#i came up with this in the car like six hours ago and im still dying over it

[annika-thelostlove]

Battery Life \\ a Simon Feck x fem!reader

[Knight and Day (2010 film)]

A\N: I have been stuck on this fic for months 😭 I'm posting it as it is, and so there will be sooooo many mistakes I'm so sorry. This one just came out of the blue, but I hope you still enjoy some Simon Feck love ❤️

Summary: Simon is a genius, and youre nothing special. But he's kind enough to let you sleep in his bed while he plays video games. How dare you fall in love with him!

Warnings: angst (my usual brand I'm sorry) misunderstanding, lack of communication, mutual pinning, low self-esteem, depression, minor dubious consent kiss, happy ending!

Word count: 3374

You're not sure when it begun, youve been spending months on his sofa watching him play games, eating his food from his pantry, laying under his sheets when he let's you take a nap on his futon when you're tired. Hours of time to think to yourself what the hell is really going on, but you couldn't pinpoint the moment when you knew that you loved him.

Six months ago you only knew Simon as the kid-genius that goes to the same school as you. He was always busy, getting offered scholarships, skipping classes that he's already passed, getting featured on tech magazines, for him to ever know that you existed. He's an 18 year old engineering genius, they said. He's been offered a full ride through MIT or Yale or something like that. Or so you've heard.

You also heard a recent rumor that he lives by himself. They've given him his own apartment after turning 18. Its closer to his soon-to-be campus.

Simon is just too busy to notice anyone, too busy to make friends. You think you have that in common.

Except that you skip school not for extra education like Simon, but because you can't get out of bed. Sometimes you feel too empty.

Or when you have no lunch in your bag. Youre too embarrassed. Or if you haven't showered in a while. Just feels too ashamed.

People tend to ignore you, it's fine with you. To you everything in life is temporary. You're now in your final foster home until you're 18. They've been the best family so far, it been four years with them.

They really care about you. They probably even love you. But you still find it hard to really let them know when there's something wrong with you. You feel like you're a burden, they would disagree with that. But they just don't understand.

So for the whole of highschool you don't cross paths with the star pupil of the school Simon Feck. Apart from catching glances at him sometimes from down the hall. He's so tall, its hard to miss. Always talking to a teacher, he doesn't seem to have friends. Just like you.

You have never had one moment with him until graduation year.

Thinking back, you think he might have looked handsome asking you if you were okay standing in the cold. In truth, at that moment you were thinking that he looked nerdy in his glasses and striped shirt, and he was someone who definitely hasn't learned how to shave properly yet, with that tuft of hair on his chin.

"Are you waiting for someone?" his first words to you.

Youve been standing by the school building, pretending to be waiting to be picked up. But the truth was, you just didn't want to go home yet. One of your little sisters was taken back by her biological mother just the day before. It was just too hard to be there without her.

"Uh, I'm.. not really…" feet awkwardly shuffling. "-are you doing anything now?" You quickly change the subject. Simon's expression changes to a look of surprise.

"Now? Im just, gonna go home."

"Do you play video games?"

"Yes…do you play?"

"No, oh." You sadly respond. He swayed side to side, It took him a few more moments of hesitant contemplation to finally say. "Did you..want to- play?"

"Yes" you say without hesitation.

"Oh, like like, at my house?"

"Yes"

"Okay, um, my car is just around the side here." He points at the direction. "Well, you don't have to get in my car. If, if that seem inappropriate I-"

"Let's go. I don't care about any of that"

You follow eachother closely. He's neck is flushed, unsure where his situation is going. Once he gets you in his passenger seat he gets in and pauses.

"So, my name is Simon"

"I know"

He turns red all of a sudden. "Oh" he asks for your name, and you tell him. He repeats it to himself under his breath. Memorizing it.

—-

That had been months ago now. That first evening in his apartment you quietly watched him play his game untill you drifted into a deep sleep that you haven't had in so long. His sofa was cosy, and a few hours later you woke up to vision of Simon still playing his game beside you. But now there was blanket draped over your body that smelled like fabric softener, a little bit of moth ball and a third soft musk that you later on recognize to be Simon's distinct smell. It comforts you.

You've overstayed, and had to get home at 6pm.

Simon and you had never discussed about it. But it went on just like that everyday after school from then on. Watching Simon play, falling asleep, eating his snacks, sometimes crawling into his bed. He never touched you, he just let you exist in his space. Always asked if you liked the food. Never asked you if you needed anything else. He always just gave without needing to ask. Like giving blankets, the soda he now buys because you liked them, or the extra cable wire he bought so your phone can charge. Even though his own devices are incompatible to it. He must have bought it just for you.

You feel something, this burning in your chest. He loves you. Maybe. You don't know. You've never been in love before. You've never had anyone really love you before. So how can you recognize it?

But then every time you step into his space, he starts the hot water for tea, and passes you the comfiest pillow on the couch, you talk about anything and everything, you make him laugh, sometimes he make you laugh too, you listen to his tech rambling, despite not understanding. And you think that maybe this must be what love is like.

Maybe we're only friends. A friend you would dream about being together like this forever.

But that couldn't be right, he never speaks to you at school. Even now. Never looks towards you when youre in the same room, (you know since you look at him every chance you get). So whatever hope you have of Simon liking you back, it vanishes at the logic.

_____

Then it began, falling asleep on his shoulder, youve sat so close to him lately. You curled into his side like you were meant to fit there.

Simon still says nothing, he accepts it like he normaly does, it irks you that he feels nothing. Some days you just want to provoke him.

What are you to him?

A piece of decor in his room?

A friend?

Someone more?

He had become your gravity, you orbit around him as he exists like the sun. But you, you feel like a tiny rock just drifting through his universe, pulled by his gravity, and burning up once you got to close.

How can two people be so different? How can one be so brilliant, bright and important? Full of purpose and direction? While you drift along this life, aimless, and empty.

Where will you be after all of this? When Simon will eventually be in bright shiny places on day, where will you be?

_________

One late evening you wake to laying on top of him on his sofa, he fell asleep, his game is shut down and controller on the floor, he must have not wanted to disturb your sleep even though he's finished his game. He's been tired lately, they've been pushing him with some new battery project he's developing. You wish you could help him get more rest. You wish you had anything to really give him.

While you stared at the unique shape of his nose and lips, his eyes fluttered open. Seeing you so close, you felt his heart speed up, those few seconds you weren't ever sure who did it first, but one second you were lost in his green eyes, the next you were kissing him.

_______

Suddenly pulling away, you're panicked after you realize he's staying completely still beneath you. His eyes staring blankly at his ceiling. Shame floods through your body.

"I'm so sorry" you both say at once. But it's him that continues. "That shouldn't have happened, it was a mistake" mistake? He thought it was a mistake. You quickly try to patch up your rejection, with whatever came out of your mouth next.

"Yes, I- we shouldn't have done that, I don't know what came over me. Hah, I- it was a mistake, sorry Simon"

"No, no, I'm sorry too." He winced.

_____

Then the moment was promptly ignored. Never talked about it again. You felt lost about it all. It was helpless to keep loving someone who would never love someone like you.

You tried to go on a date or two trying to shake off that the memory with Simon. But you quickly stopped all of that just after two dates. Why did it feel like betrayal? When before each date all Simon ever said to you from finding out were, 'thats fine'. His eyes not once leaving the TV screen.

"Simon this guy asked me on a date, i- i wont be here that evening"

"That sounds fine, have fun"

Or

"Simon I think I'll give him a chance"

"Sure fine" each blow to the heart pushes you more towards giving up.

Youre not even together. So you dont know why it hurts so much. It was impossible for you to even think about dating someone else now. So you just suck it up and endure it.

It was okay for a while, right until he started talking about other girls.

It came out of nowhere you think. But one week after another, there were issues and stories with a new girl each week, someone from his scholarship program. Someone from an expo. A guest speaker he admired. All of them he expressed how beautiful women can be, and that he can't seem to believe it sometimes. He would look over to you with gleam in his eyes. It felt like punishment, there was no way you could compete with that. They were all in his league, they were intelligent and strong and have bright futures. You have none of those things, you're entire existence brings down his bright one.

You remind yourself that after graduation, this should all be over. Just a few more weeks of unrequited love, and it can end.

It's better this way anyway, you think. You know you aren't meant for him.

One day Simon is going to invent something that would change the world, and then he will fly to somewhere like the white house, and they'll give him a bigger apartment, and his own lab, and they'll take him to countries like in Europe and talk to presidents, and he'll be so far away from you.

And you might just stay here and maybe get a job at the supermarket, and then you might stay there for a few years just to sort out a few things. Then maybe you'll move up in management at a nicer workplace, you're not quite sure of your plan is yet. Your two worlds are so different.

You smile sadly to yourself, and think of how happy your Simon is going to be. How proud you are to even know him. You can't really help it, but each night your tears slide down your cheek to your pillow thinking about him. His clear soothing voice, his delicate hands, his clueless similes. His hand on your shoulder, his stripped shirts and multiple sets of cargo pants. His scent on his shoulder, his lips on yours just that one time. You love him. And you don't know how to make it stop.

But that is all it can ever go. He doesnt want you, he deserves much more. So you kept to yourself, close to your heart. That's the only place it can belong.

_______

Then the night came, new years eve. There were fireworks out on the Street of his apartment. You watched it through his open window, the countdown in the last 6 seconds, at first you counted down, but his green eyes locked to yours so briefly, you think he looked nervous. You didn't even realize it struck midnight. In that next second his lips were on yours. A quick peck. All it was.

He pulled away and you stood there frozen. This was not fair. This hurts too much. You can't stand to be here any longer with the love you can never have. Your ears ring from your rage.

"What was that Simon"

"A-a-a new year's kiss."

"Yes, but i- you can't do that, it's not- DONT do this to me simon"

"Im sorry, I didn't mean anything i- i thought- I'm so dumb- i should have asked-"

So it doesn't mean anything to him?

"Yes, you should have. Do you have any idea what youve just- Nevermind. I'm, I'm going home" rush you snatch your things off his table and the floor

"Hey, where are you going? Do your ur parents expect you home?"

"No, I. I just can't do this anymore"

"What?"

"I'm too, I'm just too confused by you okay?"

"What what do you mean? Confused how? You cant mean you- you have- "

"What simon?" You wish By some miracle he says your confession.

"...do you have feelings for me?" There it is.

"...but you were so clear that you would never get feelings for me! You said! Well, no, you never said anything" His face full of shock

You can't respond, your breath just comes out in hard puffs.

"You never told me! I thought, well. You IGNORE me at school- " he laughs in disbelief, and ruffles his own hair.

"What? Its you that ignore me simon! Youre the one repulsed by me!

"What!? I'm not repulsed by you! Youre the one who made sure that what we have was so secret! You barely talk to me at school"

"I was not! You did that! You had your older smart friends, and Yale acceptances, and your stupid expensive sneakers! And you all looked at me, like I'm stupid, im the school idiot–" You don't understand why your the only one so mad and about to breakdown, while Simon just looked like he figured out the correct formula to something.

"Hey, You are not an idiot–"

"i AM. im STUPID, the dumbest girl you'll ever get to know. Im the one who has gotten myself, into this situation. And someone like me could never get to your level, into your circle. I can NEVER be a guest speaker for science, or get a Scholarship, i will never be an expert at anything like the girls you like so much!" You don't realize it hurt this much till you said it all.

"What do you have to do with them? I-i mean-"

"You think i dont know that? That i have nothing to do with them? And i'm here just holding my breath, knowing that youre about to pick another girl to fall madly in love with, KNOWING that im not on the fucking list of choices. but simon you dont even have the guts to ask one of them out!"

You silence Simon, and you think you've really hurt him this time. But he just looks disappointed and confused by the whole argument and sighs, he begins to speak so gently. "You- what are you- that's not true, i know my weakness, okay? I haven't gotten the courage yet to tell the girl I like that I want to be with her. Im- that's not fair, when you're the one who gives up on all your dates. Its like you date just to waste their time you know?. You don't even know what youre looking for. Your whole shtick is to never do anything with yor life, and to never ever be happy. You're just DETERMINED. Just so bent on wasting time! Like you waste MY time!"

"Ohh, I- " he's angry, really angry. You didn't anticipate how deep you cut him. How deep he would cut you. Tears begin to blur your vision.

"Oh, i- im sorry." He hides behind his palms now, and shaking them in front of him. "I just can't believe this right now, i- i just have a few days left to work on the battery…I knew doing this with you can't be good for me" He fists his hair and mumbles the hurtful words. He's moving quickly cleaning up around his apartment

You are not good for him. Of course, you knew this. You've always known that. But it hurt to confirm it.

"Yeah-" you hold your breath "I know" you voice breaks on the last word. "I know I'm not, in sorry."

"Hey, no, that's not what i-"

"I think, we should stop this thing that we're doing. Goodbye Simon." There was no time to look back, you ran out of his apartment.

—---

You stop coming over. You want him to finish his work in peace, soon he'll be in Yale, then get a fancy job somewhere far away, and you'll still be here in this town.

You cry every night, you're sure one day you'll run out of the pain. But now it's every night you just miss holding him.

—--

2 months later

You're phone doesn't even ring. There's just a voice message there from a strange number. On the rare occasion you have credit to hear your voice messages, this was one of them. You put the phone to your ear and hear the voice you've been missing. Two days after your fight, Simon disappeared without a trace. Worried sick you report him missing, but the police cleared the report saying Simon is safe but doesn't want to be found. It was just more secretive stuff you know are a part of Simon's world. It made you feel like Simon was some secret agent, it brought a little smile on your face.

But now after 2 months and nothing, you lost hope that he thought of you at all.

"You have one, new message"

"Hello? This is Simon. Are you there? Please tell me you're getting this message. God..They look my phone away, so I couldn't get to you. Its - its just the CIA. Don't worry im, I'm safe. I mean, maybe youre not actually even worried about me. Well, but. Um. But then I built a phone? Um for me to say something..important. I need to say this."

"I think get it, ive been thinking about it, that maybe you thought I never cared about you, because im an IDIOT. Just, whatever you think...and I cant even believe you might think this…its just not true. You are worth so much, you are the most important person to me, to my life. You keep me going, you calm me, you inspire me. You are NOT and idiot. I just- that i just have an unusually large brain compared to others!"

You could hear him cringing through the phone after saying that, and you let out a short laugh.

"P-Please I don't know if you've just moved on from me, but i-i. I have to let you know. I think- I think, I mean, I KNOW I actually love you. I mean, I do. I love you. Ive felt this way for a long time. And, and, I want to take you on a date, and we can call each other nicknames. And..kiss, and hold hands. I just miss you, so much. Um, so if you maybe feel the same, I hope you um, respond to this message. My encrypted email is ***@mail.co um okay. Email me, please. I love you."

His voice shook through the entire message, like the same way he would ask favors from a stranger. A nervous wreck.

Tears were streaming down your face. His voice was like home.

You dial back the mystery number.

One hour later, the CIA was at your door. You catch Simon's bashful face toeing in behind them. More tears spring to your eyes, but this time there are happy ones.

----------

A/N: you didn't even use the email. Just called the CIA and got into trouble 😃

[bullet-prooflove]

Safe Haven: Joe Velasco x Reader

Tagging: @plaidbooks   @misscharlielulu   @witches-unruly-heart    @kimm4710   @ednastvincent   @storiesofsvu   @magic-multicolored-miracle  @rosaliedepp    @cycat4077     @crazy4chickennuggets   @cixrosie      @themisunderstoodblackswan   @im-just-a-mississippi-girl​

Companion Piece to ​ When in Rome

Your home was different from the way that Joe had imagined it. From experience the majority of his fellow officers seemed to live in apartments unless they had a family, you however lived in a petite bungalow in a picturesque, family orientated area of Queens.

Despite the fact it was late you had still left the porch light on for him and Joe appreciated that. There was a darkness in the street that would have made him feel uneasy if he didn't have the two cops sitting in the off-duty police car at his back. Somewhere in New York Ruiz was stalking around in the shadows and he wondered when he would finally come face to face with the man that he had put away five years ago.

It had taken three deaths in the past thirty-six hours for Joe to realise who the killer was and even sharing the identity left a bad taste in his mouth. The things that Ruiz had done were horrific, they were snapshot images in his mind that haunted his dreams over the years. Most of the time he was certain he had come to terms with seeing the Lambert's tortured bodies however it was always the kid that got him. He could never forget the gnawing sickness he felt when the coroner had reeled off the list of injuries like a grotesque check list.

His footsteps seemed to echo as he took each step up to your ivory front door and reached for the gold-coloured knocker just below the window. After he had told the Captain the story she had instantly placed him under protective custody. The plan had been to remove him from the case and to hide Joe in a safe house so the other man couldn't touch him. That hadn't sat well with Joe and both Benson and himself had gotten into one of the worst arguments he had had in his entire life, he had been in danger of being written up for ignoring a direct order until you had stepped in to smooth over the situation. You had offered up your home as a safe haven, as a cop you had adequate security and there would be a cop in the house as well as outside the house to ensure Joe’s safety. That way Joe could work on the case and have someone to bounce ideas off whilst removing the security concerns around him. Amongst the three of you that had been agreed as the best option and here he was outside your door with his black holdall clasped in his hands. It would only be for a few days he told himself. Just until he managed to catch Ruiz.

It took a few seconds for you to open the door, he could the twisting of each and every lock as you undid them all one by one. Apparently, you hadn't been kidding when it came to your security, he wondered if that was anything to do with your previous experiences. You gestured for him to enter before you shut and locked the door behind him.

The inside of your home was intriguing to him. He hadn't known that you liked to read, which was evident from the beech wood bookshelves crammed filled with books of all shapes and sizes. He took in the well-loved sofa sat in front of your flatscreen TV, an PS4 tucked neatly underneath it. There was bedding stacked on the left-hand cushion of the sofa along with neatly folded sweat pants and a black t shirt. Your firearm was sitting ready on the hand-crafted coffee table between the TV and the sofa.

"You are far too big for the couch." You informed him as you caught him looking down at the pile of clothes in confusion. "And protocol says I need to be between you and whatever is coming through that door. You've got fresh bedding in my room, and I hope you brought your own pyjamas."

There was a lilt of humour in your voice and Joe found himself smiling despite the current circumstances.

"I thought I mentioned that I only sleep nude." he informed you with a teasing shrug before dropping down onto the couch with his holdall and rubbing his weary features with his hands.

"Hey if you wanna fight Ruiz bare assed that is up to you." You said rolling your eyes skyward. "I prefer to have something between me and the bad guy."

Joe tilted his head so that his green eyes bored into yours. You could feel the war that was waging inside of him, the unbridled fury that he wanted to unleash upon Ruiz. It was a vengeful desire one that you had experienced yourself. One that you had paid the price for, and you knew it chewed at your gut like a monster, eating you up until you were forced to act. That was one of the reasons you were taking the couch, you wouldn't put it past Joe to try and sneak out and put a bullet in Ruiz’s head. Sadly, for him the only way in and out of your place was through the front door and you were a very light sleeper.

"So, what did you do?" You asked him bluntly. "I know it's not something you wanted to say in front of the Captain. You’re acting like you deserve this, like it's your fault."

"Is this an interrogation?" Joe asked you, his voice betraying the agitation he was trying to mask underneath the surface. "Do you think I'm dirty?"

"No Jose." You said lowering your tone in an attempt to diffuse his misplaced anger. "I don't think you’re dirty, but I do think your carrying something around with you, something that's eating you up inside."

"Did you do it?" Joe asked you suddenly, you wondered if your thoughts were reflected on your face as you seated yourself in the reading chair, your hands pressed between your knees. "Did you kill him because of what he did to your partner?"

There was a moment for you, one that was pivotal. You could act in self-preservation and deny even knowing what he was talking about or you could tell the truth and that was what Joe needed right now. He needed to know he wasn't alone with this feeling.

"Yes." You told him stoically. "He wanted to kill me... but I killed him first. There are consequences. Ones that even I couldn't foresee."

You reached forward your fingertips coming to rest on the white manilla envelop that had arrived a few days ago. You pushed it towards him, urging him to pick it up. Joe did as he was requested, removing a small stack of stapled paperwork and briefly reading through the first page.

"His family are suing you for wrongful death." Joe uttered as he placed the assortment of paperwork back down on the coffee table.

"They couldn't take it to criminal court so this another way for them to get even." You told Joe with the shrug of your shoulders. "What I did I have to live with. Right now, you may think what you’re doing is just and righteous, but it isn't. It haunts you, the guilt creeps up on you and before you realise it you start to become self-destructive."

"You think that's what I'm doing?" Joe asked you. "You think I'm going to self-destruct?"

"You tell me." You responded. "You want to take on a guy that wants to kill you and that outmatches you in every single way on your own. You tell me that doesn't sound like a death sentence."

Joe rubbed his hands together as he bowed his head. His teeth gnawed at his lower lip as he took your words into consideration. They didn't change what he wanted to do, what he needed to do.

You could tell you'd lost the battle.

"Don't do it alone." you requested, pressing your hands between your knees. "If you go after him, make sure someone's got your back."

Joe said nothing, he simply rose to his feet grasped his holdall and disappeared you’re your bedroom closing the door quietly behind him.

Love Joe Velasco? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[bitegore]

Zeiv, age 12: I can't let this keep happening any more.

Metakala, also age 12: yeah.

Zeiv: I have to stand up for myself.

Metakala: Yeah.

Zeiv: I'm gonna take a stand!

Metakala: Yeah!

Zeiv: I'm going to murder them with poison!

Metakala: No!

[grippingbeskar]

looking to tomorrow | frank castle

frank castle x fem!reader

word count: 8.2k

warnings: ADULT CONTENT MINORS DNI ( fingering, blowjob, penetration (mxf), slight pain kink, mentions of marks/blood during sex, mirrors) swearing, canon typical violence, mentions of blood

a/n: the punisher has been my favourite show in the mcu for fucking YEARS but im new to writing so hopefully I did him justice, lots of love and as always pls tell me if i missed any warnings stay safe i love u all

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Bottom line, Frank was fucking lonely. Living life as ‘The Punisher’ wasn’t exactly a socially acceptable job, the only people he ever interacted with were ones he was about to kill. Not that he needed anyone. He preferred the solitude, the quiet of his small apartment when he came home in the early hours of the morning, gentle sunlight streaming through the one tiny window above his bed a glaring reminder he’d dragged himself through another full 24 hours without them.

One day at a time. That’s what Curtis drilled into him after every meeting. Just break it down to twenty four hours at a time, and before you know it, you made it. Truthfully the only thing getting him through each achingly long day was knowing every single asshole who even breathed the same air as those responsible for the death of his family would be six feet under; one way or the other. That and, well, you.

He’d met you just shy of four months ago, the adorable waitress behind the bar across the street from his shitty apartment. It had been a rough night for the both of you, Frank having to haul ass across the Manhattan bridge to chase down some of Agent Orange’s fucking goons, and you having spent the better part of your 8 hour shift swatting clammy hands away from your hips and counting out pennies for cheapskates who wouldn’t leave a tip. It was Frank who turned your night around, slamming his fist down on top of the drunk guys wandering hand hard enough you swear you heard bones crack.

Frank had reacted on instinct, but as he looked up, letting up his fist only enough so the douchebag could run out of the bar with his tail between his legs, your wide eyed stare took his damn breath away. He’d expected you to freak out, kick him out of the bar, but when you just smiled and uttered a shy ‘thank you’, he admitted he was intrigued.

You were damn infatuated, the only man in the three years you’d worked here to have any kind of positive reaction to seeing what happened every night, and it did help that he was possibly the most attractive man you’d ever seen walk in here.

Ever since then, a couple nights a week he would wander in towards the end of your shift, ask you about your night, take care of any lingering creeps while you counted the till and closed up, walking you to your car afterwards. It was your favourite part of the night, and eventually you found yourself looking for him, disappointed when he didn’t make it in, even if he did always bring some take out food with him the next time to make up for it.

Frank was a goner the moment you smiled at him, that half grin, half smirk you made, looking up through your lashes. He risked getting caught, going out earlier than normal, tracking in the day rather than late at night just so he could make it to the bar before you closed, let alone the hundreds of dollars he must have spent by now on drinks just to keep you coming down his end of the bar. He never realised how lonely he was until he started talking to you, the hours you’ve spent talking about nothing important, reciting mundane details about a trip to the grocery store, shit you thinks too boring to tell anyone else except that one person, because everything they do makes your heart beat like crazy.

He couldn’t get you out of his head. Occasionally you’d work the day shift, one Sunday a fortnight, and when he woke up he’d look out his window and see you serving a beer to some old guy still rolling from the night before. He tried not staring for too long, but on occasion there’d be something that made you laugh, and the sun would be shining just right, lighting up your eyes and smile lighting up your face, and he couldn’t find it in himself to tear his eyes away.

So, here he is, walking down the street at 2:30am, covered in blood (not his) and sweat (probably his) with a kick in his step trying to make sure he reaches you before you shut the rollers of the bar and lock him out. He rounds a corner and can feel his heart in his throat. What’s wrong with him? Acting like some kid with a crush on the girl next door. He had no idea what is was that he felt for you, hell; he didn’t know if he’d ever feel anything after he lost his family, but whatever this was felt new, refreshing, and overwhelming.

He hears the jingle of your keys and he jogs a little, wanting to make sure you hear him coming up behind you. He still has his hood on, but the light from the orange street lamp would make him visible enough to you, and you’d seen him coming up in the dark too many times to not recognise the thump of his steps as he trudges up the street.

“Thought you wouldn’t make it this time. Had to count all the quarters myself.” You say to him as he comes up next to you, reaching up and pulling the roller door down, holding it steady so you can lock it. Usually you had to use the big stick with a hook to reach it, but Franks giant frame makes quick work of it.

“This make it up to you?” Frank pulls out the brown paper bag, slightly greasy from the pooled oils at the bottom and it makes your mouth water, knowing the glorious smell of those famous shake shack fries anywhere. You reach out to take the bag, but your hand catches on his knuckles, bright red and flecked with blood.

“Who’d you kill for these, Frankie?” You try to joke, but he stills under your touch. Your hand wraps around his wrist, the fries suddenly not your focal point. The subtle light of the street lamp highlights the patterns of blue and green and purple that are skittered across his hand, the two top knuckles raw and bleeding. Probably infected, you think, your third year nursing degree finally coming in practical use.

Frank is hardly breathing. He hasn’t told you about his ‘occupation’, not wanting his violent tendencies to fray whatever rocky friendship the two of you had. This little thing has been his life ring for the past few months, you the only one yanking a smile out of him even on his shittiest nights, and he’s ruined it. All because he selfishly wanted to see you. Needed to see you.

“You did say these fries were to die for.” He tries, and that’s when you finally meet his gaze. He’s selfish again, because he knows what he looks like but he doesn’t care you’re seeing him all fucked up for the first time, as long as you look at him like that. Those damn eyes would send him mad.

Your hand leaves his wrist and your touch is feather light against the side of his head. Your middle finger strokes his temple as you pull his hood back, the cool breeze of the middle of the night freezing against the wetness of blood splattered on his head.

“Fucking hell, Frank. Where have you been?” It comes out all airy and soft. You weren’t scared, maybe a little, but only for him. That was a lot of blood to lose at the best of times let alone on his head, your brain already triaging the injuries before he answers.

“Just a fight. Some dumb kids tried to jump me, no big deal.” He goes to pull his hood back up.

“Bullshit. Look at you. Who the fuck is going to try and jump you?” He towers over you, and anyone with half a brain wouldn’t pick someone like that to mug, let alone Frank letting a few kids do this much damage. You’ve seen him get physical with a couple of the guys in the bar, the hint of something darker bubbling under the surface. You knew he was a soldier, a marine; so it made sense he could hold his own, but it was more than that, and there’s no way the man who walks like death is his personal assistant got his ass handed to him in an alley.

“Come with me.” You brush past him, taking the fries from his still outstretched hand.

“Listen, I-“

“Now, Frank.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He obeys, catching up to you in two giant strides, legs on auto pilot as they tracked the familiar route to your car. It was a short walk, and normally that made you happy. The less time you spent out in the cold open space of New York at 3am the better, but for the past couple of months you’ve been parking a little further away every time, knowing your time walking with Frank was limited.

You click your keys in the pocket on your hoodie, heart jumping every time Franks arm brushes against yours. You can’t help how he makes you feel, listening so intensely to everything you have to say, making you laugh even when you don’t want to, and his smile. God, it makes you swoon even to remember it. He was seriously doing something to you, but you never over stepped. He’d told you about his family, and how he spoke about them shattered your heart. He’d only brought them up a handful of times, usually to talk about something funny his kids used to do, or how proud he was to be their dad, but when he spoke about his wife, Maria. The things you would do to have a man speak about you the way he did. He’d stopped bringing her up a while ago though, and you never wanted to pry, but you could tell it still hurt him, and you wondered how recently it happened.

Finally you hear the little beeps of your car unlocking and the blinkers flash, Frank stepping out before you to open the door, giving you a flash of his bruised knuckles against your white car as he does so. Your heart shatters all over again thinking about how painful they would be, and as soon as you hear him click the belt into its socket you take off, zipping out of the alley and onto the main road.

“Kid, really. It was just a couple of guys being idiots. I’m fine.”

“Frank, come on. Your head is practically flooded with blood. We’re going to the hospital.”

“No. No hospitals.” His tone gets a little flatter, and you soften your own.

“You could have a concussion.”

“I don’t.”

“How would you even kno-“

“Because it’s not my blood.”

Cats out of the fucking bag now. If Frank could work up the courage to look you in the face he would probably see the disgust and fear rolled into one that was surely covering it. You don’t say anything, and it takes everything in him not to get on his knees and beg for you not to leave him. He’s hanging on by a god damn thread, and these past couple months have been the first time he’s seen some kind of light at the end of the shit filled tunnel he lived in, but he’s blown it out of the water now, and all he can do is try and soften the effect.

He lets out a breath and looks over at you, the whites of your eyes lit up by the red stoplight shimmering across your cheeks. He studies it, searches you for some kind of reaction, but all you do it reach into the bag of fries teetering on your knees and stuff your face full of them. One hand stays on the wheel to turn when the light goes green, your other coming up to stuff your face full again.

“You’re gonna choke on ‘em if you keep going like that.” You can hear the smile in his voice without looking at him, and your eyebrows come together, pouting.

“Well, maybe they will give us beds next to each other in the ER.” He laughs, and you turn the radio down so you can hear it better. Your so worried about him, the shock of his appearance blocked only slightly by your practical experience as a nurse. It’s different seeing someone you care about like that though, and saying Frank is someone you care about seems too small a statement.

Your apartment building comes into view, and for a second you think about driving past and going straight to your other workplace at the hospital, but the way his tone changed makes you think he’s got a serious problem with them, and it’s not hard to figure out where that might have come from. Turning into the parking garage, you pull the handbrake and shift to face him, eating the last of the fries that fell into the bottom of the bag.

“You know that if I don’t take you to the hospital and you die on my couch, I will go to prison.”

“Maybe we can have cells next to each other.” He turns your words against you and you laugh this time, more from shock that he’s the one joking while he’s bleeding out on the passenger seat. You get out of the car and when you hear him shut his door you lock it behind you, beginning the ascent up to your apartment.

Frank follows you like a fucking dog to a bone, seeing that smile nearly giving him a semi on the way here. He should have told you to drop him home, should have told you that he’s dangerous, to stay away. He should have done a lot of things, but when he realised where you were going, that you were taking him home, your home, he wasn’t a strong enough man to turn that down.

Taking the stairs two at a time, you look back occasionally, monitoring your patient who keeps an easy pace with you. Good, at least you know he hasn’t punctured a lung under there. He does wince slightly when he leans to his left, and his hands and head are what your worried about, but maybe it’s not as serious as you think. Besides, if most of the blood isn’t his, maybe you don’t have that much work ahead of you.

Maybe that should have scared you, but you felt nothing when he said it. Not a hint of fear, there’s nothing he could say that would scare you. The moments you’ve spent with him have been some of the most intimate you’ve ever shared with someone, and you’ve never even kissed him.

Just the idea of that sends your mind wandering, and as you stop in front of your door, you realise what you are about to do. Frank, and you. Alone. In your apartment. Really alone.

Your hands shake putting the key in the door.

Frank sees it. He thinks you must be scared shitless, letting him in when he looks like that, and after his confession in the car, you probably think he’s some kind of axe murderer. You’d be right, too. Not stepping too far into your apartment, he has no idea what to do next, watching you move swiftly inside he takes a look around, curiosity eating him alive.

It’s exactly how he pictured, packed to the brim of stuff. Books stacked on top of each other in near toppling piles next to a full bookshelf clearly too small for your expanding collection, receipts and torn pieces of paper marking your place in a few. It’s clean, cleaner than Franks, but the jacket strewn on the end of the couch, the pictures hanging on the wall, magnets and photo booth clippings on the fridge make it feel a lot more like a home than his does.

By the time he looks over at you, you’ve made a neat little stack on the coffee table, and brought out a bottle of vodka and whiskey, standing equally as tall around the pile of medical supplies.

“Sit.” He does, unzipping his jacket from under his chin to halfway down his chest, the white singlet underneath splattered red, but all you can focus on is the hint of toned chest that pokes out the top. Your hands are full, one holding the whiskey and one holding the vodka.

“You planning a cocktail party?” He motions his head to the bottles.

“Ohh, you’ve got jokes now, huh? Funny. This is to sterilise.” You shake the vodka, and push the whiskey into his opposite hand. “This, to drink.” He ‘hmm’s slightly, a little smirk on his face as he takes a swig from the brown liquid, letting the bottle rest next to him.

You pull his other hand towards you, examining. The two top knuckles are weeping and cracked, clearly used to the abuse he’s thrown at them tonight.

“This is gonna sting. You think you can be a big boy, or do I need to bribe you with a lolly pop?” He laughs, and as much as you just want to get lost in the sound you take the distraction, using the small bottle of anti septic and gently letting the liquid clean his knuckles. He sucks in a breath, and your thumb brushes his skin soothingly as you work.

Frank would probably let you perform open heart surgery on this couch if your fingers would keep brushing over his pulse point, the light caress sending shivers down his spine and he has to bite his fucking tongue to keep it together. It stings like hell, but it’s nothing compared to what he’s felt before, so his face never changes as you use a small cotton pad and remove the dirt and foreign blood caught up in the wounds. You move to the other hand, and he sucks in another breath, but watches you work, eyes never leaving you.

Once you were satisfied, you turned, adjusting yourself on your knees in front of him. He’s in pain, and you need all the focus you can get, especially if there’s something serious under that jacket, but you cant help but also think about what else those clothes are concealing. You’ve thought about being on your knees in front of him so many times, but in your mind he’s enjoying it a-lot more.

“Take off your shirt.” You say, and your eyes widen as you watch him wordlessly obey. He takes a swig of the whiskey, and a little drop of it sneaks down his chin and throat, glistening a trail down to his chest, and you lose sight of it as the singlet suddenly disappears, revealing his entire abdomen in all its glory.

He is ripped, no doubt about that, and you want to sit here and admire him for days, marking every curve of his muscles and scars on his chest. It makes your mouth dry, and you take the bottle of vodka, sterilising a small thread needle for the giant gash across one of his pecs that has somehow now been the object of your attraction, your mind wandering all over him. You take a drink before moving closer to him, coming in between his spread legs as he sits back down, leaning slightly so you can reach him.

“You don’t have to do this.” He says softly and you roll your eyes.

“Think of it as pay back for all the assholes you’ve beat up for me. This will hurt a lot more.” He nods but doesn’t even flinch as the needle enters his skin creating the first thread.

“I do that for my own personal enjoyment.” He mumbles from above you, and you can tell he’s looking down at you because the heat of his words land on your forehead. You wish you drank more of that vodka, having to still to stop the shaking in your hands.

“Maybe you should try monopoly. Or yoga. A less violent hobby.” Frank tries not to move under you as you make your way through the gash, cleaning as you go.

“I’ll do yoga if you’re gonna be there.” His voice is low and hot and your cheeks flush an embarrassing shade of red.

“Perve.” He can’t control the little laugh that comes out, but you put through the last thread, sticking the steri-pad over your work and throwing the needle in a little paper bag. You stand and go over to the sink, wetting a tea towel and bringing it back over, his eyes following you the whole way.

“Do you want to…” you offer the wet rag to him but he shakes his head and makes no move to grab it, so you place a hand on his bare shoulder and wipe at the blood. It’s hard and dry, and his hair gets stuck in it as you try to scrub it out. You take a step in to stand in between his legs so you can reach the top of his head, which drops and his forehead rests against your stomach. You mind is fuzzy and the way his hands inch forward just out of your sight, closer to your legs makes you worried they might actually give out if he touches you, four months of near misses building a tower of need that’s about to topple down.

“See, not my blood. ” He mumbles and you can see he’s right, but it scared you no less. A shakey breath escapes you, and the building anxiety that he was going to have an injury you couldn’t patch up slowly dissipates as you swipe away the last of the blood, no injury evident.

“You scared me.” This makes him look up at you, and it’s the closest you have both been to each other. Frank’s chin brushes against your tummy and he can smell the lavender soap you use in your skin, somehow still just as strong even through the whiskey and vodka wafting in the room. You sniffle slightly, and his hands have finally traveled the distance to the backs of your knees, wrapping around you.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to. Just needed to see you.” Your heart might burst, the wide eye way he looks up at you mixed with this thumb brushing a sensitive spot on the back on your knees driving you wild. Instinctively your hand comes under his chin, and he nearly nuzzles into the touch.

“What happened to you?”

“I can’t- shit.” You let him try to find the words, your touch persevering. “It’s a long story. I want to tell you, I do, but not tonight. Please.” The vulnerability in his voice rattles you a little and you nod. You don’t really care what the story is, knowing him like you do there’s nothing that he wouldn’t do without a reason you stand by.

“Okay. What do you wanna do?” He smiles up at you, and you down at him, and in one smooth movement he pushes your knees in, lifting you on top of him, your legs on either side of his. You heart is beating so hard there’s no way he can’t hear it.

Franks hands are usually so still, he’s trained for years to make them so, but with you in his lap, your hands resting on his chest light enough to not come down too hard on his new stitches, he can’t stop his hands from shaking. Nerves he hasn’t felt since high school fizzle in his chest and the hard on he’s sporting is getting more difficult to hide, your warmth so close to him he’s starting to break a sweat. Trying to gage a reaction, never crossing this line with you before, his hands come around your lower back, pulling you into him, and he leans in, not fully, but close enough he can feel you breath on his face and he drinks in the sensation.

“Frank.” You only say his name but it is filled with uncertainty. Does this mean the same thing to you as it does to him? If you do this, theres no going back, and you dont think you can sacrifice the relationship you have right now, no matter how bad you want him. You would forever hold him at arms length if it meant you could hold onto him forever. “What are we doing?”

“I dont know.” He answers honestly. He cant think straight, having you so close. All he knows is what he wants, and those short little shudders coming from you convince him you want the same thing.

“You’re hurt.” You look down at his bare chest, the lower part pressing against you so hard that when he breaths his ribcage expands into you. 

“I dont give a fuck about that right now.” He says, so low in his throat that it comes out as almost a growl. “Just- just stay.” Your hands snake up behind his neck, linking together. Nodding, you press your forehead to his.

“We dont have to do anything. I have pizza in the fridge, and you can crash on the couch. No harm, no foul.” His breathing has steadied, and you think thats going to be it. Until he talks.

“What’s my other option?” He doesn't look at you, but his hands have moved, and where they were once unsure, they now lead with purpose, coming to rest on your hips and you bite your lip, feeling the shear size of them against you; enveloping you in their hold.

“I- um. I think you’ll have to show me.” He looks at you now, a smirk pulling up the side of his face.

“Yeah?” You nod against his forehead. “I think I can do that.” 

His right hand takes its time travelling the distance between your hip and the hem of your skirt, tracing the line it makes across your stomach. Leaning forward, his lips; the ones you’ve thought about kissing for weeks and weeks finally meet yours, and they taste better than you imagined.

He starts soft, almost hesitant, giving you time to pull away, and when you dont, he uses his hand that is still on your hip to hold you in position and kisses you harder. With purpose, his lips move against yours with urgency and desperation, like he might have been waiting just as long as you have for this exact moment. His hand still drags along the waistband of your skirt, then comes over the top, tracing a soft, heated line down to your thigh, which he grabs and squeezes as soon as he touches bare flesh.

Frank is drunk. Not on whiskey, but on the taste of you in his mouth. He pushes harder against you, his back coming off the couch and forcing you down on him, and thats when he hears a small, soft tone moan that flutters right into his mouth, drowned by his dominating force. He’s hard, instantly, and he knows you can feel it, pushing his hips up into you slightly, working to draw another pretty sound from you. 

His hand slides up your skirt, and you gasp when he finally meets you. Two fingers set a torturous pace outside your underwear, and you know he can feel how wet you are already. He pulls his mouth from yours, peppering long, drawn kisses on the sides of your neck as he slowly works you.

“How long you been this worked up for me, sweetheart?” The nickname sends your stomach flipping inward and you cant help the little whimper that comes out of you as he brushes over your most sensitive spot.

“God, Frank. Months.” You have to concentrate to get any words out because Frank. Frank was finally underneath you, and if you weren't feeling as good as you were right now, you would of had to pinch yourself to make sure you weren't dreaming. One arm comes around your back and pulls you toward him, forcing you to come up on your knees, giving Frank more room to work.

“Thats just fuckin’ cruel of me. Leaving you like this. Have to take care of you then, huh?” You nod rapidly and quiet little ‘please’s tumble from your lips and he chuckles darkly, slipping his fingers under your panties and sliding inside of you. “Tell me if you want to stop, okay?” He looks up at you, stopping his assault on your neck, and you could already tell how many hickies he had left in his path.

“Please dont s-stop. Fuck, Frank.” He curls his fingers and draws them out, only repeat the motion over and over, his thumb somehow continuously working your clit at the same time. You knew those hands would feel delicious inside of you, but they worked you so well, so skilfully that you never could have even dreamed it could be like this.  

“Look at me.” You drop your chin and the hand behind your back comes up to hold your face in place. You try to flutter your eyes open, and its only when he kisses you that your brain stops short circuiting and you make eye contact with him. “Atta girl. Now keep ‘em open. You look away and I stop.” Your mouth is open and your panting, putty in his hands as he draws short, loud whimpers from you.

“Wanna see your face when I make you cum for the first time.” The promise of more makes the familiar pressure in your tummy build, and your hips start to jerk to meet his thrusts.

“Sound so pretty for me. You know how long I’ve been waitin’ to have you like this?” Your eyes close and you cant hold your head up, but his hand does it for you, resting your chin between his thumb and fingers, almost choking you if he applied pressure, the thought only pushing you closer to the edge. “What’d I say?” His hand slows and your eyes shoot open, finding him smiling up at you. “There you go. Good girl.” 

“How long?” Your question is breathy and he kisses your open mouth.

“How long what?” He kisses down the side of your throat, leaving marks in his wake.

“How long have you wanted me, Castle?” You can feel his head shaking against your chest, his still damp hair tickling the bare part of it.

“God, sweetheart. You have no idea. As soon as I saw you I knew.” You are struggling to keep your eyes open and he can tell your close, feeling you tighten around just two of his fingers. He quickens his pace. “Now you’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes! S-shit I’m so close-” He enters you faster and faster, never missing a fucking beat and you cry out, his name falling from your lips in between a string of curses. 

“Come on, pretty girl. Cum for me, I’ve got you.” Your hips move wildly but he never stops, able to control your movements from inside of you. You scream his name into the darkness of your apartment and come undone on his hand, his lips swallowing every moan and shout you throw at him. He moans along with you, feeling it vibrate on your throat when he starts working his way down. “Atta girl. Fucking hell.”  

He doesn't slow his pace until your writhing in his lap, shuddering, and your legs give out under you. Two strong arms come to pull you against him and he is so warm, his skin feeling electric.

Frank had never seen something so beautiful in his life. Watching you lose control like that, the girl whos always got a handle on everything, the one who ordered him home and cleaned him up. Seeing you, on top of him, screaming his name as you came just from the touch of his hand, well it was nothing short of god damn beautiful. His cock is painfully hard in his jeans, and the effects of your orgasm dripping right onto his erection only make the sensation more immediate. He watches you intently as you sit up, his hands still wrapped around you.

You make quick work of your own shirt, and then shimmy out of your skirt, pulling it over your head too, the elastic material making it easy to stretch it over. Franks eyes nearly pop out of his head and, unable to stop himself, his hands glide up your stomach, over your breasts making sure to give a slight squeeze as they do, and resting on your shoulders. He is not shy about staring, as you were, and drinks in the look of you.

He wants to lay you out and kiss every section of your body. Wants to lock you in his room and spend days memorising every inch of you, studying every curve like his life depended on it, because that’s how it felt. He couldn’t take his hands off you, the sight in front of him only building his arousal. You must notice this, because quickly your hands shoot down and undo the button and zipper.

Finding your feet on legs that feel like jelly you step off him, kneeling in between his legs and pulling his jeans the rest of the way off, shoving them under the table behind you. God he was fucking hot. His legs were built like tree trunks, solid and strong, and there’s not a woman on earth that could ignore what he had underneath his boxers, the sight making you want to pounce. Getting as close as possible, you slip your fingers under the waistline, and he sucks in a breath, sounding exactly the same as when you were cleaning his knuckles before, and you think he might have hurt himself, maybe tearing a stitch.

“Are you o-“

“Shit. Yes. Yes.” His short responses make you furrow your brows, but when you pull down his boxers you think you understand. The head of his cock is red, already leaking with pre cum as you slide the boxers down and take in the sight of Frank Castle completely naked on your couch. His arms are resting on the back of the couch, his legs spread open to give you space between them, making himself as big as possible.

You’ve dreamed about having him laid out like this in front of you almost as much as he has dreams of having you on your knees in front of him. He stares as you, anticipation building in his chest and dick as your tongue darts out to wet your lips. Not being able to control your impulsiveness you move, fast, and take the head of him into your mouth, a gasp leaving Franks mouth involuntarily. 

Slowly you swirl your tongue around his sensitive end, moving inch by inch down the rest of him. He groans and his hand comes behind you to tangle in your hair, not pushing but desperate to have something to hold on to. 

Franks mind is blurred white. All he can think of, all he will ever think of when he sees your face, your smile, that smart fuckin’ mouth will be how good it felt to be in this moment, your skilled swirls taking him deeper and deeper, nearly making him finish within seconds. The hand in your hair grips tighter and he had to dig his nails into the palm of his hand to maintain any form of control, stopping himself from fucking your mouth till tears stream down your face. He wants to be careful with you; you were soft and sweet and everything he wasn't, but seeing how innocent you look with his cock down your throat would send any man wild. 

“Jesus, sweetheart. You takin’ me so fuckin’ well. So good.” He praises and you moan around him, the sensation stopping his ability to speak, only half formed words mingled with strangled gasps filling the air around you. You move faster, take him deeper, wanting to hear all those sounds that he makes because of you, savouring the feeling of him. 

Both of you have no idea how long this fleeting moment will last; hell, neither of you knows what this even means. You were pretty sure he thought of you as a friend, but he technically made the first move, right? Frank cant think straight with your mouth around him, your quick pace causing the saliva to spill form your mouth slightly, the sight pushing him closer and closer. He doesn't know where he gets the strength, probably only the promise of burying himself inside you that allows him to pull you off him, his lips immediately crashing down on you, the taste of himself still remaining on your lips. 

He leans down and picks you up, and without removing his lips from yours one arm comes underneath you and you wrap your legs around him. He kisses you so hard you think you might drown, and all you can do is whimper and moan underneath his command.

“Bedroom.” Is all Frank says and a wild hand waves down the hall before returning to the back of his neck, spine arching into him as he kicks the door in behind you, revealing your small bedroom. 

Your eyes open and see the caved in door behind Frank, but you dont care enough to say anything and he doesn't either, apparently. Reaching the end of your bed, he throws you down, your pillows bouncing and some falling to the floor as your body hits it, and you watch him crawl up the length of the mattress, eyes on you. He kisses your thighs, starting on the left then the right, then comes up to kiss each hip bone, sucking slightly as he does so. The pace of your movements has drastically changed, heat of the moment kisses replaced by passionate, mind melting purpose. 

He continues up your body, kissing the spot between your belly button and the hem of your underpants, and he slowly hooks his fingers under them and pulls them down, his eyes burning holes into your own. This is the most sensual thing that has ever happened in your life, but somehow you knew Frank would fuck how he talks; with his full attention on you and complete concentration.

The breeze from your open window blows across your bare lower half and he slides a hand under your back, one hand undoing your bra and tossing it to the side, both of you now completely naked. You can feel his hard, wet length against your left thigh, and a new wave of anxiety overtakes you. What happens next will change everything - everything before now could be spoken down to heat of the moment, a lapse in judgement. Here, now, both of you have plenty of time to consider the other, yet neither of you move away. His face hovers over yours, his forehead brushing against yours every time he breathes out.

“What are you thinking about?” You blink up at him.

“You, sweetheart. Always you.” He presses a sweet kiss to your lips, then your nose. 

“Are you sure you want this? I- We can stop. If you want.” You voice is hardly above a whisper, terrified he would take you up on that. Your legs were already shaking at the thought of him between them, months of late nights behind you, and only this moment to shatter them.

“The only way I’ll stop is if you tell me to. That what you want?” You shake your head violently under him and he laughs, a hand coming to your cheek and stilling you. You smile up at him, mirroring him. “I ever tell you how pretty you look when you smile?”

“No. You can start now, though.” Both of you laugh breathlessly, enjoying this calm before the ultimate storm that is now inevitable to break between you.

“You look pretty. When you smile. When you don’t. Always.” He doesn't keep talking because you pull him down and kiss him, slower this time, letting your tongue explore all the parts you missed before. He grinds against you, the hand not holding your face coming to grip the side of your waist. You chase him, one of your hands trailing down his chest, skipping the side with the new stitches, but taking your time to feel every part of him. Even though your eyes are closed you can tell every time your fingers run over a new scar, and new muscle, because Frank reacts differently, a small moan or a bite of your lip hinting his growing need. 

Finally your hand wraps around his cock and your thumb brushes over the head, Franks mouth opening and a stuttered groan filling the silent room as you run him against you, up and down, just once before removing your hand, the tip of him at your entrance. He looks up at you, a silent question and you nod. After what feels like an eternity, he enters you.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He growls out and you cant help but tighten around him. He fits you as perfect as you dreamed, and how you have dreamed of this moment. Nothing compares to how he feels inside of you, a little bit of pain at the size of him not even in your mind as he hits a spot inside of you that has you arching your back and whispering his name. 

He moves so slow at first, noticing the slight wince as he adjusts himself and giving you the time to get used to him. He’s more than happy to take it slow, wanting to be inside of you for as long as possible. Frank could die a happy man as long as he could be buried inside of you one last time, and as he grinds back into you, the pretty sounds you make as he fills you feed his ego and his pleasure tenfold. 

His pace picks up, finding a rhythm that both meets your jerking hips and also lets him maintain enough composure to not finish inside you just by looking at your face. You moan and your hands come up to his shoulders, nails digging in, scratching like a cat, most definitely drawing blood. Frank fucking loves it, and he cant help but sneak a look to his right at the mirror on the wall, wanting to see the evidence of your marks on him, making him yours as he makes you his. He can see red marks in your hands wake, a tiny drop of blood sliding to his ribcage under the ripples of his thrusts, and he growls.

“Thats it, baby. That feels good, huh?” Your mind is blank, eyes rolling back and all you can do is scream his name in response. Your world rotates to the left, and you realise the hand cupping your face has turned your head, your cheek pressing against the mattress. “Open your eyes. Atta girl.” 

The image that floods your eyesight makes your stomach drop and your jaw swings under his grip. Frank pounds into you, his eyes finding yours in the mirror. Every muscle in his toned torso flexes with each thrust, and the size of him on top of you is disorienting, him looking so much bigger as he drills into you over and over.

“Look at how good you take me. Such a good girl, knew you would be.” You cant focus, the pleasure of him and his words an out of body experience. You can feel yourself about to explode, and seeing yourself in the mirror only makes you hotter. Frank watches you, every twitch and shuddering breath, every moan making him slam into you harder and harder. He knows your close, and he lets up his grip on your face, bringing his lips to your throat and kissing you there, his teeth scraping along as he does.

“F-F-Frank-” Your body is shaking and you cant see. He doesn’t let up. You dont want him to, wishing you could form the words to tell him how good he’s making you feel, how unbelievable he feels inside you, how you can feel every ridge of him driving you over the edge, and how you have dreamed of this moment every night since you’ve met him. 

“I know, baby. Your close, I can feel it.” He kisses up your throat, to your chin and locks his eyes onto you. “You’re going to cum with me. When I say.” You screw your eyes shut and you whimper, starting to shake your head.

“When I fucking say. You got that?” He kisses your open mouth before you reply, knowing your going to obey whatever he commands. He goes faster, which you never thought was possible, a steady hand running across your bottom lip and dragging it down as he holds your head still. You have no where to look but straight at him, and its exactly where you want to be. 

“Feels so fucking good. Feels like home.” Your jaw shakes and you wish you could reply, ask him if he really means that or if its just because he’s inside of you. You try to kiss him but he holds you too tight you cant move up high enough. He notices and drops to you, locking your lips together. 

You whimper his name, hardly conscious and full of fucking heat. Your eyes roll back and he keeps kissing you, you trying your hardest to keep up with him.

“Such a good girl. You wanna cum now, pretty baby?” The sound that rips out of you is reminiscent of a sob, full of pleasure and he nods against your lips. “I know. I know. Cum with me. Now.” You feel one of his large hands brush over your clit and you scream, cumming harder than you ever have before.

Your eyes flash white and you feel Frank bottom out above you, moaning praises in your ear as you both ride out your highs simultaneously. You shake and he keeps that light touch on your clit, prolonging your pleasure for as long as possible. Frank drops his forehead to your shoulder and the rest of him follows, slightly taking the wind out of you but your arms snake around his back anyway, holding him on top of you.

He’s still inside you, and you can feel the hot, sticky warmth of his cum inside of you, sending a new wave of shock through your brain. One of your hands comes up to his head, softly brushing through the short strands of hair. In your post orgasm high, you realise you’ve never really seen him with hair longer than a crew cut, and its grown out slightly, just enough that you can thread your fingers through it. 

“You okay, sweet’art?” You nod when Frank breaks the silence, both of you still spent. His face nuzzles into your neck and he slides out and off of you, pulling you against his warm body, spooning you.

“I like your hair longer.” You look at the two of you in the mirror, his broad shoulders jutting over your own. He runs his nose along the top of your spine and up the back of your neck, peppering kisses wherever he can. 

“I’ll grow it out, then.” This makes you giggle, and his arms only wrap around you tighter, a brilliant warmth filling every part of your body. Your eyes drift down the bed to the doorway, and you cant help but notice the caved in door lying in the entrance.

“Im never going to get my deposit back now.”

“Ill fix it. Tomorrow.” You desperately hope that means he’s going to stay the night, but knowing what you do about him, you dont want to hold him to any false pre tense. Yes, he just fucked you better than you’ve ever been fucked, and yes, he has already ruined you for any other man, but he might not feel the same, and you would take whatever he gives you.

“Tomorrow?” 

“Yeah. After breakfast.” You can feel his smirk against your skin and you have to bite your lip to silence the excited squeal that threatens to burst from your throat. “I meant it, you know.”

“Meant what?”

“You look so fuckin’ pretty when you smile like that.” He was staring at you through the mirror, clearly watching how you reacted to his confession, and he was satisfied when the red flush on your cheeks darkened a shade. He pressed a final kiss to your neck as he saw your eyes close, safe and sound in his arms.

Frank didn't know exactly what this was, whether you thought of him as a friend or more, but all he did know is there was no where he would rather be than wrapped up in you, watching you sleep. The moon was reflecting off the mirror from the window behind him, and he knew tomorrow would be coming soon, but for the first time in a very long time, he was looking forward to it.

[harrystylescherry]

In My Feelings Part Four

a/n: thank you so patiently for waiting! this bitch is here! and she’s like..novel length lol v quickly, i want to mention @serenityhues​ and thank B for always brightening up my day with things that remind her of imf! it seriously makes me soo happy and it means a lot :)

what it is: you and harry hate one another but that doesn’t stop you from fucking

warning: choking, cursing–i always feel like warnings can ruin the like, surprise or spoil the smut so im telling u now, if choking is too much for you, the other shit in this will not be for u either so read at ur own risk :)

word count: 23k

pls pls pls reblog if you liked it!

i’d love to hear your feedback :)

SERIES MASTERLIST

here we go:

October 27, 2020

You were sitting at your desk at work when your phone buzzed with a text from Sarah in the girls group chat.

Wine at mine tn? I’ll get pizza

Before you could respond, Charlotte had texted back that she would be there and you did the same. The day had been long and dreary, the London mist engulfing you every time you stepped outside. A night full of wine and friends was what you needed to turn it around.

You tried to ignore the texts that came barreling in for the next hour about what kind of pizza to order and what wine you should drink as you tried to brainstorm your next assignment.

You were meant to be working on a piece about the vintage clothing scene in London. It was actually supposed to be a two or three part piece, each one highlighting a different area in the city where the best vintage could be found. Later that week, you would be heading to Brick Lane to peruse the vintage market and small shops dotting the street that you were already way too familiar with in order to figure out who and what would be highlighted in the first part.

Finally, their tour rehearsals started up again and your phone stopped buzzing on the top of your desk.

You were meant to be at Sarah’s around eight, but it was eight-fifteen and you had yet to leave your place. Your day hadn’t gone well and it had put you in one of those moods where everything had to go exactly your way or else you would start crying. There was a staff meeting where all of the writers under Abby got yelled at for someone else’s mistake and then your computer at work crashed in the middle of you taking notes, then you stepped in a huge puddle in your new (well, secondhand, but new to you) Burberry heels. It was just one thing after the other and you were over the entire day. At that point, you didn’t even know if you still wanted to go to Sarah’s.

Which was why you were standing in front of your bed, hands on your hips, staring at the large pile of hoodies covering your comforter. The only one you wanted to wear was buried under a pile of dirty laundry in your hamper so wearing it was out of the question—but the thought of wearing any of your other ones made tears swell in your eyes.

You let your head fall back and let out a long groan before stomping over to the hamper in the corner of your apartment and starting to dig through it. You pulled out your black GOLF hoodie and pulled it on, completely ignoring the dirty laundry smell. The hoodie reminded you of your brother and you needed the comfort.

Before walking into your bathroom, you slipped on your Air Force Ones and then grabbed your perfume from its shelf. You sprayed a little too much and hoped it would save you before grabbing your bag and heading off to Sarah’s.

As you walked from the tube station to her place, you grumbled about the rain and held onto your hood to make sure it didn’t fall. You didn’t bother looking both ways before stepping into the street and when a car honked at you, the driver being forced to step on their breaks quickly, all you did was hold up your middle finger, not bothering to hurry your speed at all. You needed the wine. You needed it six hours ago while you were sitting at your desk, but better late than never.

You shivered as you stood on the steps of her building and held your thumb to the buzzer, refusing to release it until you heard the lock of the door click. You pushed down your hood as you walked to the elevator and tapped your foot in impatience as you rode it up to her floor.

When you reached her door, you started knocking—incessantly. Sarah opened the door with an exasperated look already on her face.

“What?” You asked as you walked past her and into her apartment.

“Hello to you too.” She said as she closed the door and followed you over where Charlotte was standing at the island.  

“You alright?” Charlotte reached for the pizza box.

You sighed, “Shit day.” You leaned forward and rested your elbows on the counter before dropping your chin into your hands.

Charlotte rubbed her hand up and down your back. “It’s a good thing we’ve got alcohol then.” She leaned in close to you, “Maybe we’ll even excuse the fact that you’re almost an hour late.”

You rolled your eyes in annoyance even though you heard the playfulness in her tone.

Sarah placed three glasses on the counter and opened the bottle of pinot. She poured one glass and handed it to Charlotte. She poured another and pulled it close to her before hugging the bottle to her chest. Her eyes fell on you.

“What?” You asked with your brow furrowed.

Charlotte moved to the end of the island and her eyes flickered between you and Sarah where you stood on either side. “Sarah…I don’t think tonight’s the night.”

You turned to Charlotte, even more confused. “Not the night for what?”

“You want the wine? Explain why you didn’t text me when you got home on Sunday night.”

Your head snapped over to Sarah and you raised your eyebrows. “What?”

“Sarah, she didn’t have a good day. Just drop it.” Charlotte shook her head.

“No.” Sarah’s eyes were still on you. “I told you to text me when you got home on Sunday and you didn’t. [After] you swore you had called an Uber. [After] we left you alone with Harry.”

The shock was evident on your face but your expression quickly transformed into one of anger. “So? I fucking forgot. I was drunk and tired.”

Sarah scoffed. “Sure.”

You tilted your head to the right. “Sure? What exactly are you implying, Sarah?”

Charlotte spoke up while Sarah’s eyes narrowed in on your face. “Sarah has a theory…that you and Harry are hooking up. Or that you have.”

You shook your head and your eyes widened. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Something was different on Sunday.” Sarah said.

“And I told you that nothing was going on. We were just being nice to one another. That’s all. You two are always pushing for us to get along and now that we are, you assume it’s because we’re fucking?”

“I saw the way he was with you on Sunday. And so did Charlotte.” Sarah pointed in her direction and your eyes followed. You looked at her expectantly.

“He just kept standing next to you!” She explained. “Willingly. And you two were, like, flirting or something. Joking around and he looked genuinely concerned about your parents and—“

“So he can’t be nice to me?” You cut her off. “We can’t be normal?”

“That’s not normal!” Sarah said, her annoyance and impatience evident. “What’s normal is the two of you not speaking. It’s him not wanting to be near you. It’s the two of you yelling at one another, causing a scene, one of you storming out, all of us slightly uncomfortable and you two wanting to get as far away from the other as possible. There was nothing normal about Sunday. It looked like he was touching you!”

“Well, he wasn’t!” You slammed your hands on the counter. You were so over the conversation. “We were being adults. We were being mature and being civil and, I don’t know, maybe Sunday was just different. I know it was weird! It almost felt like we were friends. I know it was weird, I know—but that doesn’t mean we’re sleeping together or that we did. But even if we had, frankly, it’s none of your fucking business.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“Yes, it is.” Sarah argued. “You’re both my friends.”

“And? If anything were to ever happen between Harry and I, which it’s not, but if it were to, it would be between me and him.”

“You’re right.” Charlotte cut in, holding her arm out in between the two of you like some kind of referee. “(Y/N)’s right, Sarah. If something had happened—or was happening—it would be none of our business. I mean, I’d be kind of pissed that she didn’t tell us, but her sex life is her business.”

Sarah let the bottle down onto the counter with a loud thud. “I’d be pretty pissed too.”

Before you could say anything, the sound of Sarah’s lock clicking made your heads turn towards the door. You heard Mitch’s voice as he pushed it open and you sighed in annoyance when you saw Harry walk in behind him.

Mitch held his hands up when he saw all of you staring at him. “I forgot my wallet. Just need to grab it.” He walked towards the hallway where the bedroom was and Sarah followed him and you had no doubt that Sarah was going to complain about you.

Charlotte announced that she was going to pee before moving down the hallway as well, leaving just you and Harry standing there.

He walked over to where you stood at the island and leaned on it, so close to you that his hip brushed yours. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just a bad day.”

He smirked, “We heard your voices in the hallway. I don’t know what you were saying, but you were loud.”

“Eavesdropper.” You mumbled as you leaned forward and snatched the bottle of wine from the other side of the counter. You felt his eyes on you as you poured yourself a glass. “Can I fucking help you?”

“You said you had a bad day, so I’m gonna let that one slide.”

You rolled your eyes, “What do you want?”

“Are you alright?”

You turned to him and gave him a sickly sweet smile. “I would be if you would just leave me the fuck alone.”

He stood back up, his eyes still on you. “I’ll let that one slide too.” He lifted his left hand and brought it around you, where it landed on the side of your neck. He pulled you in and placed a kiss to your temple. Harry pulled away just as you heard one of the doors open and feet padding down the hallway.

“So where are you guys going?” Charlotte asked as she reentered the kitchen.

Harry told her about this Indian place they were going to as what he had just done replayed in your head over and over.

What the fuck was that? you thought as your eyes zeroed in on your glass. It had been two days since you had fucked and you hadn’t spoken at all—and you didn’t exactly leave off on good terms. Sure, he made sure you were safe and you sent him a smiley face (something you had decided was a drunken mistake), but he had told you to go home. He demanded it. The sex also came after a fight, which you hadn’t forgotten in the slightest. He still owed you an apology. You weren’t going to simply forget that.

As they talked, you pulled yourself off the counter and started walking to the living room with your wine clutched in your hand. You blocked out the traveling sound of their voices as you sat on the couch with a sigh and took a sip from your glass.

You wanted to be a lot angrier than you were. He was acting weird, as though you were friends or more and it didn’t exactly sit right with you, but it didn’t make you as angry as it should’ve. The worst part was, the small kiss had made you feel slightly better. You knew you were definitely annoyed with him and frustrated by him; his apology turned into a rant filled with accusations and then he told you to leave after sex—despite the fact that you didn’t exactly plan on staying anyway, it still hurt and it was still rude. But when he was nice to you, you couldn’t figure out how to be angry.

Sure, it was frustrating and confusing when he was nice, because you had never known him to be that way with you, but you couldn’t be angry with him for treating you like a person. Even though, technically, on Sunday, he was a jerk to you in a lot of ways, he was sweet to you in more and so when you got home that night and you thought about him and what had happened and all that he had said, you couldn’t will back the kind of anger you had before he kissed you. Or the kind of anger you were holding onto at the market.

Mitch and Sarah’s voices echoed as they moved down the hallway.

“Took you two a long time to get that wallet.” Harry commented when they reentered the kitchen.

You heard a small “Ow” come from Harry, which meant that Mitch probably punched him for what he was implying.

“Alright, bye, guys!” Mitch called as he started moving towards the door. Charlotte said goodbye and you lifted your right hand in the air from where you were sitting in a half-assed goodbye.

“Bye, you two.” Harry said to your friends at the counter. You heard his footsteps get closer to you but you didn’t bother to turn around. “And cheer up, (Y/N). You’re ruining their night.” As he walked past, he landed a quick flick to the back of your head that made you wince.

“Fucking dick.” You grumbled as the door closed behind them. He really couldn’t have just left it at the kiss? No, of course not; he had to go and cancel it out by being a jerk.

You heard Sarah sigh loudly from her place in the kitchen. “(Y/N), care to join us?”

You rose from your spot on the couch and turned around to face them. “That depends. Am I going to be attacked again? Or will I be allowed to eat some pizza in peace?”

Charlotte opened the box. “In peace, I swear. Sarah shouldn’t have said anything in the first place.” Sarah’s head snapped over to Charlotte, who mouthed an apology for throwing her under the bus. “I’m right, though. You know I am. She had a shitty day and you basically accused her of lying, which she wouldn’t do. Not that it’s any of our business.” She said the last part under her breath.

“Uh, I’m still here.” You said as you walked around the couch and back to where they were standing.

Sarah sighed again, but this time in defeat, and crossed her arms over her chest. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have attacked you like that. It’s just…it seems like there’s something going on and I feel like I’m going crazy because you tell me that there isn’t, but…I don’t know. It just looks like you two are…I don’t know. And Mitch thinks so too.”

“You discussed this with Mitch?” You placed your near empty glass on the counter and Charlotte moved to refill it.

“Well, yeah. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t imagining it.”

“Sarah, it’s none of your business.” You were quick to correct yourself, “[If] there was something going on, it would be none of your business and anyway, it would be something you discuss with me, not something you conspire with your boyfriend about.”

She shrugged. “I tell him everything, (Y/N).”

“And you should—about your life. I love Mitch, I really do, and I do consider him a friend, but I don’t like that you discussed theories about me with him.”

“I’m just saying that I’m not the only one who thought that something was up.”

“Well then it’s not just you who’s an idiot.”

“Can we please just stop fighting?” Charlotte drew your and Sarah’s attention. “I put the pizza in the oven. When it comes out, this conversation is over and we’re all gonna be friends again, okay?”

“We’re not fighting.” You said. “We’re having an adult conversation, which is something Sarah should’ve tried to have with me in the first place instead of luring me here to accuse me of something that has nothing to do with her.”

“You know what,” Sarah leaned her right hand on the counter and put her left on her hip. “I’m gonna let you have that one because you’re mostly right and I don’t really want to apologize.”

You rolled your eyes at her and Charlotte sent her a death glare.

“But I will apologize, because that’s what good friends do.” Sarah smiled at Charlotte, who nodded in approval. She then turned her attention to you. “I’m sorry, really. You’re right. I should’ve talked to you about this like a grown up and not have raised my voice. And I understand why you aren’t exactly okay with me talking to Mitch about you. And you’re right, even if there was something going on, it’s none of my business.”

“Thank you. I accept your apology.” You held out your hand for her to shake and tried to keep your serious expression, but it broke when her hand landed in yours, smiles spreading on both of your faces.

“I’m sorry too.” Charlotte said from where she stood at the oven. “I know I’m really only guilty by association, but still.”

“It’s fine.” You smiled at her. “Now, pull out that pizza. I’m fucking hungry.” You swiped Charlotte’s glass off the counter and brought it over to her as she opened the oven.

October 29, 2020

You pulled your coat tighter around you as you stepped off the train at the stop for Aldgate East. Your coat was oversized and landed a little past mid-thigh; it was cream colored, with a beige, plaid pattern covering it. You had paired it with a pair of straight leg, cream colored jeans, your oatmeal colored JOSEPH band tee, and your square toed, burgundy boots with a relatively low heel since you would be spending the whole day walking around.

You had a notebook, pen and a small digital camera tucked into your brown leather bag along with your other usual essentials and were ready to really start your vintage clothing article.

As you walked down Whitechapel High St, you double checked the list of places you knew you wanted to go which you had jotted down in your notes app, making sure that you hadn’t forgotten any. You kept your eyes on your phone as you made a left onto Osborn St, slipping between the groups of friends that were walking in the opposite direction. As the street morphed into Brick Ln, you passed countless Indian restaurants and side streets that were lined with houses before coffee shops began to pop up as well as small vintage shops and “beigel” places.

You had made sure to come during the week so the insane crowds could be avoided and you’d have the room to talk to the owners of the shops or the people running their stalls in the underground market. On Sundays, the streets were packed with people and lined with tents where food was being served and secondhand items were being sold. As much as you would’ve loved to include those stalls in your article, Sundays were too chaotic to really get anything good, the stall workers and owners too preoccupied with making sales to the customers crowding their small spaces.

You decided to start at Serotonin Vintage, which was a shop all the way at the other end of Brick Lane, on the corner of Bacon St. It made sense for you to work from the back end up, since it meant that the shops you ended on were closest to the tube station, saving you a long walk in the cold—and there was this one shop that tended to close whenever the owner wanted, especially on slower days and you wanted to get there as early as possible.

Serotonin’s price point was pretty high for a vintage shop, but it was because they specialized in designer pieces. They had everything from Burberry, to Fendi, to Moschino, to Chanel. You were a frequent buyer from them and had the owner, Jessie, to thank for your Burberry heels and a pair of bright red Gucci pants.

You spent just under an hour with her, asking questions about the shop and its inventory and taking a few pictures of some of her favorite pieces and both the shops interior and exterior.

Next on your list was meant to be Search and Destroy, the shop with the fickle owner, but when you tried to pull the door open, you found it was locked. You sighed in frustration and pulled out your phone and shot him a quick text. A few days ago you were shopping in the area and you popped in to tell him about the article. He swore to you that he would be there and open until at least mid-afternoon that day and even gave you his number so you could contact him in case plans changed. You had bought several things from him in the past and he was a great guy, just…unpredictable.

After sending him a text asking if he was at the shop and telling him you had tried to stop buy, you walked further up the street, moving onto your next shop, which was Brick Lane Vintage, only a few doors down.

This place was much less fancy than Serotonin—and there was nothing wrong with that. They had brand names and designer pieces, as well as some stuff you had never heard of for less than ten pounds. The ground floor was filled with track jackets, windbreakers, Levi jeans, and t-shirts. The lower level was where they kept the pricier stuff: the designer pieces, suits and dresses. You roamed around for awhile as you talked to one of the guys who worked there. While he was showing you some of his favorite stuff, he pulled out a vintage men’s Dolce and Gabbana suit jacket. It was black, with thin, faint purple and light green pin stripes running throughout it that were barely visible. The inside was what struck you. The lining was iridescent and purple with peacock feathers stitched throughout in a shimmering, gold thread, accented by a darker purple stitch. It was gorgeous—and it was only eighty pounds.

While the worker rang you up, you took pictures of the shop and of him behind the counter.

By time you were done there, you had received a text from the owner of Search and Destroy, telling you to come back to the shop. You were there in a few seconds and gave the door a harsh knock.

“Hey, (Y/N).” Tommie greeted as he let you into the shop. “Sorry about that, I had someone come in and I figured it would be better to lock the door to give them some privacy.”

“Oh, did they buy anything?” You asked as you stepped inside. It wasn’t unusual for him to do that. He had a lot of high profile people pop into the shop and because it was never insanely busy, he would “close” so they could shop in peace.

“Not yet. He’s still here.” He pointed towards the short hallway where the fitting room was located before locking the door again and following you further inside.

The shop was one of your favorites. Tommie went out of his way to find one of a kind pieces from all over the world. The shop sold mostly t-shirts and button up tops, but they had a few jackets and dresses as well. The best thing about them was that everything was old. So much of their merchandise was from the sixties, seventies, and eighties—which is why it was all extremely expensive.

“Have you worn that Blondie t-shirt yet?” He asked as he sat down on the black leather couch tucked under a rod of t-shirts.

You nodded. “I did. I think it’s one of my new favorites. Might be in the market for another.” You looked at him sideways as you started looking through the band tees hanging up to the left of where he was sitting.

“Wait, I’ve got a few that you’ll love. Two of them are in the back, though. Just came in. Give me a second and then we can start this article thing or whatever.” He said as he got up and walked down the short hallway before disappearing around its right corner.

You heard the faint sound of footsteps before his voice. “This is fucking sick.”

Harry looked up and stopped walking when he saw you standing there, hands resting on a stack of Harley Davidson t-shirts folded on a table at the front of the shop.

“Hi.” You said when he did nothing but stare.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, his fingers still pinching the bottom of the sweatshirt he was wearing. It was an orange crew neck, which fit him just right that had an outline of Schroeder from Peanuts in black on the front, who was wearing a t-shirt with Beethoven’s face on it.

You held up the notebook that you had tucked under your arm. “Article.”

He nodded in understanding and then pointed to the door behind you. “I thought he…”

“He did.” You smiled and tilted your head to the side. “But I’m the exception.”

“Of course you are.” He rolled his eyes and turned around to look at himself in the large standing mirror against the wall.

“To those of us with real understanding…music is the only pure art form.” You read the quote on the back of the crewneck. “Interesting.”

“It’s from ’65.” Harry said.

“You should buy it. The color’s cool and who doesn’t love the Peanuts?”

“I can’t tell if you’re mocking me or not.” He looked at you through the mirror.

“Who’s to say?” You shrugged.

“You’re annoying.” He muttered before marching back into the fitting room.

“Alright, I’ve got a t-shirt, a bowling shirt and a varsity sweater for you.” Tommie said as he reentered the space. You met him at the couch, where he placed the selections down. “I only have the one fitting room, but you can try them on over your t-shirt if you want.” He offered and you nodded before taking off your bag and jacket.

You pulled the Stevie Nicks t-shirt over your head and immediately fell in love. It was black and a little oversized, the legend’s name in white, placed above an angled red heart with wings, its feathers both red and white. A yellow and blue flame peeked around the right of the heart and wrapped around it. You knew you would be taking it, no matter how much.

Harry emerged from the fitting room again, this time wearing a blue floral button down from the seventies, halfway unbuttoned as always. He stopped in front of you and Tommie. “You need to get that.”

“I know.” You didn’t even look at him, your eyes still glued to the t-shirt.

Harry’s eyes landed on the bright red varsity knit on the couch. “Holy shit.” He bent down to pick it up, but before he could, you had snatched it off the pile.

“Uh, not so fast, buddy. Tommie picked these for me.”

Tommie looked between the two of you. “Know each other?”

You said “yes” at the same time Harry said “unfortunately”.

Harry turned his attention back to you. “C’mon, that thing looks way too big for you.”

“So? I like my stuff oversized. It makes it more cozy.” You said as you started to undo the buttons so you could try it on. You moved to stand in front of the mirror and pulled the cardigan over the Stevie tee.

The shoulder seam hung several inches lower than where it was supposed to sit and your hands were hidden inside the long sleeves.

“See, it’s too big.” Harry came up to stand behind you.

“No, it’s not.” You argued. “Look, if I roll the sleeves up, it fits perfectly.”

“You’re not supposed to roll the sleeves up.”

You turned around and put your hands on your hips. “Says who? You just want me not to get it, so that you can.”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

Tommie spoke up from where he was standing at the couch. “I might have another one that’s a little similar. Let me go and check.” You knew he definitely didn’t and that he just wanted to get out of the way while you two argued over a sweater.

“At least let me try it on.”

You sighed. “Fine.” Before you could move, he had slipped his hands under the sweater at your shoulders and was pushing it down your arms. You turned around and let him pull it off your hands.

He rolled the sleeves back down before putting it on and stepping in front of you so that he could see his reflection.

“See, it looks so much better on me.” He said as if it was obvious.

You crossed your arms over your chest and rolled your eyes. “In your dreams.”

“You? You were, actually. Almost as good as the real thing.” He looked at you over his shoulder and smirked. When your mouth opened in disbelief, he simply sent you a wink before turning back around.

Before you could reprimand him, Tommie waltzed back in empty handed. “I thought I had a blue one like it, but we must’ve sold it.”

“It’s fine.” Harry said. “We’ve agreed that it should be mine.”

You shoved him in the back, causing him to stumble forward a bit. “Uh, no we have not.”

“I’ll take it.” You said to Tommie.

“C’mon, (Y/N). You can’t afford this and the Stevie shirt.”

“Excuse me?” You could sense Tommie’s discomfort but you didn’t care. “Yes, I can.”

“Sure.” You didn’t miss the sarcasm. He looked over to Tommie. “I’ll take this,” he pointed to the sweater, “this button down and the Peanuts crewneck, I think.”

“Uh, no. That sweater is mine.”

“It won’t be in about five minutes.” He sent you a smile before walking back towards the dressing room.

“Harry, that’s not fucking fair. Tommie pulled it for me, not for you. Find something else.”

“I’m not leaving without the sweater, (Y/N).”

“Well, neither am I.”

“Why don’t we just share it then?” He turned around and threw his hands up in exasperation.

“Share it? No.” You shook your head.

“Well, then it’s mine.”

“No!” You tugged on his sleeve so he couldn’t walk away. “Stop being a dick. The sweater isn’t yours to buy.”

“I’m not being a dick. I’m offering to share it with you.”

“How would that even work?”

“When you want to wear it, you have it, and then when I want to wear it, you give it to me. We share.”

“But that’s not fair.”

“How?” You could tell that he was beyond annoyed with you, even though he had no right to be.

“Because you go on tour in a few months. So what, I pay for my half of the sweater and then it disappears for half a year? More? Not fair.”

“Fine. So the sweater is mine until tour and then when I leave, it’s yours. Fair?”

You thought it over for a second before shrugging. “I guess.”

“Cool. I’ll pay for it and then you can just Venmo me the money or something.”

Your hand landed on his arm again. “Uhm, no. I don’t trust your dumb ass. We’re paying in cash.”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” You finally let his arm go so he could change back into his clothes.

You turned around and walked back to the couch where Tommie was sitting. As you took off the Stevie tee and put your jacket back on, he let out a chuckle. “You’re both bloody mental.”

As Harry changed back into his sweatshirt and pulled on his jacket, he was already planning on “accidentally” packing the sweater for tour in January. He only offered to share the sweater as a way to shut you up. He would pack the sweater and then have his assistant pay you back for your half and maybe block your number so he didn’t have to hear you complain about it—he had it all figured out.

He walked back out and over to the register where you were already waiting for him. He dropped the sweater on the counter between the two of you and Tommie rang you both up in silence. You were preoccupied by whatever you had written down in your notebook and Harry had received a long text from Jeff about a music video shoot that was coming up. The only time you gave Harry your attention was when you tapped him on the arm, your half of the money clasped between your fingers. He put all the notes in order before handing them over to Tommie, but only after commenting about how yours were all crumpled.

After you both paid for the sweater, Tommie rang Harry up and you stood off to the side and waited for your turn.

Harry’s eyes kept roaming back to you; your bottom lip was pulled between your teeth and your brow was furrowed. You kept flipping back and forth between two of the pages, every now and then either crossing something out or adding a note in the small margin.

He had been thinking about you a lot lately, and the comment he had made about dreaming of you—it wasn’t a lie. Your body always seemed to be on his mind lately. He wanted to feel your skin again. Harry wanted to kiss your neck, slip his hands between your thighs, feel your body under him, hear your soft whimpers in his ear—he wanted to hear you call him “baby” again. It was an embarrassing admission, but it was what he thought about the most. It slipped from your lips so easily, so naturally and it was constantly echoing in his mind. He knew that you only said it because the two of you were fucking; it was the same for him. He called you “baby” while he was kissing you, touching you, fucking you, but he would never say it outside of that bubble.

You brought your hand up to your mouth in order to hide your yawn and the words were out before he could stop them.

“Wanna grab some coffee?”

“What?” Your eyes shot to him and the furrow in your brow deepened.

Harry grabbed the small stack of his purchases off the counter and dropped them into his tote bag before moving over so you could pay for your t-shirt. “Wanna get some coffee?”

“Now?”

Harry nodded, the look on his face showing he thought that was obvious.

“You have nothing else to do?” You asked as you handed your card to Tommie who was watching the two of you with an amused expression.

Harry checked the time on his phone. It was only a quarter to one and he didn’t have his fitting for some tour outfits until five at his house. “Not for another few hours.”

He saw you thinking it over in your head. You tapped your card on the counter a few times before slipping it back into your wallet and then glanced at your notebook. Harry knew that you probably had more work to do for your article, but he wasn’t exactly ready to say goodbye to you yet. He didn’t know when he would see you again. Even though he had your phone number and you had his, the two of you didn’t text. It didn’t feel right to and there was really zero reason for him to ever reach out to you.

He didn’t even like you, so he wasn’t sure where this sudden urge to hangout with you for a bit longer came from. Just a few minutes ago, you had frustrated and annoyed the fuck out of him over a stupid sweater. Why did he care about not seeing you? He should’ve been more than ready to say goodbye. Also, the more time he spent with you, the higher the chance that you would bring up the mistake he made on Tuesday.

He had kissed your head almost out of reflex—and he didn’t understand why. It was something he did with the girls he dated, not with girls who pissed him off and belittled him. Once again, he reminded himself that he didn’t like you and you didn’t like him. The sex didn’t change any of that—obviously, since the two of you had gone straight back to fighting afterwards. Every time you saw one another you fought. As Sunday proved, you two could be nice to one another for hours, but at some point, the hatred would bubble up and the yelling would start.

Before he could tell you to forget it, you said, “Yeah, sure. I just have a few more questions to ask Tommie, if that’s okay?”

Harry hid his slight surprise well. He obviously wanted you to say yes, but part of him was sure that you would turn him down. Granted, you were never one to say no to something free. The only time you hung out with him willingly, or allowed him to tag along when you went out with Mitch and Sarah was if he promised to pay.

“Yeah, uh, take your time. I’ll sit over here.” Harry pointed to the black couch as he walked over. He sat down and started scrolling through his phone, even though all of his attention was on you and Tommie. He listened to the questions you asked and couldn’t help but be kind of surprised that they were a little deeper than the basics about when the shop opened and the kind of stuff they sold. He heard you ask him what made the search for pieces so important to him; what the cultivation process was like for him; in Tommie’s mind, what made Search and Destroy different from the rest?

A few minutes later, he heard you thank Tommie and then tried desperately hard to look like he was paying you little to no attention.

“Ready?” You tapped his Van-clad foot with the tip of your boot.

“Huh?” He looked up. “Oh, yeah.” Harry pushed himself up from the couch and walked over to where Tommie was straightening out some t-shirts on a table. He held out his hand for him to shake. “Thanks so much, man. I’ll definitely be back.”

“Glad to hear it. If you ever need anything, or need me to search for something, just give me a call.” He handed Harry his business card after shaking his hand. He then turned to you. “Thank you for the feature, (Y/N). It means a lot.”

You waved him off. “Of course, Tommie. You’re one of the best. I couldn’t leave you out.” You gave him a hug before both you and Harry thanked him and started towards the door.

Once you were both out on the sidewalk, you turned to Harry. “There’s this really good coffee shop around the corner, if you want to go there.”

“I don’t know you well enough to trust your coffee choices.”

He saw the confused expression on your face. “You drink it black. What the fuck do you care where we go?”

He smirked, “You listen to my record regularly and you know my coffee order? The girls were right, you really are a fan.”

You rolled your eyes. “If you’re going to be a dick, you can take your coffee offer and shove it up your ass.”

He chuckled and bumped his arm against your shoulder. “I’m kidding, relax.”

“There is absolutely nothing funny about the idea of me being a fan of you.”

“Okay. Ouch.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his green coat and tried to ignore the slight sting he felt at your words.

You shrugged. “You started it.” You stopped walking and grabbed his arm. “Okay, so where are we going? Because I don’t exactly have the time to wander around aimlessly—no offense.”

“There should be a place a little further up, down one of the side streets on the left.”

“Do they have muffins?”

“Probably.” Harry shrugged.

“Okay, lead the way.” You let go of his arm and waved your hand out in front of the both of you, instructing him to start walking.

“You’re so fucking weird.” Harry muttered as he walked past you.

“And you’re a fucking dick.” You said in a singsong voice, loud enough that he could hear you from his position ahead.

You both walked in a silence that was oddly comfortable. Every few seconds, you pulled your phone out and sent a text or two to someone who’s name was Abby. From what Harry could read, he assumed it was someone from work. He never pulled his hands from the warmth of his pockets and looked down every time someone seemed to be staring at him, hoping the hood and sunglasses were enough to convince them that it wasn’t really him.

He drifted closer to you as you walked, letting his arm brush lightly against yours, his stomach tight at the idea of you stepping away. He felt himself relax when you didn’t and allowed your arms to brush with every few steps, but tried to shove down the disappointment that was brewing since your attention stayed with your phone.

“Everything alright?” He asked.

You looked at him, your brow furrowed in what seemed to be stress. You scratched your forehead as you shook your head slightly. “Yeah, sorry. My boss is just—she’s moving deadlines around and they want my article done by Sunday, which gives me less than a week to get it written and get all the photos sorted and—“ You glanced up at Harry before shaking your head again, “Sorry, you don’t care.” You dropped your phone back in your pocket.

“I never said that.”

“C’mon, Harry. We both know you don’t give a shit. You never have.” You shrugged as though it was obvious.

“That’s not true.”

“Whatever, Harry. Just forget it.”

“Whatever.”

He knew you were right, but he didn’t particularly want to admit it. He never cared about your job or if you were ever under any kind of stress—and he still didn’t, not really, but he was trying to be nice. It was one thing to be an asshole, but another thing to willingly admit that he was an asshole.

“Make a left up here.” He pointed at the corner of Buxton St.

The two of you rounded the corner, and he led you to the third storefront.

“Oh, my god, I love this place.” You said once the two of you reached the small cafe, whose front was painted a bright teal with its name painted in big gold letters at the top. Kahaila was one of Harry’s favorite spots, which he didn’t get the chance to go to often, unfortunately. It was super small and pretty hidden since it was halfway down one of the side streets tourists didn’t care to explore. Whenever he went in, there was only ever a handful of people in there and he was never bothered. He figured it was a safe bet since it was the middle of the afternoon on a Thursday.

Harry pulled the door open and waited for you to take the hint and walk in, following closely behind you.

The counter was right next to the door when you walked in; the base of it was made of white painted wood and the top was stained dark. Mounds of different kinds of pastries and sandwiches covered the counter space on their respective trays and there was small space to the left, at the end of the counter, where the iPad was that served as the register.

After greeting the baristas behind the pastries, Harry joined you in scanning over both the handwritten coffee menu on the wall and then over the donuts, cinnamon rolls, croissants, paninis, and muffins that sat right in front of the two of you—even though he already knew exactly what he was ordering.

“Hi,” You looked up and smiled at the barista. “Can I please have a small cappuccino and two peanut butter cookies?”

“Yeah, of course.” The blond guy said before turning his attention to Harry. Harry ordered his usual coffee, but no sweet treat which earned him a weird look from you. The barista lifted his finger and moved it between you and Harry. “Together or separate?”

Harry said, “together” at the same time you said, “separate”. You both turned to face one another and his annoyed expression mirrored your own.

“I’m paying.” Harry started pulling his wallet from his front pocket.

“Yeah, for yourself.” He watched you dig your hand into your bag. The barista excused himself to make your drinks and left the two of you alone to argue.

“(Y/N), c’mon, let me pay for you.”

“No.”

He didn’t like your stern tone. “Why not? I asked you to coffee, so I should pay.”

You let out a condescending laugh, “Harry, this isn’t a date.”

“Trust me, I’m aware, but this was my idea.”

“Absolutely not. I refuse owe you anything.” You said the last part under your breath, but he still managed to catch it.

His brow furrowed. “Owe me? It’s a coffee.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Harry’s eyes were still glued to you as you looked down and shook his hand off before pulling a ten and a five pound note out of your wallet.

Harry held his hands up in surrender, his wallet still clutched in his right hand. “Fine, pay for your own fucking coffee.”

“I was planning on it.” You finished your sentence right as the barista returned with your drinks and warmed up cookies.

“So..” He trailed off, his eyes moving between the two of you.

“Separate, please.” You handed over your cash as Harry pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb.

Harry tapped his Amex on the small white square on the counter to pay for his coffee before picking it up and meeting you at the end of the counter where you were waiting for him. “Grab a seat in the back?” He pointed aimlessly at the space behind you and you nodded.

He followed you as you maneuvered through several empty tables crowded in the small space. Harry hoped the two of you would be able to move past the small argument you had or else the next twenty or so minutes would be beyond uncomfortable. He took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders back, attempting to shake off the urge to bug you about why you wouldn’t let him pay. You never attacked him unless provoked—usually—so he figured if he managed to calm down and get over it, there wouldn’t be a problem.

You lead him to a table in the back left corner, nestled underneath a shelf overflowing with green plants. The table was made of dark wood and old, slightly off kilter, and the chairs groaned when you sat on them.

Harry pulled his green coat off his arms and let it fall over the back of his chair while you pulled your bag off and hung it on your own. He watched you rub your chilly hands together before leaning forward and wrapping them around your cup, a small shiver moving through your body.

You sat in an uncomfortable silence for a few moments. Your coffees were too hot to sip as a distraction and neither of you knew what to say after snapping at one another. This was the first time the two of you had ever hung out, if that’s what you could even call it, and you were both quickly learning that a buffer was a necessity. Harry cleared his throat and leaned back in his seat, but no topic of conversation came to him and you didn’t even look at him; your eyes were trained on the cup between your hands.

Harry leaned forward and tapped one of the many gold rings on your fingers. “I like that.” You looked at the ring he was pointing to. It was one of the plainer ones; it was gold, which was really all you wore, and large. It was almost like a signet ring, except the flat part was in the shape of a heart. Before you could thank him, he pointed to one on your other hand. The ring was also gold and thick, with mermaids engraved around the entirety of it. “Are those fish?” He asked and leaned in a little closer, his eyes squinting just a bit.

You lifted your hand and held it out to him so he could get a better look. “Nope, mermaids.”

“I love that.” Before he could think, he was twisting the ring around your middle finger, inspecting each engraving. He felt his own stomach flip at the contact and prayed that you couldn’t see the blush that had risen to his cheeks. He dropped your hand quickly and allowed you to return it to your cup. “Is it custom?”

You scoffed, “Imagine.” When you saw his brow furrow, you explained. “Harry, I can’t afford that. It’s estate. I found it at this tiny jewelry shop back home before I moved here. I spent a lot more than I should’ve, but I couldn’t leave without it.”

“You’ve got really good taste.”

“I know.” You said brightly.

Harry rolled his eyes. “You’re supposed to tell me that I’ve got good taste too.”

“You really need to stop telling me what I’m supposed to do.” He raised his brows at you and you sighed sharply. “Fine.” You dropped your hand on the table, palm up. “Let me see ‘em.” When he didn’t move, you looked at him expectantly and wiggled your fingers on the table. “Come on. You want me to tell you that you have taste, then I’m gonna have to see it. I don’t bite.”

“That’s not what the warning label said.” He mumbled it but knew you heard it when he felt a sharp pain in his shin. Not wanting to earn another kick, he dropped his right hand into your palm.

You scooted up a little on your chair, balancing on the edge, and leaned forward so you could inspect them. You twisted the gemstone ring around his pinky, your fingers slotting between his, so that the gem was facing forward before moving to his ring finger where the gold one sat with its three flat sides. Lastly, you looked at the silver one on his middle finger and twisted it so it was the right way, letting your fingers linger near his knuckles.  “Peace,” you muttered, “interesting.” You dropped his hand on the table and motioned for his next one.

Harry let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding in before placing his large left hand in your small ones. Your hands were soft and a little warm from being wrapped around your drink. He tried his best to ignore the warmth blossoming in his chest at your touch. He watched your face as you examined his fingers, yours brushing against his over and over again. You ran your thumb over the red stone on his forefinger and then over his knuckle, before moving to twist his dancing bear ring around. He saw the small smile on your face and swallowed hard. You twisted his initial rings so that they were the right way and he wondered if you were feeling the same way he did. You looked so unbothered, so completely oblivious to everything he was feeling, while he was sure his cheeks were flushed.

You dropped his hand on the table and he quickly pulled it back and dropped them both in his lap. “Well?” He asked as you popped the top off of your cup.

You shrugged. “You’ve got taste.” When you saw the hint of a smirk on his face, you said, “But your right hand could use some work. It’s a little plain.”

“No, s’not.”

“In comparison to your left hand it is. The initials are my favorite, though. Florence Welch has one too, right?” Your eyes were on him as you brought your cup to your lips and took a tentative sip.

“Yeah, she does. Are you a fan?”

You nodded quickly. “Yeah, for a long time. I saw her three times last year.”

Harry leaned back in his chair. “Wow.” His brows popped up as he said it.

“What?”

He shrugged and forced an exaggerated frown. “Nothing, just thought I was your one and only, s’all.”

You rolled your eyes, “Someone’s full of himself.”

“I’m not! I’m just saying, the way you seem to listen to my record…” He trailed off and sent you him a smirk.

“Sarah and Charlotte exaggerated. I don’t even listen to it that often.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “C’mon, love.” He tensed up as soon as he heard it leave his mouth. He saw your brows flinch.

“What was that?” You bit your lip in order to hide your smirk.

“What?” He feigned confusion. He had already wiped the mistake from his mind.

“Nothing.” He watched as you sunk further in your chair, your eyes slightly wide.

You didn’t respond and just let a familiar silence wash over the two of you. It was a little tense, filled with thoughts that the two of you would never express. You couldn’t believe he had let that slip and wanted more than anything to tease him for it—but something stopped you. Part of you was telling you it would ruin it all, whatever this moment was that the two of you were having. Harry was cursing himself in his mind. He couldn’t believe he had been such a careless idiot. He didn’t even know why he said it. He had never thought of you in that way, in an affectionate way.

You cleared your throat. “So, uh, speaking of Charlotte and Sarah…”

“Yeah?” He took a sip of his coffee.

“The other night at Sarah’s—“

“When you were in a pissy mood.” He added the unnecessary detail, forcing you to bite your tongue.

“Yeah. Well, something’s wrong.” His brow furrowed as he took another sip and you started to explain. “She told me that she thought something was off—between us. She thinks that something happened, like, sexually.”

“Well, it did.”

You sighed in exasperation. “I know that, Harry, but she’s not supposed to know that. She shouldn’t.”

“Did you tell her that something happened?”

“No, but she has all these theories. Sarah noticed the way you were with me Sunday night.”

“And what way was that.” You saw in his eyes that he knew exactly what you were referring to.

“Harry, come on. I’m serious.”

“I know, I—“

“No, you don’t.” You interrupted. You whispered harshly, “She basically attacked and accused me, Harry. She’s sure something is going on and I know she’s not just going to let it go.”

“I swear I didn’t tell her anything, (Y/N).”

“Well, did you tell Mitch?”

He looked at you as though you were crazy. “Are you joking? Of course not. The man looks quiet but he tells Sarah everything. I would never tell him what we did—what we’ve been doing.”

You felt relief overtake you and you believed him. “Okay, good, because—“

“Sorry to bother, but could I get a picture. Please?” Before you could finish your sentence, a young girl, who looked to be in her late teens, appeared at the side of your table.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Harry said. He held his arm out and waited for the girl to move in closer to him.

“You mind?” She asked you as she held out her phone.

You shook your head, slightly taken aback by the sudden intrusion. “Uh, no, not at all.” You took the phone from her outstretched hand and turned it side ways, setting up the shot as she moved closer to Harry. She tucked herself into his side and he put on a bright smile. “Ready?” You asked and the girl nodded. Just as you clicked the shutter button, Harry threw his hand up in a cheesy peace sign. You took one more before handing the phone out to the girl.

She took it and cradled it to her chest, her eyes moving between the two of you. “Is this, like…an interview or something?” You saw the look in her eyes. You knew there was only one right answer to her question.

Your eyes flicked to Harry, who was starting to open his mouth in response. You were sure he would’ve said the wrong thing. “Uh, yeah.” You’re tone was bright. “It is, actually.”

“Oh…” You saw the confusion in her eyes as they searched the table in front of you, which was absent of a notebook and pen.

You held up your phone. “I’m recording everything. It’s so much easier to just let it flow and transcribe it later.” You felt his eyes on you.

“Oh,” You watched her expression transform into one of joy. “Who do you work for?”

“British Vogue.” Harry supplied.

“Oh, my god.” She said. “That’s so exciting.”

“Yeah, it is.” He smiled at her as you looked down. You were panicking slightly. You knew how fandoms worked. If this girl was any more than a casual fan, there would be theories and hype about this pretend interview all over social media and you would be in some deep shit.

You barely listened as her and Harry exchanged pleasantries and goodbyes. From your peripheral vision, you saw him pick up his cup and patiently waited until you heard the bell at the top of the door chime with the fan’s departure before you returned your attention to him.

“So there’s an interview now, yeah?” He was being cocky.

“Better than her thinking we’re on a date.” You faked a gag.

“Hey! What makes you think that would be the first thing she thought?” You gave him a look and he nodded. “Yeah, yeah, alright. It probably would’ve been the first guess.”

“It would’ve. You’re welcome for saving us, by the way.”

“I didn’t thank you.”

You rolled your eyes and took another drink from your small cup. “Anyway,” You said as you pulled your cookies from their small brown bag, “I need you to not tell Mitch.” You broke off a piece of cookie and ate it.

“Oh, trust me, I’m not telling anybody.” Harry reached over and picked up your cookie. You watched in annoyance as he took a big bite.

“Prick.” You muttered. He sent you a huge smile, before taking another bite of your cookie.

October 30, 2020

There had been whisperings all morning at work. The anxiety was telling you that it was about you, but you had been fighting those thoughts all morning. You had convinced yourself that it was over some celebrity gossip that you had missed out on. It didn’t explain the curious eyes flicking in your direction or the whispering that seemed to amplify between two of your coworkers who passed your desk, but it being about you didn’t make any sense—until Abby called you into her office.

It wouldn’t have alarmed you if it hadn’t been for her tone. It was the same tone that her voice held during fashion week: one of urgency, panic, and importance. You hurried into her office and closed the glass door behind you, slightly infuriated by its illusion of privacy.

“You wanted to see me?” You clasped your hands in front of you and tried not to fidget in your purple pumps. It couldn’t have been about the Brick Lane piece. You had sent her an update that morning telling her you were ahead of schedule.

“What’s this?” She turned her laptop around on her desk and you tried to control your expression.

“Uh, it’s a picture of me…with a friend.” It was you and Harry at the coffee shop. It had to have been taken by the fan—an assumption made based off the caption of the photo: “Saw Harry meeting with a writer from British Vogue today! We’re getting fed, ladies!”

“The caption, (Y/N).”

You cleared your throat. “Uh, yeah, I see it.”

“The girl says you told her that you were interviewing him?”

You sighed and fought the tears burning your eyes. You hated getting in trouble. “I’m sorry, really. I didn’t know she took the picture, or that she would post anything. I just…I didn’t want her to think that him and I were…together—which we aren’t, but I was afraid of it becoming a rumor.”

“You’re not with him.”

You closed your eyes and tried to relax. “No, not at all. We have mutual friends and I ran into him while working on my vintage clothes piece and we got coffee.”

“Do you have mutual friends with him, or are you friends with him?”

Your brow furrowed. “What do you mean? Aren’t they the same thing?”

“No. How often do you see him?”

“I don’t know, maybe a once or twice a week? It depends.”

“So enough where he would feel comfortable with you doing an interview?” She was looking at you expectantly.

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

“I don’t need a ‘maybe’, (Y/N). I need a ‘yes’.”

“Uh—“

“We’ve been trying to get him for months, but he keeps saying no. We have no idea why.”

“Really? That doesn’t—“

“You need to get him to do an interview.” Abby leaned forward and placed her hands on her desk. Her eyes were focused on your face and it didn’t really sound like she was giving you a choice.

“I can try.” You offered.

She laughed, but you knew she didn’t think anything was funny. “‘Try’? Honey, you’ve dug us a hole. The entire internet is now anticipating this interview and I really don’t want to disappoint. We can’t. Also, the higher ups think I’ve done some great thing by getting him; they’re even talking about offering him the cover. You can’t fuck me over now. You’ll get the interview. You have to. It’s your job.”

“Like, it’s my job to get the interview, or it’s my job on the line?”

You could tell by the look on her face that that wasn’t the right question to ask. “Both.”

You nodded quickly. “Yeah, right. Okay.”

“I want it confirmed by Monday.”

You nodded again. “I’ll take care of it. I promise.”

“You don’t really have a choice.” She looked down at her desk. “You’re dismissed.” Abby sat down in her chair and turned her attention towards her desktop.

You glanced down at the picture of you and Harry one last time before spinning on your heel and exiting her office quickly.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, your mind chanted as you walked back to your cubicle. You should’ve known this would’ve happened. The minute the lie left your lips you should’ve anticipated it biting you in the ass. Harry was popular. Everyday, it seemed he was achieving something new, collecting accomplishments as if they were frivolous compliments.

You huffed and sat back down at your desk. Zach, the guy in the cubicle in front of you, peered over its glass top, “Harry Styles, huh?”

“If you don’t leave me the fuck alone, I’m telling everyone that you accidentally sexted your grandpa.”

Instead of responding, he sunk back down into his chair, his eyes wide with panic.

You shot Sarah a quick text.

Are you guys rehearsing at the studio tn?”

Yeah, you wanna come by?

Will jeff be there?

This is about the twitter thing isn’t it?

Sarah.

Yeah he’ll be there. Come by at like 7

You reacted to her message with a thumbs up before locking your phone and turning your attention back to the barely written piece on your screen.

Harry was having a rough time that night. He had failed to hit certain notes and after Mitch had decided to do some weird improv during Stockholm Syndrome, he had been in a shitty mood.

“Mate,” Harry turned to Mitch and ran both hands over his face, his guitar pick slotted between his fingers. “Can you just do it the way its supposed to be?”

“But I like it this way. It sounds better.” Mitch said, his fingers still poised on the guitar’s neck.

“Bloody fucking hell.” Harry sighed.

“Oh, (Y/N)’s here!” Sarah said, causing Harry’s head to whip towards the window in front of him. He saw you lean over to one of the guys in the booth before nodding and moving towards the door that led to the studio, where they were rehearsing.

He looked back at Sarah, his brow furrowed. “Did you invite her?”

“She kind of invited herself.”

Harry turned back towards the front of the room just as you opened the door. He couldn’t help but feel like maybe you had come to see him. Hanging out with you the day before wasn’t too bad—actually, he kind of had a good time and wouldn’t mind doing it again (a confession that came after a few hours of trying to convince himself that he didn’t actually enjoy spending time with you). Sure, the two of you had a small argument in the beginning, but everything was fine after that. Harry knew it wouldn’t have been if he hadn’t dropped it, if he poked at your annoyance and dragged it. It made him realize that maybe he was the instigator of most of your fights—most, not all.  

He thought about you for the rest of the day and during rehearsals that night, he even asked Sarah what you were up to, which was something he had never done before. He probably shouldn’t have, considering what you had told him during coffee. If she had theories, and was giving you a hard time about being nice to him, an innocent inquiry about you probably didn’t seem so innocent.

He wanted to ask Mitch about what Sarah had said to him. After the fan left, you told Harry that Sarah had been talking to Mitch about what she thinks is going on and you wanted to know if he had said anything to Harry, which he didn’t. Mitch never even mentioned you to him, unless it was to tell him that he was being an asshole to you. Harry was slightly frustrated that Mitch hadn’t brought it up to him. Maybe he didn’t bring it up because he didn’t agree with Sarah even though Sarah told you he did. It didn’t make sense to Harry. If Mitch and Sarah thought there was something going on, if they were so concerned about everyone’s friendships being at stake, then they should’ve been talking to Harry, not about him to each other.

“You can wipe that big frown off your face, Harry. I’m not staying.” You said as you walked further into the room.

“Good,” he mumbled before busying himself with his guitar. He heard your heels click against the floor as you walked towards Jeff. He heard the mumbled introductions and only lifted his head when he saw the two of you moving towards the door. Harry turned to Sarah. “What’s that about?”

She shrugged. “Not sure, honestly. She asked me earlier if Jeff would be here, but she didn’t tell me anything else.”

Harry wasn’t really a fan of not knowing what was going on. As far as he knew, there was absolutely no reason for you to be talking to Jeff. He ran his hand through his hair. “Uh, Stockholm Syndrome again, yeah?” The band made sounds of agreement and then Harry turned to Mitch. “If you fuck it up, I’ll kill you.”

You and Jeff talked through the entire song. Harry watched the two of you go back and forth through the glass. Neither of you seemed angry and neither of your gestures seemed aggressive in any way. Towards the end of the song, you both turned back towards the window, finally paying attention to him, little ghosts of smiles on both of your faces.

“That was good, I think.” Harry said as he turned around to face all of them. “Better, at least.”

“Harry.” He turned at the sound of his name. Jeff had half of his body stuck through the doorway. “Can you come here for a second?”

“Uh, yeah. We can take a break.” The band started moving as Harry pulled his guitar from off his body and rested it on its stand.

Harry closed the door behind him and stood between you and Jeff, his hands planted on his hips. “What’s going on?”

“I talked to you about that tweet this morning, right?” Jeff asked. Harry’s brow furrowed before a look of understanding took over his face.

He had woken up to a text from Jeff. Everyone was expecting an interview, which was much better than rumors about the two of you being in some kind of relationship, but it was a lie—one that would lead to severe disappointment, especially since people had gone as far as googling you in order to confirm that you were a writer from British Vogue. There were theories that you two met at fashion week, which they saw as a blessing if it meant an interview. Some people also did enough research on you to find your friendship with Sarah, and were over the moon that the interview was being done by someone who actually knew him. Everyone’s hopes were up, which was a problem.

“Well, how do you feel about actually doing the interview for Vogue?”

Harry sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Why not?” You asked. “I know they’ve been trying to get you for a while.”

He turned his attention to you. “I’ve met with two writers already, both of whom I did not like. And then the shoot ideas were…I just didn’t really like them.”

“What if (Y/N) interviewed you? Everyone already thinks she is.” Jeff offered.

“I don’t like her either.”

You sighed in slight frustration. “Harry, come on. Please.”

“You don’t like me either. Not doing an interview isn’t the end of the world.”

Harry caught the way that Jeff’s eyes flickered to you, a hint of worry in them. “I’m gonna make a quick call. You two figure this out.”

“Us too.” The sound engineers, who had been listening to the conversation that was quickly growing into an argument, announced before following Jeff out.

You plopped down on the couch and sighed. “Harry, I need you to do this interview.”

“Well, I don’t want to do it.”

“Harry, you’re not understanding. I need you to do it.”

He laughed. “What, did you get in trouble or something for lying?” When he saw the look on your face, his cocky smile disappeared and he sat down next to you. “Wait, you got in trouble?”

“Like I said, they’ve been trying to get you for months and my boss’s bosses think she managed some miracle and she can’t tell them that it was a lie. She obviously knew it was just a rumor, one that I started, but now she’s expecting me to deliver…or else it’s my job.”

“Wait, what?” He was shocked. “I do the interview, or you lose your job?”

You shrugged. “That’s what she said. I can’t tell if she was serious or not, but she was visibly mad at me. Since that stupid tweet, social media engagement has gone up and website views have gone up and people have even subscribed for the full year just so they can get their hands on whatever issue you’re supposed to be in. That’s a lot of people to disappoint. It would be a big failure…I’m starting to think Abby was serious about the job thing.”

“But that’s not fair.” He knew he didn’t particularly like the people at British Vogue. The two meetings he had with them hadn’t gone very well—and now they were threatening you with unemployment over a stupid rumor. “We could just say I backed out. It wouldn’t make you look bad at all. Right?”

He watched, a little worried, as you leaned back into the couch and let your head drop onto the back of it. “Harry, please. I know you don’t like me—that you sometimes hate me—but I have never asked you for anything.”

“Well,” he interrupted, “that’s not true. You have asked me to leave you alone several times.”

You closed your eyes and let out a frustrated sigh as you pinched the bridge of your nose with your fingers. Harry scooted closer and dropped his hand right above your knee and gave the spot a light squeeze.

“Sorry, I’m sorry. Maybe this isn’t the best time to be a dick—even as a joke.”

“Obviously.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this stressed out before. It’s weird. Usually you act like it’s all so easy.”

“I’ve never been threatened with unemployment before.”

“True.” The two of you didn’t say anything for a short moment, but Harry’s hand still rested on your knee. He sat up straight and peeked into the studio, where he saw Sarah and Charlotte continuously glancing over, obviously trying to see what the two of you were up to. He turned his attention back to you. “When do you need an answer by?”

“Monday.”

Harry pulled his hand from your knee and scratched at his chin. “Fuck…okay, I’ll do it.”

You sat up quickly, your eyes wide. “Really?”

“Yes.” He saw the way your eyes were searching his face.

“Like, actually? You’re not being mean and fucking with me right? Because I will cry.”

He laughed lightly. “No, I’m not messing with you. I’ll do it.” A huge smile overtook your face and your shoulders visibly relaxed. “But,” he held up a finger, “I’ve got some terms.”

You reached down and pulled your small notebook and pen from your bag. “Yeah, what are they?”

Harry fought the urge to tell you that you didn’t have to write it down, that Jeff would work the terms out with the magazine, but you looked so cute staring at him with eager eyes, the small book poised on your lap. “You’re the only writer and editor on this thing. I don’t trust the other ones. Those meetings I had, they all had some angle that they thought I was too stupid to notice, or something. I don’t want that happening. I don’t want someone else moving my words around or whatever, only you.” You nodded. “If there ends up being a shoot, I want you there.” You paused and looked up at him, your brow furrowed. “I trust you more than them. I told you, the past meetings didn’t go very well.”

“What if they say no? What if Abby isn’t okay with not being allowed to edit or they’re not okay with me being involved in the shoot?”

“Then we don’t do it.”

“But then what if I lose my job?”

“Love, that’s not going to happen.” He felt his chest tighten. He did it again. His eyes snapped to your face, looking for a hint of a reaction, but he saw none. You let him say it like it was normal, but he was sure you were only doing that as not to embarrass him.

“I hope not.” You let out a small sigh. “Thank you, Harry. I really, really appreciate it.”

“Of course. Jeff’s been wanting me to do this for a while so he’ll be over the fucking moon about it.” He stood up from the couch and you followed.

You two stood there for a moment, awkwardly staring at one another, very aware that Sarah’s eyes were probably on the both of you.

“I would hug you, but I know they’re all staring and I’m so not trying to add any fuel to fire Sarah’s intent on starting.” You said as you shoved the small notebook in your bag.

Harry shoved his hands in his pockets. “S’alright. You’ll just owe me one.” The silence returned and Harry cleared his throat. “We should probably go and tell Jeff.” You nodded in agreement and followed him back into the studio.

Harry went straight over to Jeff, who was sitting on the couch off to the side, and you were following him until Charlotte grabbed your arm and pulled you away.

“So?” Jeff asked.

“I’m gonna do it, I think.”

Jeff’s smile was huge. “Thank god, I feel like this—“

“Harry, can we invite (Y/N) to drinks tonight?” Jeff was cut off by Charlotte’s voice.

Harry turned and gave her a quick thumbs up and tried not to look over at you.

He finished his conversation with Jeff about what the two of you talked about and then moved back over to where the band was set up. “Ready to start again?”

Everyone offered a different version of “yes” and Harry moved to pick up his guitar while you backed away from where you were talking to the girls.

“You’re not staying?” Harry shouldn’t have asked that.

“Uh, no. I want to shower and stuff before drinks and I have a little bit of work to do.”

“Oh,” Harry looked down at his guitar.

“Yeah. Alright, bye guys. See you all later.” You sent everyone a big wave before moving towards the door. Sarah called to you that she would send you bar’s address and then you were gone.

You had been standing in front of your closet for close to twenty minutes. Your hands were planted firmly on your hips and your bottom lip was being split between your teeth.

It was just supposed to be casual drinks. Originally, you all were going to go a pub which was great since it meant that you could throw on jeans and a sweater, but as of twenty five minutes ago, the plans had changed. Somehow, as rehearsals were wrapping up, they got on the topic of sketch and Charlotte complained about never being able to get in. All it took was for Harry to make one call and now the six of you had a reservation in a little over half an hour.

You groaned in annoyance as you shoved your jeans down your legs and tossed the cozy sweater on your bed. Sketch London was beyond fancy and required something chic—or as chic as you could get. You knew that you would be going to The Gallery, which was the flagship restaurant, so pink was completely off limits since the entire room was a blush shade.

You opened your Pinterest app and opened the board you had filled with outfit inspiration. You scrolled through the endless pictures of girls in bright colors, looking for something a little more toned down. After going through the same pictures five times, you clicked on the one that had been catching your eye, but that you had been avoiding. You had a version of each element of the outfit, but you were a little worried that it was too much.

“Fuck it.” You sighed, knowing it was the only thing that you had even remotely wanted to wear—and after the stressful day you had, you deserved to feel hot.

You tossed your phone on your bed and moved to the drawer that was home to your bras. You dug to the bottom until you felt the soft lace and rigid underwire of the corset you hadn’t worn since you bought it. Before you could change your mind, you also pulled out the matching underwear you had bought with it. Both were cobalt blue, with matching lace patterns. You pulled the underwear on before undoing the eye hooks at the back of the corset. You wrapped it around you, with the front against your back and started doing up the hooks again. After the last one was fastened, you twisted it around and shimmied it up your body. You tucked your breasts into the balconette style cups before slipping your arms through the straps, which were sewn on the outside of each cup, sitting on the skin right next to your armpit. For a second, you questioned whether or not the outfit was worth the discomfort they would probably cause. The entire thing was sheer lace, your skin completely visible through it. Underwire ran under your breasts, lifting them slightly, and five pieces of boning ran vertically down the front. You jumped in front of the mirror, quickly taken over by the panic that your nipples were visible through the sheer material, but thankfully, the material on the cups was doubled and the lace design obscured them perfectly.

You pulled your black, straight leg trousers from where they were folded in the pile of fresh laundry on your bed and tugged them on. An accomplished smile took over your face when they ended an inch above where the corset did. You grabbed your black, cropped blazer from where hung in your closet and slipped your arms through and then lifted the legs of your pants so you could step into your black stilettos. Was the outfit a lot? Yes. Did you look hot as all hell? Of course.

Your makeup was already done since you had been completely ready before the change of plans, but you didn’t like the lip color with the look. You wiped it off and dragged the bright red stick over your lips as quickly and neatly as you could before tossing it into your usual black bag and grabbing your keys off the counter.

You were early, which was a fucking miracle. Granted, you were only two minutes early and everyone else was running late since they all stopped home after rehearsal to change, but still.

You were leaned against the front of the building, eyes glued to your Instagram feed when a woman’s hand clamped down on your arm. You jumped but felt yourself relax when you saw it was Charlotte.

“Hey!” She smiled at you and pulled you into a hug. “You look so fucking fit.” She said as you both pulled away.

“So do you.” You said and gave the puffy sleeve of her white top a tug.

“Look who showed up on time!” Sarah exclaimed before she leaned in to greet you with a kiss to your cheek.

“Yeah, for once.” Harry’s voice came from behind her. You ignored him, but spared him a glance, not failing to notice the way his eyes were grazing over your body, a small smirk playing on his lips.

You gave Mitch a hug as Charlotte made it clear that she was ready to go inside by complaining about being cold. She led everyone in and you followed at the back, not surprised when you saw Harry slow down his pace to walk beside you.

“Not gonna say hi?” He shoved his hands into his navy trousers.

“Am I supposed to be nice to you now?” You were teasing him and you could tell that he was aware by the small smile threatening to take over his lips.

“Guess not.” He shrugged.

“Good, because that’s not really my style.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m very aware.”

His eyes went down to the steps as you climbed them and stepped over the threshold of the entrance while your eyes moved over his bare chest which was exposed to you since he had several buttons undone. His cross swung back and forth, lightly grazing over his skin and suddenly you remembered him being on top of you, the way his chest looked slick with a sheer coat of sweat, the cross swinging back and forth as he moved above you.

You reached over and fixed the collar of his shirt. It was the one he had bought at the shop the other day. “You look kinda good.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not really sure if that’s a compliment.”

Before you could say anything more, Adam was calling him to the front of the group. You stayed behind as Harry squeezed through Mitch and Sarah, who both turned around to look at you. You felt your cheeks heat up as if you had been caught doing something wrong and busied yourself with your phone while the host led you all through the room to your table.

When you finally looked up, a small gasp left your lips. Everything was blush pink: the walls, the velvet booths, the pillowy armchairs at the end of every table, the ceiling. The walls were covered in art by David Shrigley and elements of gold dotted the room: the bases of lamps with bubble-like, white shades, and the bases of the booths and the legs of the chairs. It was gorgeous and bright and it looked beyond expensive.  

Harry took the armchair at the end of the table as everyone else slid themselves into the booth where you ended up on the end, on Harry’s left.

“Have you ever been here before?” He asked as everyone settled into conversation at the table.

“Not here,” you landed a finger on the table top, “but I’ve been to the East Bar and the bathroom…the pods, but not here.”

“I hate the bar. I can barely fucking fit.”

You laughed lightly, “Yeah, it’s really tiny and everyone was, like, on top of one another. I was basically on the guy’s lap and I didn’t really even like him.”

“Oh, you went there on a date?” He had a weird look on his face which you couldn’t quite define.

“Yeah…why are you looking at me like that?”

“I just…I don’t know, I didn’t know you dated.” He started to fidget with the corner of his menu.

“What do you mean? You know I’ve been on dates. The bartender?”

“I know you sleep with people, but I didn’t know you, like, dated.” He couldn’t even look at you as he said it.

You tried to ignore the hurt that blossomed in your chest. “A little too early in the evening for slut shaming, don’t you think?” The words came out sharp. You saw his eyes widen slightly.

“That’s not what I meant. Really, I—“

“I don’t really want to hear it.” You were scanning the drink menu now, trying to hold in your anger. When the waiter came over, you ordered a dirty martini and then started twirling the rings on your fingers in hopes that the anger would subside soon.

What he said was beyond disrespectful and you didn’t believe for a second that it had come out wrong. What he was implying was more than clear to you. You had thought that the two of you were getting better. After coffee that day, you were even starting to like him—but of course, he had to ruin everything. The more you thought about it, the hotter your skin got with suppressed rage. You let your blazer fall off your shoulders and then onto the booth behind you.

You felt his eyes on you and when you decided that they had been lingering for a little too long, you looked at him. He was staring at your chest. His eyes flickered to meet yours and he cleared his throat before pointing to it. “Uh, your necklaces are a bit tangled.”

You looked down at the layered gold around your neck and fixed the two that had intertwined without saying “thank you”.

The second your drink landed in front of you, you brought it to your lips and took a bigger sip than you should’ve.

“How come you didn’t tell me about the interview?” Sarah caught your attention from the other side of the table.

“What interview?”

“Harry’s interview.”

Your brow furrowed. “Because it wasn’t a thing until today?”

It was Sarah’s turn to look confused. “What?”

“She means the particulars weren’t fully worked out until today. We started it at coffee the other day but it wasn’t really official until today.” Harry explained.

“But why didn’t you tell me?” Sarah asked.

“I didn’t know I had to.” Your residual anger at Harry was showing.

Sarah looked a little taken aback. “Sorry, I was just asking.”

“I think it’s cool that you’re gonna be in British Vogue.” Charlotte said. “I hope they do a cool shoot.”

Harry smiled at her. “Thanks.”

The table was silent for a second before Mitch spoke. “So I have an idea for Stockholm Syndrome…” Harry groaned and the table launched into a messy conversation about the new arrangement they were working on. You sunk a little into the booth and picked a piece of lint off your pants.

Adam gave you a small nudge with his elbow. “You alright?” He asked softly.

You nodded. “Just a rough day at work.”

He reached forward and grabbed his glass and held it up. “Go on.” He nodded towards yours. Once you had mirrored his position he clinked his glass with yours and you both took a sip.

“Are you having a cheers without us?” Charlotte asked from her spot next to him.

“Yes. We are. We had a secret cheers.”

“S’not right.” Charlotte mocked offense and shook her head.

“We could do another?” Adam offered and everyone else at the table leaned forward and reached for their glasses. Once they were all poised in the air, Adam went on. “Right, uh, I don’t exactly know what to cheers to.”

“Me.” Harry smiled cheekily from his seat.

“Bloody narcissist.” Adam teased with a small shake of his head. “Fine. To Harry, the man with the biggest ego I’ve ever seen.”

Everyone laughed, even Harry, and clinked their glasses together. You took another sip and when you saw that you had downed enough of the alcohol that an olive was peeking out, you stuck your fingers in and fished it out.

“You know you’re supposed to wait until the drink is finished before eating those, right?”

You ignored Harry and munched on the olive, tuning back in to the conversation that was going on around you. You heard him sigh in what you assumed was annoyance before he took a sip of whatever it was he was drinking.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught him glancing over at you every few moments, even when you weren’t talking. He barely engaged as you all downed your first drinks, just sat there in silence, listening to all of you talk about nothing. You had a feeling he was in a pissy mood because you were ignoring him, which did make you feel a little better. It was what he deserved.

You thanked the waiter when he placed the second round on the table and pulled your glass towards you before leaning forward and slurping at it, knowing that if you tried to pick the full glass up, you would lose half of your drink.

Harry scoffed, “Classy.”

“Leave her alone.” Mitch said.

“Leave who alone?” You asked. “I didn’t hear anything.” You looked around the table, your face contorted in fake confusion. “Did someone say something?”

“Oh no.” Charlotte muttered before taking a long sip from her glass.

“You’re a fucking child.”

“Hm, there’s that buzzing again. I can’t be the only one who hears it.” You brought your glass to your lips and tried not to laugh at the way Harry was fidgeting in his seat. It was too easy to get to him.

Another thirty minutes passed with you pretending that Harry didn’t exist and him doing the same to you. He was pissed at how childish you were being. He said one wrong thing and now you were being the world’s biggest bitch. He couldn’t believe that he had actually been starting to like you, that this was the same girl he had enjoyed spending time with at the coffee shop.

When the waiter returned with the third round of drinks, Harry quickly finished his second tequila on the rocks before pulled the third one closer to him.

His knee bounced along to the beat of the vaguely familiar song that was playing as he fought his eyes that begged to wander. He knew exactly where they wanted to look. When you started talking again, he allowed himself a glance so it didn’t look too suspicious. You looked hot—all he wanted to do was touch you. He tried to blame the tequila, but he knew that wasn’t it. The second he saw you outside he wanted nothing more than to take you home. He watched your face as you talked and focused in on the way your lashes fluttered, the way your lips spread over your teeth when you smiled, how your nose scrunched up when you laughed along with everyone else at the table. He felt his chest grow warm and quickly assured himself that it was nothing more than the tequila finally getting to him.

When Mitch went to pick up the drink menu he had knocked on the floor, Harry scooted his chair a bit closer towards you to give him some room to bend down, causing his bag to fall off the corner of his chair. The black bag fell on its side, some of the contents spilling out of the top since he hadn’t closed it properly.

When he saw the corner of the book peeking out from the top, he felt panic rise in him. Unfortunately, before he could shove it back inside, you had reached down and grabbed it, pulling the paperback from his bag and holding it up by its corner.

“Why am I not surprised that you carry Bukowski around like its your fucking bible?”

He snatched the book from your hand. “So now that you want to make fun of me, I exist?”

“You really do idolize that misogynistic prick, don’t you?”

“Haven’t you teased him about his reading tastes enough?” Charlotte asked tentatively.

“Apparently not, since he still fucking reads this garbage.”

Harry put his bag back on the chair and looked over at Charlotte. “It’s not teasing. She’s being a fucking asshole.”

“It’s not being an asshole if I’m right.”

“The problem is, you always think you’re right.”

“When it comes to you, I am.”

“Why? Because I’m an idiot? Because you’re so much smarter than me?” Harry was seething as he watched you sit back nonchalantly.

“I didn’t say it. You did.”

“What I read doesn’t make me any less than you.”

He couldn’t believe how unbothered you looked as you picked at the polish on your nails. “We’ve already had this conversation, Harry. Do I need to explain it slower so you understand?”

His hand was fisted on the table, his knuckles turning a bright shade of white. Before he could say anything back, Mitch’s hand was clamped down on his shoulder. “How about some air?”

“Yeah.” Harry said before shrugging his hand off and standing up.

Instead of leading him towards the door, Mitch took him to the bar and ordered two shots of tequila. He turned to Harry. “You need to relax, man.”

“I need to relax? She needs to stop being such a bitch.”

“Look, I know you two…did something or whatever.”

“What?”

“I know because you keep staring at her like you want to drag her to the bathroom and fuck her or something.”

“We didn’t do anything.”

“But you want to.”

“No,” Harry shook his head. “She’s not even worth the hate fuck.”

“Fine, whatever, but you need to calm down before we go back over there. We’ll finish this round and then call it a night.”

Harry took the shot from Mitch. “Yeah, okay.”

By time they got back to the table, everyone had moved on and the tension had subsided. Sarah had told you that you were being an asshole but you ignored her. You knew he had started it the second you all sat down.

He had stopped looking at you. It was the first thing you noticed as you all talked through your third and final round. Even when you spoke, his eyes never moved your way. He would stare into his glass as he jostled the ice around or checked the notifications on his phone.

He ignored your thanks after he paid for the check and knocked into you, cutting you off as you all stood up and started walking towards the exit. He was being extremely cold—and for the first time, you really thought you might’ve deserved it.

“You call an Uber yet?” Charlotte asked as you all stepped outside.

“I’m actually going to take a black cab. They’re a little safer, according to my grandma.”

“She’s right, actually. Good on her.” Charlotte smiled before pulling you into a hug. “Let us know when you get home, yeah?”

“I will. Like, actually this time.” You both laughed lightly before pulling away. You hugged everyone else goodbye, except for Harry who started walking away as soon as the other four piled into their Ubers.

“Harry, wait.” You immediately regretted it, but it was too late. He had turned around to face you, a bored expression on his face. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “If it’s absolutely necessary.”

You pulled the small blazer tight around your body. “It is, actually.” He walked over to you slowly and stopped right in front of you. You looked around at the people milling about the front of the building. “Can we walk a little?”

“I guess, but you only have until my driver gets here.” He was barely looking at you as he spoke. You started walking down the street and he followed.

You took a deep breath, knowing it was going to take a lot to get the words out. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You should’ve known he would make it difficult.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted and for what I said to you. It was wrong and it was a bitchy thing to say. As right as I am about Bukowski being an enormous piece of shit, I shouldn’t have called you out the way I did. There are much better ways to have that conversation and it as wrong of me.”

“Wow.” He breathed.

“What?”

“I just can’t believe you’re actually being an adult about this.”

“You’re supposed to forgive me, not make fun of me.”

“I feel like there’s probably more you should apologize for first.”

You sighed. “Fine. I’m sorry that I didn’t correct you when you said that I thought you were less than, because I don’t. I think you have shit taste, but I don’t think it makes you less than me.”

“And the smarter than me thing?”

“Yeah, I’m not apologizing for that.”

He tried to swallow his laugh. “Yeah, I didn’t think you would but I had to try.” He grabbed your arm and stopped you from walking further. “I’m sorry for what I said. I swear I wasn’t trying to imply that you slept around or that there was anything wrong with that. I just…I just thought that since we were like, hooking up, it was your norm, since you seem to unbothered by it.”

“Oh.” You didn’t really know what to say.

“Really, love. I didn’t mean anything nasty by it.”

You looked up at him and had an overwhelming feeling that he was being sincere. It was the first time you ever got that feeling from him. He was looking at you like he cared, like it mattered to him that you believed him.

You leaned forward and placed a quick kiss to his lips. “I believe you.”

He looked surprised, but quickly recovered. He brought his hands up and placed them on either side of your face before leaning in and kissing you again. He walked you back slowly until your back hit the window of a storefront. He moved his right hand from your cheek to your waist as you locked your arms around his neck.

After a few moments, he pulled away. “Come home with me.’

“On one condition.”

“Anything.” He whispered.

You pushed him away slightly and held your right hand out in between the two of you. “Give me the book.”

“What?” You could tell it was not the request he was expecting.

You nodded towards the bag he had slung across his chest. “The book. Give it to me.” 

“I’m gonna fucking regret this.” He muttered but moved to unfasten his bag. He pulled it out and slapped it down into your hand.

“Thank you.” Your voice was bright and you tried to fight off a smile. “S’cuse me.” You stepped around him and started walking towards the corner of the street, where the trash can was located.

“(Y/N), come on. You can’t be fucking serious. I’ve got notes in there.”

You flipped through the book as you walked, surprised to find that there were, in fact, scribbles on most pages. “Unless they’re notes about how much of a pig he is, they’re useless.” You stopped in front of the trash can, gripped the thin paperback at the top, one hand on each cover, and tore it right down the middle. You tossed both halves into the bin before turning around to face an open mouthed Harry. “Your driver’s back the way we came, yeah?”

“This was a bit cruel.” He mumbled against your shoulder, nosing the strap of your corset as he pushed the key into its lock. He had his other arm wrapped around your waist, your blazer (that he had you take off in the car) resting over his forearm. You didn’t say anything, only moved in closer, tucking yourself into his front as he pushed the door open.

He pulled you inside and closed the door. His hands immediately went to your waist, causing your blazer to fall to the floor, and he pulled you in for a kiss. You rested your hands on either side of his neck and sighed when he gave your waist a squeeze.

“Want anything to drink?” He mumbled against your lips.

“Not particularly.”

“Good.” He smirked before walking you back towards the stairs, his lips never leaving yours. “C’mon.” He said before turning around and grabbing your hand. He was pulling you up the stairs quickly, not seeming to care that you were in extremely high heels. He pulled you up from the last step, causing you to stumble into him. He found your lips quickly and let his hands wander down the sides of your body before landing on your ass.

You pulled away and wiped your thumb over the red lipstick smudged at the corner of his mouth. “C’mon.” You mocked him in a whisper, before walking around him and towards his bedroom, letting your nails trail along the wall of the hallway.

You heard his footsteps close behind you and once you were in the room, he came up and wrapped his arms around you. You could feel how hard he was through the material of your pants and dropped your head to the side, letting him trail kisses along your neck. You sighed when he began to suck at the skin right below your ear. He unfastened the hook of your pants and pulled down the zipper before dipping his right hand inside. His lips ghosted over your ear. “Was hoping for this all night.” He brushed his fingers over your lace covered clit, causing you to sigh. He did it again but with a little more pressure and your head fell back onto his shoulder; your eyes shut as you let out a small moan.

He pulled his hand out and turned you so that you were facing him. He slipped his tongue into your mouth and moaned when you twisted his hair around your fingers. Harry started walking you back towards the bed as you dropped your hands to his chest and started undoing the buttons of his shirt. Your fingertips light on his skin was a tease. Every time they brushed against his chest and then his stomach, he had to hold in a needy whimper.

The backs of your legs hit the foot of his bed just as you undid the last button. You pushed the silky shirt off his shoulder and shook your head when he tried to push your hips down, signaling that he wanted you on the bed. He pulled away from your kiss and searched your eyes, his brow furrowed in confusion. Instead of giving him an explanation, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth before moving your hands down to the waist band of his trousers. You slipped your fingers between the band and his skin and moved to stand in front of him, tugging on his trousers and making him turn with you so that he was in your previous position.

He rested his hands on either side of your neck, his thumbs brushing the edge of your jaw as you looked down, working on the fastening and zipper of his pants. Once they were loose around his waist, he tilted your head up to face him and pulled you in closer, landing his lips back on yours. You let him kick off his shoes before pushing the pants off his hips. After he had kicked them away, you dropped your right hand in between your bodies and palmed his length in his boxers, earning you a gasp from Harry. You continued to massage his erection as he began to kiss you deeper, his hands tight on the sides of your jaw. When his teeth closed on your bottom lip, you let out a soft mewl and slid your hand down to cup his balls.

You could sense the neediness between the two of you growing. You could feel the pool that had formed between your thighs and as much as you loved the way he was holding your face as he kissed you, you wanted his hands on your body. You needed him to relieve the ache that was growing in the pit of your stomach—but you needed to take care of him first. He was always so concerned with you, which was more than great, but he always stopped you from making him feel as good as you knew you could. You wanted him in your mouth and this time, you were going to get it.

You moved your hands to your waist and pushed your own trousers down your hips and stepped out of them, being sure to keep the heels on, leaving you in the corset in matching panties. Before you could make another move, Harry’s hands were on your hips pulling you back into him. “Matched just for me, yeah?”

You leaned forward and gave him a soft kiss and let your lips hover there. “If believing that makes you feel good, then yeah. I matched just for you.” Harry tried to hold back his smile as he kissed you again, but you pushed him away completely before he could kiss you any deeper.

Your eyes never left his as you lowered yourself to your knees in front of him. You placed your palms flat on his thighs and moved them up, letting your fingers dip under the fabric of his boxers on his legs. You felt his muscles tense up as you dragged your nails lightly over his skin as you pulled your hands out. You wanted to tease him, but the boxers were more or less in your way. You dipped your hands under his boxers again and dug your nails into his skin before rising up and placing an openmouthed kiss on his clothed tip, pulling a small, shuddering breath from Harry.

When you lifted your eyes up to his face, you saw that he’s cheeks were already flushed in anticipation. He watched as you placed your hands on the waistband of his briefs and pulled them down slowly. You pushed them all the way down his legs and let him step out of them before tossing them to the side. Harry moved back so he was leaning on the edge of the bed, almost sitting down, so that you had better access to all of him. You slid your hands up his thighs the same way you had done before as you placed soft kisses on the insides of them, only a few centimeters from his length. Harry was trying desperately hard not to move his hips and you could feel it. He didn’t want to be teased anymore, he wanted your tongue swirling around his tip and he wanted to be at the back of your throat, but he didn’t want to stop you either. You were paying such close attention to him, more than you had paid him the whole night, more attention than you ever paid him at all and he didn’t want to speed any of it up, just in case he never got it again.

He let out a breathy curse when you lazily flicked your tongue at the base of his length while cupping his balls lightly in your right hand. Harry lifted his right hand from where it was planted on the bed, holding him up, and brushed his thumb against your temple before pushing his hand back so his palm rested on the edge of your cheek and his fingers were threaded through your hair. You started massaging his balls softly in your hand and placed an open mouthed kiss to his length.

“(Y/N)…” He breathed.

“Hm?” You didn’t look up at him and continued leaving short licks at the base of his cock.

“Please—fuck.”

“Please what?” When you looked up at him, he saw the smirk you were trying to hide. He should’ve known this was still a game, despite the way you were treating him. He knew that it would change from here. You wanted him to ask for it, the same way he always made you, and then this gentle part of you would disappear, even though he didn’t really want it to.

He adjusted the hand that was in your hair. “Your mouth. Please.”

You gave his balls another light squeeze before swirling your tongue around his tip, but didn’t take him into your mouth. You moved to the base of his cock and licked up his length before repeating the action at his tip and Harry moved his hand to the back of your head. You let him guide you down, taking as much of him into your mouth as you could before he released the pressure and let you come back up. He continued to guide you, a string of moans and curses leaving his lips. You hollowed out your cheeks every time you moved back up and made sure to flick your tongue at the underside of his tip which always earned you a harsh intake of breath from him. You moved your right hand from his balls to the base of his cock, wanting to make sure you were touching all of him. Your hand followed your mouth up and then led your lips back down, twisting as it moved, forcing Harry’s moans to become louder.

You let your eyes flicker up to him as you continued to slide your lips up and down his cock and saw that his were glued to you. He had the one hand in your hair as the other held him up where he was leaning on the bed. His mouth hung open slightly, short breaths escaping, and then he was biting down on his bottom lip while his brow furrowed in pleasure. His cheeks were pink and his pupils looked blown, the usual green almost completely gone.

“Fuck, baby.” It came out as a pant. Once again, he was trying to stop his hips from bucking into your mouth. You were going so slow and it felt good, but he ached to go faster. He remembered the way he fucked your mouth in the car all those weeks ago and he wanted to do it again.

You saw his hand gripping at the comforter of his bed and you felt the restrained thrusts each time he guided you back down. You knew exactly what he wanted, but you wanted him to ask for it. After the fifth time he held back his thrust, you knew he wasn’t going to ask without a bit of prodding on your part. You pulled your mouth off of him and sat back on your heels, but kept your hand pumping slowly.

“Is there something you want?” You smirked when you saw the slightly surprised look on his face, but he recovered quickly.

He took his hand from the back of your head and ran his thumb along your swollen bottom lip before pushing it into your mouth. You ran your tongue over it and then bit down lightly. “I want to fuck your pretty mouth.”

You felt warmth blossom between your thighs at the words and could feel your wetness on the insides of your thighs. There was something about Harry that turned you on in a way that most guys didn’t. You had never been this turned on by giving someone head. You were never dripping in the way you were for him. “Well, what are you waiting for?” A cocky grin overtook his face when he heard your response.

You rose back up on your knees and moved to take him back into your mouth as he returned his hand to your hair. He guided you down again, a little faster but still relatively slowly, further than before, making your nose brush against his pelvic bone. You breathed through your nose as he did it again, not wanting to gag too soon. You were stronger than that. You kept your lips tight around his cock as he let you up, swirled your tongue around his tip, and kept them tight as you moved back down, until he hit the back of your throat, causing you to loosen them.

Each time he hit the back of your throat, a guttural curse left his lips. When he loosened his grip to let you back up, you stayed hovering at the base of his cock, signaling exactly what you wanted him to do. Harry thrusted his hips into your mouth, his hand carefully and softly holding your head in place. When you didn’t pull away, he did it again, deeper, and you could feel the tears start to form at the corners of your eyes. The third time, he pushed himself in far, causing you to gag and lift your head off of him. You pumped your hand on him once as you blinked back the tears and took a breath before going back down.

When Harry saw you get ready to go back down, he couldn’t hold in the groan bubbling in his throat. He placed his hand in its previous position and let you move yourself back down. He pushed his hips into you and cursed when he felt your lips at the base of his cock.

“Fuck, baby. That’s good.” His voice was raspy and thick. His cheeks were warm and he was glad you couldn’t see him then, so entranced by you, his entire face glazed over in desire. He thrusted in your mouth again and you moaned, causing him to grip harder onto your hair. He couldn’t help but think about how wet you probably were. He was torn between wanting to fuck you and not wanting this picture of you to end. He saw you blink your eyes rapidly as he pushed his cock into your mouth and knew your lips were probably red and swollen. You let out another moan before he pushed too deep and caused you to gag again.

He pulled you off of him and watched you take a breath. Your eyes were watery and a few tears had managed to slip down your cheeks. He grabbed your wrist and stopped you from pumping his length. “C’mere.” He whispered while giving your arm a small tug. You stood up and moved closer to him, slotting yourself right between his legs. He brushed the tears off your cheeks with the backs of his fingers before smirking. “Ruined.”

You rolled your eyes at him, remembering what he said the night of the party and tried to fight off the small smile that threatened to overtake your face. You slipped your feet out of your heels and moved them to the side. Harry tugged at the bottom of the corset.

“I want this off.” You turned around and showed him the many eye hooks at the back. “Bloody hell.” You attempted to swallow a chuckle, but failed. He moved a little further onto the bed and sighed before grabbing your hips and pulling you back into him so you were perched at the edge of the bed, right between his legs. He undid all the hooks as quickly as he could, periodically placing kisses over your shoulder bones and back. Once he had them all undone, he pushed it forward and off your shoulders before running his nails over the small indents it had left on your skin, sending chills over your body.

You stood up and turned to face him. He gripped your waist and pulled you in for a kiss. A needy whimper left you immediately and he knew that you were probably suffering. He trailed kisses along your jaw before moving to your neck as his right hand trailed over your hip and the top of your thigh, landing right at your clit. He rubbed his finger over the wet spot and couldn’t help but move to your center. He wanted to know how much you wanted him.

“Fuck.” He whispered against your skin when he felt the pool between your thighs. The thin lace of your panties was completely soaked through and the sides of your thighs were slick. He pushed the material to the side and dipped his finger in before sliding it up your folds and back to your clit. You let out a shaky moan and immediately felt your stomach tighten. You were aching for him in an embarrassing way. He sucked at the spot right under your ear and he drew circles around the small bud, pulling a string of curses from your lips.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You tugged at his hair so he lifted his head and pushed on his chest. “Move back.”

“What?” He kissed your jaw and then your lips.

“On the bed. On your back.” He smiled into the kiss and then pushed himself back. You didn’t move until his head was on the mound of pillows near the headboard. You pushed your panties down your legs as he watched you and then walked to where he was situated on your knees. When you reached his hips, you lifted your left leg and placed it on the other side of him, hovering your center directly above him.

Harry put his hands on your thighs and let his fingers dig slightly into your skin as you sat yourself on his length and started rocking your hips back and forth, his cock sliding between your folds. You leaned forward and placed your hands on either side of his head and bent down to kiss him. He cursed when his tip slipped between your folds and you moaned when it brushed against your clit.

He hovered his lips over yours. “One second.” He pushed himself up onto his elbows, causing you to sit up straight, your center flat against his length. His hand gripped onto your thigh and he paused, letting out a shaky breath. “Try not to move.” He mumbled before removing his hand and leaning over towards his nightstand.

You bit back a smirk as he opened the drawer and ripped one off the strand in the box before returning to his position. You scooted back and lifted your hips, and watched him roll it on. When he was done, you moved back up and started the roll of your hips again, intent on teasing him just a little bit more. You could tell he was growing impatient by the way his hands gripped harshly onto your hips as he tried to control your movements. You leaned down and placed a soft kiss to his lips and then his jaw. He turned his head to the side and nibbled lightly on your earlobe, causing you to let out a breathy sigh.

“C’mon, love. Ride me.” His whisper was all you needed.

You lifted your hips slightly so he could line himself up before you sunk down.

“Holy fuck,” you gasped. He felt deeper than last time, this position apparently offering an angle that allowed him to fill you completely. You barely moved your hips forward, but the sensation was overwhelming, causing your eyes to flutter closed. Harry’s hands were planted firmly on your hips and his brow was furrowed as he stared up at you. He wanted you to start moving; he was aching to feel you but he could tell that you needed a second to adjust and he didn’t want to rush you.

You put your hands on his chest and leaned forward slightly, giving yourself the space to start rolling your hips against his. He winced at the feeling of your nails digging into the swallows on his chest and then let out a rough groan when you sat back and sunk down, taking in all of him.

You continued the movement of your hips and tried to stop your eyes from fluttering closed, not wanting to miss a second of Harry’s pleasure. His eyes were roaming over your chest and then your face as his thumbs brushed lightly over the skin of your hips. He loved watching you, part of the pleasure he was experiencing coming solely from seeing the way you looked on top of him. He wanted to sit up and kiss your swollen lips, to move the stray hair that had fallen across your forehead, to hug your body into his as you rode him—but you looked too good in that moment. He didn’t want to ruin it.

A strangled moan left your lips when you sped up your movements a bit. Your body jerked forward, the pressure with which your clit rubbed against Harry’s skin being a little too much, causing your right hand to slip from his chest to the base of his neck, the space between your thumb and forefinger resting comfortably on his collarbone.

Harry’s eyes widened slightly, his eyes snapping up from where he was staring at your chest to your face, but your eyes were closed. He trailed his right hand up your body and closed his fingers around your nipple. “Fuck,” he sighed. He continued to massage your breast as you rolled your hips over his, but he wanted more. He pinched the small bud again, but a little harsher. You inhaled sharply and opened your eyes to find that he was already staring at you. “Slow down and look at me.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and did as he said. He cursed lowly as his hands roamed over your body. Your eyes flickered to the hand that rested at the base of his neck; you inched it up until your thumb and forefinger were on either side of his neck and waited to see his reaction.

“If you’re going to do it, then do it.” His words were rushed, almost as if he was embarrassed, but he didn’t look it.

You slid your hand up until your hand was comfortably around his neck. Harry let out a pleased hum when you applied barely any pressure, causing a warmth to form in the pit of your stomach. You had never done this to a guy before. Usually, you were on the receiving end, but you were enjoying this—and a little surprised that it turned you on as much as it did.

You applied a little more pressure, but not much, afraid of making him uncomfortable as you continued to ride him. You felt the muscles tighten as your pleasure built. Harry wanted you to go slow and so you tried to maintain your pace, despite your body begging you to go faster. You settled for riding him harder, your hips moving with more force than before. Without thinking about it, your grip on his neck tightened. Harry released a guttural moan, one that was loud and that sent you over the edge. You fell forward onto his chest with a strangled cry, your fingers still on his neck. The high only kept building as you moved your hips, a prolonged high from moving so slowly. One of his hands planted themselves on your ass, helping you continue to push your hips forward and the other moved up and tangled in your hair.

“C’mon, baby. Keep coming.”

You body began to tremble against his as you bit down lightly on his shoulder, trying hard to muffle the scream. Harry audibly winced but didn’t try and move you. He stayed put, his hands holding you to him as you came down from your high.

When you were done, you kissed the small mark you left on his shoulder, then trailed kisses up his neck and jaw. “Sorry.” You whispered.

Instead of answering, Harry wrapped his arm tight around your waist and flipped you over so that he was on top of you. He stood on his knees and threw your right leg over his left shoulder before leaning forward on his hands and  pushing into you quickly. A surprised gasp left your lips and your hands went straight to his biceps. His eyes were locked in on yours as he fucked you rather roughly. He wasn’t going fast, which was agonizing for the both of you. You could feel all of him move in and out of you and his body wanted him to speed up, but he didn’t want it to end.

He moved all of his weight onto his left arm and slid his right hand over your chest and then up to our neck before he did exactly what you did to him. He applied much more pressure than you did, though, because he knew from last time just how much force you liked. You stretched your neck back so he could get a better handle on it and let out a soft whimper when he applied pressure again.

When your eyes met his again, you didn’t miss the mischievous glint in them. You stuck your tongue out just in time to catch the spit Harry let drop from his mouth. He watched you swallow it, a satisfied smirk on your lips.

“Fuck,” he moaned. He moved his hand and brushed his thumb over your bottom lip, before he dropped down onto his elbow, his hips still bucking into yours. You moved your hands to his hair and pulled him the rest of the way so you could kiss him. He slipped his tongue in your mouth, indulging you for only a short moment before pulling away. “You liked that?”

Your pleased hum was accompanied by a nod. “I want you to fuck me harder.”

He let out a quiet groan at your words. “I’ll cum.”

“Please.” It was a desperate plea, one that he couldn’t ignore. He slammed his hips into you, pulling a startled gasp from your lips—and then did it again and again. His thrusts were getting sloppy and his face was in your neck, a sign that he was close.

“Fuck,” His words were harsh and rushed, a string of curses spilling from his lips. “I’m gonna come.”

“Harry…”

Hearing his name was enough. He let out a choked curse as he came, his thrusts becoming lazy and slow. You ran your fingers through his curls as he came down and let him press tired kisses to the skin of your neck.

He pushed off of you, letting the cold air hit your warm and relatively sweaty body which sent a shiver through you. You wiped your forehead with the back of your hand to remove any traces of sweat and watched as Harry walked into his bathroom to throw away the condom and clean himself off.

“Do you want a glass of water?” He asked when he reentered the room.

“Please.” You sat up.

He pulled on a pair of briefs before standing at the foot of the bed with his hands on his hips and a thoughtful look on his face. “You’re gonna stay, right?”

You were slightly taken aback. “What?”

“You’re gonna stay here tonight, right?”

“I—what time is it?” You looked around the room for a clock.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s late. Do you want to stay?”

“Uh, yeah. I’ll stay.”

His shoulders relaxed as he nodded before mumbling that he would be back.

Did you want to stay? You didn’t not want to. In fact, Harry’s bed felt more comfortable than your own and you had nothing urgent to attend to in the morning. Something felt different, though. You didn’t feel the same way as last time he asked—like it was completely out of the question. It didn’t seem like a ridiculous idea. Just like last time, you didn’t have anything—no clothes, no toothbrush, no makeup remover—but it didn’t seem to matter now, which was an unsettling revelation.

You also couldn’t ignore the warm feeling in your chest that bloomed at the idea of him wanting you to stay. There wasn’t the same urge to tease him for it and you knew why. You didn’t hate him as much as you wanted to anymore. He made you feel good and he was willingly going to help you out at work and he was relatively nice to you tonight—but most importantly, you had enjoyed your time with him at the coffee shop, alone. Since then, you had this nagging feeling that you were missing something, that the guy you had spent the afternoon with wasn’t the same person who was so awful to you, he also couldn’t be the person you thought he was. But what you knew about him said otherwise. You didn’t think you liked him, at least not completely, but your hatred was getting hazy.

You pushed yourself off of the bed and stepped into your underwear, grimacing when you felt that they were still wet. You didn’t want to put your corset back on, nor did you feel comfortable going through Harry’s things in search of a t-shirt. You looked around his room, hoping that he had a pile of dirty laundry somewhere, but frowned when the only thing you saw was the shirt he had worn to the bar. You sighed and moved to pick it up when you caught a flash of red out of the corner of your eye.

On his dresser, underneath another sweater was the varsity sweater the two of you had agreed to share. You dropped the button up back on the floor before pulling the cardigan from the stack and slipping it on.

Harry stepped away from his microwave when he heard your feet padding down the stairs and looked towards the entrance of the kitchen. His brow furrowed when he heard your footsteps and then the front door shut quietly. For a second, he felt panic rise in his chest at the idea of you sneaking out. He left the popcorn popping in the microwave and went to the door. He grabbed his green coat from the closet and slipped it on, not wanting to stand on his porch in in underwear, before going outside.

He relaxed when he smelled the smoke. He turned to the left and saw you leaned over the railing that enclosed the small porch, a cigarette stuck between your fingers. He shook his head when he saw that you were in nothing but his sweater and your underwear.

“Excuse me.”

You jumped att he sound of his voice, your hand immediately covering your heart. “Jesus, Harry. You scared the shit out of me.”

He walked over to you slowly, holding the coat tight around his body. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it look like?” You took another drag.

He leaned over and plucked the cigarette from your fingers and you pulled it from your mouth. “It looks like you’re smoking in my sweater. You’re gonna make it all smelly.” He put the cigarette out on the railing.

“It’s my sweater too.”

“Not yet.” He corrected and you rolled your eyes. “Besides that, why are you half naked in front of my house?”

“It’s not like anyone can see me. Your front lawn is, like, miles long. I needed somewhere to smoke.”

“I thought that was a drunk thing…and a stress thing.”

“It’s also a sex thing.”

Harry sighed. “You really need to stop that. It’s getting worse.”

“We’re not fucking anymore. You don’t have to pretend to care, Harry.” You turned around and leaned your back against the railing, your arms crossed tightly over your chest.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m not pretending.”

You rolled your eyes. “Harry—“

“No, I care.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Harry, stop.”

“Stop, what?” He was growing frustrated.

You shook your head. “Forget it. I don’t want to fight with you.” You looked at the side of the house, not wanting to look at him.

He watched you shiver and moved closer to you. He walked to stand in front of you and pulled your arms from their crossed position before stepping into you hesitantly, wrapping you up in his coat. He relaxed when he felt your cold arms wrap around his back under the fabric. “You’re still staying right?”

You nodded against his chest.

“But, like, with me? In my bed.”

You laughed softly. “Obviously, Harry.”

“Good.” He pulled you closer. “How about we go inside now. It’s bloody cold.” He pulled away from you and waited until you started walking towards the door to follow you in.

He hated how insecure he felt—and so suddenly. He hoped he didn’t sound needy, over eager for you to stay, but he didn’t want it to be like last time. He wasn’t sure he hated you anymore and for a while, he thought he liked you, but tonight you had seemed to ruin all of that. He was utterly confused and felt as if he didn’t know who you were at all anymore, but he knew that he didn’t want you to leave.

He knew you could be nice, he knew you could be funny, and not so hard, but it seemed that he only got that part of you in fleeting moments and he wanted more of it. He was sure it was because you didn’t like him. You had made that much clear tonight, but then you apologized—and it sounded genuine.

He needed to talk to you, but he wasn’t sure how to start the conversation.

He closed the door behind him and pulled his jacket off. “Have you told your boss about the interview yet?”

You shook your head. “I was going to wait until tomorrow morning. I hope she’s not still so mad. I was doing so well and she liked me…I fucked that one up.”

“What if you also sent her part of the interview? Would she like you again, then?” Harry tossed his jacket in the closet and closed the door.

Your brow furrowed. “How am I supposed to do that when we haven’t even done it yet?”

“We could do it now?”

You tried to hide your smile. “Like, actually?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “If it’ll help.”

“That’s…really nice of you.”

Harry felt his cheeks flush but tried to ignore it. “How about you go upstairs and get ready or whatever and I’ll be up in a second.”

You nodded eagerly before turning and hopping up the steps, the oversized sweater hanging lazily off your shoulders.

It wasn’t totally nice of him. He knew offering to start the interview now would make you more inclined to talk to him about what you thought of him, about why you didn’t like him and he was sure that it would give him more than one opportunity to ask about you.

When Harry reentered his bedroom with a bowl of popcorn and two bottle of water, you were already sat crosslegged on his bed, your phone on the covers in front of you. He set the popcorn down before climbing onto the bed. You were both sitting with your legs crossed under you, the phone in between you.

“Ready?” You asked after taking a drink of water.

Harry popped a few pieces of popcorn into his mouth. “Yup.”

You pressed the “record” button on your phone. “What the fuck is with you and the grandpa sweaters?” Harry choked and then started coughing as laughter bubbled up your throat. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” You waited until he finished drinking his water and regaining his composure before asking your actual question. “When curating the Fine Line era’s aesthetic, how much attention did you pay to the fashion? How will that carry over into what you wear for the tour?”

You tried to fight off the smile as you listened to him explain how long it took him and Harry Lambert to really decide what the era would look like clothes wise and how natural it seemed to be in the end. This was a side of him that you had never really seen before. You hadn’t ever heard him talk about how much work he put into all of it, how involved he was. It was easy to see how much he cared and how detailed oriented he was.

“Does that answer it?” His brow was furrowed, but there was the hint of a smile on his face. He knew he gave you a great answer.

“When you go out day to day, grandpa sweaters and all,” He rolled his eyes at your smirk. “Is that you? Or is that Harry Lambert?”

“I think it’s probably both…” A concentrated look took over his face as he tried to sort out how much of his style was innately him and how much of it was Lambert’s influence.

You could see how easy it was for people to like him and, for a moment, completely forgot why you didn’t. As he talked, you found yourself almost mesmerized by him. You saw the charm everyone always talked about and there was a flutter in your chest when his eyes flickered over to you. There was no way to deny it was there, but you weren’t totally sure what to do about it.

You needed to know.

“Why did you cheat on your ex-girlfriend?”

He was shocked and you didn’t blame him. The question came out of nowhere and it shocked even you. Lately, you had been really wanting to know, but swore you would never ask.

Harry leaned forward and stopped the recording. “Are we really doing this?”

“Yeah.”

He sighed and ran his hands over his face. “I know it sounds awful and that it makes me look like a complete asshole but it wasn’t my fault.”

“Harry, c’mon—“

He held his hand up. “If you want to know, you’ve got to shut up.” You didn’t say anything and so he kept going. “Yes, it was my fault because I’m responsible for my own actions and all that, but…I didn’t know what else to do. I loved her, like, really loved her but I was on tour.” He saw the look on your face. “It’s not that I couldn’t control myself, because I can, but she was so distant. Our calls and FaceTimes were getting shorter and she always said she was too busy to come visit and it felt like she just wasn’t in it anymore, you know?” You nodded. “I had a gut feeling that she was going to end things. Every time she called unexpectedly I swore I was going to be sick. It felt like it was ending, like she was through with me, but she wouldn’t say it.”

“So why not break up with her? Why cheat?”

“I knew I was going to be hurt. I loved her—I knew it was going to hurt and I couldn’t not hurt her first.”

You cringed at his words.

“I know it’s shitty.”

“Harry, that’s…it’s—“

“I know.” He ran his hands through his hair before picking up his water bottle.

“You know that’s why I stopped liking you right?”

“Because I cheated on my girlfriend? It has nothing to do with you.”

You shrugged. “I know, but it made you seem really shitty. And you were, like, all smug about it, as if it didn’t even matter. It made me not really like you as a person. And then you started being awful to me and it just sort of spiraled.”

“Do you still think I’m a shitty person?”

“I think what you did was shitty, without a doubt. It was childish and a real selfish thing to do—“

“I really hope there’s a ‘but’ coming.” He muttered.

“But part of me understands it—a very small part. That doesn’t erase the fact that you were awful to me, though.” You took a deep breath. “Okay, next.”

Harry didn’t protest to the two of you moving on and so you hit the “record” button again.

“If you had to pick one suit to wear for an entire tour, from Live On Tour, which would it be?”

He started to answer but you weren’t listening. The realization that you had been wrong about him came down hard. The whole reason your opinion of him turned sour was not only because of what he had done, but because he seemed to wash himself of all responsibility. He acted as though none of it was his fault, as if he didn’t care and like it didn’t matter, but that wasn’t the case at all.

You leaned forward and stopped the recording.

“Did I do something wrong?” His brow furrowed in concern.

“You know I don’t think you’re less than me, right?”

“What? You already apologized for that.”

“I know, but I need you to know that I really don’t think I’m better than you. Smarter than you? Definitely. Objectively better than? No.”

He shook his head and laughed lightly. “You’re never going to give up on the smart thing, are you?”

You threw your hands up in exasperation. “It’s all I have!” You gestured to him. “You’ve made it pretty clear that I’m poor, not a very talented writer apparently, and that I’m just a staff writer. My intelligence is apparently the only part of my identity I can be proud of. No offense, but it’s the one thing I have that you don’t.”

He tilted his head to the side. “I think I want to be a little offended.”

“Well, it’s not allowed so suck it up.”

He chuckled before picking up your phone and dropping it on his nightstand. When you saw him reach for the popcorn you asked what he was doing.

He placed it next to his phone before pulling back the comforter and sliding in. “I think that’s enough interviewing for the night.” He held his arms out to you. “C’mere.”

You crawled under and hesitantly moved closer to him. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest and dropped his head onto yours.

“This is weird.” You muttered and felt Harry’s chest shake with a laugh. “Isn’t it?”

“A bit, yeah.” Under the covers, he tangled his legs with yours. “It’s kind of nice, though, right?”

You hoped he couldn’t feel how hot your cheeks got. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Does this mean you’ll be a bit nicer to me now?”

“I haven’t decided yet. Try asking again tomorrow.”

“What if you don’t like me tomorrow?” You could hear the apprehension in his voice.

“I don’t know.”

[angstysebfan]

The Truth Will Set You Free- Part 1

Pairing: Bucky x Female Reader, Thor x Reader (other Avenger characters)

AU: Modern

Summary: You dated for two years, and thought he was the one for you. One day you came home and found him with someone else. After running away from you, you return home and found yourself in the arms of Thor. When Thor decides to introduce you to his friends at a dinner, you realize that there’s something familiar about the house you were visiting.

Warnings: implied cheating, language

~~

You sit in the passenger seat of the vehicle driving towards an unknown destination. You turn to look at your boyfriend, Thor, and just take in how much happier you have been over the last six months since you started dating. You knew you were a mess when you first met him, 1 year ago. You had given up on men and relationships, and decided to never to trust anyone. Your last boyfriend cheated on you after two years together. You thought he was the love of your life and when you caught him with someone else you figured maybe love wasn’t real. However, Thor manage to show you that love is still possible.

Didn’t realize how long you were staring until Thor dragged you from your thoughts, “You okay? You look kinda nervous,” he asked as he squeezed your thigh.

You take a deep breath and squeeze his hand, “I just want them to like me,” you respond with a smile.

Thor smiled as he pulled up in front of the house and parked. “These people have become my family over the last 2 years. I know they are going to love you,” he says before leaning over and giving you a kiss.

Thor then gets out of the car and runs around to open the door for you, which makes you smile. You look up at the house and can’t help but feel like you have been here before.

“Who owns this house? It looks so familiar to me,” you ask Thor as he leads you to the front door.

“My friend Steve and his fiancé Peggy,” Thor says.

You abruptly stop and stare at the house. No wonder you recognize it. There can’t be that much of a coincidence. Thor stops and looks at the panic in your face.

“Babe, you ok?” He asks concerned.

You pull your hand away from his and start walking backwards toward the car, shaking your head as you try to calm your racing heart. No way are you about to walk into a room with those people. With him.

“Baby? Look at me,” Thor says cupping your cheeks. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

You take a deep breath as the memories start flashing in front of your face. You remember all the good, the laughing, cuddling, kissing, love making. Then you remember all the bad. The walking into your shared apartment, seeing the two of them cuddling in your bed sound asleep. The crying, the yelling, the leaving, the breakdown.

“Thor... I-I don’t think I can do this,” you whisper as you tremble.

Thor pulls you into his arms tightly to help ground you. You feel your heart rate return to normal slowly as he rocks you and kisses the top of your head. When he hears you sigh he pulls away slightly, “What’s wrong?” He asks.

You swallow the lump “I- it’s just a lot of new people,” you say, deciding to not tell him your pathetic story. At least not yet. “I’m just not ready,” you say as you try to pull yourself away and back to the car.

“I know your scared, but I promise it will be fine. I told them all about you, and I really want you to meet my friends. I’m always the only solo guy, and now I want to show my girl off,” he says pleading.

You felt terrible that Thor always hung out with his friends alone, when they are all in couples. But now that you know who they are, how can walk into that house and face them? You look up into Thor’s beautiful blue eyes and sigh in defeat.

You look down at your trembling hands and try to find courage. You wonder if you should tell Thor now why you are worried, but you don’t want things to be awkward with his friends. You look back up and nod and are blessed with a breathtaking cheesy smile in return. It makes your heart flutter.

Thor grabs your hand again and heads up to the house. Your heart is pounding in your chest as he knocks on the door. You can’t help but think back to that day.

Flashback

You walk into your apartment after a long day of work, completely exhausted. All you wanted was a glass of wine, some greasy takeout food, and the love of your life to hold you in his arms. As you look around the apartment you noticed that everything was in place but the man of the hour, Bucky, was missing. Usually he would be sitting in the living room awaiting your return like a puppy, but today he was absent.

You walk down the hall toward your bedroom, wondering if maybe he went to take a nap. You slowly open the door and peek in and what you see completely destroys your heart. You always wondered if there was something between the two of them. They always seemed too close for your comfort, but you always hoped that he loved you enough that he would never hurt you. I guess you were wrong.

You look at the man you thought you would spend the rest of your life with, cuddled up with none other than Natasha Romanoff, in your bed both with no shirts on. You push the door open so forcefully, it slams against the wall, causing both of them to jump awake.

You couldn’t help the tears falling down your face as you screamed and cursed at both of them. Bucky flies out of the bed to calm you, but you just smack him and tell him to not touch you. You must have blacked out because the next thing you remember is having all your clothes packed and walking out the front door toward your car, Bucky pleading with you to stop.

End flashback

The door opens an you see a familiar tall blond man, who welcomes Thor with a smile. You try and hide behind Thor to gather a few more seconds of courage. Thor turns behind him and wraps his arm around you, pulling you forward.

“Steve this my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, this is my good friend Steve,” Thor says with a smile.

You and Steve stare at each other. Steve in disbelief, you in terror. You slightly shake your head, trying to tell Steve that Thor doesn’t know. Steve apparently gets the message because he reaches out to shake your hand, “Nice to finally meet you,” he says.

You nod in response, not trusting your voice at the moment. Before you knew it, Thor was pulling you into the house. As you all turn the corner, Steve announces to the room, “Look who is here!”

Everyone turns to greet Thor. When he pulls you to his side you hear the collective gasps before a thunderous silence. All eyes are on you. You look from face to face of the people you once considered friends, before you lock eyes with the man that tore your heart apart.

You both stare at each other for what feels like forever. You don’t even hear when Thor introduces you to the crew. You pull your eyes away and see Natasha sitting on the couch in shock. You want nothing more then to smack the beautiful right off her face.

Steve interrupts the silence, “Y/N we are all so glad to meet you, right guys?” He says to the group.

They look at him confused before looking at you again, but you are looking at your feet in embarrassment. Sam jumps in, “Of course! Welcome!”

Everyone relaxes after that, but all you feel is tension from all of them, but especially Bucky, who hasn’t stopped staring at you from the moment Thor pulled you in. You were here. You were back. But you were no longer his.

~~

Part 2

Welcome back everybody!!! Sorry for being away for so long. I think I burnt myself out before but I’m back and ready to roll!! Feedback is appreciated! 

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[fanf1ctionwrit1n]

Deal

Paring: Dinozzo x fem!reader

Prompt 1: “Just close your eyes. I will still be here when you open them again.”

A/n: Thank you @nerdyfangirl67 for sending this in! Also, this is the longest one I’ve written. Proud of myself. ALSO THE UNDERLINED WORDS ARE A LINK! PLEASE CLICK IT TO KNOW WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT

Word count: 950

College was kicking your ass. Why the hell did you think it was smart to go back? You had done four years of undergraduate study, followed by three years of law school. You had your bachelors and it worked just fine for you. So why the hell did it seem like you needed to get a masters degree? You didn't. But at the same time it was like you did. You felt like you'd be a disappointment if you didn't. You put your career on pause for this and your boyfriend fully supported your decision.

You had moved in with him months ago and yeah, changes had to be made so it was a living space for two people, but it worked out for you both. Your boyfriend refused to move out after getting his apartment for so cheap. Would you believe it if I told you that it was because of a triple homicide? Your jaw almost hit the floor when he told you that, and you made a joke that it was haunted/possessed- honestly it was.

Tonight was one of your worst nights, a ten page essay due tomorrow bright and early. A pounding headache and a dimly lit office space wasn't helping that. You'd been staring at your paper for hours, six pages in and absolutely clueless on what to do to make up the other four. You glanced over at the digital clock sitting on your desk, a bright 1:30am.

Correction, your paper was due in seven and a half hours. Shit. Not only were you beating yourself up but you were also wondering where the hell Tony was. Normally if he was staying late he'd let you know so that you did worry.

You picked up your phone to see that you didn't miss a text. You unlocked it, staring at the photo of you and Tony as your lock screen that you had taken at a friend's house. You opened up his contact info and called him

“Hello?” Tony asked.

“Hi.” you responded

“Babe, what are you doing up? It's 1:37 in the morning.”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I'm working, you?”

“Finishing my essay, or well- attempting to finish it.”

“Is this why you called?”

“No, I called because you didnt text me that you were staying later and now I'm sitting at my desk sad and alone cause you're not here to cuddle with me.”

“I’ll be home in an hour, then we can cuddle, deal?”

“Deal.” You hung up before grabbing your jacket, throwing on your shoes and heading out the door. You hopped into your car and headed to ncis.

Standing in the elevator you impatiently waited knowing those two doors were the only thing stopping you from seeing your boyfriend. Ding! You rushed out of the elevator and towards Tony's desk. You stopped in front of his desk. He looked up, his frustrated face instantly lighting up with joy. It reminded you of when he first asked you out all those years ago.

You stood in front of the agent's desk. It had been a tough case and you could tell he was frustrated. You could see on his face, a face of pure frustration. He noticed you standing in front of his desk and his face instantly lit up.

“Hi.” You said.

“Hi, Miss y/l/n. I thought you left already.”

“You seemed frustrated and I thought I'd check up on you before heading to my office.”

“I thought lawyers weren't supposed to be nice.” You chuckled

“Not while defending a client I'm not, any other time though, I'm pretty nice.

“Uhm, would you be interested in maybe grabbing a coffee, or some dinner?”

“I'd love that.”

“Great.”

“Question.”

“Hm?”

“What happened to rule thirteen, ‘Never involve lawyers’?”

“I’ll make an exception. Hopefully so will Gibbs.” You laughed before he grabbed his stuff and you headed out.

He stood up and gave you a kiss on the cheek. “You came all this way to see me?” he asked.

“I would fly to the moon to see you.”

“Even at-” He glanced at the clock, “1:43 in the morning?”

“Even at 1:43 in the morning.”

“How's the essay coming?”

“Still need four more pages by eight.”

“How about this- We go home now, and I leave this paperwork for tomorrow. Once we get home we can cuddle for a bit and then I’ll help you with the essay, deal?”

“Deal.”

“You two lovebirds get out of here.” A gruff but familiar voice said.

“Workin’ on it boss.” Tony said.

“Hey, y/n?” Gibbs asked and you turned to face him.

“Yeah?”

“How’s grad school?”

“Stressful but that’s to be expected.”

“Y'know it seems like just yesterday you were a lawyer who wouldn't get off my ass.”

“I'd still do it if I wasn't in school right now.”

“I know you would. You guys go, enjoy your night.” With that you were off.

You were both sitting on the couch, watching a movie. You laid down, placing your head on his lap, attempting to keep your eyes open. He ran his fingers through your hair, enjoying your company. You yawned and that was immediately followed with “Go to sleep, you’ve been up for way too long, especially with class tomorrow.” you shook your head before looking up at him. “I'm fine.”

“No youre not, I can see the bags under your eyes. Just close your eyes. I will still be here when you open them again.”

“M’kay.” And with that you fell asleep getting one of the best nights of sleep in your life.

Ncis: @nerdyfangirl67 @simpforcrimeshows

All: @sade-shark

[yikesharringrove]

Show Pony

Chapter 2: Legends Never Die

Read on Ao3

-

Billy was watching porn when Steve texted.

He’s never clicked out of a video so fucking fast in his life.

The message just read hey, this is steve :) which like, of course, the fucker uses little emoticons. Of course , he types out little smiley faces. It’s so dumb. It’s so cute.

And Billy just stared at it. One hand still on his dick, the other hovering over the keyboard.

What the fuck does he reply?

Obviously, Steve knows it’s Billy. Like. Duh.

So he just tapped out a little Hey.

Steve texted back almost immediately.

you have a good day? Billy found himself grinning maniacally, so he rolled over to hold his pillow close to his chest, burying his chin into it. He didn’t wanna deal with the fact that this stupid adorable cowboy was making him smile and flush. Stupid.

Yeah, it was nice. Way too hot, but nice.

lol try wearing jeans in that heat. sweatin through my damn saddle. Billy laughed into his pillow.

Jesus, you’re such a fuckin hick. Billy bit his tongue when he pressed send.

And Steve just sent back >:(. And God. He’s so cute. Billy. Hates him.

And then Billy’s phone buzzed twice, another brand new text from Steve.

One that made Billy’s heart fucking stop.

i have the day off tomorrow. no tiedown on the schedule. you should come by and we could hang

Which sounded like. A date. It sounded like a fucking date. And Billy wanted to ask. If Steve’s invitation was for a goddamn date.

But like, he can’t just ask. Can he? Is that weird? Okay, maybe he’ll just-

Should I bring Max?

Right? Like if Steve says to bring his little sister, then there’s no way it’s a date. Because, who would want their date to bring their little sister? People who are just hanging out as friends, that’s who.

was hoping it'd just be you and me

And hoo boy. Hoo boy. That’s. That’s a fucking. That’s a date.

Then yeah. Just you and me.

And Steve sent him another little :) because the fucker loves his emoticon smiley faces. They’re not even, like, actual emojis. Steve doesn’t take the time to use fucking apostrophes, but he does type out little faces.

And maybe Billy’s spending too much time thinking about the smiley little shits.

But, like. It’s just. It’s Steve. And it’s a cute fucking thing that Steve does.

Billy’s pretty much obsessed with him by now.

And maybe Billy should ask for, like, a time to meet. But he was halfway through a video and his cock’s still hard and kinda starting to ache, pressed against the mattress where it was. He rolled over, slid his hand back into his shorts, and wrapped his fingers around the base of himself.

So it’s easy just to, slide it up. Run his fingers along his length. Pretend his rough hand is Steve’s rough hand. Pretend the tight vice grip is Steve’s mouth. Hot and slick around him.

He could picture Steve, on his knees in the dirt, those tight fucking jeans beginning to stain at the knees, those big pretty eyes looking at him so reverently, so softly.

And he came all over his hand, pictured those pink pretty lips covered with cum. Imagined scooping it on his fingers, pressing them into Steve’s mouth, making him lick them clean.

It wasn’t even the most depraved fantasy Billy’s ever had. But it was for sure in his top five best orgasms. No doubt about it.

He wiped his hand on the sheets, turning onto his side, staring at the short little conversation with Steve.

Thinking about their fucking date tomorrow.

Max was on his ass the second he woke up.

She cornered him as he was coming out of the bathroom, making him startle and nearly smack her.

“The fuck you doing out here, Shitbrid?”

“What are we doing today?”

“ We aren’t doing shit all. I will be heading out. Soon.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, jutting her jaw in a way he absolutely knows she learned from him.

“Are you going to the rodeo?” she hissed through her teeth at him. “Are you going to see-”

“That’s none ‘a your fuckin’ business.” He pushed past her, lumbering down the hall, almost making it into his bedroom before she slipped inside with him, slapping his elbow and kicking the door closed.

“Are you going on a date ?”

Billy glared at her. He clenched his jaw, speaking through gritted teeth.

“Pretty sure we agreed not to fucking talk about this shit here.”

She pursed her lips, shifting her jaw.

“Just nod or shake your head.”

Billy kept his head very still.

She kicked him once in the shin before stomping out of his room, nearly slamming the door, catching it at the last minute, and closing it quietly.

Neil didn’t approve of doors slamming in his house.

It was rule number. Three probably. First rule was don’t be a smartass. Second rule was don’t be Billy. That was kind of an unspoken rule. But it was there.

And Billy was faced with his newest dilemma.

What does he wear?

Because it’s gonna be another hot fucking day, and his typical date outfits have more, more.

He’s got one clean pair of cut-offs left. Okay. Yes. And he puts on a printed button-up shirt. Leaves it almost all the way unbuttoned, because, like, of course, he does. He’s got a good body. He wants Steve to see it.

He’ll be mostly cool, and he looks better than he did last time he saw Steve.

Black Converse complete the look, and he maybe spends more time than he usually would putting his hair into a ponytail, using one of Max’s bright scrunchies.

She’ll get pissed if she notices it but. Whatever. He steals them from her all the fucking time.

He hasn’t looked at his phone all morning, figured he could head over to the rodeo, and whenever Steve texted, he’d play it cool and act like he wasn’t already there.

But, cowboy hick Steve was obviously an early riser. As the most recent text Billy has is from that cowboy hick Steve. At six. In the morning.

you wanna meet up around ten?

It was currently just past nine.

Does Billy head up there now and wander around the grounds for a bit?

Yes. Yes, he does. Because frankly, he looks gay as fuck in this outfit and he should probably dip before his dad sees.

He sends Steve a thumbs up and the three dots show up almost immediately, showing Steve typing.

you got a car right? can you pick me up outside of the parking lot? i gotta get outta here

And Fuck. Billy knows that feeling.

No problem. You wanna get breakfast? I know a good diner if you’re into that kinda thing.

hell yeah im into that :)

Ah, yes. There was that little happy face just in time to give Billy lots of nice heart palpitations.

Great. That’s what he needs. To get sappy and gross over Steve’s emoticons. Again.

He slipped out of his house without interference, taking a lap around the block just to kill time before setting off to the fairgrounds.

He was trying to make his car look presentable, shoving the few gum wrappers Max left by the gear shift into his pocket, brushing off any stray cigarette ash with one of the baby wipes in the glove box.

And by the time he reached the fairgrounds, he saw Steve skulking along the front of the parking lot, hopping over cracks in the sidewalk like the cutest little bunny.

It was the most adorable thing in the fucking world.

Billy pulled up next to him, blaring the horn and watching Steve startle at the sound.

He was wearing cut-off denim shorts like Billy’s, and a goddamn crop top. It had the silhouette of a horse on its hind legs, its mane flowing in the wind behind it, and Harrington American Rodeo brandished across his chest. It was cut just at his waistline, where his body nipped in right above his hips.

Steve smiled his pretty smile at Billy, just about skipping around the front of the car to slide into the passenger seat.

And Billy tried not to think about how fucking good Steve looked in the passenger seat of his car, those long fucking legs all on display, his thighs, thick and pale, covered in dark hair.

“Hi,” Steve was leaning with one elbow on the center console, putting himself in Billy’s space, and Billy was thankful for his dark aviator sunglasses, as his eyes went wide and probably panicked with Steve moving in so close.

Because if Steve was leaning in to kiss him, that kinda feels like a lot. And Billy’s not a prude, not by any means but he's, he’s got lines, and rules, and-

Steve just knocked his head into Billy’s shoulder, leaning back to buckle his seatbelt, like headbutting Billy’s shoulder was casual and normal.

And fuck.

Billy’s in so deep for this guy he barely fucking knows.

All he could do was push the car forward, and will away the flush on his cheeks. And pretend like he hadn’t jerked off to the person sitting next to him less than twelve hours ago.

“So. Billy. Tell me about yourself.” Steve shifted in his seat, turning to look right at Billy. “All I know is that you’ve got a kid sister, a cool car, and that you’re really hot.”

Billy smirked, turning to look at Steve over his glasses, found Steve biting his bottom lip demurely.

“Well, there’s not much else to know .”

“Oh, come on. Where are you from? How old are you? Shit, probably shoulda asked that sooner. Please, tell me you’re not fifteen or something.”

“I’m literally driving, right now. And relax, Pretty Boy. I’m eighteen next month.”

“Okay. Okay, good. I’m eighteen, by the way. Just so you know, that I’m not fifteen.” Billy shook his head, rolling his eyes with a smile. “But I still want answers to the other questions.”

“Well, I’m from here. Born and raised in San Diego. Uh, I graduated high school in May. And I work at the diner I’m about to take you to, which might be the lamest shit in the world, but they have good pancakes.”

“I like pancakes.” Steve was fiddling with some of the knobs in the car, turning the air conditioner up and down. Billy was just resisting slapping his hand away.

And then he reached for the volume knob on the radio, turning up the Ratt Billy had playing, and audibly scoffed.

“God, I should’ve known you liked this .”

“Yeah? What about it?”

“Just, you know. Sex charged drug-fueled hair metal.”

“Oh my God. What in the fuck ?” He gave Steve as incredulous a look as he could muster. “Are you a housewife from the fifties?”

Steve gave one of his excellent bright laughs at Billy, and Billy’s gut got a little bit gay and a little bit fluttery.

“Alright, Stevie. I’ll bite. What kinda music are you into? And if you say country I’m blowing my fuckin’ brains out.”

“Well, unfortunate then because, yeah. Fuckin’ country, man. Although, I prefer folk.”

“See, you call my music sex-charged and drug-fueled, at least I’m not listening to posers rant about their tractors.”

“Oh, no. I hate that shit as much as you do. I mean like, Johnny Cash. Willie Nelson, you know? Emmylou Harris, Marty Robbins, Miss Dolly. The good stuff. There’s like, a few modern artists that are doing the same kinda thing that I like. It’s all just stories and good music.”

“That’s all my music is. Stories set to music. And, you say my shit is drug-fueled, you do know that Willie Nelson is famous for being a stoner? And that Johnny Cash publicly dealt with addiction and all that?”

“Well, yeah, but they’ve got class.”

“Okay, Cowboy. I’ll let you die on that fuckin’ hill while I party it up on mine to some eighties metal.”

And Steve reached out to shove Billy lightly, laughing while he did it.

“Agree to fucking disagree then. Just take me to pancakes and don’t try to reason with me about shitty music.”

“Then change the subject. Tell me other things about you besides your terrible music taste.”

Steve leaned back in his seat, blowing out a puff of air.

“Uh, I mean. Jeez. I don’t do much besides the rodeo, you know? Just movin’ all over the country.”

“That must be. Exhausting.”

Steve reached out to brush his fingers against the dashboard mindlessly.

“It’s not so bad. I try to make friends in the towns, you know? Makes it kinda fun.”

“Where were you born?”

“Indiana. Really small town. My mom and I stayed there for three years while my father traveled around. I’ve been on the road since.”

“Holy shit. Since you were three? Did you, like, go to school?”

“No. Uh, I actually have a tutor that’s on the road with us, and I’m. You know. Supposed to get my high school diploma soon. I’m behind schedule since,” he waved his hand flippantly. He was staring at his lap, playing with the frayed hem of his shorts. And Billy was grasping for another subject as Steve’s cheeks went red. Because obviously school, had struck a nerve.

“What kinda horse is June?”

“She’s an American quarter horse. That’s the usual type for most rodeo events. They’re good ranch horses because they’re a little more compact. I’ve been with June for five years now, and she’s a beast. I’ve got two others with me, on rotation so that none of them get too tired doing the shows over and over. June, Patsy, and Loretta. They’re all quarter horses, and each one is only about fourteen and a half hands tall. I like my horses a bit smaller for tie-down.”

“I understood, honestly, like, nothing of what you just said.”

Steve tossed his head back, laughing loudly over the radio at Billy’s confusion.

He laughed a lot.

Billy liked it.

“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you rodeo slang. You’ll be a natural,” Steve said, reaching out to where Billy’s right hand was resting on the gearshift, wrapping his finger’s around Billy’s wrist.

“What about their names?”

“All ladies of country. Loretta Lynn, Patsy Cline, and June Carter. Carter-Cash, I guess. She married Johnny but had a career in her own right.”

“Jesus, you’re a fuckin’ hick.”

“You’ve said that before. Just because I’m in the rodeo-”

“No, it’s because you’re in the rodeo, and listen to country music, and wear fucking cowboy boots -”

“They are literally made for riding horses, okay? That’s why they were invented .”

Billy rolled his eyes again, but he was smiling brightly as he pulled into the diner parking lot.

It wasn’t too busy for a Sunday morning. Billy bets it’ll pick up in an hour or so for the brunch crowd.

He began working at the diner three years ago, bussing tables and washing dishes, getting paid under the table because technically, he was too young to work. He was a server now, usually taking the evening dinner shifts to miss that time when his dad was home from work.

The bell jingled above their heads as Billy held the door open for Steve, and Billy stuck his tongue out at the kitchen staff, leaning over the counter to swipe a few menus from the stack.

He led Steve to a booth in the back corner, waving at Lorraine, the older woman who was working their section, gesturing to the booth for Steve to take a seat.

“Wow. You’ve totally got this place on lock.”

Billy grinned at him, leaning against the wall to stretch his legs up on the booth next to him.

“I’ve worked here a few years. Kinda done all the staff positions. It’s a nice place.”

“Well, then what do you recommend?” Steve carefully opened the laminated menu, his big eyes flicking over the pictures on the side of every dish.

“Pancakes are good, so are the waffles though, if you’re into that. I like the full breakfast. Eggs, bacon or sausage, hash browns, pancakes, or toast. Kinda the best of everything.”

Steve snapped his menu shut, smiling softly at Billy.

“I’m trusting you with my breakfast here. It better be good .”

Lorraine approached their table, already pouring Billy a cup of coffee and sliding it to him along the table.

“You really love us that much you find your way in here on your day off?”

“Only you, Lorraine. Everybody else can fuck off for all I care.”

She shook her head, rolling her eyes at Billy.

“You want the usual cook-up?”

“Yes, please.”

She took his unopened menu, turning and smiling brightly at Steve.

“What can I get for you, Darling.”

Steve’s eyes were wide when he looked up at her, his cheeks starting to flush.

“Uh, just, the same as Billy, please.”

“You want a coffee?”

“No, Ma’am. Just a water for me please.” He handed his menu back, giving her a bright smile, his cheeks a soft rosy red.

Lorraine winked at Billy, nodding her head once in Steve’s general direction. Billy waved her off before she could say something embarrassing.

“Sorry, I get kinda weird sometimes.” Steve had pulled a napkin out of the dispenser on their table and was looking down at it, tearing off little chunks and rolling them into balls.

“That’s okay. Lorraine gets it. Plus, you were polite, and that’s all that matters. I wouldn’t be caught dead with you if you were an ass to servers.”

“Oh, God. My dad is such an ass when it comes to, really any staff. Like, servers, or, frankly, most of the people that work for him. Don’t even get me started on the animal carers. I mean, that’s probably the most important job at the whole rodeo, and he’s been trying to dock pay left, right, and fucking center.” Steve rolled his big eyes, huffing like Max.

“Wait, so your dad is like, the head of the whole operation?”

“My name is Steve Harrington,” and Steve pointed at his shirt, the name Harrington emblazoned over the horse.

“Oh damn. I thought that name was familiar when I saw the shirt. Figured I had just seen the rodeo name or something.”

“Nope. That’s me. A whole Harrington. My great-grandpa started the rodeo. He was, like, an actual ranch hand. Started one in the town we’re from. My grandpa was the one who got the idea to take it on the road. My dad came up through it like I did. He was in steer roping. And basically, his end goal is that I start running the whole show in a few years. Take over for him.”

“And, you don’t want to?”

“Nah. I don’t really have a brain for business. Don’t have a brain for much other than riding and tie-down, honestly. Don’t know the first thing about how to run a traveling rodeo.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

Steve smiled at him, but his eyes seemed sad, and his smile was tight.

“You got plans for next year? College or anything?”

“Nah. I think college is, on the horizon, but I’m taking a gap year. Saving up to move out and pay for school and everything. Probably gonna go to community college to save some money. And then maybe grad school?”

“That’s smart, you know? Finding ways to save up. My dad is debating pushing college on me. Like, if I do run the business, there’s some shit I should know going into it, right? But I think he also sees that I’m way too dumb for college, and, like, I don’t need a degree to get hired. I’ll just,” Steve made an upwards sweeping gesture with his right hand. A gesture that Billy understood to vaguely mean nepotism.

“What would you rather do? If not run the thing.”

“I like tie-down, and I could feasibly do it for a long time. I could branch into other events, too, like steer roping and all that. Same idea as calf roping but a different animal. Literally. It’s a steer. But I’d be content just doing the events until I croak. I have absolutely no desire to rise through the ranks, or whatever.” Steve rolled his eyes, balling up the little napkin wads he had made into another napkin from the dispenser. Billy appreciated it. He’s had to clean up crap like that from this very floor. “I just love being around the rodeo. The animals and all the people. I don’t really wanna be anywhere else.”

“At least you have something you love. Like, you’d be happy to do that for the rest of your life, and not in an I’ve got nothing better to do way, but in an, I’m passionate about this way. A lot of people don’t really. Get that.” Billy included.

It’s not that he doesn’t have passions, it’s just that they’re not necessarily sustainable to him.

He knows he’s dangling by a thread with his father. Knows after his eighteenth birthday, he should be ready to be kicked out or asked to pay rent at any time. He needs a career that’ll get him some fucking money if he wants to get out and cut off his dad entirely. He can’t be forced to go crawling back to him because he wanted to self-publish his gay ass poetry that never took off or drum in a rock band that went nowhere.

To name a few.

“Yeah, I mean. Sometimes I think that I probably would’ve never set foot in a rodeo if I wasn’t literally born into one, so I kinda wonder who I’d be if this wasn’t everything I knew, but I still really love doing it, and it’s something that I’m actually good at, which speaks volumes.”

They were interrupted by Lorraine returning, placing two identical plates in front of them, a glass of water for Steve, and pulling hot sauce and ketchup out of her apron pocket.

“You two let me know if you need anything else.”

Steve beamed at her, thanking her softly and Billy’s heart fluttered like a stupid idiot.

They tucked in, Steve shoving food into his mouth until his cheeks were bulging, chewing aggressively. It made Billy laugh and nearly spew coffee all over the table.

“I figured you’d have better manners, being the heir to a rodeo dynasty or whatever.”

Steve pulled a face, showing Billy the chewed-up food in his mouth.

“How’s that for manners?”

It was actually fucking funny watching him try to swallow everything stuffed in his mouth.

“It’s borderline painful watching you eat.”

Billy laughed as Steve flicked a piece of scrambled egg at him. It landed on his shoulder. Billy slurped it right off his shirt.

“See! Now, who's the one with no table manners?”

“Still you, Sugar. Still you.”

Breakfast was, like, actually fun.

Not that Billy was expecting it to be shitty, but he wasn’t expecting it to be as carefree, as easy, as it was. He and Steve just, kinda, clicked.

Steve was easy to talk to. He was easy to listen to, easy to laugh with, and even easier to look at.

He’s kinda, everything Billy has ever wanted in a person.

He slid his hand into Billy’s as they were leaving the diner, smiling shyly at Billy when he looked over at him.

And Billy stopped in his tracks, right there in broad daylight, tugging Steve by his hand closer to Billy’s body, sliding his hands up his arms, feeling over Steve’s shoulders, and down his back to settle on his hips. Steve wrapped both arms around Billy’s shoulders, leaning closer to him, almost pressing his whole body against Billy’s.

And it was easy. Kissing Steve was just as easy as talking to him, as laughing with him, as looking at him. It was simple and nice and made Billy feel something he really didn’t want to put too much thought into.

Something that was decidedly not easy.

They pulled away from one another, both their lips red and slick.

Billy opened the passenger door, and Steve folded himself into the seat with a ridiculous amount of grace.

And as Billy drove them aimlessly through the city, he tried not to think of the expiration date on this whole thing, on the dates listed on the back of Steve’s t-shirt.

They’ve got a little under a month together.

And Billy was determined to make that the best goddamn month of both of their natural lives.

[twink-appreciation-posts]

Needs and Wants - Spencer Reid x Reader

chapter six of “all bets are off”

um. so. spencer is the best fuck you've ever had. also cumming too many times can hurt. who knew?

warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT, degradation, daddy kinky, spanking, overstimulation, the WORKS. im mildly apologetic.

When you awoke in the morning you heard the noise of static cracking on the other side of your phone. Reaching for it, you immediately noticed it was hot to the touch. Had it been on all night? Had Spencer never hung up?

“Reid?” You questioned groggily.

“You slept quite late.”

You groaned. “Why are you still here?”

“I… I don’t know.” He seemed confused by his own actions. “I guess I just felt strange hanging up.”

“Well. I should probably get dressed, I’m supposed to meet up with a friend for dinner.” You checked the time. “Oh. Fuck. I really did sleep for too long.” You sprung out of bed, rifling through your closet. “What have you been up to today though?”

“Mostly just reading. I slept in a bit late as well.” You could hear his smile through the phone. You occasionally had contact with Spencer outside of work, but not very often. It was nice. “What time is your dinner?”

“Six! It’s just an old friend from college,” you explained, sighing.

“Not excited?” He questioned, an air of humor to his voice.

“I just don’t know what to wear,” you chuckled.

Spencer went quiet on the other end. “You know that one black shirt you have?” He questioned.

You tilted your head a bit. “I have a lot of black shirts, Spence. You gotta be more specific. Wait- did you use your freaky memory to memorize the contents of my closet?”

“It’s not freaky, but yes. And it wasn’t fully intentional.” A pause. “I’m talking about the one with the lace. It’s… like a tank top.” You scanned through your clothes.

“Is it the velvet one?” You asked, noticing a pattern.

“Yeah. That one.”

“You have a thing for velvet, don’t you?” You giggled, remembering his fingers running over the fabric of the dress you had worn a few days prior.

“Maybe I do.”

You took the shirt off the hanger and examined it. Not a bad choice. “Any suggestions for the bottom half, sir?” You teased.

Spencer inhaled loudly. Hah. For once you were the one to catch him off guard. “Well, my first instinct is one of those skirts you like to wear when the team goes out together, with nothing else on underneath, of course.” You opened your mouth to argue. “But I wouldn’t want to risk giving anyone a peek of what’s mine. A skirt would still look nice, though.” He finished.

You rolled your eyes. “So shorts, then.” You said, grabbing a skirt. Why would you want to give him any more confidence of the control he had over you? The skirt had been a good idea, but you didn’t have to be totally honest, right?

Spencer chuckled. “Have you always been so petty?” He questioned.

“Have you always been such a sexual deviant?” You fired back.

“Touché, y/n. Touché.”

You and Spencer hung up a few minutes later since you had dinner plans to make. They weren’t anything special but you valued being punctual. The dinner went well enough, at least in the beginning. The “old friend” you were meeting up with was just a guy you were friends with in college. Your mistake, you would later learn, was deciding that it would be cute to take some pictures for Instagram. They were totally innocent, of course, but within a few minutes of posting them, you got a text message from the one and only Spencer Reid. You told your friend it was a “work thing”, not a total lie, and examined.

‘You wore the skirt’

You chuckled at your phone. ‘I did.’

‘Did you take my advice and wear nothing underneath?’

‘No, because I’m not crazy.’ You rolled your eyes a bit.

‘I’m sure your friend would’ve liked it.’

Before you could reply another text came through. ‘When are you planning on being finished with that friend, by the way?’

‘I’m not sure. Why? Something you’re looking forward to?’

‘Just trying to figure out if I’m going to get to leave bruises on that pretty little neck of yours tonight or tomorrow.’

Another text. Damn, he was a fast typer.

‘I wonder what your friend would’ve thought of that? Maybe you should schedule another dinner with him after I’ve absolutely ruined you. Let him see what a pathetic slut you are for me.’

You glanced up at your friend and back at your phone. Was Spencer seriously doing this right now? “Sorry,” you mumbled an apology across the table. “Working in the FBI can be annoying.”

‘Why are you doing this?’ You typed out.

‘Doing what? Getting you all needy and wet while you’re on your dinner date? Because I can.’

‘You think I’m enjoying this?’

‘I know you are. I bet your thighs are pressed together, I bet your face is bright red. Have you told your friend what you’re texting about?’

‘You make a lot of assumptions, Spencer.’

‘If you weren’t enjoying this, y/n, you would’ve stopped replying a long time ago. What was it you said last night? You need me? Don’t you need me to fuck you? I could’ve been fucking you right now, you know. Could’ve had your face pressed down into the mattress, or maybe I could’ve bent you right over your kitchen counter..’

You weren’t even sure how long you had been on your phone at this point. You felt bad but… fuck. What exactly were you supposed to do in this situation? “Listen I, um,” you began to stutter out. “You know how the BAU is, always calling me in at odd hours, and I uh,” you began to stutter out excuses as your phone dinged over and over again.

‘I wish I could see how flustered you are right now.’ ‘I wonder if you’re thinking about getting on your knees for me..’ ‘Maybe about how badly you want to know how my cock feels inside of you.’

Your friend got the gist of it. You had to go because of “work”. You paid the tab, exiting the restaurant as casually as you possibly could. You texted as you walked back to your car.

‘If you wanted to ruin my night, you’ve successfully done it. I’ll be at my apartment in 20.’

You turned off your phone, shoving it into your purse and ignoring the incessant chimes of text notifications, finding your way home. A few minutes after you had settled, you heard a knock at your door. You braced yourself, pulling it open. “Spencer.” You smiled. “What a surprise.” He didn’t respond, eyes scanning your figure. “So,” you continued. “Do you wanna tell me why you decided to bombard me with text messages during my lovely evening out?” You raised a brow.

He considered your question, fidgeting with his hands. “When you told me that you were seeing a friend I didn’t realize you meant..”

“What, a guy?” You chuckled. “Was I supposed to inform you of his gender beforehand?”

Spencer shook his head. “No. I just hate imagining all of the things that must have been running through his head about you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not that it matters, but it’s not like that. He’s a friend.”

“Oh, I know. It’s not you I’m worried about. I mean, I doubt he could fuck you half as well as I could anyway, but he’s probably been fantasizing about you all night.” A bold statement indeed.

You just laughed. “I think maybe you’re projecting, buddy. You’re the one who blew up my phone and forced me to come home.”

“Forced? Unless my memory is somehow mistaken, I think you’re the one who made that decision.”

“Are you here to argue semantics with me or-“ He cut you off.

“And to your earlier point,” he took a step towards you. “I have no need to project. I’m the one who’s going to get to see you all bruised up and begging for my cock, aren’t I?”There it was. The switch. You had been waiting, waiting for the moment where he got annoyed with you. You opened your mouth, ready to push him even further over the edge. “I’d watch what you say now, little girl. I’m already planning on making sure you regret all the teasing you’ve done the past few days, don’t add insult to injury.”

He really had an issue with teasing, huh? Good. Easier to rile him up. “Is this where you start the whole training thing you were going on about yesterday? You gonna teach me some tricks? And if so, do I at least get some treats if I’m good?” You questioned, going directly against his words of warning. You were watching him closely, wanting to see him seethe. You felt a wave of confusion pass you over as he seemed unfazed, unfortunately maintaining composure. In fact, he stepped forward and closed the gap between your bodies, placing his hands on the hem of your skirt, fingers dancing along it.

“Are you done?” He asked, eyes not leaving yours.

You looked up at him, mind going blank. “Um. No. Fuck you.” You spat out quickly, a last-ditch effort to get more of a reaction out of him.

“Right. I’m not sure what I expected from such a useless little slut. You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Spencer mumbled. In one swift motion he was pulling your skirt down and watching it pool at your feet. He was kissing you just a moment later, hands holding your face firmly in place. You would’ve fought for control, but you could already tell it would be a futile effort. His fingers were digging into your skull, tangling in your hair, and his lips were relentless, barely giving either of you room to breathe. You could feel it now, though. The anger you had been working so hard to trigger was coming out in full force. When he eventually pulled away his hands moved from your head to your breasts, swirling around the lace and velvet that covered them. You were panting, watching him, the way his fingers flexed and his eyes followed his own movements. “You’re so pretty, it really is a shame you can’t behave yourself.” He pulled the shirt over your head, leaving you exposed.

He leaned down and began to assault your chest with his tongue, one of his hands shoving your panties to the side and inserting two fingers into your pussy without warning. Your hand flew to your mouth, attempting to stifle the embarrassingly loud moan that he had caused. He didn’t take it slow at all, no, he started off at a brutal pace, as if his mission was to get you to cum as quickly as possible. If that had been his mission, he was succeeding. Before you had a chance to tell him that you were close his lips were at your neck, biting hard enough that you were sure that makeup wouldn’t cover the aftermath. “Cum for me, slut. It’s not hard to tell that you’re close already. So fucking needy for me, all you do is fight me but look how easily you crumble. There’s no hesitation when my fingers are inside of you, huh?” You couldn’t reply even if you had wanted too, you were too busy struggling to keep yourself standing as your orgasm washed over you. Spencer helped, a hand behind you to keep you stable, but you were still shaking. “Good girl. Let’s see, how many more of those do we have left.” You looked at him with confusion. “Well, I’d say we have one from at the club, when you let your hand wander,” his fingers hadn’t let up, still pumping in and out of you. You were trying your best to focus on his words, but it was proving to be a difficult task. “Another from that night, how you touched yourself right where I could hear,” You wanted to argue or say anything really, but your voice was too busy moaning and whimpering as his thumb moved onto your clit. “One from earlier today, especially after that little stunt you pulled on Instagram. And at least one more for the show you just put on before I shut you up.” You were close again. Fuck. It was too close together. Too much stimulation. “What do you think, baby? Does 4 sound good? We can make it 3 right now if you cum for me.” He said ‘if’ like it was an option for you, but it was far from it. You moaned his name, probably loud enough to alert your neighbors, as your second orgasm arrived. “Fuck, oh my god, Spencer. Fuck.” You panted out, legs giving out beneath you. He chuckled, holding you up on his own and finally removing his fingers from inside of you. “Good girl. So good for me.” He praised, allowing you to catch your breath. He picked you up now, taking you to your bed, and gently placing you down. You watched as he began to pull off layers of clothing. You didn’t think you could get any more turned on than you already were but seeing Spencer undress definitely did it. You couldn’t peel your eyes away. He left his boxers on, his dick straining against them.

He moved onto the bed, hovering over you. You prepared yourself for him to kiss you again but instead he spoke, brushing a hair out of your face. “The only words I want to hear coming out of that filthy little mouth of yours from now on are ‘yes, daddy’. Do you understand?”

You gulped. Yes. You understood. But were you actually going to-

His had went to your throat, not applying pressure. A warning.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl.” He flipped you over onto your stomach, inhaling sharply. He moved his hands underneath your hips, picking them up so that your ass was displayed.

“Look at you,” he tugged your panties down your thighs, hands skimming over the skin. “Such a perfect little toy for me. So eager to be fucked.”

You squirmed, his hands being so close to where you desperately wanted them.

“Do you want this, baby?” He asked, his hand coming down on your ass. It stung, but only for a moment. Not his full force, you could tell, but it was enough to get you to squeal. “Y-Yes, daddy.” You spoke softly. You felt his hand leave your skin and braced yourself for it to return. It did, of course, but much harder this time. You flinched a bit but Spencer held you in place. “Look at you, such a fast learner.” He cooed, another blow landing on your ass. It hurt. You knew that. But you found yourself prioritizing the pleasure in your mind. “You said that you wanted bruises that lasted for weeks, right?” He asked, hand coming down again. The pain began to become ever-more present, even when his hand wasn’t on your skin you could feel the sting from the cool air. He repeated the process a few times, mumbling words of praise in between. Tears began to spill from your eyes when he was finished. Without his hand to support you, you crumbled back down on the bed, laying on your stomach. Spencer flipped you over gently, watching the tears flow. “Good girl,” he praised, wiping a few of them away. “Such a perfect little slut for daddy. You did so well.” You found yourself relishing in the praise up in a way you hadn’t before. “T-Thank you, daddy.” You breathed out shakily. Spencer smiled at you and began to spread your legs apart gently. “But you’re not done yet, are you baby?”

Your eyes widened at the reminder. It seemed impossible. You weren’t sure your body would even be able to take it. You began to protest, but your words were cut short as he began to trail kisses down your body. He didn’t waste much time on his way to your pussy, tongue grazing your clit. “Oh, fuck..” your back arched instinctively. Encouraged by your reaction, Spencer began to roll his tongue over your clit and then down towards your entrance, moving his face and tongue at a slow pace. You watched, his hair falling onto your thighs and tickling them gently. “F-Fuck, keep going. Please.” You whined. He chuckled against you, speeding up his pace. Both of his hands were planted on your thighs, keeping them spread for easier access. His tongue worked against you harshly. Demanding. He was exploring, making sure to taste every inch of you, moving like he wouldn’t be satisfied until he had. You felt a familiar knot begin to form in your stomach, your hips bucking up towards his face. He moved one of his hands to your stomach, pressing down firmly, pinning your body down to the mattress. “Daddy, fuck, I’m gonna cum. I-I’m so close. You feel so fucking good. Fuck. So good, so good, so-“ And there it was, your 3rd orgasm of the night. Your vision became blurry, you were barely even aware of the fact that Spencer had gotten fully naked until a few moments later when you were coming back down to Earth.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me, baby. Only two more. You can do two more, can’t you?” You were weak. You guessed 3 orgasms and some spanking would do that to someone, but your body still ached for him. He approached you, his hand moving to slide your legs apart once again. You whimpered in anticipation. “Beg for me, baby. Tell daddy how badly you need him.” His voice was low, commanding.

“Please Spencer, fuck, I need it. I need to feel you inside of me. It’s all I’ve been able to think about all day, please. I want you to ruin me. You need to ruin me, please.”

Spencer seemed content with your response because after a few moments he was pushing himself inside of you, releasing a string of curses from his mouth as he did. The intrusion was piercing as he split you open, your eyes rolling back into your skull. Fuck. Yes. This was what you needed. “You’re so wet and tight for me baby.” Spencer groaned, slowly pulling out and pushing himself back in. “So fucking good. Such a good little fucktoy.” He began to find a rhythm, his hips snapping into yours aggressively. The noise of his skin meeting yours filled the room, broken only by the moans that were tumbling out of you uncontrollably now. After all of the overstimulation you had already been through, your fourth orgasm built up quickly. “No one else can make you feel like this, isn’t that right baby? Fuck. No one else can make you cum like I can.”

He was right. He was fucking right. Out of every sexual encounter you had ever had... this one stood miles above.

“No one.” You agreed. “No one else. No one but you.” Your words were coming out barely comprehendible. “Fuck. Please no more,” you began to whine, your release catching up to you. Spencer reached up, closing a hand around your neck to silence you. “Shh baby, just cum for me. Cum for me, come on. You’re so close.” Tears began to flow again as your 4th climax ripped through you, every single one of your nerves on fire. You felt like you were being torn apart. Your tears clouded your vision, but it hardly mattered. You were seeing stars. You could hear, somewhere in the distance, it felt like, Spencer praising you, his hand releasing your neck. You gasped for air, panting, and sputtering.

One more. One more. One more.

“Fuck, Spence, I can’t.” You sobbed, “I can’t.” You repeated. “You can and you will.” He replied, voice shaking. He was close too. You could tell. His thrusts were becoming more sporadic, more frantic. “You’ve been so fucking good for me, baby. Keep going.” Fuck. When your vision returned you saw him, sweat dripping down his body, his hair matted down, and you could feel yourself clench around him. Your body ached, but you could still feel it approaching. “F-Fuck. Fuck. I..” you were a mess, whimpering, shaking, all because of Spencer Reid. “I know baby. Cum with me. I wanna feel you cum around my cock.” Spencer groaned, and you didn’t have the strength left in you to fight. Your body was set aflame as you came, feeling the warmth of his own climax as well. You were panting, grasping at consciousness and you came down. Somewhere in your brain, you processed Spencer getting off of the bed. When your mind came back to you you sat up, sweat dripping down your forehead.

“Spencer..” you said softly, watching as he pulled back on his shirt. “That was...”

He nodded, lost in thought.

“Are you okay?” You asked, frowning.

“I’m fine. Just thinking about how you’re gonna hide those hickeys on Monday.”

You touched your hand to your neck. “Oh. Yeah. That might be an issue.”

You got ready to hop off the bed, but a wave of pain rushed over you. Too soon to start moving again.

“Don’t strain yourself,” Spencer’s voice was sweet now, laced with concern. “I’ll go get you some Advil or something. You have some right?” You nodded. “I can run a bath if you want, too.”

“That would be great. Thanks.” You smiled weakly.

As left the room your phone dinged, alerting you of a text message from Garcia.

‘Girls night tomorrow!! You can’t say no, Emily and JJ already said yes.��

Fuck.

taglist <3

@101donuts @annestine @spideyboix @babybloomer @welcome-to-hoeville @eldahae

[andromedasstarship]

in the stars - chapter 3

photo credit - unknown 

pairing - aaron hotchner x reader

warnings - canon-typical criminal minds violence, stalking, depictions of murder/violence, angst, verbal fighting, drinking, unhealthy coping mechanisms, smoking (cigarettes) 

summary -  “If you’re upset over how I ended our relationship, that is completely separate from the dealings of the case and I expect you to be able to conduct yourself appropriately.” Aaron said and you thought this was what ‘seeing red’ meant

a/n - hi besties! im so sorry this update took so long! i really wanted to make it perfect and was struggling with putting this together. to make it up this chapter is a whopping 5.9k words so uh enjoy lol!

masterlist // series masterlist // read it on ao3

chapter 2 // chapter 4

-----

You had to physically stop yourself- gripping the desk chair beside you so hard your knuckles turned white- from following Aaron out the office door and demanding he make sense of the whole good cop- ha!- bad cop show he’d been putting on since the two of you had been horribly reunited outside of the police station. 

This had been the second instance of him implying or accusing you of somehow worsening the case. And he hadn’t even been in LA for over 24hrs. It wasn’t fair, you thought, angrily grumbling to yourself about all the different ways you’d love to give him a piece of your mind. If he’d been a regular man, that you’d never met before, you probably wouldn’t consider his current behavior to be so- out of pocket? disgraceful? insulting?- offensive. You knew he had a reputation for being...,a hardass on the job, but that didn’t mean he had to go overboard in his treatment towards you. Maybe he wasn’t going overboard, maybe this was just how he treated every- you weren’t sure exactly how to define yourself in the case- witness? Maybe this is just what his team expected in terms of his behavior towards people he didn’t know.

But he did know you, he knew you quite well. He knew you well enough to know you’d never purposely attempt to slow the case down. Even without his fancy profiler skills, you were certain Aaron Hotchner knew every little thing about you. Or at least he used to. 

And while Aaron may know everything there was to know about you, you were beginning to doubt if you actually knew anything about him. As expected, over the past two months the case had been taking an extreme toll on you; constantly looking over your shoulder and worrying that someone was lurking behind every corner. What made it worse, was that it was yet another situation that required you to keep a secret. You ‘had’ the officers at the station and your agent, but besides them you were dealing with this completely on your own. Making the situation about yourself felt wrong, but you couldn’t even begin to explain how hurt you felt at Aaron's accusations that you were somehow more part of the problem than you were a victim. Yes, you hadn’t gone up to him and explicitly told him how badly you were hurting, but it’s not like it took a genius- or a profiler- to reach that conclusion themselves. 

It hurt, to have someone whose validation you had once- still did- crave so much, suddenly act as if you were a ‘bad guy’. Maybe you were being dramatic, you thought. Maybe you were overreacting and reading far too deep into such short interactions. On the other hand, you reasoned that it was perfectly acceptable to have feelings. Before you could delve deeper into that mental tirade, a sharp knock on the doorframe grabbed your attention. Looking up, you saw JJ leaning halfway into the room. 

“Sorry,” you said, awkwardly letting go of the chair, “I uh, got caught up with uh, just you know, thoughts about the case!” Smooth. You tried to put a cheery tone in your voice. You tried to subtly study her reaction as you walked over to her and it was clear she wasn’t exactly buying into your sudden happy attitude. She didn’t press you though, something you were grateful for. Instead she just moved out of the doorframe, letting you join her in the hallway. 

“The rest of the team has split up already, would you like to start in the basement?” JJ asked. You had only spoken to her a couple times, briefly at that, but you already found great comfort in her presence; you could see why she held the position, her ability to comfort and connect with others was unbeatable. Definitely need to send JJ a case of wine as a gift. 

You nodded dumbly, joining her in the hallway and taking her down towards your basement. Internally, you guessed the little ‘tour’ would only take an hour tops, considering all the little spiels you’d have to give about each room. 

You felt a bit like when you went through airport security or when a police car was on a road you were driving on. That sinking feeling that somehow you were going to get in trouble even though you knew you didn’t have anything to hide. Damn Aaron. His apparent lowly opinion of you was definitely messing with your head. Oh well. 

As you lead JJ towards the basement, you could vaguely hear the other agents throughout the house. A door opening here or the sound of papers rustling over there. You hadn’t exactly asked how they would be able to tell if something was missing or out of place. But honestly? You didn’t really care what the team did in your house, as long as they figured out how the unsub had gotten in there. 

You’d already come to terms with the fact that the unsub had managed to steal your clothes and jewelry, but you just couldn’t shake the fact that he had gotten into your house. Part of you secretly wished he had pick-pocketed you on a busy street or was stealing stuff off a film set instead. It would’ve been equally as bad and creepy and horrifying, but it would’ve been worth still feeling safe in your own house. 

Smacking the lightswitch on the wall behind you, the entire basement became illuminated. “So,” you started, really drawing out the word, “this is the basement. It’s technically one big open floor, but well,” you gestured lazily with your hand, “you can see it’s kinda still split up. There’s a movie room behind those doors right there.” 

JJ stepped ahead of you, walking towards the high windows in the basement. You watched as she ran her fingers along the window edges, carefully going over each one. “Do these open?” She asked, turning back to look at you. 

You quickly shook your head. “They’re mostly just for, like, decoration purposes.” You responded, giving a slight shrug. “I um, I’m not down here much unless I’m having people over. And those stairs we came down are the only way to get in here.” You added, thinking that’d probably be helpful. 

JJ gave you that nice smile again and started towards the movie room. “I’m just gonna look in here real quick and then we can go back upstairs, okay?” 

You stood awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs, rolling back and forth from your heels to your tippy toes, awkwardly playing with your hands in front of yourself. You knew her movie room scan wouldn’t take wrong, there were zero windows in there and no other point of entry besides the door she had walked through. 

Just as you expected, JJ came back out no longer than five minutes later. Once she got closer to you, you turned slowly on your heel and started back up the stairs. “We can start upstairs and then meet the rest of your team on the main level?” You offered.

“Lead the way.” 

“There’s um, two ways to get upstairs. There’s that main staircase you saw in the foyer and also there’s a ‘servants stair’ in the back,” you said, making air quotes with your fingers at the ‘servants stair’ part, “I have people that work in the house sometimes, but it’s not an actual designated staircase for anyone.” You explained, unsure of why you were feeling so anxious. 

“Why don’t we go up using the second set of stairs? Since I’ve already seen the main set.” JJ said. 

You nodded dumbly again, and walked in the direction of the back stairs. Once upstairs, you gave the same room spiel to JJ about six times. This is ‘x’ room, yep those windows can open, nope no one regularly comes into this room, yes the balcony doors do lock from the inside. 

Just as you thought earlier, the little tour took just a couple minutes under an hour. You and JJ were standing in your kitchen, both of you leaning against opposite countertops. According to JJ the whole team had agreed to meet up in your kitchen once they were done with their scans, so it seemed that you two were the first to finish. Also expected. 

You were lucky you hadn’t run into Aaron the entire time. At times you could vaguely hear his voice coming from another room and all that did was pull on your heartstrings and remind you of when the two of you were together. Aside from the sadness factor, you still weren’t sure you could trust yourself to not yell at him as soon as you saw him again. 

“That’s funny.” JJ said amusedly-more to herself than to you-, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

“What is?” You asked. She had moved from her spot by the countertops, to standing in front of your liquor wall, staring up at a bottle you couldn’t quite recognize from your position. 

“Oh, just Agent Hotchner? Out there,” she said, gesturing broadly out to where the rest of the team might be, “he loves this brand of scotch. We joke sometimes that he’d pick it over us if he was given the choice. But apparently it’s super difficult to get. He started getting lucky a few years ago and found a way to buy it, but recently I guess that luck ran out and he hasn’t been able to find it anymore.” 

Your eyes went wide at that. Yes. That scotch was super difficult to get and it was ridiculously expensive. And yes, Aaron loved the stuff. The two of you used to constantly argue over money. He hated that you were always the one paying for everything and had created a ‘rule’ that you weren’t allowed to buy him any gifts. Of course, you managed to find a way around that rule and found that this specific scotch was his gift achilles heel. So, you used to send him a steady supply while also keeping a bottle at your place for the rare occasions he was over. 

“Oh?” You squeaked. 

“Yeah, it’s super rare or something. They only make so many batches a year don’t they?” JJ asked, turning back to look at you. 

You quickly pulled your emotions in when she turned towards you, just giving her your third dumb nod of the day. “Yep, super hard to get. Super super hard. I uh, got as a gift once, I don’t even like the stuff.” 

“You should tell Hotch. I bet he’d pay pretty well for it.” She said with a laugh, shaking her head. Definitely will not be doing that. 

----

Upstairs, Rossi and Hotch were looking through your upstairs office. While your downstairs office was more work based- you stored scripts and had meetings down there, etc.-, your upstairs office was used for your more ‘personal’ work tasks. 

“If the unsub is taking her clothes, we might have better success scoping out her closet. See the potential entry and exit points from her room that the unsub must be taking.” Rossi proposed. 

Hotch nodded at that, putting down the stack of fan mail he’d been flipping through, trying to find any repeats or ‘creepy’ letters. He made a mental note to have Reid come and read through the piles of other mail you had neatly stacked around the room.

Your attention to fanmail had been one of the things that had quickened the process of him falling in love with you. He had had his doubts in the beginning of you relationship- he had stereotyped you for sure-, your age and status giving him somewhat valid concerns that you’d be insanely disconnected from the normal world. You’d proved him wrong in many ways since the beginning, but one of those ways had been the many days you’d call him from this room, reading through every single letter you were sent and always making sure to send a small note back. 

“Good idea, let’s go.” Hotch said. He walked out of office and didn’t think twice, his body automatically walking towards the room a few doors down from your bedroom. You didn’t keep your closet in your bedroom, you had actually put a little couch and sitting room in your bedroom closet space. Instead you’d taken an entire guest room and converted it into a full dressing room/closet that was a better fit for your needs. 

As Hotch went straight into the room, he missed the narrow look Rossi was giving him from the doorframe. It only took a couple minutes, but eventually Hotch looked up, cocking an eyebrow at Rossi. “Are you going to come in?” He questioned. 

“You knew her closet wasn’t in her room.” Rossi noted, amusement clear in his voice. 

Hotch’s face paled, before he steeled his emotions back over. “I saw the clothes while walking past earlier and made the deduction.” 

“She’s pretty, isn’t she Aaron?” Rossi teased, clearly finding a lot of enjoyment in this conversation. 

“Dave,” Hotch groaned, running a hand over his face, “just, not now okay?” He asked, the desperation clear in his voice. 

Rossi certainly didn’t have the entire story figured out, but he wasn’t dumb either, he could piece things together. As much as he’d love to keep busting Hotch over this, there was something about how gentle he had been with you in the conference room and his current clear discomfort that persuaded Rossi otherwise. Rossi grinned at Hotch and raised his hands in mock surrender. 

“So, we know the unsub doesn’t have to necessarily be quiet, her room is at least what, 3-”

“Four and across the hall.” Hotch huffed out, not looking up to meet Rossi’s eyes.

“Four and across the hall away. So he doesn’t need to sneak past her if he’s coming in at night...” 

----

Back in the kitchen, you turned your head at the sound of the back patio doors opening, showing Morgan and Spencer. Guess they’d be the second pair done with their house tour. 

Just as you were about to open your mouth and offer the two of them something to drink, you noticed the rather grim expressions on both their faces. Upon better inspection, you saw Spencer was tightly gripping on to a dirty journal. 

“What’s that?” You asked curiously, trying to get a better look at it. 

“I found this uh, journal out by the edge of your property line. I think it may belong to the unsub.” Reid responded, giving you a tight lipped look. 

It was terribly cliche, but you couldn’t help but gasp at that. Your eyes going wide and your mouth hanging open. 

“I flipped through it, there’s nothing that clearly identifies him, but it seems like he was keeping track of your comings and goings. As well as keeping a list of the things he took from your house, we can cross check that list with-” 

“Can I look at it?” You interjected, a morbid curiosity consuming your mind. 

Reid gave an unsure glance at the two other agents in the room. “I think it’d be better for the rest of the team and I to look through the journal first, and make sure there’s nothing uh...upsetting in it.” 

----

With the new revelations that the unsub had managed to break into your home multiple times, the team decided it would be best for at least one of them to be with you at the house at all times; during the day they would assign a plainclothes officer to discreetly sit watch. It was comical, the way they decided on the watch and then promptly assigned Aaron the first shift of the night. 

You wondered why he agreed to it, knowing he could’ve easily pulled a seniority boss card and taken himself out of any and all future watch shifts as well. He probably didn’t want you to get closer with any of his agents, should you accidentally say something a bit too personal. He also probably assumed that with the late hour of the night, you’d immediately be going to bed or at least locking yourself away in your room for the rest of the night. 

The team had stayed hours after their first walkthroughs of the house, the new list and notes from the unsub giving you all a better idea of what to look for. You had gone through the list of clothes and jewelry in front of the team, giving them a base description of what you assumed the unsub had meant, whether or not you had considered it missing and where you thought you’d last seen it in the house.

Unfortunately, whatever Aaron had been banking on wouldn’t be happening. You hadn’t been able to shake the sinking feeling that your house was no longer a home anymore. It was painfully cheesy, but you knew that trying to sleep would be futile. Nor did you really feel like being ‘alone’ in your room. That didn’t mean you were going to strike up a conversation with Aaron or ask him to play a board game or something, but you wouldn’t be shutting away from the rest of the night. 

After the team left, you had gone upstairs and changed into a more comfortable outfit for the evening; just your trusty sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt. You were now walking back down the stairs and towards your kitchen; you grasped a lighter and your emergency cigarette pack in one hand. As you made your way into the kitchen, you could feel Aarons eyes on you from wherever he was seated in the living room. You pointedly ignored him, instead setting the pack and lighter down, freeing your hands so you could mix yourself your favorite drink. 

Once your drink was prepped, you balanced all your things in your hands and made your way back through the living room and out the grand French doors that lead to your backyard. You walked over to one of your lounge chairs that overlooked the pool and had a beautiful view of the sky and bright lights of the city. You turned on one of your favorite playlists and made yourself comfy in the chair, lighting up one of the cigarettes. 

With the first inhale, you felt your body relax. It was a horrible habit- you knew that-, but if there was ever a time to stress smoke, you reasoned it was probably now. Over the sound of your music, you faintly heard one of the doors open again, but you didn’t bother turning around. 

“I thought you quit.” Aaron said, quite literally coming out of the shadows. Even though you didn’t turn to look at him, you could perfectly imagine him in your mind; probably leaning up against one of the legs of the cabana, arms tightly crossed and a deep scowl on his face. 

“I did.” You replied plainly, blowing a steady stream of smoke out of your mouth. Using your free hand you picked your glass back off the chair side table, twirling it slowly. As you took a long sip, you could hear Aaron walk closer, not quite coming into view yet. 

“Drinking and abusing substances in response to a traumatic situation is widely frowned upon. 

“Thank you Surgeon General,” you said, rolling your eyes before adding, “no offense Agent, but right now, I don’t really think it matters.” You didn’t even bother attempting to argue that you were on your first drink and first smoke. 

“It matters, when my team will be counting on you tomorrow. The expectation is that you’ll be a useful and legitimate resource.” Aaron said, voice tight. 

“Do you really think I’m dumb enough to actually believe, that you believe that a single drink is going to render me useless?” You asked, finally turning your head so you could give him a pointed look. When he didn’t answer you rolled your eyes again, turning back away from him. “It doesn’t matter, Agent, I’m unavailable to be a resource tomorrow.” 

“What do you mean, unavailable?” Aaron asked. He finally walked into view, sitting down on the chair next to you. He positioned his legs over the edge facing you, resting his elbows off his knees. 

“What do you mean unavailable?” You said mockingly- the alcohol in your system and stress of the day emboldening your behavior. You paused for a moment to take another drag from your cigarette; Aaron didn’t miss the way you turned your head further from him during your exhale. “You have your job Agent, I have mine.” 

“There is a dangerous free man out there with a special interest in you. He’s not only managed to break into your house but is also murdering surrogate women in place of you,” he said, voice growing louder as he went, “and you think you should go to a film set? How immature and irresponsible are-” 

“Stop doing that!” You cut him off, snapping your head to face him. For a brief moment, you were taken aback by how close he’d been sitting. “Stop painting me to be some dumb self centered girl. This is the fourth time today.” You said, staring him hard in the face, neither of your breaking eye contact. He always looked so good with a beard- stop that. 

“I’m trying to do my job and protect you,” he paused, eyes scanning your face, “I couldn’t handle anything happening to you.” In that moment, his voice was so painfully honest and it almost made you want to agree to do whatever dumb rules he had for you. 

Almost.

Instead, you swung your legs to the side of the chair opposite to him, standing up in a quick blur of motion. “Stop doing that too!” You exclaimed, running your free hand over your face. You took a long drag from your cigarette, placing one hand on your hip. Aaron was giving you a genuinely confused look and you just wanted to wipe it off in one big swipe. “Stop doing some weird little bait and switch between acting like I’m a diva and then trying to end it with some vaguely little sweet comment.” 

“You actually think I don’t care about your safety?” Aaron asked, the faintest bit of hurt in his voice. He stood up as well before continuing. “You think this isn’t a difficult case for me?” 

“You do not get to do that!” You said angrily, pointing a free finger out at him. “You are not allowed to try and make yourself a victim in this story while you simultaneously make me part of the problem. How the hell can you see yourself as even remotely ‘good’ when you left the way you did?” There it was. Maybe it was immature, dragging the breakup into the argument, but the days’ tension- not to mention the months of bottled up emotions- was finally snapping inside of you. 

“If you’re upset over how I ended our relationship, that is completely separate from the dealings of the case and I expect you to be able to conduct yourself appropriately.” Aaron said and you thought that this must be what ‘seeing red’ meant. 

“Do you treat all your witnesses like this?” You were full on yelling now, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. “Is this your version of appropriate conduct, Agent Hotchner? You’ve proven to be nothing but incompetent! You can’t even see two inches past your own fucking face to consider this from my perspective!” 

Your words had their intended effect. Aaron’s face fell for the briefs of moments before years of bottling his own emotions took back over. You had to give him some credit for keeping it, outwardly, more together than you were. “I won't fight with you over something as trivial as this. You’ll report to the station in the morning with the rest of the team.” He ordered, voice dangerously low. 

“I have to work!” You exclaimed, putting heavy emphasis on each word. 

“Going to work isn’t safe. Do you understand that? Your stalker is well acquainted with your schedule, you need to step away from what’s expected of you. It’s dangerous-”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, shaking your head, “are you even listening to yourself? Your job is dangerous every single day, hell you didn’t even step away when the job was dangerous specifically to you! How am I supposed to take advice you can’t even follow?” At the end of your sentence, you angrily stubbed out your cigarette in the ashtray, leaving the butt in the tray. 

“This isn’t about me.” Aaron snapped, voice loudest it’d been all night. “I’m trying to keep you safe. What part of that don’t you understand?” He asked, giving you a tough look. You found yourself at a loss for words and he took your silence as an opening to continue. “I can’t stand to see you get hurt.”

“Are you finally understanding how exhausting it was to love you!” You blurted out, the words catching even you by surprise. You forcibly blinked back the tears forming your eyes. “That this, is how I felt each time you were called away on a case?” 

Aaron was equally as shocked, his mouth opening in vain a few times as he searched for the proper response. “I made sure you were properly aware of the risks and demands of my job before we started our relationship.” Bad answer.

“And I never complained,” you replied, a defeated tone creeping into your voice, “not once, did I?”

“If you’re going to accuse me of hypocrisy, you should recognize it in yourself. You were equally if not more in demand than I was.” 

“I thought you liked that I was so ‘in demand’!” You said, the frustration growing again. “What was it you always said? You liked not having to worry about me alone at home, waiting up for you.” 

“You’re coming to the station tomorrow Y/N. Final order.” Aaron repeated, completely ignoring your last statement. 

“You know what,” you said, the fight in your voice gone, “I don’t have to put up with this and your lame attempts at trying to be a good guy. I’m not having this conversation anymore.” You quickly leaned over to swipe your cigarette pack and glass of the little table. 

“Are you actually going to run away from this?” He asked, almost as if he was trying to bait you back into the argument.

You scoffed loudly, staring him dead in the eyes. “You did.” 

You angrily walked around him, nearly stomping the entire way to the door. As you were halfway into the house you paused for a moment, not even slightly turning your head back towards him. “Blankets are still in the same spot in the living room.” You said, slamming the door behind you as soon the sentence left your lips. 

-----

The next morning, promptly at 8am, an email from your agent was sent to Aaron. It was incredibly petty and inherently personal, but to an outsider it was nothing out of the ordinary for someone of your status. Aaron was near furious, as expected, but even in his stubbornness he could see you had the high ground. Long story short, the email plainly stated vaguely threatened that if your work schedule were to become an issue for the team, you could easily send a ‘spokesperson’ from your team to deal with any and all future communications. Y/N 2, Aaron Hotchner 0.

Back at your house, you were having a lovely morning. The victory tasted sweet in your mouth as you got yourself ready for the long day. Sometime around 4:00AM Reid had switched out with Aaron and the two of you were currently in your kitchen; Reid sitting at one of your countertop stools while you stood over the stove. After being angrily informed by Aaron that you wouldn’t be required to come into the station with Reid, you decided to make a simple breakfast for the two of you. Reid had wanted to leave sooner, but he was also under orders to not leave you alone until you were safely in your own car and on your way.

You weren’t sure how he felt, but you thought you and Reid got along quite well. He was the closest in age to you and even though he didn’t really seem to understand any of the little jokes or references you made, there was still some level of mutual understanding there. It didn’t hurt that he was quite easy on the eyes as well, of course he wasn’t Aaron by any means- stop that! 

Over breakfast, you spent the entire time answering Reid’s many questions about various actors and actresses he was a fan of. Lucky boy, you thought; as all the people he mentioned were quite nice even when the camera was off. What was it that people said about never meeting your hero? 

He graciously offered to do all the clean up, as you had cooked, which gave you a bit of extra time to make sure you were ready to go. When you both were ready and Reid had confirmed the plainclothes officer was positioned on your street, he helped you to your car. 

With one hand on the top of your car, just as you were about to sit down, you stopped and turned to Reid. “I enjoyed breakfast, would you please tell Agent Hotchner how sorry I am that my schedule’s gotten in the way?” You asked, giving him your sweetest smile. It was another petty move and Aaron was sure to see right through it; the team had amazing skills at reading people, you knew that, but you were an equally talented actress. “I’ll make sure to let you guys know when I’ll be back at home tonight.” You added, before sliding into your car. Reid closed the door gently behind you, waving from the outside of your garage as you pulled out and drove off. 

-----

Case wise, the next two days were quiet. You had won the ‘going to work battle’ by a longshot and happily went about your scheduled days. Aaron hadn’t taken another watch shift since the argument, something you were grateful for. It wasn’t until the fourth day, that the case started to pick up again.

“Agent Hotchner?” A young officer stepped into the conference room, holding out a thick manila envelope. “This was just dropped off at the front desk, addressed to you.” That certainly captured the entire team’s attention; every head turning, as if off on a swivel, to face the officer. 

“Who dropped it off?” Hotch demanded. ‘Who dropped it off?” He repeated, an added aggression in his voice. 

“Some kid! Some kid dropped it at the front and left before anyone could get a word out!” The officer said hurriedly, raising one of his hands up in a meek surrender. 

Hotch stepped up to the officer, easily snatching the envelope out of his hands. “Assure that my technical analyst has access to your entire security feed. Now.” He ordered, not giving the officer as a second glance. “Morgan, call Garcia and make sure she accesses those tapes and identifies the kid immediately.” 

Hotch went back to standing in front of the long table in the middle of the room, setting the envelope down in front of him. “Gloves, I need-” A pair were placed in his outstretched hand by Reid before he could finish. “I don’t want anyone touching anything that comes out of here without gloves, understood?” He said, not looking at anyone in particular. His focus, completely drawn to the angry penmanship that spelled out his name. After quickly pulling his gloves all the way on, Hotch grabbed the envelope again, internally shoving down his emotions before ripping off the top edge in one clean pull. Nothing could have prepared him for the way the envelope was overflowing with hundreds of photos of you. He tilted the envelope and they all came falling out, covering the table in front of him. Reid mentally estimated there were over five hundred photos of you- some seemed to be cut, some looked to have writing and designs on them- and there were even a few slips of paper thrown in the mix. 

“Hotch, Garcia managed to grab the plate from what the kid drove off in. She's running it-” Morgan said, his sentence running off as he took in the table full of photos. “Holy shit.” He said quietly, making his way closer to the table as well. 

Hotch reached down, picking up the closest photo to him. There you were, standing on a boardwalk with your hand blocking the sun from your eyes. You looked beautiful- stop that. As Hotch further studied the photo, he picked up a second one, taking another good look. It struck Hotch and the team then, the majority of the photos were grossly intimate; as if the unsub had taken them by himself. Hotch’s stomach twisted when his eyes fell on a photo that looked like you were posing for it, throwing a big smile and peace sign up at the camera. 

“Did Garcia get any hits on any scorned lovers?” Emily asked, holding up a photo of you and a man. The face and body of the man had been aggressively scratched over and cut up, but Aaron had a sinking feeling it was of him. 

“Yea, I got another potential ex photo right here.” Reid said, holding up another picture. In this one you had clearly been looking up at someone, but the photo had been crudely cut up to exclude whoever it was. 

Morgan held up one of the slips of papers, giving it a confused look. “You lost Aaron?” He said, reading off the paper. “What’s the reasoning for singling out Hotch rather than someone closer to her age like Reid” He questioned, not expecting anyone to answer. 

“I got one of Hotch’s face scribbled over. He must’ve gotten the photo online.” Emily added, holding up a professional headshot of Hotch. “Is anyone seeing photos of the rest of us? The unsub could see all of us as interfering with his connection to Y/N.” 

Hotch’s stomach was twisted in all different directions. He knew the moment of truth was coming and was internally cursing himself for not coming clean sooner. But that paled in comparison to the sickness he felt over the unsub clearly being someone who had such personal access to you. He was certain that some of these photos dates back years. The idea that whoever was doing this had been so close to you, for so long, could’ve brought him to his knees. 

“Hotch…” JJ said, her voice accusatory. She looked up at him, face a mix of confusion and a hint of betrayal. She held up another photo and the entire team went quiet. This photo was clearly taken at a distance, but there you were looking lovingly up at a man who was certainly Hotch. 

Hotch had one hand clenched tightly on the edge of the table, taking a deep breath before he looked up at his agents staring expectantly at him.  

“I haven’t been completely honest with you all,” Hotch started, running his free hand over his face, “I met Y/N five years ago and we were together for three, until I ended things.” He was sure someone had audibly gasped at that. “I know you all may have various concerns over my proximity to the case and are valid in any anger you may feel towards me. But right now, I need to go call Y/N and make sure she’s safe.” 

Hotch didn’t give anyone a chance to reply, instead whipping out his phone and near running out the door. Leaving a team of confused and shocked agents in his wake.

-----

a/n - of course, thank you all for reading. it means the world to me! also just the quickest of shoutouts to @kylorendrip and @ssahoodrathotchner who both constantly put up with my writing complaints and all the random ideas i bounce around their dms on the daily. 

taglist - @mac99martin @iwaizumiee @kylorendrip @hqtchner @lieswithoutfairytales @ssahoodrathotchner @midsummernightdream @weasleylovers @evans-dejong @itsmytimetoodream @yoshigguk @28cnn @cuddlyklaus @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @yallgotkik @sunflowersandotherthings @alexrodriguez1269

no permission is given to copy or republish my writing on any other platform or account. if you see this story outside of my blog or my ao3 it is stolen work. i do not own nor claim to own criminal minds or any of the character involved in it.

[onceuponaloonatic]

How did 3na rekindle their relationship? Thank you in advance and have an amazing day/night!

sorry this took a while !! i'm the only person with a car in my friend group so i play chauffeur a lot so i've been exhausted from helping other people move but i finally got this done !! i hope you guys enjoy !!

“Miss Minatozaki!” Sana couldn’t fight a smile as she heard Saki’s voice. It was nearing the end of the school year, and she had found herself sad at the thought of never being able to see Saki again. She had started crashing all the time they had together, knowing it was going to come to an end soon.

“Hi Saki. What are you doing here so late after school?” Sana asked. School had let out hours ago, and Sana was just waiting for Jihyo to come by with Nico so they could take their daughter to a doctor’s appointment. “I had science club!” Saki explained excitedly. Sana nodded, vaguely remembering Saki saying she was in the school’s science club. It made sense for her, Saki had always enjoyed doing science in school. “How was it?” “It was so fun! We built bridges out of sticks!” Saki explained. “Sounds like a lot of fun. Do you know if your mom is almost here to pick you up?” “She should be. Club let out at 5. But on Tuesdays mama has to get Sai from softball too so she’s usually late picking me up from science.” Saki explained. “Do you have Nico?” “No, but she’s coming with her mama to pick me up from work.” Sana answered. She understood why Saki would ask that, the rare times she did see Sana after school, Sana was usually leaving and since Momo always brought Nico when she picked her up Saki usually saw her with Nico. “Nico’s mama?” Saki asked. “Your wife?” “Uh yeah, that's right.” Sana nodded, shuffling around awkwardly.

“But you don’t wear a ring like my moms’ do.” Saki pointed out. “Mama told me she never takes her ring off cause it’s proof she’s married to ka-san.” “Not everyone can wear their ring all the time, Saki. Some people can’t wear them because of their jobs.” Sana attempted to justify.

“But Mrs.Kim and Mrs.Song wear theirs every single day.” Sana really wished Saki was less perceptive. She knew her student was extremely perceptive, and quite smart, and while normally Sana was proud of her, she could see why this was a bit of an issue. The girl was too smart for her own good. “Mm… Well Nico’s mama and I we uh- we don’t need rings.” “Is it because you're not married?” Saki asked.

“No, no- we just uh don’t like jewelry all that much. But that’s okay, cause we love each other.” Sana explained. “Saki! There you are! You know what we said about running off…” Nayeon paused when she saw Sana. “Hi mama.” Saki smiled at Nayeon. “Oh hi Nay- Miss Im-Myoui. Saki and I here were just discussing things from class-”

“No we weren’t. We were talking about your wife.” Saki nodded. At the mention of it, Nayeon couldn’t help but think about the pictures she came across on Jihyo’s instagram of her with another woman. There were barely any pictures of Sana on there at all actually. No wedding photos, no vacation photos. Just a couple of pictures from when they had Nico. “Oh uh… Okay? Saki come on, your sister is waiting for us.” Nayeon looked at Sana one more time, painfully noticing Sana’s lack of a scent marking. “But I wanted to see Nico.” Saki whined. “Miss Minatozaki said her mama was bringing her.” “Saki I’m sure that would be troubling for Miss Minatozaki, let’s just get home and start on dinner-” Nayeon trailed off when she noticed someone else coming towards them. When they reached them, Saki took off in a dash and Sana wasn’t far behind. “Nico!” Saki giggled. “You're so much bigger!” Jihyo smiled at Saki’s praise, holding one hand around Nico’s stomach while the baby giggled at all the attention. It didn’t take long for her to notice Nayeon though, and she couldn’t help but notice the death glare Nayeon was giving her. “Yup, she’s been growing a lot lately.” Sana smiled, taking one of Nico’s hands. “She even has started doing more stuff too like laughing and eating real food.” Sana was so focused on Nico and by extension Saki, she didn’t notice the staring match Nayeon and Jihyo were engaged in. “Hey Sana, can you take Nico for a second?” Jihyo asked, beginning to unstrap her daughter.

“Oh sure. Why though?”

“Mrs.Im and I are going to have a little chat. Her company recently hired my firm, so I’m sure you can imagine there’s a lot needed to discuss.” Jihyo explained. Sana looked at her suspiciously, but didn’t question. She took Nico into her arms and Saki seemed fascinated by Nico as Sana explained what she was learning. Jihyo motioned for Nayeon to follow her, and the older woman followed her into the hallway. “So you're a lawyer?” Nayeon asked, feeling a bit of intrigue. She had never actually talked to Jihyo, despite knowing her for almost seven years now. She was just someone Sana was friends with. Even if Nayeon had felt a lot of jealousy towards her when Sana was pregnant, she had never actually spoken to Jihyo. “Civil prosecutor, but yes anyway...” Jihyo nodded. “Why the hell are you staring at me like that?”

“You're cheating on Sana.” Jihyo couldn’t stifle her laughter. “Don’t laugh this is super serious stuff- I can’t believe you would cheat on your wife and then post about it on instagram and even laugh about it-”

“My wife?” Jihyo giggled. “Sana would never marry me. That would be like marrying my sister, weird on so many levels. Sure we have Nico so I completely understand the misunderstanding, but we are not married. How can I cheat on someone I’m not even with in the first place?”

“But-but Sana said you two were married-” It was then that everything clicked in Jihyo’s head. Sana had said that. She had told Jihyo about it and everything. She had just completely forgotten. And now she felt so stupid. “Oh yeah, yeah. We um, we are taking a break?” Jihyo attempted to justify. “We never got married officially, so I got a little confused.” “A break?” “Yeah uh, we decided being just friends is better for now.” Jihyo explained. “But Nico is still- she’s very little still. So we are still seeing each other as friends.” “Oh… I see.” Nayeon nodded. “Were you cheating on her before or after you split up?” “I- I never cheated on Sana.” Jihyo nodded. “I would never. Believe it or not I actually love her. Unlike you and your wife.” “Hey you don’t have a right to say anything about that. You don’t know anything-”

“I know you hurt her. You have no right to lecture me, you completely broke Sana. In a way Momo and I have tried to fix. We’ve tried so hard to fix her. But the two of you-you completely broke Sana. Was it worth it? Was making the media happy worth losing Sana?” Jihyo couldn’t stop herself from letting it spill out. Her feelings towards Nayeon and Mina had been building for so long, and now she couldn’t help them from spilling over.

“You don’t know anything-”

“I know my best friend got hurt.” Jihyo interjected. “She’s still being hurt by your choices, and to me that’s all matters.” Nayeon fell silent after that, taking a while to think out what to say.

“We messed up, Mina and I both know that. And I’m sorry Sana had to get hurt in the process, but we can’t take it back. We didn’t want them to meet at all, but Sana said it was okay and Saki wanted it so- it’s almost over.” “So what, your just going to go back to your fantasy land with your perfect family?” Jihyo asked. “This year isn’t something Sana is just going to forget. She loves Saki. She loves all the other girls. I know if you guys cut all contact with her again and go back to your perfect little life, Sana is going to be crushed all over again. I love Sana, not romantically, but more than you ever will. And because of that, I can’t just let her get hurt again.” “You know nothing about how I feel about Sana.” Nayeon growled. “Oh yeah? You chose your image over her. That doesn’t seem like love to me.” Jihyo rolled her eyes. “Sana always talked about you two like you were so perfect. Even after you guys screwed her over she never said a single bad thing about you two. She’s so good, but look at what you two did to her. You hurt the human sunshine and you have the audacity to stand here and claim you care about her after fucking her over for six years.” “I’m not claiming anything- I care about Sana. I do-I do, and Mina does too. It hasn’t been easy for us either. Every night I can barely sleep because I think about her. Every night Mina has nightmares about Sana. But-but we made a decision and we have to live with it. Even if I want more than anything to take it back, we can’t just change our minds now. We already messed everything up, it can’t go back to how it’s supposed to be.” “So your saying that people can’t change their minds? Your saying that because you made a mistake once you can’t change it?” Jihyo rolled her eyes. “You, Im Nayeon, are the biggest idoit on the plant.” “Even if we tried, it would just hurt Sana more. She’s-she’s better off like this. Trust me.” Nayeon nodded. “Your saying she’s better off in an almost unbearable pain than forgiving you. You have no idea how hurt she has been. We aren’t omegas, but both of us are sires. Imagine if someone took your kids away from you, and said you could never see them again because of a mistake they made. Wouldn’t that drive you crazy? I know if someone took Nico from me like that- I would go crazy. Try seeing this from Sana’s perspective.” “But-but she wouldn’t forgive us. Not after what we have done-”

“That doesn’t matter. If you just- give her the chance she’s wanted for six years. To form a meaningful connection with her kids. It doesn’t matter what she thinks of you or what you think of her, being a parent should come first.” Jihyo nodded. “I’m not saying you should try to get her back or anything like that. You absolutely should not do that. But- at least give her the opportunity to meet her kids properly.” “I-I’ll think about it.” “Good.” Jihyo sighed. “Now let’s get back, Nico does have somewhere she needs to be.” When they returned, Sana and Saki were wering matching smiles as Saki waved a baby toy in front of Nico. Nayeon couldn’t stop her heart from aching when she remembered how similar Sana and Saki’s smiles were.

xx

That night, Sana received a text to meet Mina and Nayeon at a coffee shop not too far from the school she taught it. Needless to say, she was terrified.

xx

“Bye baby girl.” Sana sighed, kissing Nico’s cheek.”Behave for Auntie Momo.” “She always does.” Momo laughed, scoping Nico up into her arms. “Come here sweetie, let’s do all the things your mom says you can’t.”

“I’ll be back in a bit.” Sana breathed out a sigh of nerves. “You got this Sana. You never know, it could go well.” Momo offered. “Or I could lose them forever.” Sana sighed.

“Don’t think about it that way. Anyway, remember to use protection and call me if you can’t walk home.” “Don’t make it sound like I’m going to sleep with them!” Sana protested. “That’s not what this is-”

“Bye Sana.” Momo ignored her and pushed her out of their house. Sana sighed and clutched her purse tightly, taking another deep breath before starting on her walk. She couldn’t stop her mind from wandering the whole way there. It seemed so out of the blue. It stressed her out.

Mina and Nayeon are waiting there for her. They both are dressed in casual clothing, and Sana had forgotton how adorable Mina’s oversized sweaters were and how hot Nayeon looked in sweatpants.

“Hello.” Sana sighed when she sat at the table they were at. Mina and Nayeon were both sitting opposite of her, which was more than a little intimidating. “Hey.” Nayeon greeted. Mina stayed quiet, swirling her coffee around in her cup. “Did you order something yet? It’s on us.” “No it’s okay- I already had plenty of coffee this morning. My five month old is in a growth spurt so she isn’t sleeping much so my roommate and I have both consumed like three cups of coffee in the past few hours.” Sana explained.

“Okay then.” Nayeon nodded, Mina staying quiet and drinking her coffee. Sana couldn’t help but notice her fist were curled in, a habit Mina had when she was nervous. “Um… Where to start?” “About Saki.” Mina reminded, taking another sip of her drink. “Oh yeah- about Saki.” Sana couldn’t help herself from tensing up. “She um- she has really liked you being her teacher. I don’t think she’s really figured anything out yet, but her and the others ids have been asking about thier birth mom a lot lately. We have been avoiding their questions, but maybe-maybe that’s bad for them.” “We just- it might be a good idea to introduce you into their lives. We’ve talked about it, and we’re worried that girls might come to hate us if we keep you from them their entire lives. I know we messed up, and that you probably want nothing to do with us. But maybe it shouldn’t be about us anymore.” Mina added. Sana couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “I- what? What changed now?” “Nothing really changed, we just. We messed up. We’re admitting it, and we’re hoping to correct ourselves. If you will let us. You don’t have to forgive us, but maybe consider meeting them? Not as a teacher, as their birth mother.” Nayeon answered. “We have hated this too, and we realized keeping you away from them is just making this worse for everyone. The least we can do is let you meet your daughters as their birth mom. If you want.” “Mina, I would love that.” Tears came to Sana’s eyes. “Yeah?” “Yes.” Sana nodded, wiping her tears with one hand. “Sorry, I cry so easily now. Guess that’s what happens when you have five kids. But uh yes, yes I would love to meet them as their birth mom. On one condition, they are allowed to meet Nico too. If I get to know them, their half-sister does too.” “Yeah, that’s-that makes sense.” Nayeon nodded. “We are sorry for how everything turned out. We will do our best to make this all right if you would let us.” “I would love that.” Sana smiled. “Thank you so much.” “No-thank you. I can only say I’m so sorry for all we’ve put you through.” “It’s okay.” Sana took one of Mina’s tense fists and unfurled it. “Let’s make this better, together.”

“I would like that.”

[leossmoonn]

mind games [part eleven]

masterlist | part ten | part twelve

zuko x fem!reader fluff, angst smau (it has the social media elements, but not as much as the last series)

avatar: the last airbender

summary - being zuko’s best friend is the easiest thing in the world. until he gets a girlfriend and you realize you’re in love with him

warnings / includes  (this counts for any/all chapters) - fighting, suggestive, language, crying, alcohol, cheating, talk about injuries, making out, alluding to sex, talks about sex. you are sokka and katara’s older sister. you, mai, and zuko are seniors in college, sokka and suki are juniors, katara, aang, and toph are sophomores.

note - so for this one im gonna be switching pov’s. so for the first half it’ll be 2nd point of view with y/n and the second half it'll be like 2nd point of view but with jet (hope this made sense lol)

————

“so, how has living with jet been?” aang asked. 

“really good,” you smiled. “he’s a really good housemate. he cooks, actually cleans. doesn’t mind that i had to take up a little more closet space.”

“wow, sounds like you have the perfect man,” suki smirked. “i do,” you sighed dreamily. 

you and jet had been dating now for a little more than 4 1/2 months. you two decided that it was time to move in together. you two had already practically been living together so it seemed right to start the next phase of your relationship. you weren’t at jet’s, though. you were at an ice cream shop downtown with your friends. 

living with jet was amazing, as stated, but you rarely saw your friends. college was coming to an end, too. with you and between that and looking for jobs and picking up extra shifts at the JD, it had been very busy. but you had just finished all your finals and was now ready to graduate in the next week, so you were able to relax, finally. 

“how about you guys, how have you been?” you asked. 

“really good! i can’t believe you won’t be at school with us,” katara frowned. 

“yeah, i hate to admit it, but i’m gonna miss you,” sokka said. 

you chuckled, “thanks, sokka. well, i’m not planning one really going anywhere. i’ll just be out of school, which thank the spirits for that.”

“must be nice knowing you don’t have to deal with finals anymore,” toph suck her tongue out in disgust. 

“yeah, i definitely won’t miss that,” you snorted, taking a bite of your ice cream cone. 

“have you found a job yet?” toph asked. ”i’ve found a few. i have yet get interviews, though. i’m waiting until the july to so i can enjoy there summer,” you explained. 

“makes sense. we’ll miss you at the JD,” katara said. 

“yeah, you’re the only one who makes good frappuccinos,” aang chortled. 

“i know. zuko and katara just can’t grasp the recipe,” you teased. 

“i can! i just prefer to make the tea. it’s a lot easier,” katara deafened. 

“don’t worry. i agree,” you smiled. your phone vibrated on the table. 

you turned it over, seeing that there as a text from zuko. 

“is that zuko?” aang asked. “yeah, how did you know?” i asked. 

“he’s been missing you lately,” sokka explained. 

“oh, really? we hung out a couple weeks ago, though,” you said. “exactly. he knows you been busy so he hasn’t asked you to hang out yet, but we told him you’re less busy now,” aang said. 

“oh,” you frowned. “well, he asked if we could hang out today. you guys okay if i go?”

“yeah, of course! we’ve been here for hours, anyways,” suki said. 

“great. still on for the sleepover tonight?” you asked, getting up and grabbing your purse.

“you know it! have fun,” katara smiled. 

“will do,” you smiled back, waving goodbye at them. 

you walked to your car, getting in and driving to your friend’s and sibling’s house. you parked in the garage, going in and seeing zuko on the couch. 

“hey, stranger,” you smiled, taking off your shoes. 

“hey, long time no see,” zuko smiled, getting up. you hummed in reply, opening your arms out and hugging him. 

“i’ve missed you,” zuko whispered. 

“i’ve missed you, too. i’m sorry i haven’t reached out,” you sighed, pulling away. 

“no worries. we aren’t kids anymore. we have our own life,” zuko smiled reassuringly. 

“right. so, you said you wanted to talk about our plan?” you asked, walking over with zuko to the couch. 

“yeah. so, how do i approach her?” zuko ask. “well, i wouldn’t suggest doing it over a date. do it at night so you can go somewhere else and sleep immediately. you two are living together, right?” you asked. 

“yeah,” zuko nodded. “great, well, just tell her you need to talk to her. don’t hint at anything, be neutral about it all and break the news to her,” you explained.

“easier said than done,” zuko chuckled. 

you furrowed your brows and studied his face, seeing the guilt and confusion in his eyes. you leaned against the couch and put your hand on his forearm comfortingly.

“are you sure you want to do this?” you asked. “i am,” zuko nodded. 

“are you sure? like 100% positive?” you checked with him.

zuko chuckled, “yes, i am. plus, i…i like someone else.”

your eyes widened, “o-oh. this is new info. who is it?” your heart started to race and you began to feel very nervous thinking about who he could like.

“i’d rather not say just yet,” he said, averting his gaze from you. 

“alright. well, no pressure,” you smiled softly. your phone then started to vibrate in your back pocket. you pulled it out, seeing that jet was calling you. 

you answered it quickly. “hey, babe, what’s up?”

“hey, when’re you coming home?” jet asked. 

“oh, um…” your voice trailed off as you looked at the clock. “tomorrow? i’m hanging out with zuko right now, and you know i’m having a little sleepover with the girls.”

“oh, right,” jet muttered. you furrowed your brows as he sounded annoyed and sad. you stood up off the couch, holding your first finger up to zuko to let him know you’ll be back in a minute. 

you walked into the kitchen and leaned against the island counter. “hey, you sound sad. everything okay?”

“yeah, i just miss you,” jet sighed. you smiled, “i miss you, too, but i haven't seen zuko or my friends in a while.” “i know, i know. i wasn’t going to make you come home, don’t worry,” jet said. 

“i didn’t think you were. i know you’re understanding.”

you and jet sat on the phone in an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes before you spoke up. you did a little awkward cough before speaking. 

“so, um, i better go,” you said. 

“oh, yeah, yeah, of course. i’ll see you tomorrow,” jet said. 

“see you tomorrow. i love you.” “i love you, too,” jet smiled, hanging up the phone. 

he sighed and gently threw his phone on the bed. he laid down, running his hands through his hair and down his face. he felt so jealous. so jealous of you and zuko. he knew it was silly since you have been nothing but loyal to him, but the unwanted thoughts of you and zuko still crept into his mind every so often. he was thankful you two didn’t live together anymore and that you lived with him now, but jet was beginning to think that wasn’t enough. 

even though you and zuko weren’t living together and didn’t hang out as often, you two were constantly texting and calling. jet often found you downstairs late at night texting zuko, smiling and laughing at whatever he said. it made jet’s blood boil to see another guy making you happy, especially since it was a known fact - not between you and zuko, though - that you had a thing for zuko a while back. jet was positive that you still had a thing for him, no matter how much you denied it. 

he sat up on his bed and grabbed his phone, getting up and going to the only person he knew would understand; mai. 

he drove to her house, going up and knocking on the door. mai answered the door almost immediately, a surprised but pleasant smile on her face. 

“hey, jet. what’re you doing here?” she asked. 

“i was just seeing if you were free. y/n and zuko are hanging out, and we haven’t hung out in a while,” jet shrugged. 

“right, right. well, come in,” mai held the door open for him. jet stepped in with a smile, walking into the living room. 

“i like what you did with the place,” jet noted, looking around at the new furniture and decorations. there were a lot more brighter colours than he remembered.

“thanks. ty lee said i should make the place more lively,” mai chuckled. 

“glad you took her advice,” jet smiled. 

mai nodded, “are you hungry? i was just about to eat some leftover pizza.”

“yeah, sure. you got any beers?” jet asked. 

“yep,” mai said, going over to the kitchen. “make yourself comfortable!”

“thanks,” jet said and sat down on the couch. 

mai came in with a pizza both and a six pack bottle of beer. mai and jet watched tv for a while, getting drunk on the beer. after a while of silence, mai decided to ask jet about what he thought about you and zuko. 

“so, you jealous of zuko and y/n, too?” zuko asked. 

jet’s brows raised, “w-what?”

mai smirked and turned fully to him. “that’s the reason why you came here, because of zuko and y/n.”

jet sighed, turning to her. “yeah. you caught me.”

“they act like they’re dating each other,” mai rolled her eyes. “zuko is always like “y/n this”, “y/n that”, “look what y/n said”, “sorry, i’m talking to y/n”. god, it’s all so annoying.” “and they always stay up late talking to each other! like, i understand they’re each other’s best friends, but we’re here, too.” “right!” mai nodded. “i wouldn’t be surprised if they were making out right now.” jet frowned and looked down. “you think they are?”

“mmm, i wouldn’t doubt it,” mai shrugged. 

jet looked up at mai, his eyes meeting her’s. he studied her face for a few moments, his eyes roaming her face and stopping at her lips. mai noticed his gaze and smirked, scooting closer to him. she put her hand on his thigh, her fingers snaking up his leg. 

“m-mai, what’re you doing?” jet stammered. his heart was racing a million beats per second. 

“c’mon, we both know zuko and y/n are in love with each other. plus, i’m pretty sure zuko is going to break up with me soon. let’s just have some fun, okay?” mai gave jet a flirtatious look, biting her lip and batting her lashes. 

jet sighed, looking into mai’s eyes. he knew in his heart that you weren’t cheating on him with zuko, or anyone, but the just thought of you with zuko, kissing him, running your fingernails all over his back, moaning his name, it clouded jet’s mind with anger and fear. without thinking rationally, jet smashed his lips onto mai’s. 

both melted into the kiss immediately, grabbing at each other and pressing themselves closer to each other. after a few moments of kissing, jet pulled away, looking a mai with wide, shocked eyes. the kiss with mai honestly felt amazing.

mai smiled at him, taking his hand into her’s. “wanna go upstairs?”

jet nodded furiously, getting up off the couch, mai leading him up to her bedroom. 

————

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note - hey guys, sorry for not posting this series for a while, but im back now so :)

taglist is open, just lmk if you wanna be on it for this series by messaging me, commenting, and/or send me a message!

@theblueslytherin @thatarthistorynerd @coldlilheart @akiris @serenitytomothings

[topsytervy]

Goodbye ~ Rafe Cameron

Blurb: You and Rafe were dating until you realized he changed way too much...and not for the better.

Word Count: maybe 4,300 (i did some last minute editing)

Warnings: mentions of drugs (coke and weed), hints at sex, swearing, toxic behavior, age gap (16 and 19), canon Rafe (minus the murder), grammar/spelling mistakes,i think thats it.

One thing before you read:

This takes place with the reader being 16 and Rafe 19 so Im just going to say this. THIS IS PURELY A WORK OF FICTION AND ACCORDING TO GOOGLE THE AGE OF CONSENT IN NORTH CAROLINA IS 16. STILL, I DO NOT CONDONE RELATIONSHIPS WHERE A PARTNER(S) IS AN ADULT AND THE OTHER(S) IS A MINOR. THIS IS JUST FICTION!

Not me already thinking of a part 2 where they reunite years later at John B and Sarahs wedding

~~~~~~~~~

You dated Rafe Cameron for a bit, starting your relationship months before his downward spiral. Key words there being dated and a bit. Almost a year. 11 months 17 days and 5 hours to be exact but who was counting.

Rafe Cameron was.

Out of the 11 months 17 days and 5 hours that your relationship lasted, you two spent 11 months 2 days and 30 minutes with each other and they were the best 11 months 2 days and 30 minutes of his life. 

You broke it off though after he had promised that he would try to quit his drug habit, his coke habit to be more precise, and didn't. Whenever you tried to help him, he'd push you away and say, 'I can take care of my own shit, Y/N. I don't need you to help'. 

The last straw was when he drove up to Barrys, you in the passenger seat next to him, unamused since he said he'd be taking you to the beach but didn't, opting out to fulfill the hunger of coke instead.

"Rafe, please. You're doing so well. We can still go back home. Lay down, watch a movie, have some fun…" You trailed off, thinking that the last option would definitely have him turning back.

"After this, Y/N/N. Then we can have all the fun we want." He smirked.

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. "It's no fun when you're high." You mumbled under your breath.

He parked the car and told you to stay put, which you chose to ignore as you promptly swung the door passenger open and hopped out of the vehicle. After all, you were all dressed and ready for the beach, eagerly waiting to feel the sand between your toes and the sun on your skin -and to see your boyfriend shirtless- and instead, you were at Barrys. Not to pay off a debt and say Rafe was out, but too get more cocaine. You were upset and you were going to make sure he saw you each second he was with you so he'd feel bad about breaking his promise. Rafe rolled his eyes as you followed him inside, not really wanting Barry to see you.

Rafe and Barry greeted each other and you followed them towards Barry's room where the exchange was made. Rafe watched Barry count the money, his index finger tapping on the side of his leg as he waited. You stood in the corner of the room, unamused by your boyfriend as you watched him begin to chew on his lip as Barry furrowed his eyebrows and recounted.

"What are you trying to do, country club?" Barry finally asked.

"What do you mean?" A confused look crossed Rafe's face.

"You're 20 bucks short, man. You think you can just stiff me?"

Rafe looked at you and you held up your hands. "Why are you looking at me? I don't wanna be here in the first place and where the fuck would I hide 20 bucks? My bikini top." You glared. Rafe shot you another look. "I'm serious, Rafe. You wanna frisk me, be my fucking guest." 

Rafe looked at your face and saw you were telling the truth before turning back to Barry, who was eyeing you up as you talked at Rafe but moved his gaze back to the man in front of him when he thought of an idea.

"You know, country club. I could let it slide and still give you what you want. You'd just have to keep it hush-hush." He smirked.

"What do you want in exchange then? My truck? Bike? Uh…my watch?" Rafe began to take off the watch his father gave him but Barry held up his head, causing Rafe to look up at him.

"A couple of hours with her." Rafe followed Barry's pointer finger and saw you raise your eyebrows.

"Excuse me? Do I look like I wanna have sex with you?" You asked.

Barry's smirk only grew. "I like you. You're a feisty little thing I can tell."

Don't I know it, Rafe thought to himself as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.

You had to stop yourself from letting your jaw drop. He was actually thinking about it.

Rafe Cameron, your boyfriend, the guy who decked a kid in the jaw who had accidentally brushed his hand against yours when at a kegger once, was actually considering this guy's proposal. 

If Rafe said yes, you were a goner. There was no way you could overpower Barry. You could barely overpower your 12 year old brother when fighting for the remote and he was weak as hell.

"No. Its fine. Just give me the cash back and I'll come back when I have the 20." Barry gave him back the cash and Rafe nodded his head towards the door. "Lets go, baby."

You walked in front of Rafe and made your way outside, stopping right next to the passenger door, not opening it. 

Rafe came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. "Lets get home, baby. Put on a movie and lay down, have some fun just like you suggested." He grinned, kissing your neck as he repeated what you had said not even ten minutes ago.

You shrugged him off and rolled your eyes.

"What's up with that?" He asked, slightly offended at the actions.

"You actually thought about leaving me alone for a couple of hours with that guy, Rafe. That's what's up with that." You turned around to face him.

"I didn't though."

"You still thought about it Rafe. You thought about letting that man, that slimey, greasy, man, have his way with me just so you could get some coke."

"Hey, you're not in there with him, though. You're out here with me. Aren't you, Y/N/N?" You didn't respond. "Aren't you?!" Rafe hollered, causing you to jump slightly.

"Let me ask you this, Rafe. If someone came up to me right now and asked if I'd break up with you to date my celebrity crush, and I stopped to think about it instead of saying no right away, how would you feel?" Rafe clenched his jaw and didn't respond. "How do you think I feel right now after knowing that my jealous, possessive boyfriend who hates when a guy even looks at me, stopped and thought about a proposition his drug dealer brought up that meant he could still get his cocaine if he let his dealer fuck me and he'd let the 20 dollars slide."

"You don't know if he was going to fuck you." 

You let out a laugh in disbelief. "Don't play dumb, Rafe. You know exactly what he was going to do."

Rafe didn't say anything, just closed his eyes and started counting to ten to try and calm down so he could reason with you. He opened his eyes and went to speak but you were gone. "God, fuckin a." He cussed, grabbing his keys from his pocket and jogging to the driver side. 

He climbed in and started the vehicle before tearing out of the driveway. It's not like you had gotten far, jogging was faster than walking but not by much and Rafe saw you after just a mere 30 seconds of driving. You had slowed to a walk and when you saw his truck pull alongside you, you rolled your eyes and returned your gaze to the road in front of you. 

"Baby. Let's talk about this like adults." He sighed.

When you didn't answer, he sped up just a smidge so the bed was next to you, and pulled to the side of the road, getting out of the truck.

He stood in front of you. "You shouldn't be walking home. It's too far." You ignored him, going to walk around him but he just moved to be in front of you again. 

"Rafe, I'm warning you. Back the fuck off right now." 

"Just get in the truck and then we'll talk about whatever is going on up in that head of yours." He said gently.

"I already told you what was going on. You seriously thought about selling me out for sex just so you could get high."

"Y/N/N, get in the truck."

"It was disgusting that you hesitated before saying no.  What happened to me being your girl and no one else touching me or else you'd cave their skull in back there?"

"Get in the truck." He ran his hand through his hair, feeling himself getting angrier and trying to remain calm.

He didn't like yelling at you or getting angry at you, knowing how it scared you when he wasn't even yelling at you but someone else.

"You know, why can't you just get high with weed like JJ." 

And that was it. 

Rafe reached out and grabbed your chin, yanking you close. "Get in the fucking truck, Y/N." He seethed, his voice dangerously low. You tried to keep your face as neutral as possible despite how you felt on the inside. "Now!" Rafe yelled.

You flinched slightly before yanking your face from his grip and climbing into the passenger seat. You looked out the window as Rafe walked over to his side and climbed back in. 

You were a bit shaken up if you were being honest. Rafe had never yelled at you before today or called you by your actual name. It was usually your nickname or baby. He had also never grabbed you like that outside of the bedroom.

"I try to have a civil fucking conversation with you and you walk away. How fucking mature is that?" Rafe glanced over at you and you could feel his eyes on you but you just kept looking out the window. "And the fact that you think that just because I hesitated, I was going to give you over to Barry is fucking ridiculous. My brain was processing what he said, not thinking of letting him fuck you." Rafe was actually thinking of Barry's offer but you didn't need to know that for sure. "You're mine, Y/N. You hear that? M-I-N-E. Mine. I don't share my things with anyone and you know this." 

You swallowed hard at his words, taking in the toxicity of your situation right now. He wasn't the same Rafe that you started dating all those months ago. He was far from the Rafe who you let take your virginity when you hit month six of your relationship. He was far from the Rafe that the minute you said you were uncomfortable, was taking you away from whatever was making you uncomfortable or stopping what you were doing.

He was far from the Rafe you had fallen for.

"Drop me off at the chateau." You mumbled causing Rafe to stop his speech. 

"What?"

"Drop me off at the chateau." You said louder and slower. 

"What if I don't want to?" He huffed.

"Drop me off at the chateau or I'm calling JJ and he's gonna meet me at Tanneyhill and I'll let him tear you apart." 

Rafe's eyes left the road and he looked at you, still staring out the window. Rafe didn't say anything, just drove you where you told him to. 

The pogues sat on the porch and watched as Rafe's truck pulled up. 

Pope looked around at the group. "Weren't they supposed to be at the beach?" 

Kie shrugged as she watched your door swing open before the truck parked. "That's different. She's never done that before." She raised an eyebrow.

"What are you talking about?" John B asked.

"She just hopped out of Rafe's truck before it stopped. She usually stays in there for a minute after he parks." Kie nodded towards you as you walked towards them, rolling her eyes as if the boys should've known that.

Rafe sighed as he parked the truck and hopped out, jogging up to you and grabbing your arm. 

"Please just come back to Tanneyhill with me, Y/N, and we'll talk." 

You shook your head, retching your arm away from him. "We're done. Don't call me, don't text me, don't contact me at all. I can't do this anymore Rafe. I've tried helping you and being there for you and everything else during this...this...obstacle in your life and it's like you're not even trying anymore." You told him with tears in your eyes.

"What? No. No. No. I'm gonna get my shit together." He ran his hand through his hair.

Your friends stood up and slowly made their way over, not to eavesdrop, but just in case things took a turn.

"You keep saying that Rafe and I keep believing you but I can't. Not anymore. Not after today." You lamented, "Bye, Rafe. I wish you the best." You quickly turned and jogged into the chateau, feeling the tears start to fall.

"Y/N," he called, about to go after you but John B and JJ stopped him as the other two followed you inside. "Y/N!" He attempted to shrug off your two friends but when it was clear that they would not be letting him follow you without a fight, he pulled away, walking backwards to his truck. "I'll come back! You know I will! You're my girl!" He shouted as loud as he could.

John B and JJ stepped forward and Rafe pursed his lips before climbing into his truck. John B and JJ watched Rafe drive away before heading inside. John B sighed as he heard you cry in the bathroom, plopping down on the couch next to Pope as JJ found his home on the floor.

"Do we know what happened that finally made her break?" JJ asked, wanting nothing more to break the Cameron boys nose.

Pope shrugged before nodding towards the bathroom. "Kie's in there right now trying to calm her down and get her to talk about it." John B rubbed a hand over his face. "She's his girl? Really?" Pope raised an eyebrow, letting the two boys know that Rafes little shout was heard.

John B shook his head. "Not anymore. I think it'll take a miracle for her to go back to him."

"And he'd really come back here just to try and get her back?"

JJ looked at Pope with a serious expression. "He can fucking try but if he even looks at her, I'll break him. I'll take her to work with me if it means not leaving her alone for Rafe to show up and try to weasel back in." 

Pope licked his lips. "She seemed so happy with him in the beginning. I was honestly kind of rooting for them."

John B looked at Pope. "I think we all were." 

"And she was happy with him. Then he decided that coke should join the relationship and that's when it all went downhill." JJ added.

After an hour had passed and no more crying was heard, the three pogue boys got up and made their way to the bathroom.

JJ knocked on the door and Kie immediately answered. "Come in."

He opened the door slowly to avoid hitting anyone before the three boys made their way into the bathroom. It was a bit cramped but no one complained as they looked down at you with your head on Kie's lap, eyes closed as you slept.

"What happened ?" Pope whispered.

"He went to Barry's and was short twenty dollars. Barry said Rafe could still get the coke and not have to worry about the twenty if he could have a couple hours with her."  Kie started.

"Sounds about par for the course for Barry," JJ mumbled, knowing all about the dealer.

"Rafe thought about it before saying no. After a small argument and explanation as to why she saw his hesitation as a problem, she started walking. He followed, told her multiple to get in the truck but she didn't, and then he grabbed her roughly and told her one more time and she did because she was scared." The curly haired girl sighed.

The boys all shot each other a look but Kie quickly shut it down. "No. You are not fighting him. That will just cause more problems. We're going to ignore his existence and be here for Y/N. Understand?" No one spoke. "I said, Understand?" Kie said more sternly.

The boys all mumbled the agreements and JJ crossed his fingers out of sight. If Kie thought he was going to just let it all slide right by, she was wrong. No one hurt his friends and got away with it. She should know this by now.

"Now, can one of you be useful and put her to bed? Or am I just going to have to do it myself?" Kie raised an eyebrow.

"I got her." JJ muttered, walking over to Kie and picking you up gently.

He took you into what he claimed as his room and placed you on the bed, throwing a blanket over. He turned to leave but stopped, biting his lip for a second before turning back around and giving you a kiss on your forehead.

Now, here Rafe was, six months later, at The Wreck with Kelce and Topper, watching JJ and you wait for your food at the counter.

Rafe made a face and at the sight of you two close together and thats when he noticed JJ's arms around you, swaying you two back and forth.

Rafe's jaw clenched as did his hand that was around his glass of water. "What the hell is he doing with his arms around her?" His eyes narrowed.

Kelce and Topper looked at each other before holding up their fists. 

"Rock, paper, scissors, shoot."

Topper groaned as Kelce whooped with victory. "Tell him, Top."

"JJ and Y/N have been together for like a month and a half now." Topper muttered.

Rafe stared at his two friends. "And you guys didn't tell me?" 

"Well, we didn't think it was important and you seemed to be doing alright finally so we just kind of- Where are you going?!" Kelce asked when he saw Rafe get up from the table and walk out the door.

The two friends looked to where you and JJ were standing only to find you two not there.

They immediately got up, Topper pulling a 50 from his wallet and putting it on the table while screaming a 'keep the change Kiara' as they both ran out.

They watched as Rafe's truck pulled past them and out of The Wrecks parking lot.

"Hey man! You're our ride!" Kelce hollered.

Rafe's hand gripped the steering wheel as he drove, jaw still clenched. He stopped at a stop sign and slammed his hand on the wheel in anger. It was months after your guys break up and Rafe hadn't even looked at another girl the same way he looked at you, let alone thought about getting into a new relationship. But here you were, dating JJ Maybank for a month and a half apparently.

You always had been known as Rafe's girl, even after the break-up. He made it practically impossible for any guy to even think about talking to you because Rafe had the full intention of getting you back. 

But, of course, in classic JJ style, JJ had to steal what was his. Now you were referred to as JJ's girl but Rafe was too high or out of it to notice the change.

He pulled into the driveway of the chateau minutes after you and JJ did, you laughing at something JJ had said as you got out of his truck.  

You heard a car door slam and looked behind you, calling for JJ when you saw an all too familiar vehicle.

JJ came around to stand next to you and his eyes narrowed as Rafe stormed over.

"Im gonna beat you so bad you'll think your daddy did it, Maybank!" 

"Rafe! What the hell are you doing here?" You shouted at your ex.

"I wanna know why the hell I just heard that you're going out with him?!" Rafe stopped right in front of you.

You could feel the rage coming off of Rafe and you opened your mouth to speak but JJ stepped in between you two. 

"I suggest you back the fuck up and move on, Cameron." 

"What's funny is I'm not here for you, JJ. So I suggest you get the fuck out of the way so I can talk to Y/N/N."

JJ narrowed his eyes. "Over my dead body."

Rafe chuckled darkly as he nodded his head slightly. "That can be arranged."

"Rafe, JJ. Stop. This is fucking ridiculous." You pulled JJ back by his upper arm before turning your gaze onto Rafe. "We broke up Rafe. It's time for you to move on."

"No. You don't get to tell me when I should move on, Y/N. You don't get to tell me any of that typical bullshit okay? I already told you all those months ago that you're mine and that hasn't changed." He shot at you.

JJ smirked. "I think it has because now the whole island knows her as JJ's girl. Not Rafe's. JJ's."

Rafe took a step closer. "You watch your mouth, Maybank." 

"Or what? You gonna swing on me? I hope you do so I have a reason for beating you shitless." 

You turned to JJ. "Since you're not helping with this conversation, why don't you help by bringing the food inside." You held out the bag that contained your guys lunch and JJ sighed, taking it.

Not without one last jab at Rafe though by kissing you on the lips right in front of him. You were quick to stop a ready-to-pounce Rafe who went to lunge at JJ, but your boyfriend just smirked at your ex before heading inside.

"I'm gonna kill him." Rafe said, fists clenching.

"No you're not. Why can't you just accept the fact that I'm happy?"

"Because you're happiest when you're with me. Remember saying that to me that one night? When we were walking around at like 2 AM and you just said it out of the blue and then blushed cause it was only a month into our relationship and you didn't mean to say it out loud. You immediately apologized cause it was stupid and corny but I told you it wasn't if it was true and that I felt the same way with you. Remember that, Y/N." His demeanor changed from hostile to soft.

You closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose. "That was before you were snorting lines for breakfast, lunch and dinner. That was before everything changed. Before you changed, Rafe." Rafe looked down at the ground in shame, fiddling with his fingers. "I wish that I tried harder to help you and keep you from where you are now. I wish I hadn't pushed your buttons that day when you told me to get in the truck and that I acted more mature than I did. I also wish I hadn't said the weed comment cause I know how much you can't stand JJ and were insecure because of my friendship with him and I guess you kind of had a right to be considering whats going on between me and him right now. In a way, I kind of egged you on with not letting you talk but that day you grabbed me and yelled at me, that was it. I couldn't stay any longer. That was the first time I ever felt scared of you."

Rafe felt regret and sadness wash over him. "There is absolutely no excuse for the way I grabbed you that day or how I spoke to you. That was wrong of me and I shouldn't have done that no matter how angry I was. I'm so fucking sorry for that. It's one of my biggest regrets." Rafe admitted looking at you. "If I could redo that day, I wouldn't have done any of that. I wouldn't have even gone to Barry's. We would've just gone to the beach like you wanted and then went back to my place for a shower and then watched 50 First Dates because you always watch that movie after a beach day. If I could go back before then, I wouldn't have had that line that started it all and we would've just stayed home from that damn party. " 

You smiled softly. "I appreciate you owning up to your actions, Rafe but that doesn't change anything that's happening right now. I'm not going to break up with JJ just to get back together with you while you're still using. Maybe at some point in the future we'll find our way back to each other but right now, you need to focus on yourself and getting yourself help so you can get better."

Rafe nodded slowly and it was quiet for a minute before he mumbled. "Does he treat you alright?"

"Hmm?"

"Does JJ treat you alright?" He asked a bit louder.

You smiled. "Yeah, he does."

Rafe nodded. "That's-" Rafe felt his voice crack and he cleared his throat. "That's really good, Y/N/N."

You placed your hand on his arm and gave it a squeeze, kind of like how a grandma would. "Take care of yourself, Rafe." Rafe nodded again. "Goodbye, Rafe." You sent him a small sad smile before walking off to the chateau.

Rafe couldn't bring himself to say that though. Instead, he said the one thing he never got to.

"I love you."

~~~~~~~~

[capaimagines]

im jaebeom - underworld

Pairing: mafia leader!Im Jaebeom x Reader | Genre: angst & mafia | Warnings: alludes to sexual assault, fighting, weapons, drugs, blood, swearing | WC: 2.6k

Request: Hi, I'm not too sure if you write them or not but if you do, may I please request a mafia/gang fic? Or if you don't want to do gang maybe just like JB got7 sells drugs or something?? Anyways I'll let you decide but maybe something goes wrong during the mission and they are led to the wrong place and in the mean time they take JB fiance and sexually assault her? Of course you don't have to write in detail. Maybe Mark and Jinyoung come in mid way and lose their shit and you are just limp and weak that you start screaming whenever they touch you but they need to get you to safety. Lots and lots of angst please. I understand if you can't. Thank you!!!

part two

You would consider yourself as an adventurous soul. Ever since you were little you were never one to back down from a fight. You spoke your mind no matter what anyone else said which, when you were younger, got you into a shit load of trouble. So, when you had met Jaebeom at your dingy workplace, which was some dirty ass, barely-lit bar, no one should have been surprised that you had a go at him for being a prick.

He had been rude all night but being a mafia leader to one of the biggest groups in the nation at the moment could stress you out a little. He had snapped at you because the food they had ordered hadn’t been cooked right or something. You had rolled your eyes, not caring if you got fired and snapped right back at him.  

“Feisty,” He commented with a smirk.

Now, had you known at the time who he was and what he did you probably would have dialed it back just a little bit. Then you wouldn’t be where you were now, years later. Engaged to Jaebeom and living a lavish lifestyle. You weren’t that surprised when you found out he was in the mafia and he really hadn’t done much to hide it. It had only enticed you even more.

Let alone the six others that were always by his side always made for good entertainment.  They had all become family to you and like all cliché romances, you had fallen in love with Jaebeom and it only took a year of dating before he proposed to you. You excited him and while your feisty attitude sometimes got on his nerves or came dangerously close to putting you in jeopardy, he loved that you weren’t afraid of him. That you embraced this lifestyle like it had been the only thing you had ever known.

Now, he never wanted to actually put you out on missions but you weren’t having it. You refused to freeload off them and wanted to help wherever you could. Being a housewife, cooking and cleaning had never been something you wanted to do. So, Mark has thankfully shown you how to fight properly. Jackson and Jinyoung had frequently brought you to the shooting range which was located below the mansion. You had a sharp eye and caught on quick and while you were adventurous, you hoped you’d never have to shoot anyone.

Youngjae had shown you a little of hacking skills and all the equipment they used. How to fix things if they broke or were damaged during a mission quickly. Yugyeom and BamBam have taught you better acting skills. You could play the role of whoever they needed you too, lure in whoever was needed without issue. Plus, BamBam loved shopping and so did you so, lots of new clothes and shopping trips. Especially when a new mission came up.

Jaebeom had done his best to keep you quiet. He didn’t need enemies knowing about you because he knew they’d try to harm you to get to him. While he knew you could hold your own, he loved you and he was protective. He never wanted anything to happen to you. Until what was supposed to be just a meeting to discuss terms on some product coming in that went bad.

Then you went missing.

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

You spat blood out of your mouth, wanting to vomit from the iron taste. Just a mere few hours ago you were sitting next to Jaebeom, proudly, while he negotiated terms for some drugs that were smuggled in. You had insisted on going as you had planned on helping Jaebeom run and build this empire up. You never wanted him to change everything just for you. Sure, the danger was high but you didn’t care, you loved him and if this was what he wanted to do, you would stand by him.

You aren’t really sure what happened though. You remembered a loud bang, blinding white lights and then someone hitting the back of your head. You groaned at the memory; that’s probably why the back of your head hurt. You knew something was off when you had first arrived at the meeting. The other goons around the leader were too fidgety, eyes constantly shooting around the room. Your mistake was brushing it off, thinking that Jaebeom would keep you safe. Yet, here you sat, tied up with your throbbing head and a stinging cheek.  

“We can’t kill her yet,” You heard someone say.  

“Well, isn’t that a damn relief,” You scoffed as you rolled your eyes. Whoever was standing next to you kicked you harshly, to which you groaned and bit down your lip to keep quiet. Your mouth always did get you in trouble.

“Once he gets here, you’re all dead anyways. He wouldn’t lose to someone as pathetic as you,” you growled to which you spat at him. You remembered him from the meeting earlier. Here we are again, your mouth getting you into trouble as he punched you across the face. You spat out some more blood, surprised your jaw wasn’t broken yet. You were also surprised at how calm you were. That just showed how much you trusted your fiancé to come to your rescue. He’d never let anything bad happen to you, or so you thought.

Except when the leader got tired of your snarky comments and changed tactics. Instead of physical violence, he gave permission to his goons to do whatever they wanted to you. With you being tied up, you couldn’t fight back. You tried, of course, but without the use of your limbs it didn’t do much. You screamed, you bit them, you tried kicking and headbutting. Though it always ended with them hitting you and doing what they wanted anyways.

You don’t know how long you had been in that room, in that place, but it felt like years. They never opened the blinds so you didn’t see the sun rise or fall. The leader came back a few times, ensuring that JB was well aware where you were and what he wanted in order to send you back. You knew he wouldn’t send you back. JB would come to save you and he’d kill you both.

You felt like an empty shell now. What you had been saving for your wedding night had been taken away without your will. You hated how timid you had become in just a few days. Every noise, every footstep, every breath made you flinch. You tried to be strong, but you were breaking little by little. When you heard the door open and smelled the alcohol you squeezed your eyes shut, willing the vomit to stay down. You knew what was coming, yet you still hadn’t prepared yourself for further damage. 

Again, you tried to fight. You swung your tied legs around wildly, tried biting and headbutting. All it took was one swift kick to your stomach to stop you. Everything hurt and you heard the unbuckling of a belt. You gulped, willing yourself to stay strong. Then you heard a gunshot.  Then another. One after another followed by the sound of screams. Then the door slammed open to where you were.

You squeezed your eyes shut. This was it. Either JB was here to take you home or they were really going to kill you. 

“What the actual fuck?!” You knew that voice. That was Mark.  

“M-Mark,” You said weakly, opening one of your eyes and sure enough there stood Mark and Jinyoung, eyes fuming with rage.  

“You’ve fucked up royally,” Jinyoung said, deadly serious. Before you knew it, the guns were dropped and the two boys had started beating the life out of the two males in the room with you.

You knew they were dead, they were in the room with two of the best fighters you knew of. You also heard a neck crack and another gurgle. Mark and Jinyoung were breathing heavily, blood littering their clothes and their knuckles as well as some splatters on their faces.  

“Y/N,” Mark said, turning to you and reaching to pull your shirt up over your shoulders and push your skirt down before he could untie you. You flinched at the sudden touch, trying to scoot back and immediately felt guilty at the hurt look in his eyes.

It hardened quicker, Mark’s specialty. Not showing his emotions, especially on missions, “I’m just going to untie you, okay?” He said quietly and you nodded. Jinyoung was still fuming but kneeled down to try and help you sit up. He touched your shoulder to help pull you up but you jerked away. 

“J-just d-don’t touch me right now,” You stuttered, “Please,” Your voice was low.

The two boys looked at each other, worried. The once feisty girl that had no problem running into the middle of a gun fight, who was usually the first to throw a punch, who seemed to have no fear of anything except spiders, was afraid of them. Of the people she should trust most, she was afraid of them. Never had they seen her look this weak, this broken. They both exchanged another glance while you pushed yourself up on shaky legs and fixed your clothing.

You walked out, looking for your fiancé. You weren’t okay. Not in the slightest and honestly?  You really didn’t want anyone touching you right now, but you needed to see him, just to know that he was there and that you still had something to fight for. Mark and Jinyoung followed close behind, but made sure they didn’t touch you. You saw JB, in the middle of killing the few remaining men and nodded your head in relief, walking outside to the car where you knew Youngjae was waiting.

JB saw you walk out and went to run after you but Jinyoung stepped in front of him, pushing on his chest and shaking his head, “D-don’t, hyung,” He said quietly and JB raised a brow.  

“Is she okay? Is she hurt?” He had been worried sick for days, not sleeping or eating until he found you. Mark cleared his throat, shaking his head and not meeting JB’s eyes.

“No. No, she’s not.”

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

You were different. Everyone noticed, but JB really noticed. The once confident, feisty woman he had met at the bar all those years ago that wasn’t afraid to run her mouth. The girl that looked down the barrel of his gun all those years ago with a smirk and a laugh wasn’t there anymore.

You were jumpy, timid, hypervigilant. Jaebeom noticed how whenever you went out, even just around the mansion that you had come to call home, you were always on alert. Always checking over your shoulder. Jumping and tensing at every little noise. How the affection you used to show the boys was near non-existent at this point.

The affection you showed him was barely there. He was lucky if you let him hold your hand every now and then or kiss your temple. Everyone had stopped trying to initiate skinship with you. The one time, a few days after they had brought you home and you had managed to get yourself out of bed, Jackson had come up behind you. 

He was excited to see you out of bed and moving around the kitchen. Excited to see that you had showered and were looking more like your normal self. Mark and Jinyoung hadn’t told the others outside of JB what they had walked into that night. At least not at that point. So, Jackson, without knowing, wrapped his arms around your waist and nuzzled himself into your shoulder.

You panicked, your elbow came back to his ribs and you flipped him on his back on the tiled ground. While his breath was knocked out of him he was more in shock than anything else.  Mark had been in the kitchen at that time too and he wasn’t as shocked, but more surprised. It was enough to tell him that it wasn’t the only time that had happened when they walked in on it.

They all sat down and had a meeting. Jinyoung and Mark explained what had happened when they did walk into the room that night. What was happening. How terrified, scared and vulnerable you looked. How, even though you could barely walk yourself, you would not let them touch you, let them help you.

You hadn’t spoken to anyone about what had happened while you were in captivity. You didn’t want to or need to. You didn’t want them to pity you and you didn’t want them to view you as a weak little girl that couldn’t defend herself. So, you did what you had to do and you bottled it up.  Tried to go on as if things were normal, as if you weren’t disgusted with yourself, but the boys knew you better than you knew yourself, they weren’t dumb.

They could see right through you.  JB could see right through you. He didn’t get down on one knee and ask you to marry him if he wouldn’t be able to know when you weren’t okay. While he wanted nothing more than for you to just talk to him, to let him in and let him help, he knew you didn’t want his pity.

He stood in the doorway of your shared bedroom, watching you. He’d been here for at least fifteen minutes just watching you and if you noticed, you hadn’t said anything. He leaned against the door frame, eyes trailing over you. On the outside, you looked okay, but he knew inside, you were in turmoil. He wanted nothing more than to take that turmoil away for you. To bear it all himself.

“What is it, Jaebeom?” You sighed, turning to face him.  

He straightened up, brown orbs meetings yours, but you instantly looked away. You’ve never looked away from him, “I want you to talk to me about that night,  about those days locked up there.”  

You groaned, sitting on the edge of the bed and burying your face in your hands. He had asked you this every night since you had gotten back, “Nothing, Jaebeom. Nothing at all.” You said, no trace of emotion in your voice.

He sat down next to you and you tensed. He felt his heart break; you were afraid. Afraid of him.

“Are you afraid of me?” He murmured, not making eye contact. You, however, looked at him with wide eyes. Did he really think you were afraid of him? Were you? You shook your head, you knew he would never hurt you. Never do anything to purposely put you in danger. You did that enough on your own.

“I could never be afraid of you, Jae.” You mumbled back in response as you reached for his hand but hesitating along the way. He grabbed yours, heart breaking more as you tensed but then he felt a little glimmer of hope as you slowly relaxed and weakly squeezed his hand a little tighter.  

“I just don’t want to talk about it Jae. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want- I don’t want you to see me as weak and vulnerable,” You sucked in your bottom lip, feeling the familiar burn of tears in your eyes.

“I would never think that about you. You’re the strongest woman I know, Y/N. I love you and nothing is going to change that. Ever,” You squeezed his hand a little tighter, eyes trained on the floor.  

“I love you too, Jae. More than you can imagine,” You took a breath, your glossy eyes turning to meet his, “But I don’t know if I will ever be the same again.”

[winterscaptain]

in line.

Aaron Hotchner x Male Reader

request from anon: Thank you for sharing your writing on here! A blurb idea, because I hardly see any male readers, is that maybe Hotch has figured out he’s attracted to men too and has a boyfriend? Someone Hotch can go home to and be taken care of by them, someone Jack trusts? Because hotch spends all his time caring for the team, his s/o really spoils him with affection and TLC. I’m really soft for that idea, and the team being real pleased he’s found someone who appreciates him again. Hope you’re doing well! a/n: i wanted to give this a little more attention than a blurb, so it turned into a Whole Thing™ words: 2790 warnings: swearing, some drinking, derek being charming, and emily prentiss: patron saint of The Gays™

i don't have a specific male!reader taglist yet, so i added all yall on my gn!reader list, so nobody would miss this! lemme know if you wanna stay on the male!reader list or not - you’ll never hurt my feelings :)

masterlist | requests closed!

Aaron came home to all the lights off save one, illuminating a little scene before him - dinner (still hot) on the coffee table, a glass of wine, and you, holding the remote ready to start a movie. 

He smiled, set his briefcase down, and slipped his shoes off. 

“Jack’s at Jess’s,” you said, before he could ask. “I thought it would be a nice surprise to spend the evening, just you and me.” 

He crossed to the couch and sat down, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “It’s a great surprise, thank you.” You grabbed his tie and tried to pull him down on the couch, but he pried your fingers off and laughed. “Let me change and I’ll come sit with you, alright?”

You picked up your glass of wine and tipped it his direction. “I’ll be here.”

It was true. When he returned and dropped down next to you, you were waiting for him. When he was firmly settled with dinner, you started the movie. 

After a while, you asked, “Did the case go okay?”

He nodded. “We got ‘im. I had to stay and make sure the DA had a strong enough case, otherwise I would have been home yesterday.” 

You leaned into him, and he wrapped an arm around you. “I don’t mind. Jack and I went out for a bike ride yesterday and didn’t miss you at all, not even a little.” 

Aaron laughed. “Good.” 

+++

“Damn it.” 

Aaron forgot his lunch. He could see it in his mind’s eye, sitting there next to his travel mug of coffee on the kitchen island. Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, he had just resigned himself to a takeout lunch when his phone rang. 

“Hotchner.” 

“Babe, you left your lunch here,” the light amusement in your tone dissolved his sour mood, and he smiled despite himself. 

“I noticed.” 

He could hear you shuffling around in the background as you spoke. “I’ll swing by and leave it downstairs after I drop Jack at school. No more than an hour, okay?”

Aaron smiled and sat in his chair, leaning back. “What did I do to deserve you?”

You laughed. “Absolutely nothing. I’m just a sucker for charity cases.” There was a shuffle, and you heard Jack laugh. You were probably at the table, poking the kid in the ribs until he almost got sick with laughter. Before Aaron could respond again, you said, “Alright, love you, bye!” and hung up.

Aaron rolled his eyes and got to work. 

True to your word, no more than an hour later found you at the front of the Quantico Federal Building, Aaron’s lunch and coffee in your hand. You’d never seen the inside, but you knew you were on the visitors list. 

Fuck it.

You checked in, got your visitor’s badge, and made your way to the sixth floor with only a little bit of spatial confusion. You knew which bullpen was theirs immediately - you had yet to meet the team, but you’d seen pictures and heard enough stories to keep track of names and faces.

You quickly stepped through the glass doors, doing everything in your power to avoid directing too much attention to yourself. But alas, Aaron worked with profilers, and they all noticed you despite your best efforts. 

JJ’s head shot up. “Is that -”

“Hotch’s travel mug? Yeah.” Derek squinted at you as you took the stairs two at a time up to your boyfriend’s door. 

You knocked, and a crisp “Come in” sounded from inside. 

Aaron couldn’t hide his surprise when you poked your head through the door, stepping in and closing it behind you. He stood, circling the desk and leaning against it. 

Boundaries were important to him at work, you knew, so you refrained from untoward affection, stepping back to a respectable distance after you set his things next to the file on his desk. 

“How’d you get past security?” He asked, and you knew it was a joke. 

“I guess they’re letting just about anyone in, these days.” 

Aaron nodded, in facetious consternation. “Looks like it.” He broke after a moment, offering you a small smile. “Thank you. You didn’t have to come all the way out here.” 

You shrugged. “Wasn’t too hard.” 

He glanced out the blinds. The entire team averted their eyes, bumping into each other in their haste to look busy. 

You followed his gaze. “It’s okay, Aaron. Don’t feel pressured to introduce me to any of them - I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.” There was a little swoop in your stomach. 

Did I overstep?  

He sighed. “I know. You didn’t. It feels a little...ridiculous to be hiding anything from them after all this time.” He reached out, and you took his hand, still a couple of steps away. His eyes stayed on your linked hands as they swung a little between you. “I don’t mean to hide you from them.” 

You squeezed his hand with a warm, small smile. “I know.” And you did. It was big for him - explicitly and obviously coming out to his team was bound to be terrifying, and to add a new person on top of that? 

I don’t envy him. 

Meanwhile, down in the bullpen, everyone was taking turns reporting back on what was going on behind the blinds. 

“They’re holding hands, and not in a handshake way,” Emily said, covering her face with a folder as she looked up. 

JJ chanced a look. “He’s been a lot less uptight recently.”

“He’s also not coming in as early. His arrival time is, on average, about thirty-seven minutes later than five months ago.” 

Emily looked at Spencer like he’d grown another head. “You keep track of when we come in?” 

Spencer didn’t look up from his book. “Of course.” 

“I’m glad he has someone,” JJ noted lightly. “It’s good for him.”

Back up in the office, you took a step toward Aaron. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, my love.” 

He huffed a laugh and ran his thumbs over your knuckles. “Come to Dave’s the next time we all get together.” 

“Really?” Your eyebrows felt like they were going to meet your hairline they shot up so fast. 

“Yeah. They’d love to meet you.” 

Your brow furrowed, confused. “How do you know?”

He shrugged. “They’re very predictable.” 

+++

Needless to say, Aaron was right. They politely, pointedly, and casually posed questions about Hotch’s lunchtime visitor until he wasn’t able to avoid them anymore. Thus, he invited you to Dave’s the next time the team had a night off.

You were excited, but admittedly a little nervous. You were all headed to the car, Jack (very carefully) carrying the brownies you’d made that afternoon. 

He was chatting away, telling you stories you’d already heard, about JJ and Emily and Derek and Spencer and Dave and Henry and etc. etc. etc. 

You loved that kid. 

When Aaron pulled up to the house, Jack jumped out of the car and walked through the front door like he owned the place. It made you laugh. 

Aaron looked over, a fond smile on his face. “What?”

“Jack. He just -” you made a vague gesture with your hand - he just goes and goes, and Aaron laughed. 

After a moment, you two sobered. He reached for your hand, and you laced your fingers with his. 

“They’re going to love you. You know that.” 

You snorted. “I certainly don’t.”

Aaron kissed the back of your hand and covered it, so two of his hands were holding one of yours. “Are you ready?”

“Are you?”

He patted your hand twice by way of an answer, releasing you and opening his door. You followed suit, waiting for him on the sidewalk. 

When you actually looked, you realized how truly massive Dave’s house was. Aaron had told you he was well-off, with his book royalties and other savings, but the beautiful and tasteful mansion before you spoke to a bank account that had eight figures, rather than six. 

Aaron stepped forward and offered you his hand. You took it. He led you up the flagstone path and through the front door, opening it without preamble. 

The foyer was beautiful, opening to a staircase, the living room, and some kind of den or parlor off to the side. Aaron led you to the kitchen, where a statuesque woman with dark brown hair was mixing a drink. Emily. 

She turned when she heard you enter, and a wide smile broke out across her face. “Hi!” 

You dropped Aaron’s hand and offered it to her. She shook it readily, and you found yourself mirroring her smile. “Hi. Emily, right?”

She nodded, and spared a glance at Hotch. “Hotch, you know it’s polite to introduce guests.” 

He huffed in good humor and gestured pedantically as he spoke. “Emily, this is my boyfriend, Y/N. Y/N, Agent Emily Prentiss.” 

You were very impressed by his lack of hesitation over the word boyfriend, as it had been a topic of discussion in the past. 

“It’s so juvenile. I feel like I’m in high school.” Aaron chuckled, staring up at the ceiling with his hands laced behind his head. 

You rolled over onto his chest. “I can’t be your partner - you’ve already been a lawyer and I would hate to confuse people. You’re the one with a juris doctorate, not me.” You rested your chin on his pec, giving just a little more weight than was necessary. 

He dropped one of his arms, and you scooted up to fit nearly under it. “Is it at all weird to have a boyfriend in one’s forties?”

You shrugged. “I think it’s whimsical.” 

“Oh yeah, that’s me.” He laughed. “Whimsical in the extreme.” 

Emily’s voice was warm and genuine when she told you, “It’s a pleasure to meet the person who keeps him,” she jabbed her index finger at Hotch, “in line.”

You laughed, the anxiety melting little by little. “Bold of you to assume anyone can keep him in line.” 

She snorted. “Don’t I know it.”

Hotch crossed his arms over his chest. “Guys, I’m right here.” 

“And?” You and Emily answered simultaneously.

He shook his head with a smile. “C’mon. If you want to continue making fun of me, there’s plenty of ammunition out back.” 

You offered your arm to Emily, and she took it daintily. “Such a gentleman.” She looked over her shoulder as she started walking you to the back patio. “How’d you snag this one?”

“Apparently, he has a thing for charity cases,” Aaron deadpanned. 

A few pairs of eyes flickered to you when you stepped out, and Emily’s hand squeezed you reassuringly. You already loved her. 

Hotch came up to your side and grabbed your hand as Emily stepped away, stopped by two men who had to be Derek and Spencer (who needed a mediator for some inane, hair-splitting dispute they were having). 

A couple who you assumed were JJ and Will smiled at you as you approached. 

“JJ, Will, this is Y/N.” Hotch said, a little more confidence in his voice than before. 

“I’m the boyfriend,” you supplied, and JJ laughed. 

“I’m so glad you could make it!” She leaned close to you, and you dipped your head to listen. “We’ve been asking about you since you stopped by a couple of weeks ago.” 

You raised your chin in a knowing fashion as you leaned back, once again including Hotch and Will in the conversation. “Ah, I see. So there’s lore?”

“Definitely.” She pursed her lips in mock solemnity. 

You matched her facetious tone. “Don’t believe everything you hear.” 

JJ broke then, smiling at you once more. “I never make that mistake.” Just then, a little blond boy ran up to her, attaching himself to her leg. She automatically put a hand on his head and gestured to you. “Henry, can you say hello to Mr. Y/N? He’s a really special friend of Hotch’s - like Miss Savannah is to Derek.” 

“Hi.” 

You crouched to Henry’s level, offering your fist. A look of satisfaction crossed his face as you bumped fists, your hands exploding out of it (with sound effects). “It’s so nice to meet you, man. Were you playing soccer over there?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Jack’s really good but he lets me get goals.” 

“Wow.” You raised your eyebrows. “That’s really nice of him, and I bet you learn a lot, too.” 

Jack called Henry from across the yard, and he offered you one last adorable grin before sprinting off. You rose, checking in with Hotch as you did so. JJ and Will were distracted watching Henry for the moment, so they missed the awe that crossed Aaron’s face for just a moment. 

Your eyebrows pulled. What?

He shook his head. Nothing. But there was something there. Something fond and altogether content. 

You heard Emily come up behind you before you saw her, so you turned as she approached with Derek, Dave, and Spencer. 

You offered your hand first to Derek, and shot a smile to Spencer. Hotch had warned you before you left the house that Spencer didn’t shake hands. 

“Nice to meet you, man. Derek Morgan.” Morgan’s grip was firm and warm. “Emily was just telling me I owe you a thanks for reminding Hotch he has a sense of humor.” Derek’s smile ate up his whole face as he beamed at you. It very nearly stole your breath - he was stunning, and smart. The way he phrased his introduction made it unnecessary to re-introduce yourself, and you were sure that soothed whatever remained of Hotch’s anxiety. 

Hotch’s deadpan was decidedly dry. “Funny.”

That’s a good sign. 

Spencer was quiet, but there was a little smile playing at his lips. He looked just over your shoulder, and seemed to communicate with someone behind you for a moment. It was only the barest changes in expression, but you’d been around Aaron long enough to know a silent conversation when you saw one, no matter how subtle. The outcome of the conversation looked good, as Spencer stifled another smile and looked over at Hotch.

You then offered your hand to Dave, who took it in both of his. “It is so good to finally meet you.” He shot a sly smile at Hotch. “I was beginning to wonder if you were a figment of my imagination a couple weeks ago.” 

“I promise I am very real,” you said with a laugh. “It’s so great to meet all of you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“All bad I hope,” JJ chirped from over your shoulder as she approached. 

You nodded. “The worst.” 

Aaron kissed your temple as the rest laughed, and you could feel the small smile resting on his lips. He sure was smiling a lot tonight, and you couldn’t help but feel a little proud that you had a lot to do with it. 

A woman you could only assume was Penelope bounced up and swooped under Derek’s arm. “What did I miss?”

Hotch laughed (he laughed!) and introduced you. “Y/N, this is our tech analyst Penelope Garcia. Garcia, this is Y/N.”

Instead of a handshake, she just got out from under Derek’s arm and gave you a hug. You relaxed right into her. 

She let you go after a second, but kept her hands on your upper arms. “I am so glad you’re here. I’ve been hoping someone would come along and snag our fearless leader before too long.” She winked, and it warmed you. 

The rest of the evening flowed smoothly, eventually moving to the living room, and then to goodnights. Everyone wished you a warm goodbye, and Dave kissed you on both cheeks before letting you go. Jack was apparently spending the night at the Jareau-LaMontagne household, so you and Aaron were alone on the drive back. 

You relaxed into the seat as he sped along the highway, his hand locked in yours across the center console. “That was really fun.” You looked over at him, finding less tension in him than you’d ever seen before. “Your team is incredible.” 

“I know it. They’re the best at what they do.”

You kissed the back of Aaron’s hand. “I’ve heard it helps to have a great boss, or so Penelope tells me.”

He huffed a little laugh through his nose. “She is the authority on such things, as I understand it.” 

The car was quiet for a few minutes. 

“I - “ Hotch cleared his throat, but his gaze never wavered from the road. “I can’t tell you how much tonight meant to me.”

You squeezed his hand. “It was nothing.” You were lying, and he knew it, but at the end of the day, you’d do anything for him.  

He smiled, broad and genuine, and you decided then that Aaron’s joy was your favorite sight in the whole world. 

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @saintd0lce @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @vintagecaptainspidey @micaiahmoonheart @ogmilkis @thatreallyis-americas-ass @marvels-agents100 @newtslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @joemazzello-imagines @pinkdiamond1016 @sebbybaby0 @lilsiswinchester @pan-pride-12 @hotchlinebling @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @emmice9 @nohalohoseok @giveusbackourbucky @writerxinthedark @mrshotchnerrossimulder21 @bauslut @yourlovelynewsbian @sparklingkeylimepie @aili28 @kingandrear @reader4027 @spnobsessedmemes @rogers-mouth @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @hotchnersgoddess @buckybau @phoenixfyre374 @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandi-ass-prentiss @songbird400 @dontkissthewriter @ellyhotchner @a-dorky-book-keeper @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @ahopelessromantic @violentvulgarvolatile @swiftiesparkles @andreasworlsboring101 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses

[spicynamericano]

guide you home. - rj huang

prompt: after skipping last year's tradition due to a complicated breakup, you vow yourself you aren't missing the eta aquarids this year. ecstatic as ever, everything goes as planned until you see a familiar figure at your usual camping spot—renjun huang, your ex.

genre: angst, fluff, exes to lovers!au, renjun x reader, jaemin x reader, slight mark x reader's friend, etc.

prologue word count: 700+

a/n: this is an ongoing socmed au on twitter written in eng/fil but i also feel like writing this in full english since most of my narrations are written that way! i'll probably be posting this once i finish my socmed au! i'm posting the prologue below so you can have a glimpse of the story! ;)

btw if you wanna read the ongoing socmed version in taglish, you can find it here.

One year ago:

You never celebrated your birthdays grandly. But somehow, Renjun managed to convince you. It’s your 20th birthday, after all. It’s something worth celebrating, even if it means missing this month’s meteor shower.

On nights like this, you’d rather join your hike team and go stargazing. And it just so happens that the Eta Aquarids meteor shower peaks on the night of your birthday, May 5th. It has been a tradition you started at fifteen, after your dad left to work for NASA the year before. Feeling lonely without your father’s presence, he promised that you could join his group’s stargazing events if you wanted to. Of course, you definitely agreed. Just staring under the same sky with him even if they’re miles apart is a moment you’ll always treasure dearly.

A beach party, wow.

You had quite a number of visitors. Well, your father came home just this morning to surprise his loving daughter. Big names from science and tech companies are here, congratulating your dad for the work he’s contributed over the last six years. Of course, everyone would want to hear his experiences firsthand.

Standing by his side proudly, you can’t help but look for Renjun in the crowd.

I guess he’s entertaining the guests?

You look down on the ground, playing with the sand on your feet. Your sandals were stuck underneath and you're trying to get them out discreetly, trying not to distract your father’s guests.

You receive a text from Renjun.

renjun: love, i have a surprise for u ;)

you: huh?

you: where are you?

you: i can't see you

renjun: i prepared something

renjun: already texted ur dad if i could spend time with u for a bit

The lines on your forehead increased as your glared at your smirking father.

“Go. Renjun’s waiting,” he says, letting out a chuckle.

You excused yourself from the guests surrounding you and dashed off to the location Renjun sent you. From afar, your figure shrinks and the smile on your father’s face starts to disappear.

“I just hope she’s okay.”

you: im here. where are you

renjun: there's someone waiting for u inside the car

you: huh? who?

renjun: you'll find out

renjun: i'm still at the cafe, i'm getting some drinks for us

you: i'll just get in the car??

you: if something happens to me istg 😃🔪

renjun: don't worry, love. you'll be fine :)

From a nearby cafe, Renjun bought three drinks. He knows you aren't the type to hold your liquor so getting your favorite matcha drink is a must.

I guess this is okay, he thinks to himself. This is enough to sober us up.

They had quite a few drinks at your beach party. He wasn’t expecting the cocktails to hit that much but it apparently did. He was also quite happy with how the party turned out since he’s never seen you with the biggest smile across your face. He knew how much your dad meant to you and convincing him to come home was quite a struggle. But still, he managed to pull through.

There’s still one more surprise though. I hope she likes it.

But she didn’t.

Renjun was almost nearing the parking lot when you bumped into him—smudged makeup on your face and your hair disheveled. He manages to hold you by the shoulders as you cry heavily on his chest, wanting to get out of his embrace.

“Love, what happened? Why are you crying?” Your purse your lips and wipe the tears from your swollen face.

You break free from his arms and run once again, but Renjun grips your right wrist tightly before you gets away.

“(Y/N). What happened?” Renjun asks, utterly confused with how the events turned out.

“Renjun, stop. Please.”

“Love, tell me—”

“FUCK! Can you please stop? Don't add to my frustration anymore!”

“But (Y/N)…”

“Leave me the fuck alone!”

You finally break away from his embrace, running away as fast as you could. He is left on the side of the road, with three spilled drinks beside him.

One hour later, he texts you.

renjun: (y/n)

you: what?

renjun: can we talk?

you: no

renjun: (y/n), please.

you: i said NO.

you: can't you understand that?

you: NO. FUCKING NO.

renjun: (y/n)...

you: you know, don't contact me ever again

you: please

you: leave me alone

renjun: (y/n), i'm sorry

you: but you are not forgiven

you: so get the fuck out of my life

bonus: kayak scene. read it after this prompt.