes. They kept eye contact as they stepped closer together. Until they came together.

Before long, the deers disappeared.

"I can go back, now." Said Amelia.

"Do you want me to bring you back?" Asked Y/N.

"No thank you." Amelia made her way down the hall. Y/N waited until she couldn't hear the patter of feet.

"Harry. I know you're there. Harry! Where are you?"

Harry took off his cloak before spewing out apologies, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or if I messed up. I couldn't help myself. I should have stopped myself. I knew this was - mmmph!" His rant was cut off by a pair of lips on his.

"Harry, there is nothing to apologize for!" Y/N giggled. Merlin, it sound like music. Harry couldn't help but laugh with her.

"So...."

"So...."

"You're my soulmate then, Y/N?"

"If you would like to call me that, I suppose."

"I would if that's alright with you." Harry places his face in the crook of her neck. Y/N could feel the shit-eating grin on his face. "Would you like to go to Hogsmead on Sunday?"

"Sounds lovely."

-*-*-*-

"James! Wake up!" Y/N tried waking up her son. "Come on. It's your first day of school."

"No. Bed."

"James, if you don't get up, I'm confiscating your broom." Said the boy's mother. It's safe to say that he got ready alarmingly quickly.

Lovely, thought Y/N. She walked downstairs to her two other children eating breakfast. "Good morning, Lily. Good morning, Arthur." She finished each greeting with a kiss on the forehead.

"Good morning, mum!" Said Lily. She was bouncing up and down with excitement, even if she wasn't going to Hogwarts just yet. Arthur stayed silent, however.

"Arthur? You okay? It's your first day at Hogwarts! You should be excited." Said his mother.

"I know. I'm just... nervous." He said, a frown made it's way onto his lips.

"Darling!" Y/N's husband clambered into the room and placed a quick peck to her cheek. He turned to face Arthur. "How are doing? Are you excited?"

"Yes." Arthur faked a smile for the sake of his father.

"Oh gosh! Look at the time! We have to get going or we'll be late!" Said Y/N as she frantically collected her family's belongings.

-*-*-*-

"Dad, what if I am put into Slytherin?" Asked Arthur, about to board the train.

"Arthur Remus Potter. Slytherin isn't a bad house. In fact, it is quite extraordinary. Your mother was almost put in Slytherin for how determined and cunning she was! It would be an honor to have you be in Slytherin. Just as much of an honor as if you would be in Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, or Ravenclaw. We will love you no matter what."

Arthur hugged his father so tightly as tears leaked from his eyes. "I-I don't w-want to l-leave you, Dad. I don't want to leave Mum, either. Or Lily."

Harry pulled back and wiped the tears from his eyes. "I know. But, before you know it, you'll be back home and you'll be sick of us all over again." Harry laughed. He had to laugh. If he didn't, he would cry too.

Satisfied with that response, Arthur left his father's embrace and walked over to his mother, who was watching the whole time.

"I love you so much. I love you to the moon and back." She said, giving one last hug to her children before they boarded the train. They grow up too fast.

"I'll write every day." Said Arthur, waving from his compartment on the train.

"Write us when you get settled in! And be sure to tell what house you are in!" Shouted Harry. The train started to ride away. Harry looked at his children then to his wife. He was and will be forever grateful for the woman standing beside him, who gave him a family, who gave him so much.

And to think it all happened because of a damn doe.

[suchalonelysunflower]

Wedding Bells (l.h)

Pairing: Luke Hemmings x Fem!Reader

Summary: The happiest day of your life is the worst day on Luke’s life. Could there still be a happy ending if he’s not too late?

Warnings: angsty. Language and mentions of alcohol. Slander on the name Phillip (sorry to all the Phills but it’s true, look it up) Some grammar mistakes (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word count: 4.9 k

Author’s note: let me guide you through my thought process: I was writing You Said Forever and accidentally got caught up on the Olivia x Joshua x sabrina drama, that lead me to the Miley x Nick x Selena drama, which lead me to the song Wedding Bells by Nick Jonas. So this is loosely based on that. Remember that Reblogs, Comments, Feedback and Likes are very important and welcomed, you don’t know how much it helps and I love to hear from you guys ❤️ Hope you like it and Happy Reading ✨🦋🌻

My materialist // wanna be part of my tag list?

His head was pounding, loudly.

Every beat sounded like an echo that ran through his whole body. Speaking of his body, goddamn how it hurt, how everything hurts.

His eyelids were closed, eyelashes stuck and tangled with each other, heavy as the sun shined through the window, begging him to get up. His mouth was also dry, he couldn’t figure out if it was because he slept with his mouth open or because he doesn’t remember the last time he drank a drop of water.

He groaned as the pounding in his head continued. A never-ending pain that matched the loud banging on the door.

“Luke! C’mon, we’re going to be late!”

Ashton's voice sounded far away as his mind was not fully awake yet. He didn’t want to be awake yet, maybe not ever again after this day.

If his eyes were awake he would roll them. Couldn’t Ashton understand that he didn’t want to go? He made it fairly obvious for the past few months! He was not going.

Luke hid his head farther in his pillow, trying to avoid any kind of contact with the outside world. But that was almost impossible as soon as he heard Ashton pick on his lock.

That bastard.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to mess with a bloke from the outsides of town?” He said with a teasing tone. Luke knew he was bluffing, his doorknob was messed up since the moment they bought the house, so it was easy to get in if you knew the right tricks with a safety pin - oh the irony of it all.

Luke mumbled something close to a word his mum wouldn’t be proud to hear. But Ashton simply ignored it as he walked towards the windows to open the curtains, letting the sun illuminate the room at its full capacity.

Ashton sighed at the sight of the room. Clothes were thrown out everywhere, the same goes with the hundred liquor and beer bottles and cans that were scattered around the floor. He grabbed the half-empty bottle of vodka that rested on the nightstand and clicked his tongue.

“You bought this yesterday,” He said, totally unimpressed. Luke didn’t answer “C’mon, buddy, up to the shower you go”

Ashton patted Luke’s back, encouraging him to get a move on, but the blonde just brought his sheets over his head and stayed put.

“Luke…”

“Mmnphf” He mumbled.

“What?” Ashton walked to the foot of the bed and grabbed the tall Australian by his legs, pulling him out of his comforter in one swift move that made Luke fall out of the bed with a thud.

“Motherfuck-“ He complained, rubbing on his bumped head, which was still pounding by the way.

“You were saying?” Ashton said with a smirk as he crouched down to be face to face with Luke, the teasing smile quickly fading away because he didn’t like what he saw at all.

The baby blue eyes that once shined with gleam were dull, red, and empty, and probably angry about his interruption. His curly blond was sticking to his forehead and his body language seemed to have given up on keeping him with a straight figure, making him physically close himself up to others.

“I said I’m not going!” His voice was hoarse due to the heavy drinking he’s been doing these past few days. He tried to sound harsh, but Ashton could easily see through his bluff. He was hurting, every part of him.

“Of course you are,” Ashton scoffed.

Luke glared at him “I’m. Not. Going” He said through gritted teeth. The drummer rolled his eyes. He’s had this conversation before and it was always the same speech.

“You are because she wants you there, so you’ll be there” Ashton stated as if that was the only reasonable answer.

Luke closed his eyes, cause he was sure that if he opened them he would punch Ashton in the mouth. Why couldn’t he understand? “I can’t go, Ash”

His voice broke at the end of the pleading, breaking Ashton’s heart in the process. He hated to see him like that; to see him throw away his life so carelessly without asking for or accepting anyone’s help. It’s not like he ignored what was happening, but he was sure this would do good for him; close cycles, help him move on, and that shit. How else could you mend a broken heart?

“And besides,” Luke continued “She doesn’t want me there” The words felt like poison in his mouth, bitter and dry “She invited you guys, you are her friends and I’m just her stupid ex”

That was a lie and he knew that. When the invitations came he made sure to throw his away before he even got to open it. Making the others believe that he wasn’t invited at all. He didn’t even tell them that you were the one who dropped them, him being unlucky enough to answer the door.

“It’s in June,” You said, eyes avoiding him “Hope you can make it”

Whatever words Luke had stuck in his throat stayed there as he swallowed the pain of seeing you standing there, inviting him to see you love someone else. All he could say was “You’ll look beautiful in white”

You practically ran away after that, leaving him alone with the invitations. Just looking at those envelopes hurt more than he could imagine. He knew this day would come eventually, he hoped he would. He just hoped that his name was engraved on paper next to yours.

“Maybe,” Said Ashton with a grin “But if she didn’t want you there then why did she ask me to RSVP for you?” Luke’s eyes widened like plates, he knew Ashton had called his bluff once again “She said you never answer yours so I did it for you. Cause she wants you there, Luke. You were her best friend, too”

Luke groaned and covered his face with his hand “Why did you do that?!” He asked with an exasperated tone, wanting to hate on the drummer but knowing that that was impossible.

“Because you need to go, mate! You can’t leave her hanging like this!”

“And what am I supposed to say?!” He yelled, he was not used to yelling but he was at the ends of his wits ``‘Oh, hey Y/N! A beautiful day isn’t it? Perfect weather to break my heart into a million pieces while you marry another guy and I’m sitting there watching, wishing I was him! I’m happy for you, though I’m really not cause I know it’s been like what? 3 years 5 months and 24 days since we broke up? but I’m still in love with you. Okay have fun?!”’

He grabbed an empty can from the floor and threw it away, hitting the door of his closet. He was beyond furious and frustrated. You were getting married and he can’t do anything to stop it; to stop you.

Ashton sighed, heartbroken by this whole ordeal “You’ve been counting?”

“Ever since that day. It was my greatest mistake and now I’m suffering from it. Karma really is a bitch. Did you know our anniversary is supposed to be in 5 days? And now it’s impossible to ever get her back”

The drummer placed a hand on Luke's shoulder, he wished he could make his pain go away. He’s never seen his friend so heartbroken before and it pained him knowing that there was nothing he could do about it.

“Luke,” He said in a fatherly tone “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. But believe when I tell you she wants you there, she misses you” Luke turned his head towards Ashton, his eyes begging him not to lie “I’m serious, she’s always asking about you but she’s too scared to talk to you thinking that you don’t want to speak to her. She needs you there, man. Not as a bitter ex and to show you she’s moved on, but as a friend. And I know for a fact you can’t say not to her, even when you’re mad”

Luke sighed. Ashton was right. He could never deny you anything, even before you were together and you were just his best friend, you were always his weakness.

He misses you too, every day since you broke up he’s been missing you. And he would be lying if he said he didn’t want to see you at least one last time, given that your last interaction was awkward as hell.

“I can’t go, Ash”

Ashton nodded with a disappointing sigh as he got up from the floor, but before he could walk out the door he heard Luke say “I can’t go because I don’t have a suit!”

Ashton smiled “I got you covered, buddy” And left the room so Luke could take a shower.

*

Ashton’s suit was itchy, but Luke was grateful that he didn’t have to show up in jeans and an old BonJovi shirt.

He was surprised to find out that they were actually on time, although he wouldn’t be surprised if someone told him that Ashton woke him up much earlier than needed to get there on time.

They met with Michael and Calum in the parking lot, they greeted each other and started talking as if Luke’s heart wasn’t about to burst from the anxiety he was feeling.

To show up at a wedding is something; to show up at your ex’s aka the love of your life’s wedding is… unsettling. He understood why his friends didn’t want to make it awkward for him, yet the awkwardness settled at the moment he stepped foot out of the car.

“She’s getting married in a church?” He asked no one in particular.

“Yeah? That’s why we are here, mate” Calum chuckled.

Luke furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. You never wanted to get married in a church or even a chappel. No, if he remembers correctly, your dream wedding was somewhere outdoors; either a park or a forest or even someone’s backyard. You used to say that love was the most beautiful and natural thing in the universe, so it was logical to celebrate something as powerful as a wedding in the eyes of nature, so it all came to be one for love and love can be one for all.

He remembers he laughed at that, not to mock you in any way, but in awe of how beautiful you put it. Everything you said sounded like poetry to him, even if you were just reading a menu in a Chinese restaurant. But now your poetry would belong to someone else, and he only hoped that that someone deserves to hear it.

He doesn’t know the groom, he believes his name was Phill? Or something like that? Ashton always said he was kind of a jerk, but you loved him enough to marry him so maybe he wasn’t that bad. But for Luke he would always be the man that stole you from him.

All three of his friends started walking inside the rustic church and Luke followed, incapable to think about anything else that wasn’t you at that moment.

However, the minute he entered the cold building he knew something was wrong.

The church was filled with people he didn’t know, he assumed they must be from the groom’s side of the family, but he would bet the 35$ Ashton left in his pocket that you didn’t know half of these people either.

You never wanted a big wedding, hell, you didn’t even want a big birthday party, no matter how much Luke insisted on it.

“Those kinds of parties are not for the ones being celebrated!” You told him once “If it was truly important then all you need is your closest friends and your found family. What else is there to love?”

Your words kept repeating themselves inside Luke’s head. What else is there to love? Indeed.

That wasn’t the only thing catching his attention though. With every step he took towards his seat he found out more things out of place, out of you.

For example, the color scheme was terrible and he knows you didn’t pick it, your favorite colors were nowhere to be seen. Then it was the flowers, if there is one thing he never forgot about you were your favorite flowers. You used to fill the house with them saying that they were your little serotonin boosters, he remembers how happy they made you and how one time he nearly bought all the flowers in the shop to surprise you when you were having a bad day. Now he cannot even look at them without thinking of you.

The more steps he took the more flawed this wedding looked. And yes, he knows that sounds bad, especially coming from him. But it was the truth. Not even the music sounded like it would come from you.

The words ‘This is not right’ Kept screaming at the back of his head.

The Y/N he knew would never choose those flowers or those colors or that guest list or that venue, nor the song that was playing over the speakers. She preferred live music over all the rest and, if she would’ve asked, she’d known that all four of them would perform for free on the happiest day of her life, even if it was the crappiest day for him.

If someone were to tell him a year ago that this is how your wedding would look, he would’ve laughed cause this is not like you. This wedding, this… charade of glamour and show.. this wasn’t you. This wasn’t Y/N. And it's supposed to be your day!

He couldn’t understand why you’d choose this? This was so unlike you, unless… unless he never really knew you at all.

And just like that, the sinking feeling of dread came upon him as he tried to figure out who was the person he knew and who are you now? What changed so much to make you lose all that you once were?

What if?

What if he knew how to love you better? He wouldn’t have let you walk away from him. He would’ve fought for you, for the two of you, instead of just giving up like he did.

Luke knew he loved you. Fuck, he still loves you like the first day. And now you are loving somebody else cause he didn’t know how to keep the most beautiful thing he ever had; the most beautiful thing he let die. He messed up, but his biggest fuck up was realizing it and doing nothing about it.

And now it was too late.

“Dude, are you okay?” Michael whispered when he noticed his friend's frown.

Luke nodded, lips pressed together in a thin line “What were you saying?”

Michael smiled with mischief “We were just laughing at how ridiculous Phillip looks. That suit does not suit him at all”

For the first time since he came, he looked over at the altar. Standing there was the so-called Phill you were going to marry. He was talking to his groomsmen and laughing obnoxiously at what seemed like an inappropriate joke. What did you see on that guy?

“Did you know the name Phillip means horse lover?” Said Calum, trying to stiff a laugh with the other two friends.

They were doing their best to keep Luke distracted and he appreciated that. But seeing the groom so unpreoccupied, so chill and uninterested made his blood boil. How could he be so at ease? If it were him, if he had the wonderful chance to marry you, he’d be a ball of anxiety. He’d be wondering just how beautiful you’d look, if you were feeling as nervous as he was, if you were as happy as he was and how he couldn’t wait to marry you… He would do all that because he will know that he is the luckiest man on earth. But that’s not his truth at all.

“I’m going to take a walk”

Neither of them told him that the ceremony was about to start or offered to accompany him. They knew he needed time and they wouldn't pressure him at all. Luke silently thanked them for that.

He walked out of the ceremony hall and started pacing around the halls, quickly getting lost as he tried to ease his mind.

How could he go through this and pretend that he’s okay? He remembered Ashton’s words from this morning and knew that if you wanted him here then he would be here, but that still didn’t make it any easier.

He would go through the ends of the earth for you if you asked him to, but this? This might be the hardest thing he has ever done, second only to let you go.

His curls were getting messy because of all the ruffling he did with his hands. He needed to pull himself together before the ceremony, he needed to seem okay in front of you. He-

The soft cries coming from behind the door caught his attention. They were hushed but they seemed completely broken. Whoever was behind that door must feel just as hopeless as he did.

“Hello?” He said, knocking on the wooden door “Hello, are you okay in there?”

The sniffing sounds stopped “Luke?”

It was quiet, almost like a whisper. But Luke would recognize your voice anywhere, especially after not hearing you say his name for 3 years.

“Y/N?”

The door opened with a click and revealed a supply closet and, inside that supply closet, there was a bride. There you were.

Luke’s breath almost disappeared as you knocked the wind out of his lungs. You looked beautiful. Stunning in your white dress. Magical as your hair was perfectly styled. Breathtaking with your waterproof makeup still intact, although you would look breathtaking without it as well. Ethereal as you looked at him and he realized that all the times that he missed you seemed small at how much he missed you now and how he would miss you all his life.

If there were any other adjectives to describe how you looked, he would take them all out of the dictionary and give them to you in the form of a song. Cause in his eyes there was no other beauty that could compare, that even the sadness in your eyes seemed to compliment your magnificent. And that was something he couldn’t ignore.

Without thinking it twice he took a couple of steps in front of you and cupped your face in his hands, wiping your tears with his thumb as he murmured: “What’s wrong, love?”

Hearing his voice so worried and soft shook something in you, something that you didn’t know you still had but at the same time knew that it would never go away.

More tears started streaming down your eyes as your gaze met his, making you get lost in those baby blue marbles.

“I- I don’t know what I’m doing, Lukey” You confessed in a whisper.

At the sound of his nickname, Luke felt like he could float away in a cloud of happiness. He thought you’ve forgotten. But the look on your face denoted a fear he hoped he’d never got to see again.

Your eyes were puffy red and your cheeks were flushed, not only because of the blush. And your eyes, they were terrified and Luke didn’t know what to do, so he just said.

“You’re getting married today” You didn’t miss the hint of sadness that laced those words. You hoped that could mean something.

You placed your hands on his wrist, holding his hands that were cupping your face and making them stay there. Right now it was the only comfort you got.

“I don’t know if I should-“ You choke out a sob “Luke, I’m scared- I’m so scared”

“Do you love him?” The words pained him, cutting right through his heart. But you and him were here for a reason, and that reason was waiting at the altar.

He secretly prayed that you would say no, that you would beg him to take you away and run away together, maybe elope somewhere far away and not come back to this place ever again.

He saw the hesitation in your eyes and he knew his answer.

“Y/N, I love-“

“There you are!”

Luke closed his eyes in annoyance when he felt his words get stuck in his throat as the stranger’s voice came closer to them. You quickly pulled away from him and that only made his heart break more than it already was.

“We’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Said one of the bridesmaids Luke has never seen before, he assumed that it was from the side of the groom as well, just like everything else “The ceremony is about to start, we need to go now!”

She quickly grabbed you by the wrist and practically draged you to the ceremony hall.

You were desperate. Your pleading eyes searched for Luke, begging for him to do something. But what could he do now? His shocking state left him standing right there with his eyes glued to your figure being dragged away somewhere he didn’t know you wanted to be. It all happened so fast that the only thing he could think of was that this might be the last chance he’s got to see you and all he could do was stare into your pretty eyes cloud with fear and tears.

‘Here comes the bride’ started playing through the speakers of the church and Luke clenched his fists to his side. You hated this song.

He went back to his seat minutes after the ceremony started. His three best friends were looking at him with curiosity and a thousand questions in their minds. They knew the minute that they saw you come in that those tears were not of happiness and, judging by Luke’s hard, emotionless face, he had something to do with it.

Throughout the whole ceremony, Luke couldn’t stop staring at you. It was eating him inside the fact that he knew you didn’t want this and yet you were still going through it. He couldn’t understand why. He is losing you right before his eyes and he couldn’t take that.

He knew that the moment you say ‘I do’ would be the moment his soul would die forever.

“Luke?”

He knew something was wrong. He knew it the moment he parked the car in a freaking church and your eyes filled with tears just confirmed it to him.

“Luke, are you okay?” Michael whispered once again, concerned about the white knuckles on his best friend’s fists.

He loves you. He loves you so fucking much and he can’t let you do this.

He won’t let you do this.

“If anyone can show just cause why this couple cannot lawfully be joined together in matrimony, let them speak now or forever hold their peace"

“Fuck it,” Luke said before standing up.

In one second, all eyes were on him. He could feel the stares of strangers, the judgy whispers of the families, and even the shit-eating grins from his best friends sitting beside him. But all his attention was on you. On you and your relieved face.

“I object to this union,” He said in a firm voice that overshadowed the murmurs, leaving everyone completely quiet.

He could see your eyes clouding with tears and the way your lips seemed to be saying his name in one breath. That was all he needed to keep going.

Luke took a few steps to the side, walking until he ended up in the middle of the aisle, looking at you and only you.

“Y/N, I love you,” He said, earning a few gasps from the public “I love you since the day I met you, the day I first asked you to be mine, and even on the day I lost you. I was an idiot who didn’t know how to take care of the magic we created and decided that it was best to let it go before it went out of hand. But you, you always believed in magic; you always believed in me and, Y/N that’s why I’m here telling you that I am still in love with you. And that you are making a big mistake here, just like I did when I lost you. But we are still on time to make everything right.

This, however, is not right and you know it. Where are you in all of this? Do they know your favorite flowers or that your favorite song includes a swear word? Do they know the way you take your coffee or your favorite colors? Do they know how much you love to dance, especially when no one is watching?

I know you, baby. I know you enough to say with certainty that this is not what you wanted. I know how much you love rain and how you wish time would stop every time you take a shower so it could last longer. I know that you cry during every movie, even if they have a happy ending because you always believed in them. I know you never want to break someone’s heart so you are willing to take the hurt as long as the other person is okay. I know that my biggest regret is losing you, cause you are the only thing I got right in my life.

You are life, fire, spark, patience, and love. You are the kindest person on earth and you deserve so much more than this world could give. No one deserves you, darling but I would spend the rest of my days trying to.

I’m in love with you Y/N L/N. Please, don’t- don’t marry him”

Luke’s eyes were watery as he swallowed down a sob on the last part of his speech. His eyes never left yours for a second as his body visibly shook with anxiety and fear, waiting for your answer.

You, on the other hand, were smiling through the tears “I love you too, Luke” You said loud enough for all to hear, and Luke felt like he could breathe again, a smile growing wide as he let a few tears roll down his eyes.

You ran down the aisle to his arms, fully sinking into them as you wrapped your arms around his waist. Luke’s chuckle reverberated through his chest as he picked you up and spun you around in your wedding dress, finally putting you down and looking right into your eyes, now clouded with happy tears.

“I told you you were going to look beautiful in white”

He kissed you with all the love he had in his heart. It was honest, pure, and filled with happiness as the two lovers finally reunite, making the entire church erupted in cheers.

The groom, however, didn't share that excitement. He was fuming red as he started walking towards Luke with his groomsmen, calling you derogatory names as he was ready to start a fight.

“Oh, fuck no” Said Calum, walking down to the middle of the aisle along side Ashton and Michael, creating a safe distance between the two of you and the fight that was about to start. Phillip was not happy, but before he could give the first punch Calum’s fist was already on his face, making him tumble back with a bloody nose “Take that horse lover!”

All hell broke loose in the middle of church as punches were thrown carelessly. The three Australians seemed to be winning the fight with ease, beating the asses of your now ex-fiancé and his friends.

The public was too distracted by the fight to notice how you walked away from the aisle as you cheered on your friends to kick their kneecaps. Luke took your hand and pulled you towards him, still laughing as he began tugging on it for you to follow, and so you did.

You ran as fast as you could, leaving everyone behind without a second thought. The only thing in your mind being the love you had for each other and how you won’t take it for granted this time.

“I love you,” He said as you reached the car, placing his hands at the side of your waist and leaning in for a kiss filled with adrenaline “I fucking love you, Y/N”

You wrapped your hands around his neck and kissed him back with all the love you kept from him during all these years “I love you too, Luke. We are meant for forever”

“Forever and beyond”

It was a crazy sight from every point of view. The man with the messy hair and the girl in a wedding dress kissing in the middle of a church parking lot while the guests all peered from the entrance of the building, four of them bleeding through their nose with tears in their black eyes, and three of them with their clothes all messed up and sweaty, smiling triumphantly as they watched their friends live their love again.

With one last kiss, Luke helped you get inside the car and he quickly got to the other side, starting the engine just in time to hear the bells chime. Marking the start of your real happily ever after with the love of your life.

.

Tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @mystic-232 @talksoprettyjjx @theshyspy @sarcasticallywitty15 @hoodhoran @flaneurcth @notinthesameguey @myloverboyash

[msmarvelouswinchester]

Irresistibly Yours

Chapter 1 - The Elevator

Summary - Y/N Y/L/N moves to NYC in hopes for a fresh start after a nasty breakup. There she meets her neighbor, the cynical lawyer, Dean Winchester. A love-hate relationship starts evolving between them ever since they met in the elevator one morning but a desperate situation and a string of lies forces the two friendly rivals to go on a date or rather a fake date. Will sparks fly between them when Dean gets to know Y/N real and up close? Will Y/N finally find her Prince Charming in the grumpy, workaholic, divorce lawyer?

Pairing - Lawyer!Dean Winchester x Y/N

Warning - None for this chapter

Word Count - 1981

Square Filled - Moodboard ( @girl-next-door-writes )

A/N - *Cracks knuckles* Ta-daaaa! The series is finally here it's already Sunday where I live and I was dying to share this! It's going to be a wild ride ahead. So buckle up your seatbelts and enjoy the ride!

This is also my submission to @flamencodiva's Writing Challenge and @deanwanddamons' 2K Blogiversary challenge (congratulations on your milestone, Sian). Prompts are in bold.

Beta'd by @miss-nerd95 (Thanks again, hon❤️)

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist Masterlist

Throwing her bag over the table, Y/N slumped down on the couch, letting out a sigh. The pressure from the higher-ups, consistent criticism of your work and impending deadlines were weighing heavily on her shoulders and she was in a desperate need of a break.

She looked over to the stack of papers on the table that now lay abandoned. The rejection from the publishing company was the fucking cherry on top. Y/N buried her face in her hands in frustration as she was almost on the verge of a mental breakdown, a few angry tears rolling down her cheeks. Letting her head fall back, she swiped away those angry tears, letting out a long sigh of defeat.

“Why can't I ever do anything right?” She mumbled, her breathing heavy as she bit down on her trembling lips.

In her late twenties, after a nasty break up, Y/N had a marvellous thought that she needed a fresh start. So she had left her corporate job back in Atlanta and moved to New York to pursue her dreams of becoming a writer. She had secured a good position in one of the leading magazine companies and started to write the novel that she had been planning since she was seventeen, but lately nothing seemed to work out the way she wanted. Sure, she was getting paid well but it wasn't enough compared to how much she had to deal with her shitty coworkers and bosses. She had now lost every motivation to continue her novel after the first draft got rejected by the publishing companies enough times to make her feel insecure about her writing.

“Why can't my life just be a goddamn Hallmark movie?” Y/N muttered under her breath as she picked up a cushion and covered your face, letting out a muffled scream.

Her wallowing time was interrupted by the blaring noise of her phone in the awfully quiet apartment, making her nearly jump out of her skin. Another frustrated groan left her lips as she saw the person calling her.

“I told you to stop calling me, for god's sake!” Y/N yelled into her phone.

“Come on, Y/N. One dinner.” The man on the other end pestered. “You know, at work people talk about how uptight you are. Let yourself go, once in a while.”

“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn. Michael- I'm not interested. I told you a hundred times before and I'll say it again. Leave. Me. Alone!” She said. The line on the other side went quiet.

“Bitch.” She heard him say before the call disconnected.

“Fuck off!” She yelled again, knowing fully well he couldn't have heard her now. Y/N finally decided to put him in her blocklist because Michael didn't seem like he was gonna stop otherwise.

It wasn't that she had a stick up her ass for not wanting to go on a dinner date with her coworker. Honestly, she missed the whole first date experience, but Michael was definitely not the guy for her, or for any other girls out there in her opinion. He threw around sexist comments around the office like it was some cool shit and chivalry was definitely dead for him.

Y/N finally got up from her seat, shoulders still tense from the day's events. Opening the refrigerator, she stood there gawking at the leftovers in it.

“Cold pizza….spaghetti….chocolate brownies….” She looked at your dinner options, weighing each one's pros and cons before settling on - “Brownies it is.”

Taking out the chocolate confection , she returned to the couch. She put on Netflix as she browsed through it's movie section.

“Stupid Prince Charming-” she scoffed, biting into the delicious the chocolate chip brownie in hand. Grumbling at the unrealistic standards of Netflix rom coms, she still pressed the play on the film The Proposal.

Finishing her 'dinner', Y/N picked up the comforter, nestling deep into her couch as she watched the coldhearted Margaret fall head over heels for her assistant, the exhaustion kicked in.

“Fuck!”

And that's how the next morning started as Y/N woke up one hour later than usual. She had fallen into a deep sleep on her couch before Andrew even got to propose to Margaret, which was not exactly the wisest decision as the next morning, her neck and back screaming in pain.

The girl knew she was going to be late to work today by the time she had left the house. Hair up in a messy bun, a bag hanging from her shoulder, she tried to smoothen down the creases on her skirt before rushing towards the elevator in high heels.

“Hold the door!” She yelled at the man inside as soon as the door started to close. She sprinted towards the elevator as the man kept looking at her, an annoyed look evident on his face when he slammed the button, taking a step forward to keep the door from closing.

“Thank you!” Y/N huffed, as she got in the elevator. The man chose to remain silent and he pressed the ground button on the elevator. “I am so screwed today! I have never been this late to work!” She babbled on but the man still maintained the stoic look on his face. Y/N slightly turned to face the man of stone. He was probably in his thirties, his dirty blonde hair, sparkling green eyes and light stubble on his cheeks went very well with the crisp grey suit he was wearing. One hand in his pocket, he just stood there, jaw clenched together, eyes focused on the shut doors.

“You know, I should have set the alarm! Stupid-”

“Do you ever shut up?” The man finally spoke, a look of disinterest passing his face.

“Wow. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed, I guess.” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Excuse me?” His voice was hard.

“I said, someone woke up-”

“I heard what you said. I am just not interested in listening to your morning fuck-up story.” He scoffed.

“Woah, okay.” She widened her eyes at his disrespectful comment, “I just-” The elevator reached the ground floor of their apartment building and the doors opened with a ‘ding’.

“I think you don't want to waste anymore time talking since you're already running late.” Y/N gasped slightly at the audacity of the man. “Have a good day, Miss L/N.” The man wished before moving out of the confined space as Y/N narrowed her eyes at him and wondered how he knew her name.

“Have a good day as well, Mr….” She trailed off as she got out of the vator as well.

“Dean Winchester.” He said as he walked away, never once looking back as Y/N stood there, bewildered at what just happened.

Hands balled up into fists in apprehension, Y/N inhaled audibly, as she stood on the other side of the door. She was late to the meeting by half an hour, twenty-four minutes to be precise and nothing annoyed her boss more than tardiness.

“Y/N, it's a pleasure that you finally graced this meeting with your presence on this fine morning.” Abaddon’s words laced with acute sarcasm made it quite clear that Y/N was doomed when she entered the room. The remaining four pairs of eyes in the room were zeroed in on her, as she abashedly took a seat at the far-end of the table. She couldn't risk her job because of her smartass mouth and she was already on thin ice, so she kept quiet and let Abaddon carry on with the meeting cause even Cruella De Vil would be hiding her face in shame if she ever met Abaddon. She was an Umbridge before her coffee and a Regina George after drinking her coffee. There was no way she was going to spare the poor girl today.

“As I was pointing out, our sales have gone down in recent months quite drastically. Readers are saying the contents are not relatable or entertaining enough….”

A yawn threatened to leave Y/N as she listened to Abaddon go on about the poor performance of the company, her mind preoccupied by a certain green-eyed man. She had never seen Dean in the building before this morning. He was annoyingly good looking and rude and Y/N couldn't seem to get rid of the image of him looking dapper in that grey suit. She was barely able to focus on what Abaddon was saying.

With Dean Winchester still running through her mind, Y/N trudged back to her small cubicle after the painfully hour long meeting.

Plopping down on the chair, covering her face with her hands, she exclaimed, “I need coffee!”

“Thank me later.” She turned her head to Meg as she pushed a hot cup of coffee towards her before going back to her own cubicle.

“Black, just like my heart.” She said before inhaling the strong smell of the drink. Taking a little sip, she let out a sigh of content. “Jesus, I needed this badly.”

“Yeah, you look like shit,” Meg chuckled, earning a glare from her friend. “Did you even take a look at the mirror today? Honestly, I am not even exaggerating, I-”

“Meg, I’ll forever be grateful to you for this cup of coffee, but please stop talking.” Y/N groaned loudly.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Michael walking towards her and put on headphones and turning the volume up, trying to look busy. “Heads up, incoming douchebag.” The brunette said. After the hubbub of the morning and the shitshow of a meeting, Michael was the last person Y/N wanted to see.

“Morning, Y/N.” The smug smile on his face made her cringe. This had been going on for a month now. She thought after last night, Michael would finally back down, but apparently she was very wrong. “My messages don't seem to get through anymore.”

“She blocked you. God, take a hint.” Meg muttered.

“She's right. It's ‘cause you can’t seem to take no for an answer.” Y/N huffed.

“One dinner. Just one.”

“No.”

“She said no. Isn't that enough?” Meg jumped to her friend’s rescue when she saw her fumbling and getting uncomfortable. Michael inched towards Y/N anyway, completely ignoring his colleague’s comment, a smirk evident on his face.

“Y/N, don't be so uptight. What harm does a single dinner gonna do?” He asked.

“It’ll be cheating. I have a boyfriend.” Y/N blurted out, making Meg’s eyes go wide, but it actually seemed to work as Michael moved away from her.

“A boyfriend?”

“Yeah. We have been going out for a while now.” The said man frowned as he thought the words over before leaving her space with a little nod of his head. Maybe it worked on him without any hassle, but she knew this lie would come back to bite her in the ass if the whole office got to know about it. Oh, and they would know since turning around, Y/N saw Ruby staring at her, a grin appearing on her face as she took in all the juicy gossip. The lie was now gonna spread like wildfire.

“Spill.” Y/N turned to look at her friend who stood there, hands folded, eyes wide, brows raised in utter disbelief. She puckered her lips as she waited on Y/N to explain who just frowned in reply. “Well? What happened? I want all the details, Y/N!”

“Oh come on, L/N. Share the deets.” Ruby snickered. “Who's the man that actually managed to capture your heart?”

“Dean Winchester.” The name tumbled out of her lips so easily and that was how she knew she was screwed.

Chapter 2

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[beelspillowpet]

Hi hi so this has been in my head since this morning, how would the brothers react with mc giving them a surprise massage, like they suddenly barge into their room and just massage them since mc saw that they've been more stressed then usual.

🙊

Sorry it took me so long to get to this! I’ve been trying to catch up on my content starting today!!

I myself am a big fan of physical affection, even if it’s not intimate. So randomly getting massages sounds adorable... <3

MC Gives Surprise Massages!

Lucifer

Oh god does he need it. He sits up at his desk all day, working on as much paperwork as he can before he crashes. And that’s if nothing else happens for that day. You better believe his back is suffering.

He has a habit of leaning forward in his chair too much. He hates it, but his posture is awful. Which results in pain in his upper back, shoulders, and mid back, all along the spine.

You would be doing him a massage favor by taking care of any of those. Let’s say for the sake of platonic behavior, you’re merely rubbing his shoulders in circles while he works. You don’t require conversation. You just want him to not tense up as much.

He’s much more relaxed and his posture is better by the end of it. He mutters a soft ‘thank you’ to you as you exit out the door. He doesn’t mind when you do this; it’s the exact opposite really. He adores that you’re simply just trying to help him relax since he’s been so stressed and tense lately.

Mammon

He probably isn’t tense? But he’s for sure stressed. I mean he’s a trouble maker, and it’s sort of scary being in trouble when lucifer is breathing down your neck. That and various other things like school and work, and feeding his constant greed, and yeah. A massage sounds nice.

Truth be told, even just sitting with him is grand, because he feels the intensity in his body melting away at the sight of you. He’s down bad, for sure.

You come to him when he’s stressing over homework, to be exact. He’s about to throw in the towel before you barge in, startling him. You don’t even speak, you just go and start rubbing his shoulders. He’s almost like putty in your hands.

He almost doesn’t want to continue. He’s so at ease under your touch, but he’s also questioning what you want. Why are ya’ botherin’ me, MC!? Just ignore him; he’s loving it, deep down inside.

Leviathan

AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH! STOOOOOPPPPPPP!! Dooooon’t touch meeee!!! QoQ

He’s tense as hell. His posture is probably the worst out of all of his brothers. It doesn’t help that he sleeps in a bathtub either.  When you barge in his room he’s sputtering and nearly screaming. Wh- HENRY!? You forgot to use the password!!!

You actually have to tell him to sit still. Otherwise he will not. He still sort of squirms and cries under your touch, though. Admittedly, he’s never really gotten a massage before. Go figure. So imagine his shock at how much better he feels after the fact.

He doesn’t really say anything at first. A soft little hum of appreciation. Sometimes when you barge in to do that again, he just lays back and lets you, while he plays his game. He still will never get used to your touch, but he enjoys it nonetheless.

Satan

His posture is actually pretty good. He sits up straight in his seat while he reads. However, all that anger deep inside of him makes his body tense, and that leads to discomfort. Mostly in his shoulders and face.

He’s a bit irritated at how you barged into his room like that. Like, couldn’t you just fucking knock like everyone else? He’s about to protest, but your hands are already on his shoulders, working their magic.

He leans into your touch, still questioning what you’re doing, but he’s smart. If all those books in his room aren’t proof enough of it. He relaxes into your touch, eyes still scanning the page, but not really reading.

He adores you, secretly. You’re so kind him. You’ve taught him what love feels like, and there aren’t enough words in the world to describe how grateful he is to you. So at the very least, he can stay put and allow you to massage him. He’s happy.

Asmodeus

Absolutely not stressed about a goddamn thing in the world. His beauty and perfection beats all.

Would absolutely NEVER turn down an offer of a massage from you. A full body massage is most likely what he’ll ask for. He’ll even guide you through it if you need him to.

His favorite is when you come in while he’s taking care of his skincare routine. Roll up your pant legs and sit on the edge of the tub while you massage him. Hell, get naked in the tub and massage him that way!

Whatever you decide to do, he is very keen on telling you he loves and appreciates it. Did you honestly expect anything less from your favorite overly affectionate demon man!?

Beelzebub

Nothing beats a massage. Maybe except for food. But still, a massage from MC? He wouldn’t ever dream of missing out on that.

He’s probably in the kitchen eating when you barge in. Without a word to him, you circle around his seat and your hands are on his broad shoulders. He’s still eating happily, but now he just wants to share his food with you. Why are you giving him a massage? :)

He’s not tense or anything. He’s almost too relaxed. Truthfully, if you wanted to work some tenseness out of his body, you’d probably have a better job working on his legs or feet. He’s used to being on them a lot, but that’s exactly the problem.

He stretches before and after working out. But still, that doesn’t solve everything. You’re better off catching him a little after a workout. That’s when he’s extremely sore and doesn’t like moving.

Belphegor

A massage is the perfect way to get him to sleep. Especially if he’s having trouble doing so. He’s not really a fan of you busting down the door for it, though, but he won’t complain for long.

Like Beel, he’s almost too relaxed. It makes sense for him though. You have to be relaxed to be able to sleep well, right? All his problems must roll off his shoulders so easily.

Instead of trying to get him to relax, it’s more a method of getting him to sleep. It works like a charm every single time, and before long he’s sleeping softly. He more so enjoys the headpats than anything else, but who is he to direct you? By all means.

He’ll likely become addicted to them. Hey MC, I was thinking... could you give me another massage? Please? :) I wouldn’t ask anyone else but you. You’re so good at it! He’s spoiled. He’s spoiled and you love him for it.

[razrbladekiss]

TYRANTS | Chapter Eight - Angels Or Devils

WORD COUNT: 6.3k

WARNINGS: mentions of death, grief, tig, usual SOA shit

MASTERLIST

Irked, Chibs stuffed his cellphone into the pocket of his cut with a prolonged fuck to accompany the squelch of glass against leather.

He couldn’t get a firm grip on anything this morning.

Jax was at large, Isla and Tig had rolled onto the lot together looking much, much too comfortable, and Gemma was chewing every goddamn soul’s ear off about her son.

To say that he wanted the day to be over—before it had even commenced—was the understatement of the fucking year.

“Where the hell is he?” Clay barked from the front of the garage, turning to eye Isla directly. “You sure you haven’t seen him?”

“If I knew where he was, I would’ve told you by now.” Her retort was just as curt, prompting Tig to tense in his spot beside her.

He twined his hand around her bicep in order to calm her, but it was no use.

“Well somebody must know where he is—“

“You tried callin’ Tara?” Chibs cut the president off, hoping he’d be able to take some of the heat off of his daughter—the one that seemed to get all of Clay’s Jax-fueled frustrations launched atop her these days.

He just glared at the Scot.

“I can swing by his place? Make sure he ain’t there?” Tig offered.

“He isn’t. Wendy would’ve said.”

“Alright,” the sergeant smacked his lips together. “We’re gonna have to go without him, then.”

Isla hummed, agreeing with Tig.

That forced a vexed snarl from Clay, and she wanted to throttle him for being so fucking haughty today.

“What? He has a point. If we wait around for him, then we’re gonna be late and the other Sons will get to the cemetery before us. Jax knows where we’re going, and what time this fucking funeral starts, so just trust that he’ll be there!”

Her outburst was completely uncharacteristic. It was brash and loud, and Clay realized that her emotions were running a hell of a lot higher today than what they usually would have, so he allowed it to pass.

He cut her some slack because that was what she needed. Isla needed to blow off some steam, to raise her voice and yell out her frustrations because she would’ve let them bubble over, otherwise.

Plus, unbeknownst to him, she had started to take the Mirtazapine that had been prescribed to her, and she still didn’t know how to feel about it.

It was odd. Everything about today, was just fucking odd.

“Kids right.” The rasped acknowledgment came from Happy this time, nodding in her direction with that signature stoic expression he was known to host. “Jax wouldn’t miss this.”

“Alright.” Clay waved a hand tersely before gesturing to the sea of Harley-Davidsons parked side-by-side. “You heard ‘em. Let’s go.”

Tig grabbed at her hand as she went to slip away—exactly like she did to him last night—and pulled her toward him.

The moment didn’t go unnoticed by Clay and her father as they mounted their bikes, sharing the same look that’d been meshed with confusion and concern.

“You good now?”

She nodded, using her pointer finger to twist the crucifix that was sat against her neck, feeling a foreign heat prickle against her cheeks because all eyes were on them.

After turning up together today, people had their suspicions, too.

And those suspicions were mostly held by Chibs and the pres, but it was partly unrest because they both knew what Tig had done—though, Chibs wasn’t officially privy to Clay pulling the strings.

He would be, though. In time, he would find out for himself.

“Gemma and Wendy are heading out in the SUV. Are you going too?” He squinted underneath the sun, pulling his sunglasses from the neck of his shirt.

“I am.” Isla smiled, squeezing Tig’s hand. “Ride safe.”

She stood straight—not having to shift onto her toes because her heels provided some more height—and pressed a dulcet kiss to his cheek.

“Please don’t get into another fight today.” She expressed sadly, lightly ghosting her fingertips over the bruise sitting uncomfortably against his cheekbone. “I don’t think I have it in me to take care of you again.”

“I can’t make any promises.” Her lips curled upward, expressing some sort of smile—though, what with the forthcoming event, she didn’t feel too good about it.

But she remained silent, after that.

Isla got into the car without saying a single word.

The lull was of course grim, but stillness was what the three women needed. It was good for them to sit in complete silence—the only sound coming from the din of the car engine and outside of the vehicle—because it allowed them space to think.

She needed to collect her thoughts this morning, especially after what she had learned last night. Isla didn’t want to think that Jax would have flipped on Tig like that, but it was Jax.

He was unpredictable.

Never once had she felt a sense of outrage that she wasn’t sure how to quell whenever thinking of her best friend, but she was beginning to understand just why Clay was so pissed at his rashness lately.

Even if he was acting on instinct—using his conscience to rule his decisions—Jax was still acting recklessly. His desire to do the morally sound thing outweighed the need that his club had for him to carry out the act that would result in the greater good.

And he was right to stop Tig from pulling the trigger on that girl, but Isla was wary of how he had decided to handle it.

“You didn’t call me last night.” Gemma whispered as the car pulled up to the cemetery gates. “You said that you’d call me.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Genuinely, she told her. “When I got in I just went straight to bed, but then Tig turned up at my place and he needed my help, and then—“

“You let him stay.” She finished Isla’s sentence with a hum, providing her with an unusually somber glance. “If there’s anything going on between the two of you, then it’s okay—“

“There isn’t.” Isla shot her down, impatiently waiting for the all-clear to leave the vehicle. “He got hurt last night, needed patching up and didn’t wanna go to the clubhouse in case he saw Jax again, and so he came to me. And, because I’m nice, I let him stay the night.”

“Why wouldn’t he wanna see Jax?”

Wendy’s qualm came unexpectedly. She hadn’t thought that the blonde was listening to the little back and forth.

“Because he was the reason that Tig needed his face fixed.” She spat bitterly when Wendy just blinked at her, hoping to God that they’d be able to get outside soon.

Her irritation with the VP was palpable, and Gemma couldn’t help wondering whether Jax’s stunt had a part to play in why she was so galled when his name was brought up before they left the garage.

Regardless, Isla was getting along with it today. For the sake of Opie and his kids, she was putting her hostility aside and paying her respects to Donna the way that she had always been taught to.

“Woah, what a turn out.” Her admiration for the Sons grew with every single member—every Nomad—that she saw riding along the winding road.

Isla moved between Chibs and Tig, holding tightly onto her father’s hand as they walked toward Donna’s casket.

“Still no Jax.” Almost relieved, Tig noted. “Wonder if he’s gonna ride over with Tacoma.”

“Doubt it.” The Scot added. “He woulda followed us. Dunno where the fuck he’s gotten to.”

“He’ll be here.” She promised hopefully, breaking away from the two men—shaking Chibs off when he held on a little bit tighter, not wanting to let her go.

The black dress she’d thrown on was hardly funeral attire, but the tights hugging her legs underneath the cotton made it a bit better.

Tig watched her pad across the grass and toward Opie, trying to sniff back his own tears at the sight of her taking a long-stemmed blue flower, kissing the petals, and placing it atop the coffin.

It was horrible.

“I’m sorry, Ope.” Isla pressed a kiss to her fingers and ghosted it over the wood, feeling her eyes dampen. “Anything you need—anything at all that you can think of for yourself or your mom or the kids—I’m here. Always.”

He couldn’t quite find the words to thank her, but she knew that he was grateful. Opie didn’t have to say anything for Isla to recognize his appreciation for her, for his family, and for everybody that turned out today.

Jax wasn’t there, though. Not yet.

And, perhaps, Isla being at his side during a time of such harrowing distress was her way of trying to comfort him because his best friend was nowhere to be seen. But she would’ve done it for anybody.

She just wished that it wasn’t Opie.

“I love you…So much.” She whispered through a smile when more people began to filter in, backing away to sit beside Gemma and in front of Tig.

The cool metal of his rings were against her shoulder in an instant, anchoring her back to earth after floating much, much too high above the ground.

She was in a distorted haze, so to speak. Isla’s head wasn’t particularly in the right place today, and it could’ve been down to a multitude of things—but she wanted to simply pin it on her grief.

Chibs saw the way she gnawed into her bottom lip, the way she continually pulled Diane’s crucifix across the golden chain as means of comfort—or, maybe, it was just out of remorse.

He noticed that his daughter—his little girl—peered at Opie’s children sitting beside their grandmother as they said goodbye to the woman that brought them into the world.

He wondered if they understood the weight of it all. They were so young, so impressionable, so innocent, and he saw a lot of Isla in those two kids.

The dull throb of Isla’s heart almost slowed to a halt when the funeral commenced, and Jax was still completely out of sight. Juice held his cut while he stood beside Tara, feeling his chest tighten.

It was difficult to understand just why Jackson Teller didn’t show for such an important moment in Opie’s life.

“I can’t believe him.” Tig hissed out in a whisper, completely ruffled. Isla looked up at the man behind her, holding a dainty hand on top of his. “I can’t fucking believe him.”

He didn’t know what to say. Clay didn’t, either. As he stood beside his Sgt. At Arms and peered down at the disheveled blonde, Clay Morrow struggled to find the words to elucidate his disdain for the lack of action from his step-son.

Donna was family. Opie was family. Family was meant to be there for one another, not purposely ignoring such a pivotal event.

“He’ll be here.” Isla repeated her promise, melting into her space as Tig leant over to kiss the top of her head.

Her eyes glazed over instantaneously, coercing her to turn away before she broke down.

But she leaned backward into his embrace, and watched the ceremony commence.

And it only took a handful of moments for her mood to perk up—as much as it could have under the circumstances—but she was conceivably happier at the sight before her.

“I told you.” She mumbled. She refused to let up her grip on Tig, though, holding onto him firmer now.

It was comfortable. He was comfortable.

“What the fuck…”

Jax looked like hell. Still wearing last night’s clothes—still bloodied and bruised from his scuffle—he sauntered over the grass and made a beeline for Tara.

Isla’s throat hitched.

“Did you do that to him?” She mumbled in reference to the slit in his lip, craning her neck to eye the blue-eyed man.

“Yeah, probably.”

She just shook her head with a tiny smirk, shifting her focus back to the asshole that was taking his sweet fucking time.

It didn’t upset her as much as she thought that it would’ve, watching him go back to her like that. If anything, she was glad that they had managed to reconcile because she made him happy.

But, for a reason unbeknownst to herself, she felt bad for Wendy.

To watch the father of her newborn take his cut from a woman that’d only been back in his life for five minutes, to hold and kiss her in front of everyone, was something she shouldn’t have had to witness today.

They weren’t together, but she knew how that was bound to hurt—to sting and incapacitate her because it was all still so fucking raw.

Poor Wendy.

He took one of the flowers away from the sparse pile, holding it to his lips, and placed it atop Donna’s casket.

Jax glared over his shoulder, shooting the two guilt-ridden men a look that read fury. He made sure that Isla wasn’t looking at him when he did that, though.

He refused to look at her.

And he didn’t stay, either. He paid his respects for all of thirty seconds before stalking away, and leaving the most egregious of tastes on the tip of each tongue.

The funeral flew by, after that.

Before Isla knew it, she was dismounting Tig’s bike outside of T M—again—and stumbling over her heels when she couldn’t quite find her footing. She’d been in a world of her own for the last fifteen minutes.

“You want me to get you a beer?” She asked, handing him her helmet. “Or did you want some of that wine you like?”

He snorted at her taunt, taking it from her. “Beer—but none of that shit Bobby drinks.”

Isla chuckled, backing away from the bike and Tig.

“You want a drink, too?” She asked Clay when he strode over, hands in his pockets.

He nodded, waiting for her to slip out of sight before turning his attention to his Sergeant.

“What’s going on with you two?” Clay asked him accusingly, snatching Tig’s attention from the blonde who was ambling into the clubhouse.

He waved the pres off, lighting a cigarette. “Nothing, man. She’s just been helpin’ me out—“

“That’s what you’re calling it now, huh?”

“That’s what it is.” Tig shrugged, exhaling the smoke from his nostrils. “Y’know what she’s like. She sees someone that needs patchin’ up, and she does it. That’s all.”

Unconvinced, Clay leaned closer to him—striving for the little moment to go unnoticed by those that shrouded the lot. Jax and Tara, for one.

“That’s Chibs’s kid. You be careful.”

“Ain’t nothing to be careful about, brother.” Tig ground his lips together, squinting upward as he rested against his bike. “We’re just friends.”

“You stayed the night with her.”

“Yeah—“

“Twice.”

“Clay—“

“In the same fucking bed!” He snapped, running a hand over his face.

His desire to protect the women in his life—to assert the dominance he had, or his authority—was remarkably overbearing at the best of times.

Isla and Gemma didn’t particularly need to be coddled the way that they’d always been at the hands of Clay Morrow and his club, but they were.

And the thought of his sleaziest, loathsome, savage brother getting closer and closer to that woman churned his stomach. Because he knew what Tig was capable of—what he did—and would be damned if anything were to happen to her at the hands of Tig fucking Trager.

Chibs would kill him, too.

“Nothing happened, nothing’s currently happening, and nothing will happen.” He guaranteed. “Clay, I swear.”

“Alright.” Dubious, the older man responded. “But, if there is, then you be careful. Jax is onto us, and it’s only a matter of time before Isla puts two and two together—‘cuz she ain’t stupid.”

Be careful. Be careful. Be careful.

How about you shut the fuck up?

“I know she isn’t.” Almost irked that Clay would assume he thought that, he retorted. “But she’s got shit going on too, man, I don’t think she’s gonna be focusing on this right now so you don’t gotta worry.”

“Alright.” Clay repeated himself.

He didn’t think that his right-hand was telling him the truth, but he couldn’t exactly do anything about that until an issue arose.

What he did know, though, was that Tig Trager would’ve had some serious hell to pay if he had ignited something with Isla right now.

Or ever, really.

“Keep Jax away from her.” He told Clay, flicking his cigarette to the ground. “She’s pissed at him for what he did to me last night.”

“What’d he do?”

Tig pointed at the cuts on his cheek, grimacing. “She’s fucked off, and if they talk she’s probably gonna throw something at him.”

“Eh. Let her.” Clay waved him off, hastily shutting himself up when he heeded her heels clicking across the gravel toward them. “He needs to be humbled sometimes.”

The rivalry between the two had only intensified since Abel was born and Jax’s priorities shifted from the club.

His family came first. His biological family came first.

And maybe Clay didn’t understand the implications and responsibilities that came along with fatherhood because he’d never had that bestowed upon him, but Jax did.

He knew that he had to provide for his kid, for the one being that was solely dependent on him, and he would never compromise or jeopardize that.

Things weren’t going to be made easy for the man, however.

“Budweiser for you.” Isla smiled, handing a bottle to Tig. She passed one to Clay, holding onto it a little firmer as she offered it to him. “And one for you—but you need to take this, and go see your wife.”

“Why?” Hesitantly, he accepted the alcohol.

Isla shrugged. “She just wants to see you. Seems important.”

“Shit.” Clay hissed, taking a long swig before striding away.

She watched him stamp toward the clubhouse, heeding the change in his mood, and wondered why Gemma was so determined to talk to him at that specific moment.

It could’ve been anything with that woman, really. It could’ve been something so minor, completely insignificant, that Gemma had to get off her chest.

Or it could’ve been something along the lines of elucidating the bone-crushing lament that she held for both her husband and Tig.

Whatever it was, however, Clay wasn’t excited to face her.

“What’d he chew your ear off about?” Isla asked, struggling to open her beer. She sighed, suddenly remembering why she loved her screw-top bottles of wine so much.

“Pass it to me.” Tig took it from her, using his own bottle cap to pop hers off. He chuckled at her grimace, handing it back.

“Thanks.” She groaned, lifting it upward. “So…What did Clay want?”

Budweiser blanketed Tig’s tongue and lips as he pulled the drink away from his mouth, using the back of his hand to rub at the excess.

Quickly, he wondered whether lying to Isla—fabricating the truth and downplaying his superior’s concern—was in his best interest.

But she was perceptive. There was no doubt that she’d realize he was lying to her.

“He thinks that something is going on between us.”

She rolled her eyes, taking a pull.

“What?” A little nervous—on edge, perhaps—Tig asked her. “Did you already know that he felt that way?”

“No.” Instantly, she retorted. “I didn’t know about Clay, but Gemma feels the same. D’ya think they’ve talked?”

“Oh, definitely.” With a small glower, he told her.

They absolutely talked about the two, and that was what worried Tig.

There was nothing wrong with them colluding against the pair, as a rule. He wasn’t offended at the thought, he felt quite honored actually.

But it was the connotation that came alongside those conspiracies. The idea that Tig was only so friendly—so supportive and loving—toward Isla because he wanted one thing from her.

And, really, Tig hadn’t pondered that thought before. Well, not before last night, anyway.

For the first time—possibly ever—sex wasn’t on Tig’s agenda with Isla. Enticing her, breaking her heart, and sending her on her way was not something he wanted.

But Tig was renowned for that, wasn’t he? He was known for being a hapless bachelor. A man whose priorities were neither here nor there.

Everyone just expected that. They saw him with her, and came to that one conclusion.

Maybe Isla expected it a little bit, too. Because she’d known him long enough to understand the kind of man that he was—or had the propensity to be—and she could hardly lie and say that this version of Tig didn’t confuse her.

He’d always been the same with her, though. Perhaps that’d been the difference between every woman that entered and left his life, and Isla Telford.

He wasn’t interested in her. Like that.

“Does that bother you?” With an almost undetectable twinge of hurt, Isla asked.

As if it was a basic instinct, Tig shook his head. “Nah. They talk shit all the time. Stuff like that don’t bother me.”

She nodded, refusing to add anything else. Isla sipped her beer, hoping that the ground would open up and swallow her fucking whole.

There wasn’t a single word in the English language that’d ascribe her feeling at that precise time, but ashamed was possibly the closest she could’ve gotten.

And, still, that was a little bit further off the mark than what she would’ve liked. Because she wasn’t entirely ashamed for reacting the way that she had, more so the way that she fucking felt.

Isla’s heart took a blow when Tig told her that.

For why, though? She wasn’t sure.

It might’ve been the nonchalant expression. The complete colorless response that stirred a foreign emotion within her—striking hard against her chest.

Or, it might’ve been what he had said. It was such a casual proclamation. Something that didn’t mean anything, but everything simultaneously.

She didn’t feel anything for Tig. She didn’t particularly want to feel anything for him, either, but that hurt. A lot.

“Same, to be honest.” She lied, forcing her lips upward in a smile. “Gemma is always on my case about this sorta thing. But I just let it go over my head.”

“Always?”

“Yup. Always.” Isla mentioned around the protruding lump in her throat. “If she’s not talking about me and you—like there is a me and you—she’s talking about me and Jax. And if it isn’t that, she’s bitching about Wendy, or Tara, or just anything she can think of.”

Like there is a me and you.

Tig sniffed a little, nodding. He didn’t want Isla to think that bothered him, but it did. A bit, anyway.

“She’s so overbearing, sometimes.” Genuinely slumped, she stated. Isla leaned against the railing beside Tig’s bike, finally looking at him. “Don’t tell her I said that?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He chuckled, taking another swig. “I’d never purposely get you into shit with your mother—“

“She’s not my mother.” Her eyes rolled. “She acts like it, and I love her like one, but she is not my mother.”

Tig knew. He knew all too well just how Isla felt about that, and he wasn’t exactly sure why he said that to her, today.

Gemma was the best woman she knew and the one that, strangely, brought her all of the comfort and prosperity that she’d craved.

But she wasn’t her mother. She wasn’t close to being Diane, and maybe the comparison between the pair hurt a little. Because Gemma Teller-Morrow was nothing like Diane Telford—and the sooner everybody knew that, the sooner Isla could rest.

“I feel bad talking shit about her. All she’s done is help me.”

“And parent you.” He reminded her, tipping his bottle upward. “She parents all of us, but what I mean is she treats you like a kid sometimes. Jax, too.”

“Yeah. I know.” Peeved, she conceded. “But, what can I do? if I wanna keep her around—keep having her so close to me—then, I guess I’ve gotta make a few sacrifices. And, I mean, it’s not all bad.”

“No?”

“Absolutely not. I’m glad that she’s the woman that took a shine to me. If Luann ended up being the one…”

Tig smirked, sizing her up. “You’d probably be doing porn right now.”

“Exactly.” Without shame—not even feeling slightly bashful at the glance she was receiving—she said. “I don’t think I’d hate doing porn, but I don’t think SAMCRO would be thrilled.”

“Absolutely not. Chibs would kill you, for one.”

“And Gemma.”

“Clay, too.” Tig added, withering at the thought.

“What about you?” A little too bold, she asked.

Though their relationship was of the lighthearted nature, Isla wasn’t certain that the habitual riposte was a thing as of late. His response would probably jar her, she thought.

“I wouldn’t hate it.”

She halted, blushing at his words. Her ears prickled with heat, too.

“It’d be hot.” He shrugged, putting his empty bottle against the ground. “I’m sure Juice would love it, too—“

“Oh, get fucked.” She snorted a laugh, throwing the red cap at his chest as he got to his feet. It bounced off the fabric of his shirt, coercing a chuckle from Tig.

“It was only one time.” He taunted, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “That’s still one more time than most chicks ‘round here.”

“He wasn’t awful.” Isla shrugged. “He knew what he was doing, and I had fun. But, like, he hasn’t got any hair…”

“Hair?” Tig began to gesture downward, chuckling when she grabbed his hands to stop him.

“I don’t mean that. I mean hair on his head, Tig.” She calmed her laughter, letting go of him. “I like to tug on it, I guess.”

It felt somewhat illegal, obtaining this information from her.

He already knew that she was a sex fiend, that she liked it rough, and now that she had some kind of hair-pulling kink.

Tig’s chest tightened. So did his pants.

“Duly noted.” Like usual, he quipped. Tig motioned for Isla to head inside with him when he heeded things heating up between Jax and Tara.

She, as always, made a mental note to grill her friend later. Or, maybe, her friends. Because she and Tara were on that level, now, and she felt that things could’ve sailed smoothly between herself and the doctor.

Isla just hoped that she’d open up to her.

“Are you gonna talk to him?” He asked, reading her fucking mind. “I know that you two talk a lot.”

“Probably.” Her shrug was insouciant. “But I’ll leave it a while, I think. Leave the dust to settle over before I approach either one of them.”

Tig’s heart began to thrash. It battered viciously within the constraints of his chest, thumping at an unsteady rhythm the more Isla babbled on as they neared the clubhouse.

It was maiming him, having to keep this to himself.

He knew that concealing it—the weight of it all—was for the best. It’d guarantee peace and conformity within the club and Isla’s life, but it was also a crippling guilt that not even Tig was sure he’d be able to hold forever.

Clay was heartless, though. The nefarious leader hadn’t a single problem with lying through his fucking teeth, and Tig was more than aware that Clay would continue the charade if and when he decided that he could no longer.

He supposed he could thank him for that.

But, then again, he was also the reason that Tig Trager had found himself tangled within yet another web of lethal falsehoods. Thanking Clay was the very last thing that he wanted to do.

“Oh, shit.” Isla stated through partially gritted teeth. She gestured to her father and Happy’s scorned glares. “Why do I keep getting this fucking look from everyone?”

“It’s not you. It’s me.” He snorted another laugh, taking her hand and walking her further into the room after she stopped completely dead.

Really, Donna’s wake was as vibrant as it could’ve been and nobody—aside from Isla’s old man and the Tacoma Nomad—had their sights set on the Sergeant and Chibs’s daughter.

The atmosphere was strangely spirited, hearty and animated as everybody came together to celebrate the life of Opie’s wife…The way that they always had.

But Isla was still on tenterhooks. She loathed the thought of her dad disapproving of her, today, but she didn’t desire the castigation that would’ve come hand in hand with her need to talk to him.

“Tequila?”

“I’ll get back to you on that one.” She smiled at Tig, making a beeline for the bar when she saw Kip. He followed her.

“You’re turning down free alcohol?”

Isla scoffed. “It might be free, but the effects of it would cost me my fucking reputation here.”

Tig’s eyebrows raised. “How so? You don’t not drink, Isla.”

“I know.” Her lips pursed, watching Kip pop the caps off of six beers. “But I never drink tequila. It makes me…uh…it makes me feel a little hot—“

“Tequila turns you on, is what you’re saying.”

“Well, yeah.” A crimson blush bled over her cheeks, her nose, and even across her forehead as her entire face burned red. “It’s no big deal. Just something I discovered after getting black-out drunk when I’d barely turned twenty-one.”

If Tig wasn’t feeling aroused before, then he definitely was at her admission. He had to think of anything to throw his brain off of that mental image.

“I don’t tend to drink the strong stuff.”

“Unless it’s whiskey.”

She pointed with a smile, nodding her head. “That’s right—“

“Hey, what did you want?” Kip interrupted sheepishly, gesturing to the half-empty bottle she had between her fingertips. “Another Bud?”

“Yes, please.” Again, she smiled.

“Same for you?”

Tig nodded.

“Kip,” she began, “and you take something, too. You’ve dealt with these assholes for long enough, now. Take a break. I’ll man the bar if you’d like.”

“Oh, no, I can’t do that—Gemma’ll kill me—“

“With all due respect, fuck Gemma.” She heard Tig chuckle beside her, shrugging when the prospect glanced at the pair nervously. “She won’t say anything if I tell her that I’m the one that told you to take ten minutes away from the bar.”

“Yeah.” He backed her up, grinning. “She never gets mad at Isla.”

It was completely uncharacteristic of him. But she brought something out from the very chasms of Tig Trager’s cold, black heart, and he lauded that.

Not many people had managed to scrape beneath the surface that way, not even Colleen.

God.

Tig shook himself out of the daze he’d slipped into, watching Isla and Kip trade places as she stepped behind the bar, and he made a beeline for a stool.

He’d been standing for a while, now.

“Are you gonna join me behind here?” She asked, drawing Tig’s attention back to her. Isla held up another bottle for him, twinkling underneath the yellowed light above the liquor shelves.

She looked, almost, angelic.

“Sack—“ Tig grabbed at his arm when he tried to leave his seat, feeling the prospect go rigid under his grip.

Isla’s eyebrows bunched together.

“Take two beers for Hap and Chibs.” He released the grey shirt, grinning as he saw the man sweat—clearly anticipating something more than just doing a simple favor.

“Oh, sure.” Kip breathed a sigh of relief, taking the two bottles that Isla had slid toward him. “That all?”

“Yep.” She added, gesturing for him to get on his way and enjoy the break that he’d been appointed.

He headed toward the two men beside the pool table, handing them their beers and pointing toward Tig. He waved with a small smile—hoping to come off as genuine, rather than scheming.

Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it? Giving the two men a couple of beers to throw them off the scent—or, at least, to distract them from making a fuss—was just a ploy to defer attention from the two nestled amongst the alcohol.

And it seemed to work, too.

As Tig walked around the bar to join her on the other side, Isla popped a few bottle caps, mixed a few drinks, and talked to every person that stopped off in front of the oak, without being so much as glanced at by her father.

Gemma hadn’t noticed the change, either.

“You want anything?” She asked Tig, mindlessly pouring a glass of whiskey for one of the Tacoma guys. “Some tequila?”

Indifferently, he shrugged.

“Okay, well that was helpful.”

“Alright,” he chuckled, grabbing two shot glasses, “I’ll take one, if you do, too.”

“Tig.”

“Isla.” His tone was deriding, though she couldn’t help but smile.

She pushed the whiskey toward the unfamiliar Son, thanking him for showing his face today, and turned her attention back to Tig.

In the thirty seconds in which her focus had been diverted, he’d poured two shots, grabbed some salt, and two lime wedges from underneath the counter.

She swallowed thickly, hoping to god she’d be able to play off the effects of that liquor.

Because it was only the one, wasn’t it? She was only going to have one single shot of tequila and, surely, that wasn’t enough to intoxicate her…

Right?

“Aw, fuck.” She slurred, pushing the empty bottle aside. “I really—“ she hiccuped. “I really need to stop drinking.”

“Why?” Just as garbled, he responded.

“‘Cuz I feel like I’m gonna puke.” She snorted a laugh, pushing all of the limes strewn across the redwood into the bin. “And my breath stinks of tequila.”

He waved her off, looking at his chest as he wiped the alcohol from his leathers. “Tequila don’t smell that bad.”

Isla blushed, though she fished around her purse for some gum, regardless.

And her heart fucking plummeted to the pit of her stomach when she noticed the bottle of antidepressants in the smaller compartment, suddenly realizing that her excessive alcohol consumption tonight was for sure going to mess with her.

Shit.

“Water?” He asked, holding two empty glasses. He heeded the dread in her expression, how she looked like she’d seen a fucking ghost.

“Please.”

Tig handed her one of the glasses, slinging his free arm over her shoulder—mainly in an attempt to stabilize her—and padded over to the kitchen.

The clubhouse was a little more sparse, now. Jax and Tara sat alongside Juice, Chibs, and Happy, meanwhile Gemma and Clay were meters apart from one another.

But nobody seemed to notice the lack of manpower behind that bar, which was a wonderful thing. Because Isla feared that she might’ve collapsed had she not hydrated herself.

She feared that she might’ve said, or done, something that she might’ve regretted, too.

Tequila did make her feel “hot”, after all.

“God, I need this so bad.” She practically moaned, twisting the cold water tap, haphazardly holding her glass underneath it.

Isla didn’t even shut the water off, she just chugged that slightly lukewarm—strangely beautiful—liquid like her life depended on it.

“Fuck.” She gasped for air, putting her glass atop the draining board. “Oh my god, that was so fucking good.”

Tig watched in awe.

As droplets of water trickled from her lips, and chin, to her chest, Tig subtly groaned to himself. He stifled a reaction, however.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, hell yeah.” She nodded.

Tig held her glass underneath the tap again, filling it half way. “You want some more?”

Isla took it from him, cocking her head a little when he didn’t let go of the glass. “What?”

“How’d that tequila make you feel?”

“What?” She repeated herself, forgetting about what she told him earlier. “Oh…”

“How’d it make you feel?” He pressed, releasing his grip though lifting his hand to brush his thumb underneath her glossy lips.

“Good.” Isla stumbled over her words, watching his eyes flick over her features. She gulped, though she put the glass straight back down. “Really, really good.”

Tig jolted, though relaxed when she let her hands rest against his shoulders. He hadn’t expected this today. Or ever, really.

“How good is really really good?” He asked, twisting a couple of ringed fingers through long, loose curls.

Her heart was no longer sinking to the pit of her stomach, but fluttering wildly within her palpitating chest.

“Pretty good.”

“Right.” He caught her bluff, nodding. “I could think of something that’d make you feel really, really, really good, y’know?”

“You think?” Isla leaned into him when a hand pressed into the small of her back, and the other holding onto the nape of her neck. She shivered. “Because I think you could.”

Confidently, he bobbed his head. “Oh, I could.”

She was a bundle of nerves, frankly. Tig was so nonchalant, so breezy, and she was just so fucking fraught.

But he didn’t seem to notice—or care—while he surveyed her face, grinding his lips together in anticipation. He lowered his head a little to meet her height, though she still stood on her toes.

“Make me feel really good, Tig.” She whispered, the citrusy scent of tequila permeating his senses, quickening the rate of his pulse.

Isla’s sweet, soft lips ghosted over his own as she exuded a satisfied sigh, loosening up at the feeling of their noses brushing over one another.

It was so gentle. She hasn’t expected a man of such stature, such hunger and animosity, to be capable of something so soothing.

An unmistakable burst of desire started to seep through her, humming against his lips as she opted to wrap both arms around his neck while he backed her up against the sink.

With the support against her lower back, Isla wound a leg around his waist as the kiss amplified and Tig began to grind his hips into her whilst simultaneously moaning.

She didn’t know how badly she needed this tonight.

Pink nails wound into his unruly curls, mindlessly nudging through the hair—pushing him to hasten. He slipped his tongue into her mouth, then. Lauding the flavor of tequila and cigarettes.

But Isla promptly froze at the sound of footsteps—heels, precisely—clicking across the tile.

“Tig, wait.” She jerked her head a little, urging him to stop. “I can hear Gemma—“

“You can see her, too.” The matriarch stated, rounding the corner and immediately coming into Isla’s line of sight.

Both Tig and the blonde shifted to look at her.

“Am I interrupting something?”

[diaryofabeautyfiend]

* ⚠️ Warnings: A lot of angst. Mentions of sex. A little fluff. People drinking alcohol. ⚠️ This one shot was never meant to be a series. All of your love and appreciation spurred me in to write more. Hope you like this chapter. I cried while I was writing it. Part 5 is the finale.

Plain Gold Ring IV:

You Don’t Know What Love Is

“How could you know how lips hurt

'Till you've kissed and had to pay the cost

Baby, 'till you've flipped your heart and you have lost

You don't know what love is” Nina Simone

———————————————————————

Being on the board of your firm’s charity gala was a huge deal. On top of your normal duties you were in charge of the silent auction. The final auction items had all arrived and you had been busy categorizing everything and preparing for the night that you barely have time to focus on the Andy and Lori situation.

Not that it wasn’t grating on your last nerve. You were so short with everyone at work that it was becoming a problem. Stan had to have a talk with you. You just had to focus and get through this event.

Andy helped as much as he could. He was supportive when you were frustrated and quickly learned when to back off. Sometimes you were up until the wee hours he would literally drag you to bed. He knew how to keep your mind off of work for a while.

You were so busy that you hadn’t even purchased a dress. You and Liz went shopping after work. She was the only person to know about you and Andy.

“What do you think of this one? Think Andy will like it?” You wore a black long sleeved gown with a v that went down to right above your belly button and a slit up to your mid thigh.

“I mean, I’d fuck you.” she deadpanned. This was the dress. You would be comfortable in it all night. You also looked like a powerful bitch who would slit your throat.

———————————————————————

You had to be at the site earlier than the guests so you did your hair and most of your makeup at home. Andy had not seen your dress on purpose. You wanted him to see you when he walked in with Lori. Your petty brain was on overdrive.

“Well you look great” Andy said pointing to your sweats.

“Shush. I’m not putting on my dress and heels until the last second. I pressed your shirt it’s hanging in your closet. I also picked up your tux from the cleaners.”

He slid his arms around you and looked at you in the mirror. “Why are you so good to me?” His hands roamed your body and made contact with your bare skin under your tshirt.

“I am gonna be late.” You swatted his hands away.

“You have four hours. Didn’t you hire party planners?”

“Yes. I still need to get my nails done and set up the auction. You can have your way with me later.”

“But I want to now” he whined. “Please. I’ll be really quick.”

You giggled , “Sounds really fun for me. You know I would never ever miss an opportunity to cum all over your cock…” your face was so close to his your lips were nearly touching. Your hands were on his chest. His were on your hips pulling you closer. “But I have to go. Bye, baby.”

“Tease! You’ll pay for that.” he called after you.

You winked at him as you headed out of the door, “I certainly hope so.”

All Andy could do was laugh. He wished he could spend this evening whisking you around the dance floor. He couldn’t wait to see how beautiful you would look tonight.

In two days you would be on your way to Chicago. The movers were already on the way with your furniture. Your suitcase was in the process of being packed. He hated it. He was taking a long weekend to help you get settled. By Wednesday morning you would have to say goodbye. His heart broke a little every time he thought about it. Every single day he wanted to say he loved you. He was reluctant to ruin what you had knowing there was no way around the inevitable.

———————————————————————

Everything was set. The only thing left was for you to get dressed. You re-sprayed your hair and put on your jewelry. You spritzed Chanel over your wrists neck and cleavage. Last thing was to coat your lips in a matte oxblood to match your nails. You looked sleek and downright terrifying. Just as you planned.

“They just walked in.” Liz whispered from the doorway.

“How does she look?”

“Pretty and appropriate.”

“How do I look?”

“Like a bad bitch. Let’s go.”

You walked out with your shoulders back and your head high. You made sure the gown swished enough to expose your legs and the impossibly high heels you wore. Andy saw you from across the room and stopped dead in his tracks. You looked like you were walking in slow motion. He almost dropped his drink.

You made a b line for Stan and his wife Elaine who were standing directly behind the other couple. He smelled your perfume wafting off of you when you walked by. He almost lost it right there.

“Y/N! What a knockout. Elaine, isn’t she gorgeous?” You kissed his cheek with the side of your mouth careful not to smear your lipstick.

“Christ, Stan. Keep it in your pants. You look beautiful, honey.”

“Thank you, Elaine. So good to see you. Lovely as always.”

“Thank you, dear. Now how is it possible you are here without a date? Stan, you work the poor thing so much she can’t even find a man. That’s why she’s leaving you.”

“And for many other reasons” you joked. You were very much aware that Andy was behind you. “Elaine have you met Andy and Lori Barber?”

You took Lori’s hand and ushered them over. “No, I haven’t. So nice to finally meet you.”

“You get to know each other. I’m going to grab a drink. Can I get anyone anything?” Such a good hostess.

“I’d love a scotch. Elaine wine?” She nodded.

“Andy?”

“You won’t be able to carry all of those drinks. Let me come with you.” Andy patted Lori on the arm. “I’ll be right back.” When you were far enough away he took a long look at you. “How long til I get to rip that dress off of you?”

Your cheeks heated, “You won’t be ripping anything. This dress cost a fortune. It’s far too pretty to ruin especially with panty lines.”

“Fuck. I’m gonna ruin that pussy.”

“Promises promises, Mr. Barber.” He groaned and adjusted his pants.

“Such a tease.”

You delivered the drinks and excused yourself. For the rest of the night Andy only caught glimpses of you. He tried not to make it obvious but Lori could see. Once upon a time he looked at her like that. Except the way he looked at you was a look of complete adoration.

You tried avoiding the Barbers all night. The whole time Andy schmoozed and did his Andy thing, his arm was around her waist. She kept her hand on his chest. They were always finding little ways to touch each other. When he kissed her temple you nearly broke the clipboard you were holding.

Stan stood next to you draining his fourth drink, “You ok there, champ? Sweet couple aren’t they?”

“Yeah. They’re adorable.” You slammed the rest of your Old Fashion.

“Reminds me of me and Katherine . Remember Katherine?”

“Was she your second or third wife? I don’t remember.” Your words were dripping with sarcasm.

“Second. Every time we had one of these things Katherine was on my arm. She was great at this shit. She’d chat it up with the partner’s wives earning me brownie points while I fucked Elaine’s brains out in the John. Know why I married Elaine? She was the best goddamn litigator I’d ever seen. Gets my dick hard every time I think about it. She lit a fire in me that couldn’t be stoked. Kind of like you do for Andy.”

You blanched, “What do you mean?”

“Oh save it. I know you’re fucking. The whole office does. I see how he looks at you. But you can’t see how you look at him. Don’t let the act fool you. He’s stupid for you. Let me keep him for a couple of months before you move him to Chicago ok? He can make us some serious money.” He patted you on the ass and went back to Elaine. She was waiting for him with a big smile that he drunkenly devoured.

———————————————————————

The band started playing. When a slow song came on Lori took Andy’s hand. “Dance with me?”

For possibly the last time he held her. She closed her eyes, rested her head on his shoulder and let him lead her around the dance floor. He wasn’t reciprocating with the same tenderness. His eyes were held on you.

You watched him place his hand on the small of her back. The way he held her hand was a practiced action that he had perfected over sixteen years. When he let himself get lost for just a moment he was overcome with grief for himself and Lori. He pressed a kiss to her lips. Her heart fluttered and she kissed him back. You rushed out of the room when you saw them.

Lori felt her husband’s body stiffen. His hold on her loosened. It felt like he was forcing his body to stay with her. She understood why his mood shifted when she saw you leaving. She looked up at him. His eyebrows were knitted together with worry.

“How long have you been sleeping with her?” she asked quietly.

“A month. Maybe longer.” He couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t lie.

“So basically since you left.”

“My second day there. Lori, I’m so sorry. It just happened. I wasn’t looking for anything.”

“No, but you were open to something happening. Does everyone here know? Of course they do. I’m so humiliated. I think I’d like to go home.”

“I’ll get the car.”

“No. I can get myself home. This night is too important for you to leave early.”

“Lori…”

“I don’t want to be around you right now, Andy. I can’t.” She let go of his hand and left. She carried herself with poise and dignity but inside she was dying.

You were nowhere to be found. He spotted Liz who was chatting with some friends. “Where is she?”

“Auctions over. She left.”

“Shit. Thanks.”

“Andy, be gentle with her. Idiots.”

He ran to the valet and jumped in his car to race home. When he got out he noticed a suit case in the back of your car. The elevator was taking forever. He took the stairs two at a time to reach you before you got away.

He heard your heels clacking on the hardwood. Clothes were everywhere. “Y/N?”

“Bedroom.” You were still in your pretty dress. Still all made up throwing things in another suitcase.

“Going somewhere?”

“Hotel.”

“Mind telling me why?” His voice was hoarse like he had been screaming.

“The way you held her…you kissed her.” He grabbed your hands to make you look at him but you yanked them away. “This was stupid. I should have never gotten involved with you in the first place. Married men never leave. Please get out of my way, Andy. I have to go.”

“You think this was a mistake?” Slow tears rolled down his face. He undid his bow tie and sat down. “I don’t. I’m glad we met.”

“Why? Because I feel like my heart has been ripped from my chest. So why are you glad?”

“Because you reminded me what it felt like to be cared for. To feel loved. You showed me what I had been missing for a long time now.”

“Happy to have helped.” You continued emptying drawers.

“Please stop packing. Please.” You wouldn’t look at him. He tried grabbing you several times but you moved beyond his reach. “Damn it! Why? Why do you always run when things get hard?”

“I’m not running.”

“No? So Chicago just came up? Or did you put out your resume the second you heard I got the job you wanted?”

Your cheeks heated. “You know how this business works. If I got passed over this time, they’ll keep doing it.”

“Right. And tonight? The second things get weird you run.”

“You kissed her!” You were trying not to cry.

“I know. I was sad. We’ve been Andy and Lori for the majority of our lives. Tonight felt so final. I know we’ll always have Jacob but, there is nothing else there. Please. I am so in love with you. Please.” He dropped to his knees and hugged you tight around your waist.

“Andy, you have to let me go.” He pressed his face into your stomach and broke down. “Andy? Sweetie? Come on. Let go.”

“Tell me you don’t love me and I’ll let you walk out of that door. I’ll never contact you again. But I know you do.”

“Stop….”

“Aren’t you tired of running?” You were tired. You ran away from your family, former lovers, dead end jobs. You wanted to finally be settled. Leave with a clean break. There was nothing clean about this. If you said you loved him there was no going back. This would be at least three years of a long distance relationship because he won’t leave Jacob. You didn’t want him to leave his son. This would be you exhibiting a level of trust you weren’t sure you had. He fell in love with you so fast. In your absence, what would stop him from falling for someone else? You were so weak when it came to Andy. Fucking perfect at everything Andy fucking Barber. Why couldn’t you shake him? Why couldn’t you just walk away like you have been trying to do since the first time you had sex?

BECAUSE WE LOVE HIM YOU DUMB TWAT. Your brain screamed. You couldn’t make your mouth work. You ran your fingers through his hair, “I love you, Andy.”

He pulled you down onto the floor and kissed you with abandon. “Say that again.” he whispered against your mouth.

“I love you. I love you. God help me, I love you.” A smile was plastered on his face for the rest of the night. Packing could wait.

[catzula]

Lost and Found

250 followers! Thank you! I couldn’t edit this, it’s pretty late where I live, but I think it turned out pretty well and I'llprobably edit it in the morning, so, ugh, enjoy!

btw I just realized this is my 25th post and it’s funny since it’s also 250 followers thank you post hehe also a last minute edit of oh shit I had a taglist and like ily aah first time tagging someone @astroninaaa

Bakugou x fem!cat quirk!reader

warnings: kissing, cursing, it’s 7.6k- I swear I tried to keep it short but I couldn’t, being very annoying to each other- I don’t know tbh

genre: fluff, enemies to lovers au

***

It wasn’t a secret that you and your neighbor didn’t like each other, but what many people didn’t know was how deep this dislike was. You were in a war, fighting each other openly or secretly, but always finding a way to irritate each other to the most.

You groaned when you heard loud thuds coming from the apartment right next to you, waking you from your one of many daily naps. Trying to go back to sleep, you closed your eyes and snuggled even deeper to the blanket fort you have made, but had to open them once again when you heard a louder thud followed with a string of curses, and guessed that he probably had tossed into another furniture. Really, how long does it take for one to get used to the placement of their furniture?

Pressing the pillow you were hugging to your ear to cancel out the noise, you took a deep, irritated breath, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep again. You could hear his every move, whether it was because of your heightened hearing abilities, or because he was generally a loud person, you weren’t sure. When you finally heard him settling down on the couch, you hoped to sleep, groaned with frustration when he turned the tv on, and like always, on the loudest setting.

”Oh my god!” You screamed into your pillow, sitting up from your sleeping position. Everything was much better before he had moved to the place right next to you. When you didn’t work on your college assignments, you usually slept when you were home, so you wished for silence, and you had no problems with that whatsoever until he moved to the apartment next to you.

Though you weren’t the only one unhappy because of their neighbor. Bakugou, too lost countless hours of sleep because of the cats whining and screaming every night, since it was really common of your quirk for the cats to feel and want to be closer to you. It was like every cat in the damn neighborhood was pulled to you, and they all seemed to be very agitated since they just never shut up. Bakugou needed his sleep -so did you, but it seemed he wasn’t aware of that… or simply didn’t care- and it affected his life enormously when he couldn’t get his sleep, as it had been affecting him the past few weeks.

He had bought a cat repellant for that, a device that released a sound only cats could hear, to prevent the cats from lurking around the building, not even thinking of its effect on you. After only an hour of using the device, he heard a very aggressive knock on his door, only to find his downstairs neighbor glaring at him. Her hair disheveled and ruffled like a cat’s fur would be when it was angry, purple bags under her eyes, and her face pale, looking like she came to his door straight from a war.

He also noticed how one of your socks were missing, and the odd scene of one clothed and one bare foot made him want to laugh. He didn’t know it was because of the many cats that liked to steal your stuff since they thought of your scent relaxing.

It wasn’t the first time he had seen you, but it still took a moment for him to recognize you. His gaze wandered on the tail wagging behind you and the pair of cat ears on your head, grimacing when he caught himself thinking about how cute you looked.

”What do you want?” He asked with a glare as intense as yours, but you gritted your teeth and kept glaring without answering his question. He could see your cat ears twitching with the now increased sound since you were closer to the source. ”What- what the fuck is that?”

”What is what?” Bakugou raised his shapely brows, though he was well aware of the reason you were here. Your eyes roaming in the room, trying to find where this goddamn noise was coming from, you looked so irritated that he felt his lips twitching to a smile at the sight.

Without waiting for him to invite you in -not that he would do that- you entered his house, walking to the table that stood in the middle of the room. Your ears were twitching constantly with irritation, your tail not moving anymore.

”Hey, what the fuck are you doing, just walking in my damn appartement?!” He shouted, holding and pulling you back from your elbow, but you easily pulled yourself free from his grip with the adrenaline flowing in your veins. And Bakugou was a smart man, one look you sent his way told him to stay away from you.

The room was unexpectedly tidy, especially for a guy as impatient and angry as him, and the caramel scent you always sensed whenever you saw him now even stronger. A small, black device on the table caught your eye, noticing it was that that caused you to go insane.

”This! What the fuck is this? ” You took it to your hands and brought it closer to your eyes to examine it closer, though the ongoing noise making you shriek with discomfort.

”Is this a cat repellant?!” You blurted out, now even angrier. Quickly putting the device back to its place, he noticed the pure disgust on your face. You turned back to face him, meeting his blood-red eyes that were twinkling with amusement. Seeing him enjoying this made your blood boil, you physically had to hold yourself back from jumping on him and ripping that stupidly good looking smile off of his face.

”You bastard,” you choked out when he didn’t answer, ”you bought a cat repellant?!” Pressing every button on the device, you desperately tried to stop the sound. ”Of course I did.” He answered, the amused look in his eyes now gone with your insult. ”Your cats wouldn’t let me sleep! They’re so fucking annoying.”

”Is that so? ” You asked, taking a deep breath of relief when you finally closed that shitty device off. ”Am I supposed to buy a Bakugou repellant, then? Since you’re so fucking annoying, too. ” You shot back, and you had to admit, it wasn’t nearly as clever as you wanted it to be, but it still worked since Bakugou was seemingly fuming.

”You little- You have the audacity to come into my house, force yourself in, and talk to me like this? You really are as dumb as you look.”

Your eyes narrowed, hands itching to throw a punch right across his handsome face. When you stood silent he sighed with annoyance. ”Get out already! I don’t have time for this shit.” He pulled you towards the exit, but you still had much to say. Apparently, Bakugou knew what you were thinking since when you didn’t exit the room, he simply took the device and turned it on.

Hearing the sound so suddenly made you choke on your words for a second or so, making you want to carve your ears out. ”You- you-” You tried to talk, but he couldn’t care less.

”I said get out.” He ordered, and you did, though not because you were afraid of him, but because the sound was unbearable. Storming out of the room, you promised yourself to annoy him as much as he did you.

This day was the beginning of the war between you two (though you never once heard that noise again after that day, and you were secretly grateful… not that you would admit to that).

You made the cats jump on him when they saw him, get in his apartment, and shed as much as they could whenever they had the chance, making them steal his socks and small trinkets just to piss him off, so in return, he became the loudest neighbor ever. Using the tv in the loudest setting, playing that goddamn drum set every now and then -hitting hit like his life depended on it-, training on the punching bag he hung on the wall that was joint with your wall, you could swear he bought the loudest vacuum cleaner available, and he always played that horrible horrible music that was almost as bad as the cat repellant.

Your cats left furballs in his balcony, he sprayed lemon juice to your balcony, somehow knowing the citrus smell always made you gag and gave you the worst headaches. It went on and on, and it was just getting tiresome at this point, but neither of you was willing to back off.

Stretching your muscles that were stiff from sitting in one place for a long time, you couldn’t help the cat-like moan coming out of your lips, remembering you had another assignment that was due a week from today, though knowing yourself, you would either do it today or the last day. Deciding it was better to at least start it today, you stood up, going towards the kitchen to fix yourself something to eat, though the sudden lack of noise coming from next door making your ears perk up with curiosity.

You listened to him a bit, trying to guess why he was so quiet all of a sudden, but shrugged to yourself and took a snack out of your cupboard. You were going to the balcony to work on the assignment when you heard the water running, explaining the sudden lack of noise.

Since the marble ground in the balcony always made your feet feel cold, you looked for your socks, and you could swear you left them right on the counter, though it wasn’t much of a shock not to find them there. The cats loved to steal or move stuff that belonged to you, and a small part in you felt a little better since Bakugou was going through the same thing.

Since you and Bakugou shared a balcony and both enjoyed being outdoors, it was hard to escape each other, and crossing paths out there always led to the worst arguments. So you were glad to have some quiet time you could spend alone here.

You sat down, sipping on your coffee as you tried to find a comfortable position. As you opened a new word document, you bit your lip, thinking of a strong sentence to start the essay. It was always the hardest to write the first few sentences, you thought. You made a motion to tie your hair, only to find your hair tie missing, too.

Diving deep in your thoughts, writing and erasing the different versions of the same sentence, you hadn’t realized Bakugou was done with his shower, nor had you noticed him and another familiar face coming out, joining you in the balcony.

“Oh, hey Y/N-chan!” You heard someone call out to you, the sound making you let out a small shriek of surprise. It was Kirishima, one of the rare people who visited Bakugou often. His red hair was as spiky as ever, and it always made you wonder how he styled his hair to get that spiky style. Kirishima’s hair always had that hair-gel smell to it, unlike Bakugou’s caramel and mint-scented ones, indicating Kirishima’s hair was not naturally spiky.

“Hey, hey- It’s just me!” He told you when he heard your shriek and noticed how you tucked your tail anxiously between your legs. It took you a few seconds for your nerves to calm down and accept that he wasn’t a threat. “Oh, I’m sorry Kiri-kun. I wasn’t paying attention.” You said with an apologetic smile, noticing how Bakugou winced as you called his friend Kiri-Kun.

Bakugou had a pair of shorts and a shirt on, the black shirt clinging to his frame that caused your ears to twitch in embarrassment of your thoughts.

His ashy hair was still a bit damp, though it was obvious he blow-dried them. You didn’t expect less from the control-freak, though, you could do without that mind-fuzzing caramel scent of his.

“Oh, were you working on something?” Kirishima smiled sweetly as he glanced on your computer screen. “Yeah,” you answered with a pout that meant it’s-not-going-well, making his smile wider. “It’s not important, though.” You closed the screen since you weren’t actually doing anything other than looking at the blank word document.

“Oi, shitty hair!” Bakugou called out when you kept talking with his friend, both of you ignoring him in his part of the balcony. “Come here.”

“Aww, missed me already?” Kirishima teased, causing Bakugou to growl with annoyance. “If you don’t come here right now-” He stopped mid-sentence when he heard you sigh. The crimson gaze quickly turning to you, the annoyed look on his face left its place to straight on angry.

“What the fuck is your problem?”  

“Can you at least try to be a little more quiet? You’re hurting my ears.” You answered with a mocking look, though what you said wasn’t exactly the truth. Disturbing, maybe, but not quite hurtful.

“Can you try to be a little less annoying? You’re hurting my nerves.” Kirishima pouted when Bakugou shot back at your unnecessary attempt to fight with him. “Now- Bakubro, that’s not something you say to a lady.”

Bakugou looked like he had a lot to say, but surprisingly, he chose to stay quiet. Instead, he sat in his place with a grumpy pout on his face and arms crossed on his chest, the sight caused an odd, tingly feeling to spread in your chest. “Will you come here already?” He finally asked when Kirishima kept making small talk with you.

“Eh,” Kirishima sent him a toothy grin as he scratched the back of his neck, “why don’t you just come here?”

“Haah?!” Bakugou blurted, making your ears to hurt for real this time. “I’m not sitting with her!”

“And I’m not sitting with him!” You answered though the blunt response of not being wanted did hurt just the little bit. Denying this feeling, you glared at his crimson eyes, the ones that were challenging you to do so. It took at least 30 seconds before Kirishima interrupted the silent war going between you and Bakugou, finally allowing you to blink or look away. “Oh, quit being a baby, you two.” Kirishima muttered, rolling his eyes. “Both of you are adults enough to sit together for an hour or two without killing each other.”

When Bakugou clicked his tongue in annoyance and looked away, Kirishima pestered him. “Right, Bakugou?” It was a secret challenge, you were sure. If you started an argument, you would lose. And God knew, you would rather die than lose to him.

So without protesting you sat back in your place, followed by Kirishima, who was grinning mischievously. Bakugou was the last to sit down, displeasure and annoyance evident on his face. You took a long sip of your now cold coffee, sending a teasing smile to Bakugou in the process, earning an annoyed “tch” from him. You noticed he did this quite often.

“So,” Kirishima said cheerfully to at least diffuse some of this heavy tension in the air. “How are you, Y/N-chan?”

You shrugged. “Not much, I guess. I’m a little bored at home, and it sucks that I can’t even sleep because of a certain someone.” You didn’t hold back from sending one more look at the blonde’s way.

“Serves you right,” Bakugou growled, his eyes narrowed into slits, “since I can’t sleep either.” You noticed Kirishima snickering as he rolled his eyes with irritation.

“Must be something in the air.” He joked, an attempt to stop the fight before it started, but neither of you was paying attention to him.

“Oh, really? You can’t sleep, and that’s my fault?” You asked quirking a brow up and scoffed when he nodded curtly. “I’m not the irrationally loud one around here, am I?”

“No, your cats are the irrationally angry ones.” Bakugou answered, weaving his hand through his now dry and messy hair, a way of showing his frustration. Your eyes followed his hand, gulping when you noticed your mind started to wonder how it would feel like under your touch.

Noticing how one small act diffused your anger and fuzzied your mind almost instantly, you felt even angrier than before. “Oh, yeah.” You exclaimed. “That should explain why you bought a fucking cat repellant!” His teeth gritting with annoyance, he was going to answer if it wasn’t for Kirishima whose eyes widened with genuine shock.

“You did what?!”

“You heard it! I was losing my mind because of him.” You muttered under your breath, remembering that god awful sound, shivering because of the memory.

“Then make your cats shut up!”

“For the love of God, they’re not my cats! I can’t do anything to stop them from wanting to be closer to me.” Well, that was a lie, but they didn’t need to know that. It was just that the cat’s presence calmed you, making you feel a little less lonely.

“Beats me.” Bakugou answered, though didn’t hold back a ‘You either make them shut up, or else’ look. This only made you angrier, you could feel your hands itching to punch him in his smug face.

Both of them were well aware of how your tail was perking and ruffling behind you, indicating just how irritated and angry you were. “You’re just so god damn annoying, I can’t even-”

“Guys, guys.” Kirishima stopped you by holding your arm when you sprinted on your legs, either to jump on him or run inside, you weren’t sure either. “You did tell me you were going to sit like an adult and not fight, right?”

“He started it!” You felt like a child, but it was okay since he was acting like one too.

“Me?!” He growled, his eyes never leaving yours, and you felt the odd urge to gulp. Taking a deep breath, you sat back down when Kirishima looked at you with a brow quirked up.

“Can you play some music?” You asked for a change of topic. When Bakugou reached for his phone, you grimaced, remembering the things he often listened to. He saw the sour expression on your face and rolled his eyes.

“Now what?”

“I didn’t say anything!” You protested though you kept making a face, you sighed when he looked at you demandingly. “It’s just that… your music taste is kinda lame.”

“What?!” He blurted out, looking genuinely shocked, which amused you just a little bit. Kirishima was roaring with laughter, obviously not expecting that either. “My music taste is the best in the fucking world!” He grunted, his cheeks slightly tinged pink.

“Not to me.” You shrugged, which caused a grumpy expression to find its place on his face. “Then you just have bad taste in music.” He reached for his phone one more time, not breaking eye contact once as he opened a song. You expected that loud music he always seemed to enjoy but were surprised when you heard a soft acoustic guitar instead.

“Oh, I love this song.” Kirishima muttered as he closed his eyes and went along with the song, causing Bakugou to send you a knowing smirk that just screamed ‘See? Even he likes it’ And you couldn’t deny it was… good.

“Well, it’s not that bad, I guess.” You admitted hesitantly, forgetting how bad you were at lying, thanks to your feline parts. This only made Bakugou’s smirk even wider, almost turning it to a genuine smile that made him look even more handsome than he already was, and you felt like smiling back at him. Kirishima stood up, mumbling about getting coffee as he went inside, but neither of you paid attention. “I didn’t think you listened to these kind of music, too.”

“That’s on you for being prejudiced.” He mumbled, and you furrowed your brows. “Prejudiced? If there’s anyone prejudiced here, it’s you!” You protested at the accusation, making him lean even closer to you, so close that you could almost feel the heat radiating from him.

“You don’t know anything about me.” He told you with a low voice that sent goosebumps down your spine. You could feel your breath hitching in your chest, your heart beating like it was trying to scare him away. “I might not know you personally, but I know what type of a person you are.”

“Oh, really?” He quirked his brow, interested. “Do tell me. What kind of a person am I?” He looked like he was just teasing you, but you could see how serious he was under his cynical mask. “Well,” you started your sentence without thinking, “you are a selfish, self-centered, egoistic man who doesn’t care about anyone else but himself.” You exclaimed as you thought about all those times you were awoken from your sleep, that god awful day you almost lost your mind, and the times you had the worst headache because of the citrusy smell he kept spraying on your balcony.

“You want everyone to do anything you say without question, expect them to do everything your way and the way you want it to be, not even thinking about how it would effect them!”

He stood silent at your sudden exclaim, and you didn’t miss how his upper lip curled in a threatening manner. His ruby eyes burning with anger, you couldn’t help but think how beautiful they looked.

A few seconds of silence past, making you wonder if you went too far, and just as you were about to apologize, you noticed his eyes softening just a little bit, a small smirk finding it’s way on his soft-looking lips. “You know, you may be right in all those.” He muttered his voice so low that made your tail stay still with- excitement? His smirk grew wider when he looked at your still tail and perked up ears, and you knew he was well aware of your feelings.

“But,” He started to talk, once again leaning closer, so close that his porcelain skin just millimeters away from your face. “how are you any different, than me?”

Now, that was the last thing you expected him to say.

And it was the only thing that could leave you speechless like this. Your mouth slightly agape, you looked at him with wide, innocent eyes, rapidly trying to find an answer to turn this all around.

But instead, you had to admit defeat.

You sighed as you stood up, taking your laptop and your half-full coffee mug off the table. “Touché.” You told him with a small smile, and you saw him smiling, too.

***

Standing up, you opened your balcony door to have some fresh air and take a break from the essay you just weren’t able to perfect. You had finally managed to finish writing, but editing was just as hard. Rubbing your temples, you stretched your muscles, bored from doing the same thing for the past few hours or so.

As if it wasn’t bad enough, your thoughts had been drifting to the handsome man living right next to you almost constantly. You couldn’t help but replay the conversation you had that day when Kirishima had visited him, and even if you didn’t want to admit, your opinion of him had been changing this past week or so.

Throughout the past one or two weeks, you noticed how these balcony conversations started to happen every day, sometimes even twice a day. You somehow managed to cross paths every single day -you didn’t want to admit, but it wasn’t exactly wrong that your balcony visits were getting frequent at this point, in hope to… catch a glimpse or have a conversation- what you didn’t know was that it was the same with him, too.

He found himself looking your way whenever he was out, sitting in his side of the balcony. Or when he was watching tv or anything, his eyes always looked at your side to find a glimpse of you, going out with two mugs of coffee in his hand when he saw you, your laptop open in front of you, your tail wagging and ears twitching whenever they caught a sound. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw you sitting there, typing something with a displeased look and furrowed brows.

And even though you concealed it immediately, he always caught the bright smile that sat on your lips whenever you spotted him with an extra mug of coffee in his hands.

“Oh, hey.” You muttered when you saw him coming out of his apartment, trying to wear his slippers without spilling the coffee (one of his socks was missing, and you found this to be hilarious). The mixture of his caramel scent and the coffee smell caused you to short circuit for a few seconds.

Pressing your lips together, you tried to suppress your smile, but you were half sure your tail gave your emotions away. “Working hard.” He grunted, and you nodded, this time unable to conceal the smile hanging on your lips.

You shrugged, closing your laptop, fully aware there was no way you could focus on your work when he was sitting right across you -especially looking this good, did he do something with his hair? How did he look this good this early in the morning?-

“How’s Kirishima?” You asked when the silence ensued. His brows twitched with the question, but he grunted. “Good, I guess. He’s working hard.”

“Oh, and here I am, thinking that it was because of me boring him to death that he wasn’t visiting anymore.” You joked, finally able to get a responsive smile back form him. “That, too.” He answered.

He watched as you sipped the coffee he brought -oddly, it was just the way you liked your coffee- and smirked when a relaxed smile appeared on your face with the familiar taste.

“This is… really good. Thanks.” You mumbled, feeling how your cheeks were starting to heat up. You were about to ask something unimportant just for the sake of talking when he suddenly leaned in, his face so close to yours that you didn’t even notice his hand above you, touching your hair with a softness you didn’t expect from him.

You couldn’t even question what he was doing as his hand straddled your hair, his ruby eyes slightly narrowed and looking at you, his tongue sliding on his soft-looking lips, focused. His caramel scent now so strong, you held your breath, or maybe it was because of the excitement that caused you to do so.

It wasn’t something he had planned to do either, more like a pure instinct that caused him to lean closer to you and try to take that stray leaf that was stuck in your hair.

Your eyes wandered over his flawless face, and just as you did so, his eyes lowered to yours, only to find them looking at him, wide open. The way you looked at him was so sweet, so innocent, and so unlike the anger he thought he would see, it caught him off-guard, his hand slipping and grazing your cat-ears, instead.

His thumb caressing your velvety ears, it was a natural reaction of your body, to close your eyes and lean into his touch, and a deep purr escaped your lips, making you both look at each other with widened eyes.

A few seconds of silence past as you prayed to god or whatever force there was, that he didn’t hear the sound that just came from you. But your hopes died when he looked at you like you grew a second head.

“Did you-” He stammered, causing the heat on your cheeks to worsen, “Did you just purr?”

“I didn’t purr- sh-shut up!” You exclaimed, but he wasn’t over it yet, apparently.

“No- no, did you really just-” His hand that was still on your head moved slightly, and even though you were expecting it this time, you couldn’t conceal how your body flinched and how your tail moved with the feeling of his hand on your ears. The smirk that was growing on his lips didn’t help either.

“Can you- can you stop that?” You whispered, and he chuckled. “What, this?” He asked, moving his thumb ever so slightly, just to be able to see that expression on your face, one more time. The way you closed your eyes with an animalistic instinct, your ears twitching under his touch, and it felt so right-

“Y-yes, stop that please.”

He pulled back, sipping his coffee with a smug grin on his lips. “Didn’t know my neighbour was so sensitive.” He muttered into his mug, not helping your situation the slightest bit.

“Of course my ears are sensitive!” You protested, trying to shake the embarrassment away. “I am a cat after all.”

He hummed, agreeing to what you said, but somehow it felt even worse when he agreed to you.

***

“Oh my fucking god!” You screamed at the annoyingly loud music coming from the other side of the wall. Standing up, you walked to the joint wall, feeling even more frustrated when you felt your concentration fading. Just a few seconds ago you were on fire, working on the essay like it was the last thing you were going to do, and now, it was gone forever.

You looked at the small USB drive that stood on your desk, the one that held every document that was supposed to be on your laptop.

Since your laptop was quite old, it didn’t have enough space to hold many things, so until you had enough money to buy a new one, you came up with this solution, though, it wasn’t very practical.

“Bakugou!” You hit the wall with all your might, trying to get his attention. “For the love of god, can you please shut the fuck up?”

You knew he could hear you since his grunts and snickers were audible to your ears, but he didn’t seem to care, he turned the volume up, instead. Gritting your teeth with annoyance, you started kicking the wall.

“Ba-”

thump

“Ku”

thump

“Gou!”

thump

“I’m trying to-” Your voice was muffled by the guitar solo. “I’m worki-” You tried to scream when you finally heard the guitar solo coming to an end, but your words once again faded when the drums started to play, this time even louder than before.

“Bakugou, I’m working here!” You screamed, knowing it wouldn’t reach him. Huffing with annoyance, you ran your fingers through your hair to look somewhat decent and got out to the balcony. You didn’t notice how you left the USB on the counter, or that you left the balcony door open when you ran outside.

***

Bakugou grinned when he heard a soft knock on his balcony door. He was well aware of who it was, and he ignored how fast his heart suddenly started to beat when he heard the knocks.

What he couldn’t ignore was, however, that it wasn’t him being stupidly stubborn when he played that loud music. He knew you were working, and a tiny voice his mind told him that if he played it loud enough, he might get the chance to see you.

Bakugou gave the punching bag one or two last punches before he turned to the door and opened it for you, a smug grin that you were now used to see -and somehow even started to like- on his face. You looked thoroughly annoyed, though he was well-aware of how your tail swayed behind you with excitement and playfulness.

You had pajama’s on, a little too light for the chilly night. Bakugou grunted in a disapproving manner, though he did skid aside, a way of telling you to get in already. As you took the silent invitation, both of you were thinking of the same night, when you had barged in his house for buying a cat repellent. He couldn’t help but smile at the odd memory.

“What’s your problem?” He asked in fake annoyance.

“You’re being too loud!” You protested though the smile on your lips and the sparkle in your eyes gave your act away. “I can’t work because of you.”

“Must be because I’m a smug bastard who doesn’t care about anyone but himself.” He teased, the words 'but then again, so are you’ unspoken, but very much told. You rolled your eyes at the attempt to get you flustered. “And I’m here to tell the smug bastard to be quiet for a few fucking hours so I can work, 'kay?” You told him with a challenging look as you made your way back out to the balcony.

“Whatever the princess says.” He answered cynically, but his smile was genuine for once.

“Goodnight, Bakugou.” You finally gave in and smiled back brightly, and he felt this odd tingle in his chest, which had been happening quite frequently lately.

“Goodnight, princess.” The nickname was meant to be cynical and mocking, though somehow it felt endearing, instead.

With a smile on your lips, you turned back to your apartment, the lack of noise from the apartment next to you a pleasant surprise, making your smile even wider.

Your smile faded when you looked at the USB that was on the counter. Or more like, lack thereof. You were sure you had left it right there, and then you had just-

Oh, shit.

You could smell the cats that were here a few seconds before you, and there was no mistake, it was them who took it along with a few other stuff. Groaning and cursing, you started to walk around the house, frantically searching for the little USB drive, looking under the tables and cupboards, under the fridge, over the fridge, under the curtains…

Running your hands through your hair, you got out of your apartment, not even aware of how cold the night was. If it wasn’t in your apartment, you knew only one other place they could hide your stuff in. The garbage.

Groaning and cursing, you arrived at the big, smelly green thing that was almost a second house to the stray cats. The cats felt your presence before they even saw you, running away for their lives since they could feel how furious you were.

“Where is it?!” You asked them before they could get away, but they ignored your question and ran, leaving you alone in this miserable place. No matter how in contact you were with your feline side, you could never understand how cats could feel at ease in the garbage.

Biting your lip in hesitation -is it really that important? Can’t I just rewrite the 200 files in there?- you rolled your sleeves up, disgust boiling in the pit of your stomach. You finally managed to get one foot in there, the smell and the feeling altogether making your eyes water with disgust, and you were well aware, the second you let your guard down, you would throw up.

What took the most courage was to put your hands in there and actually move the trash. You could only thank God that not everything was out in the open, and most was in big black trash bags, but some were ripped open and scattered, thank the cats.

Even if it was the most disgusting thing ever, you did get used to the sickening smell and the feeling of sitting on top of the trash. Whenever a cat got close to you to apologize, you threw whatever was in your hand at them -along with a string of curses-, making them realize you were pissed.

Bakugou was smiling when he closed the door after you. He tried to stop smiling and be annoyed with you, but how could he when you looked at him like that? He remembered how you purred that day when he had touched your soft ears, the memory only making his cheeks red and his grin wider.

He was going to go on with his workout when he heard a noise coming from outside. He frowned when he realized it was once again the cats scattering and playing with the garbage. He was going to ignore it, but he groaned in annoyance when he heard a loud glass breaking sound. They were particularly messy today.

Wearing the sweatshirt that was on his chair, he went downstairs to at least scare them away, but as he got closer to the source of the sound, he also noticed someone talking to themselves, grumbling and mumbling under their breath, and he noticed it was you in the garbage, and not cats.

His eyes widening when he got sure it was you -he could recognize your voice, especially when complaining- cursing and searching the trash.

You noticed his presence, your hands coming up as if to say I’m not guilty, and you looked at him with horror. “Wh- what are you doing here?!” You stammered when he kept looking at you with disgust and confusion.

“I should be the one asking that.” He answered, “What the fuck are you doing in there?!”

“I- I’m-” How were you even supposed to answer that? “I’m searching for something.” You finally admitted, tears swelling in your eyes, and this time, not because of the smell. “The cats stole my- and now I’m- I gotta-” It was especially hard to talk as you tried to hold back your tears, you realized, not even able to make a full sentence.

“What?” He asked, rightfully confused.

“I- I left my USB on the counter- and now it’s gone! I had my assignments and everything in there and now I can’t find it.” You finally managed to answer, you could feel a tear sliding down your cheek and you couldn’t even wipe your tear since your hand was dirty.

“For fucks sake, how did you even-” He stopped talking when he heard your sniff. “Wait- are you crying?”

“No!” You answered, biting your lip. “It just smells really bad in here, the heightened smelling abilities and shit, you know.” You lied, not very good, though.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah- right.” Expecting him to turn around and go his not disturbingly bad smelling home, but he got a little closer to you, instead.

“Scoot over.” He told you after inspecting the garbage with his ruby eyes, looking very- very uncomfortable.

“What?” You asked as you dropped the trash that was currently in your hands. “You heard me.” Bakugou muttered. “Scoot over, I’m coming in.”

“You’re going to help me?!” He scoffed when he heard the disbelief in your voice, and you couldn’t suppress the odd feeling of relief washing over you. It wasn’t having someone next to you to help, but it was having him near you.

He held the cold metal, pulling himself up and joining you in your misery. “Thank you, Bakugou.” You muttered as he settled to the place next to you, a sour expression on his face, caused by the disgusting feeling and smell.

“Whatever, let’s just find the shitty thing and get out of here already.” He grunted, and you smiled.

***

Drying your hair with a towel, you were finally able to get rid of that awful smell. Bakugou was already clean and dry, sipping something out of his mug. You were surprised to see him sitting out in the balcony, despite the cold weather and the late hour.

“Hey,” you muttered, running the towel through your hair one more time. You heard him grunt in response, not raising his head from the steaming substance -it was coffee, you realized, and you noticed there was one mug right where you usually sat, too- and sat across him.

“Is the shitty thing still working?” He asked, breaking the silence. He scoffed when you nodded. You were about to thank him for the 100th time when he leaned a bit closer to you, his eyes narrowing and lips curling in a frown in displeasure.

“Didn’t you dry your hair after taking a shower?” His hand touched your hair. Not giving you the time to answer, he stood up and sat next to you, instead. “You dumbass, it’s fucking cold.”

Shaking his sweatshirt off of him, he pulled it over your head, dressing you with it, even though it was a little too big for you. He closed the hood and hid your cat ears and damp hair under it, his scent all your mind could process for a second or so.

His thumb touched your cheek softly as he closed the hood, Bakugou noticed how you leaned into his touch or drew a sharp breath as he traced a soft line with his touch.

Suddenly, his presence was overwhelmingly strong, your bodies so close and his face near yours, your mind only occupied with him and him only. His gaze dropped to your lips as you took one more sharp breath, ruby eyes darkening as you rolled your lip in your mouth anxiously.

“I-” You started to talk, but stopped when you noticed you had nothing to say. Maybe you should thank him again, you thought, and as you were about to do so, his thumb that was on your cheek pressed in, in a warning manner.

“I swear to god, if you thank me one more fucking time-”

“What?” You asked, not realizing you were getting closer to him, so close that you could feel his soft breath on your face. “What will you do if I thank you one more fucking time?”

He saw the challenging smile that was forming on your soft-looking lips, swallowing the excitement that was rising in his chest. “I will- silence you.” Bakugou answered, also smiling.

“Well then, thank you Ba- mmph!-” Bakugou was a man of his word, after all, so he did what he said. His lips closing in on yours, for the first time in your life, you weren’t mad at someone for not letting you finish your sentence.

***

Your head right on his chest, you could hear his steady heartbeat, the sound oddly comforting. One of his arms was wrapped around your waist, holding and not letting you an inch away from him, the other softly stroking your hair and your ears, smiling at the feeling of you purring right on top of his chest.

It felt so nice to be so close to him, your hand in his ash-blond hair, running your fingers through them. You moved in your place a little, snuggling into him, making him grunt in annoyance. “Stop moving, shitty woman.”

You smiled, moving even more just to annoy him even further. He was going to say something when a loud cat scream caused both of you to shut up. You could feel him gritting his teeth, his irritation evident, and you weren’t making it better by laughing at him.

“You know, this is all your fault-” He protested, but was once again interrupted by the cats. “For fucks sake- can’t you silence them, at least for one night?”

“Okay, okay. Just this one night.” You always liked hearing the cats, they made you feel lonely, but tonight, you didn’t need them to make you feel better.

You opened the window, leaning a bit as you glanced at the blonde that was watching you with much interest, sending a small smile his way as you opened your mouth and shouted. “Shut up!”

Bakugou didn’t know what exactly he was expecting, but he definitely didn’t expect that. “Is that it?” He asked in disbelief as you settled back on top of his chest, his arms wrapping you immediately.

“Yup,” You nodded, a cheeky smile on your face. He shook his head side to side, though he was laughing as he did so.

“I would’ve done that sooner if I knew,oes d it work on you, too?.” He muttered in your hair and laughed when you punched him. Pulling back slightly, he made you look at his face. “So it doesn’t work.” He grinned when you rolled your eyes. “But, still, that was fucking hot.” Bakugou muttered, leaning in to kiss you one more time.

[bastardtetsu]

critical thinking | ch②

pairing: kuroo tetsuro x gn!reader

genre: college au, enemies to lovers, tsundere!reader, slow burn

wc: 1.7k

warning: swearing, being a theatre major

※ mlist | ① ● ③ ④

after several weeks of douchebag exposure therapy, you’re practically numb to kuroo’s bullshit - for the most part. you still get a bit flustered when you get things wrong, but his teasing barely phases you since you’ve abandoned the concept of speaking to him with respect.

“STILL struggling with balancing equations, y/n??” he chides as you work on your homework, “jeez, maybe i need to start giving you extra assignments.”

“on god kuroo, if you try to make me do any more chemistry than is absolutely necessary i will make sure you never know a day of peace in your life.”

“but y/n,” he teases, “you know if you don’t practice you’ll never get any better.”

“i’m not trying to ‘get better,’ i’m trying to pass the class.”

“ahh, no ambition. you hate to see it.”

“wanna shut the fuck up and let me do my homework?” you snap.

“see, there’s that passion!”

he really is insufferable. you roll your eyes and groan, turning your attention away from the mocking rooster & back to your homework while he gets up to stretch his legs.

what he said wasn’t wrong, you are struggling with the whole balancing equations thing. your brain feels like it’s working on overdrive as you scribble away - numbers are definitely not your strong suit.

you can hear him start to snicker behind you as you work. you pause your writing and turn around to see him peeking over your shoulder with a sadistic smile on his face.

“is something funny?” you ask, unimpressed. his smile softens a bit as you stare him down.

“you’re doing it wrong,” he says, and leans down to correct your work. his face is much closer to yours now, you can almost feel the warmth of his breath as his arm reaches around your right side to write in your notebook while his left hand rests on the back of your chair, practically enveloping you.

resisting the urge to turn and stare at the annoying, criminally sculpted face that’s now inches away from yours, you fix your eyes on his hand as he writes and try to ignore how warm you suddenly feel.

his hands are big, you think, noticing how much smaller your pencil looks when he holds it. you can smell his cologne again, too. sandalwood or whatever.

“there, see?” he says, turning his head to look at you.

your faces are still so close.

what is it about his eyes that makes his stare feel so intense every time?

you quickly avert your gaze back to the page of notes, focusing extra hard on the numbers so you can ignore the beat your heart skipped just now. somehow, the equation in front of you looks even more indecipherable than it did before. and why does your face feel so hot?

“i… still don’t get it,” you admit tentatively. he just lets out a soft chuckle, letting his gaze drop for a second before locking eyes with you, lips curled into a smirk.

“you really are bad at this.”

another electric shock of embarrassment mixed with rage jolts through you.

“yeah, and what?” you challenge, “that makes me dumber than you? ok, well if you’re so smart why don’t you try telling me about willy loman’s superobjective in death of a salesman? or identifying the difference between verse and prose in classical text?? i bet you don’t even know who anton chekhov is, but sure, i’m the idiot because i don’t know how to balance a damn equation. how about learn your shit, and then you can teach me mine.”

kuroo just stands there for a moment, taken aback by your outburst. then the bitch starts laughing.

“what’s funny?!!” you interrogate, your voice getting louder. his laugh sounds like a goddamn hyena.

“y/n oh my god,” he chokes out between cackles, “you’re such a nerd!”

“ME??!!?!” you just about scream, furious, “you’re calling me a nerd?? have you met yourself??!”

“well at least i’m not in danger of failing a class,” he giggles.

“that has nothing to do with this,” you snap.

“so who’s anton chek-whatever?” he prods, still amused.

“see, you’re laughing but you’re the one sounding stupid this time,” you grumble. you can tell he’s just searching for something else to tease you about, but you can’t resist the opportunity to turn the tables & be the one schooling him for once. “chekhov. he’s a famous playwright. from russia. one of the early pioneers of modernism in the late 19th/early 20th century - not that you’d even know what that means.”

“you’re right, i don’t,” he relents, “but you seem like you do. nerd.” his eyes have an extra glint in them as they narrow with another taunting smirk.

“leave me alone, you’re the one who asked,” you groan, finally fed up with his antics. “look, i need to finish this homework before i get out of here. otherwise it’s never getting done.”

“i’ll check your answers when you’re finished,” he offers.

“only if you’re not a dick about it.”

“you only think I’m being a dick when you get the answer wrong.”

“SHUT UP.”

—

as midterms approach, the stress is starting to get to you as your workload gets heavier and heavier. maybe that’s why you seem extra snarky towards your annoying, hot, annoyingly hot chemistry tutor today.

“y/n, did you review chemical bonds like i told you to last week?” he chides after you get another homework question wrong. sometimes he really does sound like a teacher, or someone’s dad. but thankfully, he is neither of those things, which means you can comfortably trash him.

“sorry i have things to worry about besides memorizing how electrons work,” you snark, “what about you? this isn’t even your major, do you not have other shit to do besides come here & make fun of me?”

“hey, i do this because i love it!” he protests dramatically. you can see the smirk in his eyes.

“sure” you sneer back, “look, i don’t know about you, but some of us actually have to work for our degrees. we don’t have time to waste bullying people who don’t know science for fun.”

“who says I can’t do both?”

now you’re starting to get annoyed.

“dude for real. do you know how busy i am?? like, ALL the time??? why else do you think i’m here? i wouldn’t be in this shitty class if i had room for anything else. i can’t even go to my professor’s office hours!”

“ah, well, that explains a lot.”

“shut up,” you jab, “the only reason i keep coming back to your dumb ass tutoring hours is because my schedule is so goddamn packed i can’t meet up with anyone else.”

“sure, whatever you say y/n,” he croons, tone dripping in sarcasm.

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“oh you know,” he teases, eyes full of mischief. you really don’t though?

“you’re full of shit,” you mutter dismissively. he’s trying to egg you on to say something stupid so he can ridicule you for it, but you can see right through him.

“i’m not the one dodging the subject,” he grins, his eyes unmoving from you as you turn back to your paper. even facing away from him, you can feel his laser beam of a stare on you as if he were breathing right down your neck. ha, i wish. wait— “you know, you’re not gonna get very far on that worksheet if you didn’t do any review.”

“would you be quiet?” you snap at him, fed up with his condescension, “or better yet, maybe do your job and help me figure it out?”

“well,” he purrs with a sickly sweet smirk, “only since you asked so nicely.”

you make sure to roll your eyes extra hard at him to make up for the way your heartbeat quickened at his flirtatious tone.

thankfully, he actually obeys your request this time and tones down the teasing as he explains chemical bonds, doing his best to help you through each homework problem step-by-step. usually he can tell when you’re actually getting irritated and makes up for it like this. you’re silently grateful for this form of kindness from him, even if it’s only because you’re a nightmare to work with otherwise.

as you wrap up your session with him - late once again, but he never minds staying past the end of his tutoring hours since he has the rest of the day off anyway - you hurriedly pack your things, grumbling a complaint about how now you don’t have time to get something to eat before you meet with your scene partner to rehearse your acting midterm. while it’s pretty normal for you to miss meals because of your schedule, it’s frustrating nonetheless, especially after your brain has just been fried by molecular bonds.

“oi, y/n,” kuroo says as you turn to leave. you pause, bracing yourself for whatever stupid comment he’s about to make.

“take care of yourself,” he says, a tinge of concern just barely distinguishable in his tone, before adding, “and remember to review covalent and ionic bonds!” you sigh. he sounds like a dad again.

“see, those are contradictory statements,” you gripe, “chemical bonds could not be further from self care.” he chuckles softly at that.

“at least make sure you eat, ok? maybe you’d get better at chemistry if you had more nutrients.”

“BYE, kuroo,” you call out, already headed for the door.

as you hurry towards your next destination, you can’t get your mind off of how weird it was to see kuroo acting… worried about you? normally his reaction to your struggling is just to tease you about it, but this was new for him. you’re not sure how to feel about it, and it’s hard to tell when the adrenaline of being in a rush is making your heartbeat do all sorts of things that might be confused with something else.

either way, there’s no way you’re reviewing a goddamn thing before next week.

a/n: yeah ok my theatre major jumped out in this one.. i can’t believe i’m posting a fic where i talk about superobjectives & chekhov unironically dsfdddfs hope that doesn’t ruin the experience for u, i really tried to do some research so y/n and kuroo could have an actual discussion about chemistry but turns out i’m dumb in real life so u get this instead

[tinymiko]

Coffee and cream

Henry Cavill/ thick woman

Rough sex, swearing, road rage, one night stand lots of swearing seriously I have a filthy mouth

So this is the first time sharing here and the first fic like this I've ever written be gentle. Also it's 4:50am and I'm doing this on my phone so formatting sucks.

Coffee and cream

Henry waited in line at the Starbucks half tempted to take off the ball cap and hoody in order to rush the service. Taking a look at the crowd he quickly changed his mind, his mother always said patience was a virtue. Besides getting his coffee 2 minutes earlier wouldn’t make up for the crowd of fans who would inevitably detain him for at least thirty minutes. He loved his fans was grateful for them but sometimes he wished he could grab a cup of coffee without getting mauled.  

 

He scooted towards the rear wall hunching in on himself watching the people come through the doors enjoying watching people without them watching him. A rush of hot air blew in as the door opened again. A small woman walked in head down auburn curls swinging down to her back blocking his view of her face. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to see her face but he felt compelled to move forward eyes tracking her as she waited in line. She was striking  pale skin dark eyes, long lashes. She had small lips that seemed to be perpetually smiling. Henry moved closer. Close enough that he got a whiff of her perfume,, she smelled like coconuts and he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. No heavy floral perfume or overly sweet vanilla for the little lady. Coconuts was strangely appropriate, exotic sweet like her smile.

 

He shook his head and backed up wondering just what it was about this woman that had struck him so. She was pretty no doubt but not the most beautiful he’d seen, hell not even the most beautiful in the Starbucks. She had drawn attention though, more than a few eyes followed her. It wasn’t just that she was tiny barely reaching his chest she was undoubtedly a woman, thick and full. There were no gentle slopes or subtle curves on her. No the little doll was like a mountain road, round and dangerous curves. The sharp dip of her waist almost cartoonish in comparison to the ample hips and the swell of creamy breast. She was built like a brick shit house.

 

 

Henry was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice he had moved so close to her until she bumped into him. Her little hands steadying herself on his abs and he felt his gut clench in desire at the heat of her brief touch.

 

“ I’m so sorry sir, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

 

“No I apologize, I hadn’t realized I was so close to you. I was a bit impatient for my coffee I guess.”  Henry took a deep breath when her brown eyes widened in recognition

 

 

“No worries it’s as much my fault as yours patience is a virtue I never possessed, especially not when coffee is involved. Besides it’s a hazard of being small sometimes people don’t see me down here.”

 

She smiled and then walked towards the pickup line grabbing a comically large Frappuccino. She walked back over to him handing him a grande caramel latte with Henry scrawled on the cup.

 

“I think this is you.” She told him an amused smirk on her face before she turned and walked away.

 

He stood for a moment just watching her go before chasing her out the door his long legs catching up to her quickly.

 

“ You know who I am?”

 

“ of course you’re huge dude plus a ball cap does not a disguise make.” The smirk was back on her face and Henry got the feeling she was laughing at him

 

“why didn’t you say anything?”

 

“ Because no one deserves to get attacked by fans before their first cup of coffee and you were practically crawling into your sweater trying to hide. Which is hard to do when you’re that big so kudos on that.”

 

 

Henry looked at her with disbelief before letting out a loud guffaw.

 

“Let me buy you a cup of coffee.”

 

 

“Already got one cutie besides I gotta go to work but enjoy your coffee. Also I loved you in the Witcher the wig really does it for you or does it for me however you want to take it.”

 

 

She climbed in a black SUV with a grunt that had him smilin, why did the smallest people drive the biggest cars.

 

“wait can I buy you dinner tonight. I'm in town for a few days training with Gracie.”

 

“The ju jitsu guy?” she asked.

 

“ yeah how’d you know?”

 

“I’m Puerto Rican we’re raised on boxing and MMA well that and dominoes. Anyways I really do have to go my boss is a hard ass and I’m already  late.”

 

“wait, just can you call in. I don’t know anyone here and I’d really like to thank you for not outing me.”

 

Isabella took a deep breath. She was really trying not to freak out. Henry fucking Cavill was talking to her! Asking her to dinner her plain little Isabella Sanchez. Of course she had immediately recognized him, who wouldn’t.  She had also recognized how hard he’d tried to blend into the walls and she felt sorry for him. How hard must it be for him to do anything without being mobbed. She was still trying to decide if it was worth hearing her boss's mouth when a group of girls came out of Starbucks. Unfortunately at that same moment Henry had taken off his cap to run his hands through his hair. The girls immediately squealed and rushed towards him. Not taking the time to think Isabella unlock the doors to her Suburban and yelled for him to get in. The car shook with the force of his body jumping in the passenger side and Isabella pulled the car in reverse tires squealing while she made an illegal turn onto the highway.

 

 

“ Wow thanks! I’ve never been actually been in a car chase.”

 

 

“that was hardly a car chase.” She said smiling

 

 

“Could have fooled me.” Henry muttered loudly.

 

“I could drive you back to the fangirls.”

 

 

“ no you’re a fantastic driver I didn’t fear for my life at all.”

 

Isabella snorted. So she had a lead foot she got him out of there before he could be molested by overly caffeinated fan girls.

 

 

“ I’m Isabella by the way.”

 

She held one hand towards him while quickly changing lanes and swerving around a slow driver.

 

“maybe you should keep both hands on the wheel.” He suggested with a dry chuckle. He was also not so discreetly putting on his seat belt. Isabella rolled her eyes. With his shoulders she wasn’t sure anything short of a head on collision would even jostle him.

 

20 minutes later they were pulling into his hotel and Henry had never been more glad to see a hotel in his life. The fact that the GPS has estimated their driving time at 40 minutes instead of the 20 minutes of near flying it took may have accounted for that. Isabella was sweet and funny and scary and the craziest driver he had ever had the displeasure of riding besides. He wasn’t sure how they had survived or how she hadn’t gotten arrested. She violated more laws than he had known existed cursing in English and Spanish at anyone that didn’t drive fast enough. So anyone driving the speed limit or below. He was a bit terrified of her, turned on to and he wasn’t sure what that said about him.

 

“ come up to the room well order room service besides I think I need some Dramamine”

 

 

“You can’t complain if you didn’t die that’s the rules .”

 

“I’m not sure I could complain if I did die.”

 

She snorted at his muttered words maybe she should have taken it easy on him but honestly she loved to drive loved the speed being higher than everyone else for once it was exhilarating.  She followed him to his room half worried half horny and wondered if she should be more concerned. She didn’t usually follow strange men to their hotel rooms. He had looked so panicked when those girls spotted him she couldn’t just abandon him.  She usually had good instincts about people and hers were saying he was a good person. of course her mind was telling her instincts she was thinking with her lady bits and well her lady bits weren’t thinking at all.

They ordered sandwiches and talked while they ate. Henry found himself telling her about his childhood about his love life or recent lack of and everything in between. Isabella was surprisingly easy to talk to. She wasn’t afraid to call him on his shit or to eat with gusto and he was glad. Hollywood and their   and gluten free salads were getting old. He missed comfort foods and comfortable people.  He laughed loudly as she told him about her uncle and father nearly getting into a fist fight over a game of dominoes how her aunt had forbidden the game since the “incident “ as everyone now called. Isabella called It hilarious and was still lamenting the lack of video footage of the two men dueling with canes while cursing up a storm. ( this actually happened)

 

It was nice really nice actually. He hadn’t felt so normal in years so when she stopped talking to take a drink he kissed her. Pulling her lush little body to him until she was straddling his lap. Her hips rocking against his hardness causing him to hiss.

 

He should stop he hadn’t meant to go this far but she felt so goddamn perfect in his arms. Squirming in his lap the heat of her cunt burning him through the jeans he was wearing. Fuck it he thought for once throwing caution to the wind. He wanted this wanted her. Isabella with her kind eyes and loud laughter her crazy road rage and gusto for life. It beckoned him a sirens call that he was lost to. He had spent years playing the game enjoying the fruits of fame. Had models and actresses all long limbed lithe all the same. Henry realized as he grabbed a handful of hips that it was like eating rice every day. It would keep you alive but was hardly living. Isabella this vibrant stranger was like a feast after years of famine.

 

 

 

 His hands traveled her back down to cup the fullness of her ass.  He pulled his mouth from hers to run his lips against her throat nipping at her jaw. She tasted like heaven sweet and salty and just fucking divine. Her fingers clawed at his back as ground herself harder against him he could feel her wet heat through the thin panties she wore. Her skirt uselessly rolled around her waist.

 

“Fuck Henry please”

 

 

Her pleas went straight to his cock and he ripped her blouse from her body tearing it in two leaving scraps hanging from her arms. Her nipples dusky rose and pebbled in his hand. He couldn’t help but suck one into his mouth before letting it go with a loud pop. She clenched her thighs and bucked her hips riding his Jean clad cock ferociously.

 

“You like little doll” he pulled the other nipple into his mouth sucking harder and she made little mewling noises. Dhe was going to be the death of him. He had known the second he had gotten into the car with her. He just hadn’t known she would ride him to death mewing like a kitten while fucking like the devil.

 

“more please harder"

 

 

Never one to deny a beautiful woman Henry pulled her still writhing body off him and tossed her bodily on the bed. She landed on the hard but he didn’t stop just ripped the rest of her clothes from her body. Before shoving his own off. Henry paused to look at her his gaze burning her body. The tattoo of a fiery heart on her hip the scar from an old belly piercing. Her glistening pussy just begging to be tasted. So he did he dived into the bed his weight  making her bounce a bit. Spreading her legs he passed his tongue over her slit. She squirmed trying to  close her legs but he held her thighs open scooting until she was trapped by his shoulders. Pinned beneath the massive girth of his muscular body. Every pass of his tongue sent a jolt between her legs. He plunged his tongue  in and out of her sopping hole fucking her with his tongue. Isabella screamed it was too much his weight his smell his touch everything was too much and she thought she might die of pleasure. He thrust two fingers into her cunt twisting and turning them while his tongue lapped at her clit. Her stomach clenched and her back arched obscenely  her breast jutting in the air and she convulsed the strength of her orgasm taking over her body. She shook with after shocks and Henry crawled up her body his face shiny with her slick.

 

 

Isabella felt her body tighten in response seconds before she was sure she was going to pass out but looking at his face covered in her juices his tongue darting out to catch errant drops. She was wet all over again. Pulling his face to hers she licked at the seam of his lips tasting herself. Her fingers ran through his curls and she tugged on them impatiently. In  answer he plunged into his bulbous head stretching her to capacity. He stopped halfway her little cunt so tight that he was afraid he’d hurt her if he fully sheathed himself. Henry could feel the sweat dripping down his head a vein in his neck bulged with the effort to keep still. He wouldn’t hurt her not after she’d been so kind no matter how much he wanted to let go. To fuck her into the mattress.

 

“ Fuck your so goddammit tight. I can’t fuck, we’re going to have to go slow little doll or I might hurt you. ”

 

Isabella took a deep breath slammed her hips forward fully sheathing him. She was full so full she could swear he was going to tear her in two but she needed it, need his big cock to fuck her into the wall.

 

“don’t you hold back don’t you fucking hold back.”

 

 

Fuck was all he could think when the tiny woman slammed her body down on him. He pushed into her his big hands holding her hips in a bruising grip as he pulled out to the tip than  slammed her body down his erection over and over. He had lost it. He knew he was holding her too tightly slamming her little body to strongly. The small part of his mind that still was coherent cursed his weakness even as he continued lifting her up before yanking  her down his cock till finally he felt his balls tighten. He wanted to make it good for her though the absolutely filthy sounds of him gliding in and out of her soaked cunt made him think it already was good for her. He managed to capture one luscious tit in his mouth biting hard to keep it as she thrashed screaming a second release and he roared incoherently feeling his seed fill her up he couldn’t help the smug smirk before finally collapsing on the bed. He had enough presence of mind to make sure she landed on top of him so he wouldn’t crush her then fell asleep.