#i had to make a separate save for this room because bathroom kept on crashing if i touched build mode

[aothotties]

Sneaky Link w/ Reiner

Warnings: MDNI, Swearing, Reiner is rough, public sex, multiple orgasms, squirting, overstimulation, praise, pet names, creampie, Reiner is a pantie thief.

Word count: 853

_________

You sat at the party drinking and talking with your friends. You had decided to come to Eren’s party but unfortunately you had to go separate from your boyfriend.

You and Reiner had been dating for months but decided not to tell the friend group so you wouldn't make it awkward.

He came to the party later and you couldn't lie he looked so damn good. But you tried to make sure you weren’t staring.

As the night went on you kept drinking and dancing with your friends. Eventually you were approached by someone.

After talking for a minute you learned his name was Floch.

“So how do you know Eren?” he asked.

“We met in college” you responded.

Floch was flirting HARD and you tried your best to keep the conversation casual.

“So does a pretty girl like you have a boyfriend?” he asked.

You wanted to tell him yes, because you did, but Eren was standing close and you were scared he would hear and start asking too many questions.

“Um, no, im single” you responded while looking away knowing damn well you were lying.

Before he could respond Eren stepped in and saved the day.

“Floch leave her alone, she doesn't want you” he said while grabbing his shoulder.

“I think she can answer for her self” he responded.

“I'm actually not interested” you said with an awkward smile.

Floch looked defeated and walked away with his head down, you felt bad but you were taken.

Throughout the night you and reiner kept sneaking little stares at each other but you had to keep is cute and not get caught.

You slipped away from the party for a bit to head to the bathroom. After you were done you walked back down the hallway and tried to head back, but instead you were being pulled into a room.

At first you were scared and thought maybe it was Floch and you were ready to fight

But as you were about to throw the first punch your boyfriend stood in front of you.

He pushed you against the wall and his lips crashed onto yours.

He was kissing you passionately, his tongue slipped into your mouth and intertwined with yours. His large hands were all over your body, messing up your dress.

“Fuck you look so good tonight princess” he said inbetween kisses.

“You look good too baby. Way too damn good” you said as you wrapped one of your legs around his waist.

“Ive been thinking about ripping this dress off you all night” he said as his hand traveled up your thigh.

“So rip it off” you said plainly.

That was the last thing you remember before Reiner fucked your brains out in this random room.

“Yeah , right there daddy!” you whined.

He had you bent over the dresser in the room. Your dress was bunched up at your waist and your panties were around your ankles.

Reiner was fucking you into the dresser. His hips were snapping at a rhythm that had you seeing stars.

“You feel so good princess” he said as he bullied into you.

You moans were loud and you were secretly thanking the stars for the loud music.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you reached back to push Reiner a little bit but he twisted your arm and pinned it behind your back.

He picked up his speed and you felt his tip brushing your cervix.

Your thighs started shaking and you knew you were close to cumming. Reiner knew you were close and started going even faster causing you to quickly release all over his thighs.

“Good girl” he praised.

He grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled you against his chest, the new angle had his dick hitting your g-spot.

“Baby -fuck- I-I’m gonna cum again” you moaned.

“Yeah baby, cum for me again” he responded.

You were on cloud 9, the alcohol mixed with the pleasure had you in a trance. Before you knew it that knot formed in your stomach again.

“About to c-cum baby” you whined.

Reiner didn’t respond and just kept fucking you, you could feel him twitch inside of you and knew he was close as well.

“Cum on me princess, make a mess for me” he said while his other hand wrapped around your throat.

You bit your lip and closed your eyes. The knot snapped and you came again all over your boyfriend.

This drove Reiner insane, he bent you back over the dresser and grabbed your hips. His grip left marks in your skin.

“Need to feel it inside me baby cum in me” you said as you turned your head to look in his eyes.

He groaned in response and threw his head back.

You felt his warm seed shoot inside of you and fill you until it dripped out. He slipped out of you and took your panties off.

“Let it drip out of you, show Floch that this pussy is taken.” he said before kissing you on the forehead and walking you out the room.

Rachel

[thesimperiuscurse]

mako’s apartment / downtown los angeles / master bedroom / 08:00

[novasdarling]

Trying to Escape

TW: Violence, threats, yandere themes, kidnapping

The anger that radiated off of him was powerful. You could feel the hate and anger at full force even though you were hiding in another room. There was no possible way he could find you, right? You thought you had been so careful. Who were you kidding, Feitan was part of the famously feared phantom troupe. You were foolish to believed you could get away from him. It was only a matter of time before he came for you. Before he sinked his teeth back into you. From the sound of him yelling and destroying anything he found. Perhaps it would of been best if you had just stayed. It would have saved you from his anger, but now, nothing could save you. Feitan didn't take lightly to you disobeying. He made it clear how you were his, his little pet that needed to follow his rules and obey him.

The crashing and distruction of things stopped. It had suddenly got quiet, no more smashing, no more yelling, just silence.

“Come out. I'll be good." Silence. “Smart. You're not dumb, but you ran?”

He was insinuating that you were an idiot to run. It was sad that you agreed with him. He was right, he wouldn't spare you if you gave up now, yet if you kept hiding. It would only fuel his anger more. Your breathing got heavy as you heard him approach the room who were hiding in. You were in some abandoned place, hiding in the bathroom as it was the only room that locked. Laying in the bathtub as if it would give you any protection from him. The lock would only hold him off for an extra second.

“You're lucky. I had jobs to do. Why you got so far.”

Even with his broken speech you knew what he was saying. The only reason you got to run in the first place, let alone so far was because he was with the troupe. The job taking longer than originally thought. He kept getting closer, he was in the next room now. He was so close, he had to know where you were, he was just toying with you.

“I know you’re here.” You heard the door knob to the bathroom turn, but the lock stopped him from opening the door. You froze, hyperventilating. "Oh."

He knocked.

"Open the door."

You stayed in the tub.

“You need training when we get home.”

The door was forced opened. The wood splattered when he broke the lock. Now all that separated you two was the shower curtain. His shadow reflected on the curtain. Making him seem so much bigger than he was. All he did was stand there, not moving. As if he was waiting for you to reveal yourself even though he knew you were there. Giving you one more chance, to see if any of his training had worked.

The curtain was pulled back fast. There was no time to even see him, to even get out of the tub yourself. Feitan yanked you up by your arm. Puling you out. An useless sorry escaped your lips.

“Don't. Ungrateful.”

He pulled you close, stroking your cheek. Something that should of been sweet, a gesture of love. Instead it was almost like a threat. Telling you to give in, to stop fighting him. You thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, but that changed when he dug his fingers in your hair pulling your head back to look at him. Any hopes of him going easy on you was gone, but then again you were foolish to think he ever would spare you. Show you any mercy was stupid. It seemed he was right when he told you all those how naive you were. Especially when you give him such a good reason to punish you like escaping.

The journey home was silent. He kept his arm on you, making sure you don't have a chance to run again. Keeping you in place next to him. You wanted to apologize, try to show him you regretted you actions, but there was nothing you could say or do to save you. All you could do was accept what deemed fit. That night he made it clear it wasn't worth it to run away when he made it so good and easy to be with him.

[tommymykink]

Thank you, Professor. (One shot)

Summary : Professor Shelby saves you (kinda) from a potential assault. Things get heated when he meets you in your room to support you.

Words : 2289

Warnings : mature content, smut

Pairing : Tommy X Reader (M/F)

(Note : this is my first smut ever! I hope you like it. Please let me know your thoughts)

Enjoy!

--------------------------------

You sat on the edge of the bed with your head hung, feeling heavy with all the emotions you had to go through that day. Sitting beside you, Professor Shelby, gave you occasional pat on your back, rubbing circles, to let you know he is there for you.

“Thank you Professor. If it wasn’t for you I would have lost it today. The day started off so bad already, and now this. I would have been so broken”, you trembled and burst into tears.

Professor Shelby embraced you in a hug. He stroked your hair and whispered, “It’s okay, I’m here”.

********

Your day started off with an argument with your favourite Professor, Mr. Thomas Shelby. You were so disturbed by it already, and then you suddenly heard the news of your friend’s accident. You had to rush to the hospital to see him, leaving Professor alone in the café where you two met to discuss over the recent event your college was organising. He could have been your company at that hard hour, but you decided not to tell him what was going on and simply left without a word. It made him furious so he didn’t try to stop you. But later when he came to know the news about your friend from one of your classmates, he grew worried and felt immensely guilty for behaving that way. At night, around 9:00 AM, he decided to pay you a visit in your dorm and apologize. It was then that the whole disaster took place.

Professor Shelby found a man in your dorm room, wearing ragged clothes, and he was so drunk that he could barely stand. He was holding your picture frame with one hand and jacking off with the other, moaning and cussing at you for not being present. It made Professor Shelby’s blood boil. With an angry howl he stormed towards the man. Grabbing him by his shirt Professor Shelby was almost on the verge of beating him senseless, when the other inhabitants of the building came running to stop him, when they heard the commotion. The man was arrested and the watchman fired but Mr. Shelby did not care about any of those. He paced up and down the corridor, fiddling with his fingers nervously. His only concern was to see you safe.

*******

You were in the car, returning to your dorm, light hearted. You were relieved to see your friend was fine. You weren’t allowed to meet him yet, but the doctor said his condition was stable and that he was resting. You smiled at the thought of getting to see your friend the next day. You closed your eyes, taking in the cold breeze from the open car window, the slow music that the cab driver had put on soothed your ear and made you more relaxed. You took your phone out to check and immediately started panicking seeing so many missed calls from Professor Shelby. You wanted to call him back but your throat felt dry and you were scared out of your wits. So instead you told the driver there’s an emergency and asked him to drive faster.

When you finally reached, you were walking through the corridor towards your room, your mouth dry with fear while your nervousness manifested in the form of cold sweats in the back of your neck. When Professor saw you, his eyes widened and he ran towards you. He pulled you in a tight hug. You were shocked and caught off guard by this gesture but before you could react he pulled you by your wrist, almost dragging you to your room. He pushed you on the bed to make you sit there. Then slamming the door shut he turned towards you.

“Where were you?”, asked he, rather irritated.

“Why do you care?!”, you replied coldly, furrowing your brows.

“Drop that attitude Ms. (Y/N) you don’t talk to your Professor like that”, he said, raising his voice with authority.

Fearing this would turn into another argument, you lowered your voice and requested him to calm down and sit beside you.

“What’s going on? Why did you call me so many times?”, you asked softly.

He looked up at you with tender eyes and then let out a deep sigh. It was then that he told you everything and your heart broke into a million pieces.

*********

“Why Professor?”, you asked with a shaky voice, still holding him tight.

“Why what?”, he asked, confused.

“Why do you care so much?”

“Because… . “, he let out a deep sigh.

“Because you’re special”

A shiver ran down your spine, both because of his words as well as his breath on your neck. You closed your eyes, thinking thoughts. How you have always admired him, how your hands explored your body and you exploded with pleasure every time you stimulated yourself, thinking about him. You bit your lips, feeling guilty, trying to push aside those thoughts. Because of course, he is your Professor after all. You were about to speak when a range of sensations ran through your body when you felt his lips on your neck. Your eyes widened and you looked at him, surprised.

“Ahem…..sorry”, he said nervously, feeling guilty.

Without second thoughts you crashed your lips onto his, pulling him by the back of his neck to bring him closer. Tommy slid his tongue inside your mouth and began a sensual dance with yours. You lost yourself to the intoxicating taste of his lips. Just as you were about to unbutton his shirt he stopped short.

“We cant do this, this is wrong”, said he breathing heavy, his forehead pressed against yours. You kissed him again not wanting to stop what you started. He did return your kiss but after a while pulled back.

“Fuck why can’t I stop?!” He crashed his lips onto yours again, sensually nibbling your lower lip.

“Who’s asking you to stop?”, you whispered in between kisses.

That’s all he needed to hear. With his strong arms he picked you up and threw you onto the bed, rather aggressively. He hovered over you separating your legs, guiding them around his waist. He kissed you with such animalistic zeal that you forgot he was that same soft, gentleman Professor of yours.

“Professor!”, you moaned, as he slowly kissed your neck down to your collar bone. In this compromising situation, you calling him Professor turned him on even more.

“You naughty, naughty girl”, he chuckled against your neck which made you shudder.

Everywhere he touched goose bumps appeared and your core was dripping wet already. You wanted more of him. All of him. You slowly slid down your hand to reach the hard bulge you felt against your thigh. It made him moan in your mouth.

Suddenly, Professor broke the kiss, panting heavy.

“I’m asking this to you one last time. Is this what you really want?”, he whispered.

“Ye……yes Professor. I want all of you”, you managed to whisper between pants.

“Good girl”, he kissed you, smiling against your neck. “I’ll go get the protection, you wait for me alright?”

You whined. You didn’t want to wait for so long. It made him chuckle. “Don’t worry, it won’t take long. I kept it hidden in the bathroom in case I ever needed it.”

So he has always wanted to fuck you? Your desire increased ten fold at the very thought of it.

He planted one last kiss on your lips and left to get the condom. Meanwhile, you decided to put on your best lingerie.

He came back rather quickly. As soon as he entered the room, his jaw dropped seeing you in that red lingerie tight against your skin.

“Holy shi…..”, even before he could finish, you pushed him onto bed. Slamming the door shut and locking it, you turned around and almost jumped on him. You straddled him and sat on his lap, kissing him wildly. You fumbled with his shirt buttons, but with his help you managed to open it and threw it across the room.

“You have no patience do you?”, he chuckled in between kisses.

“Your fault, you left my pussy aching”.

“Is that what you say to your Professor eh?”, you felt him smile against your chest.

“Sorry Professor but it was you who started misbehaving first”, you whispered in his ear which made him groan with pleasure.

“You dirty little girl”. With a quick snap he unhooked your bra and flung it across the room.

“Wow you Goddess!”, he exclaimed. He rubbed your nipples in circular motion which made you whimper uncontrollably.

“Your breasts are very sensitive aren’t they?”, he said with a smirk, fondling them gently.

“Ye….yes Professor”, you managed to say, panting heavy.

“Alright then let me take you to heaven”. With a quick motion he put your hands behind you and held them tightly in place. You shuddered in anticipation when you felt his breath on your left breast. He gave you one quick smirk and licked your nipple in one clean stroke. You let out a loud moan, your body shuddering at the sensation. He licked a second time, a third time and then took your nipple inside his mouth, encircling your areola with his tongue. He softly kissed, sucked and nibbled on it, before moving on to the other nipple.

You tried to free your hands so that you could grab and pull him even closer than he already was, but his grip was way too firm.

Your loud moans echoed inside the room, anybody passing by would understand what sinful pleasures are being committed inside. But you didn’t care. There you were, a captive in your Professor’s arms, letting him savour every inch of your skin. The pleasure that he was giving you took you to some other dimension, making you lose yourself. You enjoyed every bit of it and wanted the moment to last forever.

He slowly put you down in bed and hovered over you. He kissed you deeply and slowly slid his hand down to your aching core. Removing your panties quickly, he lightly touched your clit, drawing circles on it. You let out a loud moan in his mouth, feeling his warm touch.

“Mmmm Tommy”, you gasped biting your lips.

“You call your Professor by his first name now eh?”, he lightly slaps your dripping cunt. You whimpered uncontrollably, loud enough to wake up the entire neighbourhood.

“Oh you liked that, don't you, you dirty girl”, Tommy smirked, slapping your pussy one more time. He slapped your cunt a third time, a fourth time, a fifth time, until you felt light headed and lost count.

Tommy then rubbed circles on your clit and lightly nibbled your ear. He slid two fingers inside your vagina, curling his fingers, thrusting in and out.

“Your little noises are music to my ears babygirl”, he whispered.

You were aching with pleasure so much, you could feel you’re close.

“Professor……I’m……close…..”, you whispered.

Tommy quickly opened his pants and his underwear along with it. You slowly slid your hand down to his stomach and then further down and grabbed his hard member. A groan of pleasure escaped his chest as you gave it quick strokes. But before you could put his cock inside you, he got up on his knees and with a quick motion flipped you over. He pulled your hips up and locked both your arms behind you tightly. Then he teased your wet entrance with his cock a few times and your whole body trembled at the sensation.

“TOMMY STOP FUCKING TEASI…..”, before you could finish he thrust into you with full force. You gasped loudly, feeling him deep inside you. He started thrusting painfully slow at first, but then increased his pace slowly, hitting you in the right places. You let out loud moans and uncontrollable whimpers.

With his thrusts getting more and more violent, your pleasure got higher and higher and you could feel your walls clench around his cock. He groaned with pleasure and you felt his hard member throbbing inside you. Just as you were about to reach your high, Tommy pulled out of you. Before you could protest, he flipped you over. Hovering over you he whispered, “I want to see your face when you come for me babygirl”.

You bit his lower lip and he slid him inside you again and began his animalistic thrusts. You were so close, so so close. You held onto your Professor’s broad shoulders, digging your nails into his soft skin. You bit his shoulder and immediately licked it to soothe the sensitive skin. His hand traced all over you, as if he was memorising by heart every nook and corner of your body. He left open mouth kisses on your neck, shoulder and bosom. His loud moans vibrated through your skin making your body tremble uncontrollably.

You felt his hard cock twitch inside you as he reached his high.

“Come for me babygirl, come for me. Yesss, yesss!”, he groaned. He kept thrusting in and out of you with vigour, until he felt you reach your climax and come all over his cock.

He collapsed onto you, the rhythm of your heavy breathing synching with him in perfect harmony.

“Good girl”, he left a trail of kisses on your neck, before getting up and lying beside you. You nestled against his chest, smiling.

“What next Professor?”, you asked, blushing.

“Maybe dinner tomorrow? I should ask you out on a proper date”, said he planting a kiss on your forehead. You smiled, closing your eyes. Resting your head on his chest, you let out a deep breath. You were so ready to explore this new chapter of your life.

[jadelynlace]

Nightly Secrets / Ink Drinker Modern Vikings AU Request [Ivar x F!Reader]

catch up on the porno, I mean series, here.

requested by: @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom ♡ “sex in the dark/night”

author’s note: thanks to this post, and the notes that follow, you’ll all be subjected to the written requests. smut below the cut.

synopsis: Being caught never meant less.

*Note: This takes place in the timeline before you and Ivar are “out” as a couple.

✎

Your flat was minutes away from the station, for better or worse. It typically lead to Hvitserk crashing there after a particularly grueling shift, or drinking troubles away after the same amount of crap. More than once he was already there when you got off, sometimes alone, raiding your fridge, telling you that you needed to grocery shop, and sometimes there was a certain brother in tow. A certain brother that you “hated”. The only thing you hated about Ivar was his inability to admit to wanting something more than a friends with benefits situation. It was late, like it had been for the past couple of hours and when your car rolled into it’s parking spot, to see Hvitserk’s in the adjacent one, Ivar’s mustang two spots over, you almost went back to the station. To a cot without the large tattooed furnace, one you would have to try to avoid throughout the timing they would be staying. Even if all you wanted was a god damn hug from him.

A case of beer was already gone, drowned and when you walked through the door Hvitserk spread he mouth into a wide smile, like a puppy who seemed to see the tearing of your shoe was not an issue. You flipped him off in response.

“Tough shift?” Ivar said before he could help himself.

“We got out asses kicked, and handed back to us in a blender,” You answered, grabbing a bottle of beer and the bottle of whiskey.

“Oh, good idea—shots,” Hvitserk said suddenly and you sucked the whiskey back against your uniform.

“No, this is mine.” You grumbled, sitting on the other side of the room.

“Fine,” He whined like a dog. “I have to take a leak anyways.” He announced, standing and off he went down the hall. You no sooner were through the living room, Ivar standing from his spot just to meet you in the limited time. Tongues down each other’s throats for too short of a second, encased in his arms as he barreled down against you tightly. 

“Missed you last night,” He whispered, sealing that with a kiss. 

“Missed you too,”

“Was it really a shit day?” He asked, thumb on your cheek as you both listened for the sounds of the toilet flushing. 

“Shit is an understatement,”

“We’ll fix it when Hvitserk falls asleep, yeah?” Ivar teased, lips back on yours, groan dancing from his through as you pulled against his shirt. The sounds from the bathroom became noticeable, and you bit down quickly on his bottom lip, separating suddenly and skirting back to the kitchen. 

*

“You’re both too drunk to drive,” You said, folding arms.

“Am not,” Hvitserk challenged back.

“You can have the couch or the bathtub, take a pick,” You said.

“Couch,” Hvitserk answered. “That leaves the bathtub for you, brother.”

“Or, an Uber,” He replied but he caught the way your eyes looked down, as if he just shattered your heart. “Or, the floor,” He added.

“I’ll leave the vanity light on in case you feel the overwhelming urge to puke,” You groaned, another flip of your middle finger and you set off back to your room. 

You kept the lights dim, television flickering on an even quieter volume, murder mystery playing as you went about winding down. Dressing in the loose clothes you’d rather wear, saving the undergarments in case Ivar decided to stay true to his promise. And even if he didn’t because he was already too drunk. You didn’t know which was better or worse.

Hvitserk was nearly comatose within minutes of his head hitting the couch, and Ivar watched for a steady half hour to make sure he was really as out as he looked. And then he was up, moving from his spot on the floor and slipping down the hallway to your room. You were on your stomach, thumbing through social media on your phone and you felt the bed dip, Ivar’s hands climb the backs of your thighs and settling over you.

“I can’t believe you’re still awake too,” You said to him, head turned slightly as you spoke. “With all that you drank.

“I’m not even drunk,” He hummed resting weight against you, pressing you into the mattress and you both sighed. “Ever time Hvitserk looked away I poured my whiskey in his glass.” Ivar said. You had to push your face into the pillow to catch your laughter.

“Turn the light off, Ivar, and come in here,” You whispered, feeling him move again, warmth leaving before darkness took over the room. The television switched off next, over head fan taking notice and buzzing through the room. Ivar went about closing you curtains and plugging in your phone as if it wasn’t a night out of the unordinary, and Hvitserk wasn’t passed out in your living room. You heard his jeans fall next, belt against the wood floor and then he was pulling his sweatshirt off and climbing next to you. “I want a hug,” You mumbled, crawling into his space as he settled with you among the duvet.

“You looked like I gutted you when I said I was going to get a ride home,” Ivar mumbled, hands curling around you as his face settled against your hair.

“Was it that obvious?” You asked back.

“Yeah, baby girl, it was—only to me though because I don’t even think Hvitserk knows his own name anymore,”

“I just don’t like the thought of you being here and I can’t even spend time with you like I’d like to. Fuck me, I sound like such a girl,” You whined, face against his bare chest and he only chuckled.

“I did kinda intend to fuck you, but you’ll have to be quiet.”

“I’ll have to be quiet? Ivar the whole complex can hear you when you come,” You teased, propping your head up against his chest. Through his eye roll, you took the liberty to crawl over him, straddling him against your bed and his hands latched to your hips immediately. “And, I’m not even wearing panties,” You smiled.

There was a flicker in his eyes that took your notice and he was pulling you then, filling the space between the two of you quickly as his mouth sought out yours. You felt the slip of his hands, sliding over the sleep shirt and into your hair, passing around and then back down as if he dared to leave no part of you untouched. For a brief second they stuck to your hips, rocking you against him ever so slowly and you only ground down on his pelvis in response. His cock hardening almost immediately as you let a soft moan slip between your mouths. Ivar’s hands finally stilled, spreading wide like a wingspan before latching around you, spinning both of your bodies until you were caged underneath him. Even with the room so dark, the light of the nightlight in the far outlet still danced over his cheek bones, catching with his eyes as his forehead stayed plastered against yours.

In a second he was moving, slipping back under the covers as he yanked your thighs to part for his own pleasure. The first flattening of his tongue through your folds was met with the slap of your hand over your mouth, Ivar’s snicker not too far behind before his voice was cut short by the wetness in your cunt. Tasting your juices on his lips as he slurped at you like a parched man, trying to hold your hips down but in your inability to be vocal you took that strain away with the wiggling of your lower half. You were moving too much for Ivar’s liking—how a client might fidget in the chair and it always peeved him, soured his mood and then Ivar was pulling back. Eye flicking up and set sternly as you looked back at him.

“Stop moving,” He grumbled, dipping his mouth back down over your clit, sucking slowly and you still couldn’t stay still. Ivar let out another low groan, peeling his mouth away, arousal around his lips, dripping to his chin as he bit down in the fleshy crevice of your thigh before climbing back up. You wanted to challenge him, a snarky reply right on your tongue but it was swallowed up by the gasp that rolled off instead, his fingers pushing into you as your head tipped back. Studying you, Ivar curled both digits, milking them against your walls as your breathing picked up, his free hand moving from your chest to wrap around your throat. Your mouth dropped open as he squeezed, womanhood squeezing him back and a breathless moan slipped from your mouth. He could hear how wet you were getting, soaking his hand the faster it moved and when he saw both of your hands hold his wrist to stay in place he knew you were about to tip. Through a final tightening of his grip you came around his fingers, back bending away from the mattress as your airways tightened, restricting any noise as Ivar only slowed his hand down to let you float back. As soon as his fingers left your throat his mouth was back over yours, climbing back over you and you wasted no time to grab at him, rolling his boxers down and his hand met yours at his middle. Pushing it away and grabbing his length to start pass your entrance. “Did you take your pill today?” He asks suddenly, his lips moved against yours as he speaks. Your answer doesn’t even get completely through your mouth before he starts sinking into you, spreading still quivering walls with his girth and he moans.

He moans and it’s no quieter than it ever had been before and when he rests completely swallowed up he stays still for a moment. Knowing that if he starts moving it’ll turn into a symphony of noises between the two of you and it’ll likely wake the passed out man down in the living room. Ivar’s forehead falls against yours and his lips still, savoring how you’re squeezing him and you can only giggle in response.

“You want to make noise, don’t you?” You whisper and from where he is you can feel him nod. 

“You feel too good,” He says in response and takes a languid roll of his hips to prove his point, pulling out barely and shoving back inside of you and you both gasp. Your nails digging along his back and the sear of the red streaks only turns him on more. Ivar’s hands take to the sheets again as he moves, timely pushing back into your with minimal force and even though there’s a worry in the air of being caught, he can’t rush. He needs to savor how you feel, and how you both feel connected and in the moment he does’t care if Hvitserk finds out. This matters too much to him to worry about his older brother’s pointless remarks and he wants to make you his so badly but he too scared you’ll deny him. And instead he shows you with his movements, his body against yours, making love although neither of you will admit to it. Finally his hands move, seeking out yours and it catches you by surprise when your fingers tangle too easily as he moves, his lips on yours and your end is rolling back to you again. 

There’s a movement in the sheets as one hand separates from yours, pushing your thigh up to flatten on the mattress and it sends him deeper, hitting that sweet spot inside of you and you’re done for. Pleasure takes to every pore and Ivar’s put his mouth over yours to swallow the sounds you make when you come for a second time, even as your lips stay motionless against his. Your walls tighten him like a vice as you shake in his grasp, his own end pulling from his shaft and coating you. And the moan he wants to let loose come out and a whispered groan, estranged noise as his body tenses; his back quivering as the muscles ripple and you’re pressed against the sheets even with no additional room to move. 

“Don’t move yet,” You whisper suddenly as the pleasure fills your eyes with a brief wave of tears and Ivar couldn’t move if his life depended on it. “I know we have to move but not—not yet,” 

“I’m not moving,” Ivar rasps against your skin, his nose bumping yours and trailing down your jaw. “I don’t give two fucks if Hvitserk sees us, that doesn’t matter to me anymore,” His voice comes against your ear, sealing that secret there with a kiss. And when he finally does pull away, Ivar only rolls off of you, landing back against the duvet and waisting no time to latch around you. 

“What about in the morning?” You peep softly, safely secured in his arms.

“That sounds like something we’ll have to worry about when it’s morning, baby,” Ivar’s voice comes from behind you, thickened with exhaustion and he’s finally feeling some evidence of sleep through his body. And you’re there with him to see him to it.

“You really don’t care, do you?” You ask and Ivar shakes his head against you.

“Not in the slightest. You’re mine, and nothing is going to change that,” Ivar says just as sleep claims him.

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[teddytdr]

The Stranger

Warnings: NSFW, mentions of abuse.

Word count: 3223

This is my first Elriel fic, so be indulgent with me please! 

I would love to write more, let me know if you have any requests! I’m open to ANYTHING and EVERYTHING so feel free to let loose with the suggestions ;)

( However, I draw the line at Gwynriel and Elucien)

“ I think I’m falling in love with you.”

“Don’t.” He snapped lowly.

The rain was pounding against the window in his living room, the sound matching the one of my heart nearly beating out of my chest. I knew he would say that. Stupid me for hoping otherwise, even predictability couldn’t help ease the pain that crept over my insides. Stupid, Stupid, Stupid. Why couldn’t I keep my fucking mouth shut.

Closing my eyes as I wait for this perfect bubble to burst, the memories surge through me.

I met him two weeks ago, and it felt like I’d known him forever. As cliché as it may sound, it’s the truth. As soon as i’d looked into his hazel eyes, everything seemed to click. Like an answer to a question I never wanted to ask. It felt like something inside me went taut, stretching towards him, trying to reach him. I thought he felt it too, from the look of realization that swept across his beautiful face and the way his lips twitched upward as he retracted his hands from my waist, leaving me so cold. 

“I’m sorry, are you okay?” He whispered, searching my eyes for the answer. 

I stood there frozen, staring at him in confusion. Oh! Because he ran into me and almost sent me crashing to the ground. Right! Shaking the thoughts from my head, “Yes! I’m fine. You should watch where you’re going.” I snapped back, lifting an eyebrow. 

Gaping at me, his gaze searing, “I was looking.”, like it was a fact I was too slow to comprehend. 

Oh! This man had some fucking nerve. This inhumanly gorgeous man had some fucking nerve. 

I scowled at him in response, my fingers twitching on his strong arms. 

He glared back, brows creasing as his eyes dropped to my lips and lingered there, “I feel like I know you, have we met before?”, his voice as incredulous as i’m sure he felt.

God his voice sounded like the night itself, so sensuous and velvety. Never in my life has a stranger left such a mark on me. 

But that was the thing, since the moment we crashed into each other, it felt like I could finally breath again. Like a piece I didn’t know was missing has finally made it’s way back to me. This stranger that didn’t feel like a stranger at all. I suddenly realized we were still standing close enough that I could actually taste him if only I dared.

Lost in my daydreams, I didn’t realize what was happening until his lips grazed mine ever so softly. His kiss, somewhere between a brush and a breath, tasted like promises long forgotten, like souls awakening upon recognition of their  mate. This kiss, his kiss, is nothing like I’ve ever thought a stranger could make me feel. It felt like my insides had been set ablaze and I was falling into him again, wanting to melt into him. 

I brought my hands to the nape of his neck and pulled him closer, crashing his chest to mine. He sighed into my mouth and I opened delicately to slide my tongue against his lower lip, asking for entry, asking for more. 

Groaning at the invitation, he let me in and our tongues finally met. Bolts of lightning ran down my spine as his silken tongue traced the roof of my mouth. His arms came to wrap around me, lifting me slightly off the ground. 

Realization slapped me so hard, making me pull away from this mind-numbing kiss. I’ve never been kissed this way! Also, I’d never kiss a stranger! I must’ve lost my fucking mind. Opening my eyes hesitantly, I find his already on me, blazing hazel on my brown. 

“I think you should come home with me.” He purrs, holding me tighter than he was seconds ago. 

What? Fuck me. What am I doing? I can’t. I really want to.

My heart is pounding so hard, I think he can hear it. I’m insane, this is insane. I know this, and I still- 

“Yes!”, the answer leaved me before I could even form the thought. 

Smiling knowingly, he eased me back to the ground, tucked my hair behind my ear, grabbed my hand and brought me to his place.

What happened after that foolish, life-alteringly dangerous decision was the best two weeks of my life. We spent every waking hour together, tangled up in each other, sitting in front of the TV or eating the food we cooked. Basically, we were joined at the hip. Every second I spent with him, talking to him, made me want to drown in him. Even more so than I already was. 

We spoke about our lives, our fears, our regrets, our hopes. He told me about his fucked up childhood and how it left him with scars that ran deeper than the ones on his hands, a story I can’t even let myself think about because it brings tears to my eyes and makes my heart break for him. I told him things about myself that I never even told my sisters. I shared the story of my engagement to a psychotic, abusive ex-fiancé and how it left me in pieces. I was completely enraptured in this man. This seemingly perfect man. 

But I learned things about him without him having to tell me any of them. For instance, how he often hid his hands from me without even realizing it, how he smiled every time I smiled, or laughed when I laughed -even if we were laughing about two completely different things. How he stared at me like he was scared to find me gone if he looked away for just one second, or how his hands shook when they came in contact with my skin. Even how he always asked for permission before touching me, even just to wipe chocolate from the corners of my mouth, because I always having been a messy eater. These subtleties scream romantic to me, even if telling him so would earn me and incredulous scoff. So I kept it to myself, close to my heart and protected it fiercely.

The fact was, I was falling hard and fast for him. The thrill of it was both paralyzing and intoxicating. A feeling I was afraid to admit i’ve never experienced before, especially with the monster I was supposed to marry. 

This beautiful man has both ruined and saved my life, and he still has no inkling. 

Coming back to reality, “Well that’s too damn bad!” I say, waving my arms around in despair. I am so fucking scared of returning to my sorry existence, these past weeks have been the best of my life and I can’t even fathom going back to how I was before him. I am so fucking petrified of losing this bubble we lost ourselves in, but it’s better to ruin it myself before I get hurt again. 

“This isn’t normal. You think I don’t know that this is just a dream? That we are in a perfect bubble, and that a reality-check is going to burst it soon enough?” I continue, my heart is beating so loud I’m afraid he can hear it from across the room. 

“This is a fling. This is a fantasy. It’s not meant to last”, my voice rising higher and shaking in barely concealed terror, “Is it?” 

I see the words hit home as his body goes rigid and his nostrils flare. We stand like this, separated by a few feet, breathing heavily, for what feels like eternity. Frozen in time, the scalding ice creeping up my bones is burning every hope and dream I foolishly believed up until this moment. And still, I can’t leave. I don’t want to go, my very being is screaming at me to stay right here.

He takes a step closer, then stops, like a hunter trying to corner an unpredictable beast. From this close, I can see his tightly leashed rage, his fists are clenched at his sides, knuckles paper-white, his eyes so bleak, so emotionless. I’ve never seen him like this, this vision so at odds with the patient and quiet man I’ve come to know. 

“You think this isn’t real?” He asks in utter disbelief. 

I can only stare at him, my pulse ringing in my ears as I wait for the rejection. 

“You think this isn’t real?” He screams, body shaking so much I worry he might be nearing a stroke. 

Fuck, I definitely should’ve kept my mouth shut.

Moving closer to him, I search his eyes for any sign of feeling as I lash out, “It’s not real, isn’t that what you’re-“

“Don’t.” He interrupts me viciously, his face is taut, his mouth etched into a deep snarl. He comes to stand directly in front of me, his chest heaving, throat bobbing and eyes searching my face for something.

“Don’t assume you know what I mean. Not about this.” gesturing between us, like there’s something visible, tangible, in the space separating our bodies.

He’s so close, I can practically taste his harsh words before they fall out of his lips, “Don’t you dare assume what I feel.” Seeing the doubt in my eyes, he continues before I can even think of opening my mouth to retort. 

“I don’t know what this is. I don’t understand how it’s possible that I’m already so attached to you, I can barely stand the separation when you go to the bathroom. That I can barely breathe when our eyes meet. That you already feel so familiar, like I’ve finally found the missing piece. That I can’t imagine ever being apart from you. That waking up with you is by far what I cherish the most. That seeing you smile takes my breath away. That touching you is like an answer to a question I never thought I so desperately wanted to ask.” His breathless words skitter across my senses like shadows. 

I can’t even breathe as I let him continue. 

“How is it possible that we know so little about each other, yet you know more about me than even my friends do? How is it possible that looking at you crying right now, makes me want to rip my own heart out? How is is possible that I’m fucking terrified of losing you after knowing you for only two weeks?” He looks at me with such agony and hope, silver lining his exquisite eyes, that the sheer intensity of it makes my insides clench.

I didn’t realize I was crying. Raising a shaking hand to my cheek, I wipe away a tear.     

“I don’t know. This hurts so much.“, shuddering as the pain rakes over my soul, I try to look at him but my vision is blurry. “I shouldn’t have said anything, I’ll leave.” I whisper weakly, turning to move away from him.

I barely make it a step back before I feel a warm hand wrap around my wrist, pulling me back to him. 

His voice hoarse, “Don’t. Don’t leave.” His hands gripping my wrists tightly.

I look up, seeing how we are, our chests touching on every inhale. “I don’t want you to go. Please.” 

The pain in his eyes nearly brings me to my knees, but instead, I cover my face with my hands and let the tears fall freely, my head dropping to his chest as he brings a hand to my hair, stroking it soothingly. 

I brought this upon myself the moment I decided to come home with him, and further proved my stupidity when I let the fantasy of him sink itself so deep in me. 

Its talons shattering all the walls and defences of my mind, crawling down my spine and breaking a path between my ribs, then making itself comfortable in the shadow of what was once my heart. It’s very essence flowing through my blood and secretly mending every festering wound. It’s ethos plucking every memory of bruising slaps, bone-breaking punches, and terror-inducing threats from my soul and replacing them with warm scarred hands, comforting hazel eyes, sweet smiling lips and hopefully honest words. Replacing them with him, this too perfect stranger that changed everything in so little time.

I drop my hands from my face and fix my stare on his chest, the sound of his voice pulling me from my innermost revelations, “I’m sorry. I was so scared this whole time. I was just scared that our perfect bubble would burst and I didn’t want it to. I don’t ever want it to. I was scared about how quickly I fell in-

My shocked gasp seemed to cut him off, making him realize the enormity of what he was about to admit. Looking at me with surprise and something else I can’t bring myself to decipher but feel in my every bone. 

“Say it.” I order him softly, not breaking eye contact, I bring my hand up to trace his full lips with my fingers.

With an understanding smirk gracing his sinful mouth “I’m in love with you.” 

The air leaves my lungs as I crash my lips onto his in answer.

Moaning at the touch, he brings a hand to the nape of my neck, titling my head to better taste me. I think I could die from the pleasure his kiss brings me. The way he kisses me makes my heart stop every time he does it. He kisses me like it’s the last time he ever will, and that is the best feeling in the world.

Our tongues dancing together makes me whimper with need for him. I don’t think I could ever tire of kissing him. I don’t ever want to stop kissing him.

Growling in approval at the sound, he lifts me up so I can wrap my legs around him, bringing our cores together. 

Before I can even make sense of what’s happening, he sits me on the counter and steps into the space between my thighs, pulling me flush against every inch of his hard body. 

I want to fuse my everything to his everything. I want our bodies so close, that we cannot tell where we end and where we begin. I want our souls melting and reshaping into an ever-glowing one.

Raw desire riding me, I slip my hands through his soft midnight black hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan.

“What are you doing to me?” I whine as his mouth moves to my neck, sucking and nipping lightly. His hands glide across my back before settling on my hips and digging his fingers into my flesh, enough to undoubtedly leave lovely bruises. Something I never thought I’d be able to accept again, but with him, i’m ready. With him, I know I am safe, because he would never hurt me. 

We are a tangle of moans and groans, grinding against each other, and I am fucking trembling with need for this man to completely ravish me. 

Pulling his head back, I find half-lidded eyes locked on mine, a look of utter adoration and lust swimming in his green-flecked hazels. Biting my lip at the intensity of his gaze, I run a hand along his neck, grazing my nails against his skin as I go down his shoulder, then his chest and all the way down to his erection, cupping him through his sweatpants. This earns me a gentle thrust and-

Startled, I look at him, and ask the question that had not once crossed my mind since I met him, maybe because some part of me felt like I already knew the answer.

“What is your name?”, I whisper, grinning sheepishly at the astounded look on his face.

Realization and need grace his features as his eyes flutter and he breathes, “Azriel.” 

And the sound of his name is like a key that finally fits in the lock, unleashing my very soul. 

His name is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. 

Azriel Azriel Azriel, my soul seems to sing.

I smile stupidly at him before taking his face in my hands, “I love you, Azriel.” and it feels like I can finally breathe again. He smiles at me, and I swear I’ve never seen anything so bright, it could light even the darkest corners of my mind. Certainty blossoming in my heart, I’ve no doubt that someday it will.

Mouth parting on a silent moan, “And what is your name?” Azriel purrs against my neck, grinding his hardness into the junction of my thighs. I throw my head back, gasping loudly as the feeling of his cock makes liquid warmth pool from my center. 

“Elain, I’m Elain.” I groan as I rub myself against his pulsating arousal, not being able to stop myself from seeking any contact to help ease the need. I’m already on edge, and nothing has even happened yet. The power he has over me drives me insane. Just a look from him and i’m already drenched for him. Just a taste and I want more, so, so much more. And I know I have the same effect on him.

Moaning at my name, Azriel runs his teeth along my jaw and bites on my earlobe before moving on to my neck and breathing me in deeply, like the scent of me is pure ecstasy and he can’t get enough. 

I swear I am about to lose it. I am bursting at the seams with want for him. All I can see is him, all I can smell is him. The gloriously arousing essence of him, night-chilled mist and cedar. 

Sensing my need, Azriel wraps his arms around me and walks us to his bedroom, running his hands all over my body, like he can’t touch enough of me at once.

“Elain, my Elain.” he mumbles repeatedly to himself, like a prayer to the gods. 

The sound of my name from his lips makes me drag my nails down his muscular back and grind harder on his velvet-wrapped steel, eliciting an animalistic growl from him. 

Gods, I want him unleashed. I want his cock so deep in my mouth that it brings tears to eyes. I want him to fuck me so thoroughly and passionately that just thinking about it makes me wet. 

“I need you so bad, Azriel”, I whimper as he deposits me on the edge of the bed, and kneels on the floor. Something inside me liquefies at the sight of him on his knees for me, making me completely soaked. Reading the need in my eyes, he smirks, trailing his fingers up my calves, to my thighs, gripping them hard. 

Never breaking eye contact, he spreads me apart, baring me completely to his ravenous tongue, and moans at the sight of my desire for him. 

“I’m going to devour you now.” he growls, before lowering his mouth to my throbbing cunt.

[skeeter-110]

Just Dropping in

Tony Stark was all alone. Which was fine, he knew that's how it was going to be when he purposely disappeared years ago. He was prepared to be alone once everything fell apart. What he wasn't prepared for, though, was a teen boy in red pajamas breaking into his apartment and bleeding out on his couch.

Remix of Apartment 43B by ironfamjam for the @irondadremix

Read on AO3

Tony was awake in a flash when he heard a loud crash and bang coming from his living room. He sat up in bed for a second, waiting and listening to try and figure out what the noise was.

It didn’t take long for him to hear footsteps shuffling around and for it to dawn on him that someone had broken into his apartment.

A thousand different thoughts began to run through his head as he scrambled out of bed; a thousand different scenarios of what truly could be happening.

Had someone found him? Were they here to kidnap and hold him for ransom? If they were they were going to be extremely disappointed when they realized that no one was going to actually pay to save Tony.

As quietly as he could, Tony grabbed the crowbar he kept in his toolbox - thankful that he forgot to put his toolbox back in his workshop - and began to creep down the hallway.

Tony was fully expecting to see a group of men trying to rob him of all he had, but what Tony wasn’t expecting was a body just laying there on his couch.

Carefully, Tony approached the person, holding the crowbar up in a defensive position just in case it was a trap and the person was just pretending so they could attack.

When he got closer though, it wasn’t hard to see what was wrong.

The Spider-Man that Tony has been seeing all over the news and internet - that Tony had been keeping recent tabs on - was lying there unconscious and bleeding out on his couch.

“Oh, shit.” Tony breathes out once the image clicks in his brain.

Tossing the crowbar to the side, Tony all but ran over to the vigilante’s side, looking him over to try and see what exactly was wrong. Although, the blood pooling around the guy’s leg and seeping into Tony’s couch was a big giveaway.

“Alright, guy, don’t punch me for this, but you need help and I can’t do that with your clothes in the way,” Tony mumbles as he turns the living room light on.

Spider-Man didn’t even stir as the light filtered through the room, which both settled and unsettled Tony; it settled him because at least he wasn’t going to have to strip this guy and fix him up while he was awake, but it also unsettled him because the guy could very well be more than just unconscious.

Slowly, in case he had a head injury, Tony took off Spider-Man’s mask - if you ever wanted to call it that - gasping a bit when he saw the man underneath. Or, rather, the boy.

“Ah, shit. Of course, he’s a child because why wouldn’t he be?” Tony curses before shaking his head to snap out of it.

Quickly and gently, Tony began to take the make-shift superhero suit off of the teen, stopping short when he got to the gear on the kid’s wrists. The scientist in him couldn’t help but look over the cartridges, noticing that they were now empty.

"Well, that explains the webbing. Somehow I don't know if it’s better knowing that stuff isn’t coming out of him or not.” Tony mumbles to himself as he continued to strip the vigilante, cringing when he got to the teen’s leg and saw that’s where the worst of it was coming from.

Tony got up and went into his bathroom, praying the kid would stay asleep while he grabbed his first aid kit. The last thing he needed was for the kid to wake up and freak out.

Tony was just thankful that he's had one too many late-night workshop accidents and knew exactly how to stitch someone up

“Stay asleep. Please, stay asleep.” Tony begs as he approaches Spider-man once again, hoping and praying the kid didn’t wake up while he was in the middle of putting him back together.

Tony continued to repeat those same words as he worked, thankful that whatever higher power that’s out there heard him and kept Spider-Man completely unconscious.

After checking the kid’s pulse and confirming that yes he was still alive and didn’t have any other life-threatening injuries, Tony pulled the throw blanket off the back of the couch and used it to cover Spider-man up.

Tony stood there for a bit, just staring and marveling at how young the vigilante really was. Tony quickly concluded that there was no way the hero knew what he was doing and that he might as well help him out in more ways than one.

Going to the bathroom, Tony began preparing a whole separate first-aid kit for the teen to take with him whenever he left. He made sure to put everything the kid could need, hoping that it would be enough in the future.

Looking at the time after he finished, Tony sighed and began heading back to his bedroom, figuring that he might as well get a few more hours of sleep before having to deal with what would inevitably be one of the most disastrous mornings of his life.

*   *   *

When he woke up, Tony actually almost forgot completely what had happened a few hours prior. Almost.

That bliss didn’t last long though because once he was fully awake, the memories began to flood through his mind.

Tony just groaned and threw his arm over his eyes, giving himself two more peaceful seconds before forcing himself out of bed to check on the body on his couch.

Sure enough, when he got out to the living room, Spider-man was still lying there on his couch fast asleep.

Tony walked over to the teenager, checking his pulse one more time before going into the kitchen to start the coffee pot up. It was way too early to be dealing with any of this without at least three cups of caffeine in his system.

While waiting for his coffee to finish brewing, Tony tried to think about where to go from here. Should he wake the kid up? There has to be someone out there looking for him, right?

So many different questions and thoughts were running through Tony’s head, and not for the first time, the idea of getting charged for kidnapping crossed Tony’s mind.

After all, if someone really was looking for Spider-man, it would be extremely difficult to explain how he got in Tony’s apartment without some sort of kidnapping allegation popping up.

After finishing up his first cup of coffee, Tony figured that the kid was going to be asleep for a little while longer so he began heading to his bedroom - not without his second cup of coffee though - to get dressed and ready for the day.

Hearing groaning coming from the living room, Tony made sure to make it quick, walking back out to see Spider-Man staring down at his bandaged leg with confusion.

"Morning Spider-Man.” Tony greets, leaning against the entryway with a faux nonchalance. The teen in return let out a very childish manly squeal and tried to cover himself up more with the throw blanket Tony had given him.

Tony could help but snort in amusement as Spider-Man began to look him up and down. For a split second, Tony worried that Spider-Man recognized him from before he disappeared, but the moment passed when the kid’s eyes began to dart around the rest of the apartment.

“Who the heck are you? Where’s Harry?” Spider-Man questions. Tony just took another sip of his coffee, hoping that if he stayed calm about this whole thing then Spider-Man would stay calm also.

“I don’t know who ‘Harry’ is, but I’m Tony.” Tony introduced, staring at Spider-Man for a bit longer as he tried to decide what his next move should be. Anything that could avoid getting charges pressed against him by whoever “Harry” was. “But the real question is who are you? Considering you just broke into my apartment in the middle of the night and then passed out on my couch - you left an impressive bloodstain, by the way. It was pretty gross.”

“Oh my god.” Spider-Man groaned before burying his face in his hands. Tony watched the exact moment that panic began to set in Spider-Man, noticing when his breathing began to pick up a bit.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Crazier shit’s happened to me, trust me.” Tony tries to reassure, walking over towards the teen with his hands up, trying to placate him like he was some wild animal. Considering Tony isn't really around teenagers very often, he might as well be.

Spider-Man removed his hands, looking up at Tony with wide and slightly terrified eyes. Tony could understand why he was terrified, though.

Here he was sitting in a random man’s apartment, injured, and said random man now knew who he truly was. It was a terrifying situation, especially for someone so young.

“And don’t worry about your secret identity. I can keep a secret.” Tony adds, miming zipping up his lips and making sure to grin comfortingly after.

Spider-Man just continued to stare Tony down with a wary look before looking back down at his injured leg. Tony watched as the teen lightly touched the bandages before wrapping the blanket tighter around. Slowly but surely, Spider-Man looked back up at Tony and began to relax back into the couch.

Once Tony was sure the teen wasn’t about to have a breakdown he got up and went into the kitchen, preparing another cup of coffee. The kid sure looked like he could use a couple of cups.

“Thanks.” Spider-Man quietly says as he takes the offered cup out of Tony’s hands.

“I can’t survive a day without at least three cups so I can’t imagine what it’s like for a super kid,” Tony says just to ease a bit of the awkwardness and to have something to talk about other than the big elephant in the room.

"You’d be surprised how much energy I’ve got. My Aunt considered buying me a hamster wheel when I was younger just so I could run it all off. Now I’m more of a hot chocolate kinda guy.” Spider-Man jokes making Tony chuckle. The kid was charming, that’s for sure.

“Well, if you’re going to be stopping bad guys, all that pep must come in handy. A full stomach probably helps, you hungry?” Tony offers, figuring the whole conversation about “why” would go over a bit smoother if the kid had something in his system.

Instead, Spider-Man quickly threw his legs over the side of the couch and attempted to stand up.

“Hey, hey, you gotta go easy on that leg of yours. It’s very delicately put back together.” Tony says when Spider-Man ends up hunching over and hissing from the pain.

Quickly Tony sat his cup on the table and gently put his hands on Spider-man’s shoulders, easing him back down onto the couch. Once the teen was sitting again, Tony examined the bandage, noticing that blood was beginning to seep through it.

“Yeah, that probably needs to be changed.” Tony sighs to himself, thankful that he left the first-aid kit out in the living room last night. Tony had a sneaking suspicion that Spider-Man would try and escape if he was left alone.

Tony made sure to be quick when unwrapping the bandages, unsure if the sight would make the kid queasy; to be honest he didn’t want to find out. It was already bad enough there was a bloodstain on the couch, Tony doesn’t need to add throw-up to the mix.

“Wow. Mine never look like that,” Spider-Man says, admiring the work done on his leg. “Are you a doctor?”

“Oh, God, no. All that schooling? No thanks. I’ve just picked up a few things. Some of it comes in handy. Though, I admit, I never thought I’d be doing this.” Tony absentmindedly says, his main focus on cleaning around the stitching without hurting the kid.

“I’m sorry again.” Spider-Man apologies, although Tony wasn’t really focused on that because his words from a split second ago finally sunk in.

“Wait- did you just say you do this yourself?” Tony asks, a bit horrified at the idea of someone so young and untrained trying to professionally stitch themselves up.

“Only sometimes! And it’s fine because I heal really fast so it never really matters. I’m fine.” Spider-Man defends. All Tony could do was stare blankly at the teen, not even knowing where to begin with that one.

“I’m exhausted just hearing that,” Tony deadpans before returning back to Spider-Man’s leg. “And you’re lucky I got to this when I did. I don’t even want to think about you going at something as messy as this.” Tony says, shuddering a bit at the thought.

“Yeah… I’m sorry you had to deal with me yesterday. Last night was… it was really stupid. And I couldn’t get away without coming here. My friend Harry lives here and I thought I got the right apartment, but, obviously, I’m really bad at counting or something. It’s just - this place looks so much like his that I never even noticed.” Spider-Man rambles. Tony just sat there and listened with amusement, trying to take everything the teen was saying in.

“But, really, Mr. uh, Mr. Tony, it was totally an accident and I’ll cover the washing costs for your couch if that isn't too gross. I could buy you a new one too! But, that might take a while ‘cause it looks expensive and the paper pays me the absolute lowest they possibly can, but I’ll try my best.” Spider-Man continues, his tone of voice getting more and more frantic as he went.

“Woah, kid, take a breath. It’s fine. You’re fine. Who hasn’t broken into a stranger’s house and passed out on their couch? It’s a coming of age experience.” Tony tries to soothe, hoping his teasing tone would be enough to settle the teen.

“And don’t worry about the couch. All the furniture is a rental from the complex; that’s why your friend’s stuff and mine look the same. Guess we’re both too lazy to decorate ourselves.” Tony says, giving the bandages one last tug.

“Well, he just moved out of his dad’s place, so that was probably the last thing on his mind, to be honest,” Spider-Man explains, reminding Tony of why he never even bothered to get new furniture in his place.

Because when he first moved in here, when everything was falling apart and Tony wanted nothing more than to run like a coward and disappear, the last thing on his mind was getting new furniture also.

Tony quickly snaps out of the memory, taking care of the bandages around him.

“I bet he isn’t as good at making omelets as I am. You like peppers?” Tony pushes past the moment, standing up to go into the kitchen when something makes him pause. “And it’s Stark, by the way. Tony Stark. But you can just call me Tony.” Tony introduces, figuring that if the kid hasn’t recognized him by now, then his full name wasn’t going to make any difference.

“No, really Mr. Stark, it’s okay. I don’t want to bother you more. I already wanna die.” Spider-Man sheepishly refuses.

“I did not just patch you up for you to die in my living room,” Tony says before looking at the clock in the kitchen. “Besides, don’t you have school or something? You can’t be more than - what - fourteen?”

“Sixteen.” Spider-Man corrects, pulling an exasperated look out of Tony.

“Ahh, yes, the big difference between a child and a slightly bigger child.” Tony patronizes as he pulls out everything needed to begin making breakfast. “So, what’s a kid like you doing going around fighting crime anyway?”

“My, uh, my uncle died, a year ago.” Spider-Man answers, Tony pausing his slicing in order to turn around and face the teen.

“I’m sorry, kid. That’s hard.” Tony sincerely says watching as Spider-Man just shrugs it off.

“Yeah… it, uhh, it really sucked. Especially because I had already gotten my powers and I could’ve… I could’ve saved him. But I didn't know how at the time. And I just knew, at that moment, that I had to make sure something like that never happened again. I can’t live knowing that I had the power to stop something bad from happening and I chose to do nothing.” Spider-Man continues explaining.

Tony couldn't help but sadly smile, remembering all the things that he could’ve - should’ve - done sooner to stop so much damage from happening. But it was too late now. Way too late.

“Yeah. I get that.” Tony practically whispers before - once again - snapping himself out of his memories by turning around and beginning to crack some eggs into a bowl. “Well, I hear you make quite the impression. So I’d say you’re doing a bang-up job, Underoos.” Tony says, forcing himself to sound light-hearted as he poured the mixture into a pan. Now was not the time to wallow; wallowing was strictly a before-bed routine.

“I hope so.” Spider-Man sighs before realizing what he was just called “Underoos?” He squawks.

“You’re basically wearing PJ’s, kid.” Tony points out, smiling to himself when Spider-Man continued to protest.

“They’re- They’re not PJ’s!”

“If you say so.” Tony continues to tease as he plates the omelet, pouring a glass of orange juice to go along with it before walking into the living room.  

“Mr. Stark, you’re amazing. Thank you. I’m sorry.” Spider-Man stumbles over his words as Tony hands him the breakfast, causing Tony to roll his eyes in return.

“So, while you were comatose on my couch, I noticed your cartridges were empty. You make that webbing stuff yourself?” Tony begins to question once he was comfortable in the armchair with - yet another - cup of coffee.

Spider-Man just nodded, in the middle of shoveling the omelet in his mouth. Tony just whistled in response, completely impressed with what this teen was able to do.

“The tensile strength of that stuff is off the charts. How’d you come up with it?” Tony asks, once again not even bothering to keep the scientist in him from coming out.

“Trial and error, and error, and error,” Spider-Man begins to reply after washing down his food with the orange juice. “I’m good at chemistry and I get to hang around the school lab a lot so it’s easy for me to just,” Spider-Man continues to answer, miming pouring a bunch of things together.

Tony couldn’t help but bust out laughing, the realization of how ridiculous this whole thing was fully sitting in. Spider-Man really was a young child.

“Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me the ‘Amazing Spider-Man’ makes his web-fluid in a high school lab ?” Tony asks, laughing even harder when the kid gave him a look as if he had just sucked on a lemon.

“It’s not funny! Where else am I supposed to make it?” Spider-Man protests, Tony just shaking his head as he tried to regain his composure.

“Well, what about you? It’s fully working hours and yet here you are.” Spider-Man points out as if he really was doing something there.

“Yeah. Here I am. In my own home that I pay for.” Tony replied dryly, only softening up and shrugging when he realized that he might have embarrassed the kid. “Don’t have anywhere to be today.”

“Well, what do you usually do?” Spider-Man asks and wasn’t that a loaded question. Tony smiled a bit as he ran through his head what he should say. He couldn’t tell the whole truth about working with the Avengers - not without giving himself away and defeating the whole purpose of disappearing in the first place - but he didn’t want to necessarily lie either.

“Let’s just say I’m an over-glorified mechanic. Or, I was anyway. Now, I just do my own thing. I fix people’s stuff.” Tony simplifies.

“Oh cool, like their cars and stuff?” Spider-Man asks as he continues to devour the plate of food. “My friend Ernest - well, he’s not really my friend, but he’s this guy I know ‘cuz one time these guys were holding his shop up and I went in like ‘Hey! This is automatically a crime!’ except they didn’t get it, so I wrapped up faster than usual.” Spider-Man rambles, pouting a bit when he brings up the criminals not understanding his joke.

“Yeah, they didn’t get it because that’s probably the worst pun I’ve ever heard.” Tony teases.

“Hey! You try coming up with good one-liners while fighting off three guys.” Spider-Man squawks.

Several memories began flooding through Tony’s mind -memories of multiple fights he was in, bad-mouthing all of the criminals - the man having to snap himself out of it before he got sucked too deep in it all. “I guarantee I’d still come up with better.”

Like the child he was, Spider-Man just stuck his tongue out in return before reaching down and setting his empty plate on the coffee table.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark. I, uh- I really appreciate what you did for me. You didn’t have to, but I won’t forget it.” Spider-Man shyly voices his gratitude.

“Don’t sweat it, kid. And I know you won’t listen to a word of this, but be careful out there. It’s all fun and games until you get stabbed.” Tony fondly says as he got up. He quickly walked into his bedroom and grabbed the first-aid kit.

“I made you a kit. There are some instructions in there because sometimes you just really don’t have the spare minutes to go through pages of Google searches before you bleed out or something.” Tony explains as he walks back out of his bedroom. Sitting down next to the teen, Tony opened up the box and began to take out some wipes.

“Use these to disinfect your leg every so often and make sure to change the bandage or it’s really gonna suck. There’s also some stuff in here to stitch yourself up, but, I have multiple instructions - with pictures - so you at least somewhat know what you’re doing. I put some Advil in there just in case, but I’m not sure if it would work on you; it wouldn't hurt to try, though. And the Vaseline in here is for bruising. If you put it on a few minutes after the injury happened, it won’t bruise.” Tony rambles, wanting to make sure the teen had everything he needed.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark. This is so cool. Thank you. But this is too much. I literally broke into your house and you’re being honestly way too cool about it; it’s freaking me out.” Spider-Man jokes, clearly extremely grateful even if he was trying to seem nonchalant about it. Tony just snorted and fondly ruffled the kid’s hair.

“I can’t in good conscience let you walk outta here without at least that. It’s bad for my heart condition.” Tony says, hoping that if he made it about him it would help the kid ease up on it. Although he quickly dropped the teasing and light-hearted tone in exchange for something a bit more serious so Spider-Man would listen to the next part Tony had to say and take it to heart.

“But if you’re ever in trouble, or you need a place to hide, or you’re too stubborn to go to a hospital like a normal person, you can always come back here.”

“I can’t do that, no, really. It’s okay. Thank you, though, Mr. Stark, but I’m okay. Really. This was just a fluke. A complete one-off, once-in-a-lifetime event. Promise.” Spider-Man adamantly refuses the offer, going so far as to even wave his hands to get the point across.

“You’ve already violated the sanctity of my door, what’s one more time.” Tony jokes, smiling when the teen buried his face in his hands.

“Mr. Stark.” Spider-Man draws out causing Tony to throw his head back and laugh.

*   *   *

Tony wasn’t actually expecting Spider-Man to show up again at his apartment. Not with how embarrassed and adamant the teen was that nothing was going to happen again.

Tony accepted that he was never going to see the teen again as soon as he was able to leave the apartment. All Tony could really do was hope that the kid was following instructions and was cleaning his leg like he was supposed to.

It wasn’t until late the next day when Tony was coming back home from work that he saw a sign of Spider-Man stopping by once again. Right outside on his balcony was a little plate wrapped up in saran wrap.

Curious, Tony walked outside and saw that Spider-Man had left him a plate of cookies while he was out.

Tony couldn’t help but chuckle and shake his head, grabbing the plate and walking inside with it.

Of course, the kid would do something as silly and wholesome as leaving him a plate of cookies as - what he was assuming was - a thank you.

Tony took the cookies and put them in his own Tupperware so he could give the plate back, popping one of the cookies in his mouth as he did so.

Humming appreciably, Tony put the plate back out on the balcony before walking back inside and grabbing more bandages. Tony set the bandages down next to the plate before writing out a note for the kid.

You better be disinfecting that leg kid.

Tony figured he would get a kick out of that one, plus hopefully, it’ll drive the message home and make Spider-Man listen if he wasn’t before.

That was a couple of weeks ago.

Tony hadn’t heard anything else from Spider-Man, hadn’t even gotten a sign that the kid was around other than the fact that he took the plate along with the bandages. Which was okay. Tony prepared and expected this.

That didn’t stop him from worrying though. And, of course, his worry led him to the same place it always does; his workshop.

Every time he had another worry come up - like how he had no idea if the kid was still hurt, if the kid was alright now, or if he had gotten hurt all over again - Tony continued to add more and more to his project.

While he worked, Tony tried telling himself that Spider-Man not showing up in a couple of weeks was a good thing. It meant that the kid most likely wasn’t hurt and didn’t need Tony to patch him up. That thought was the only thing bringing him comfort.

Telling himself that working on his project was also a good “just in case” thing and that he most likely won’t even need to give it to Spider-Man in the first place helped comfort him also.

So, yeah, Tony wasn’t expecting to see the vigilante again.

Tony also wasn’t expecting someone to knock on his front door one random night.

Almost as soon as Tony heard the knock, he jumped up to his feet.

Several different thoughts began running through Tony’s head making him paranoid and switch between stopping halfway to the door and actually walking up to the door.

What if it was Spider-Man and he needed Tony’s help again? No, Spider-Man would have come through the balcony, he wouldn’t be knocking on the front door.

What if it’s Pepper? What if Rhodey is in trouble? No, Pepper wouldn’t come here and Rhodey still isn’t comfortable being out in public.

What if it’s one of the Avengers? What if they found him? What if Ross found out about him and what he did? About what he used to do?

Taking a deep breath in and steeling himself, Tony finally managed to push his body the rest of the way to the door, swinging it open.

Sure enough, Spider-Man was standing there in street clothes this time, holding his left arm in his hand.

“So, I, uh, I broke my arm.” Spider-Man greets as if the way his arm was limply laying wasn’t obvious enough.

“Yeah. I can see that.” Tony dryly says, still trying to internally calm down his racing heart now that he knew there was no threat. Tony stepped aside and waved Spider-Man in. “Come in, Spider-Kid. Let’s see what I can do.”

Spider-Man slowly shuffled inside, awkwardly walking over to the couch and practically collapsing once he reached it. Tony watched as Spider-Man’s breathing began to stagger, the adrenaline most likely draining from the kid now.

Tony gave the teen a sympathetic frown, gently taking his arm into his hands to look and feel where the break was and how bad it was.

“You’re gonna be okay, Bud. We just need to snap it in place. It looks like a clean break to me.” Tony tries to reassure. Tony continued to look all over the teen’s arm, trying to remember everything he learned about snapping a bone back into place.

It didn’t look like there was too much fluid building up, it wasn’t bleeding, and the bone wasn’t poking at the skin so it should just be a simple snap-it-in type deal.

“Ready?” Tony asks once he’s done analyzing everything.

“No?” Spider-Man hesitates, making a grin slip out of Tony.

“That’s the spirit,” Tony says, and that was the only warning Spider-Man got before Tony was snapping his arm into place.

Almost instantly, Spider-Man began to scream through his teeth, making Tony snap into action.

“I’m going to get you some water, just take it easy, Kid,” Tony says over Spider-Man’s deep breathing, quickly getting up and getting the kid a glass of water from the kitchen.

When Tony came out, the kid’s eyes were still closed, but his breathing was coming in short pants. Recognizing when a panic attack is about to start, Tony practically ran the rest of the way over to the teen and grabbed a hold of the teen’s chin so he had no choice but to look at Tony.

“Hey. Look at me. Breathe, one two three.” Tony begins to coach, smiling softly when Spider-Man followed his instructions, “There you go. You’re right here. Don’t go anywhere else. You’re right here.” Tony continues to soothe.

Spider-Man just stared into Tony’s eyes while he tried to calm him down, almost as if he would float away again if he looked away. Almost as if Tony’s intense gaze was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

Spider-Man’s breathing soon began to slow down, the teen eventually able to take in a long slow breath.

“Sorry.” He apologizes, his eyes slowly fluttering shut now that all of his adrenaline truly was gone.

“You can kick everyone’s ass except your own brains sometimes.” Tony sighs sadly.

“You get them too?” Spider-Man blurts out. All Tony could really give in return was a tired look, before agreeing because even just the thought of his almost daily panic attacks was enough to suck the energy out of him.

“Yeah.”

“Did they… Did they get better, though?” Spider-Man hesitantly asks, almost as if he was scared to hear the answer. Which should have been enough to tell Tony to sugarcoat his answer, but sometimes his brain and his mouth aren’t wired together.

“Not yet,” Tony says, being quick to amend his answer when he saw the teen’s face fall. “But that doesn’t mean anything for you, kid. You just keep working on it. And drink your water.” Tony instructs, smiling fondly when the teen did what he was told.

“You okay?” Tony asks after Spider-Man had a couple of sips and looked physically calmer.

“Yeah. I’m good. Promise.” Spider-Man honestly replies. Tony continued to stare at him for a little bit longer, debating on whether or not he should give the teen what he’s been working on recently.

“Well, are you ready for a surprise then?” Tony asks once he’s finally made his mind up.

“Surprise?”

“I made something for you. If you’re interested.” Tony clarifies, before grabbing the metal case that held Tony’s recent project.

“Really?” Spider-Man shouts excitedly, sitting up straighter on the couch before he begins to remember himself and quickly protests the gift. “Wait. You can’t give me anything! That’s-That’s too much!”

“Hush, child. Children should be seen, not heard.” Tony quiets, not really wanting to go through a whole song and dance just to get the kid to accept the case.

“Excuse you.” Spider-Man gasps dramatically, making Tony smirk before tossing the case onto the couch cushion next to the vigilante.

“Go on, open it.” Tony permits, trying to hold back his chuckle when Spider-Man just gave Tony a firmly disappointed look.

Despite being "displeased" with it all, Spider-Man still pulled the case into his lap eagerly, quickly opening up the top of the case.

As soon as the red suit inside popped up, along with all of the semantics that were surrounding it, Spider-Man gasped. The teen couldn’t take his eyes off of the suit, and when he did manage to look away, his eyes locked firmly onto Tony’s.

“Is this- Is this what I-” Spider-Man breathlessly stutters, Tony taking pity on the poor boy by cutting him off when it was clear that the teen’s brain had practically self-destructed.

“A brand-new, superhero-worthy Spider-Man suit, equipped with all sorts of anti-bad guy goodies? Probably.” Tony answers for the teen, a warm and proud feeling spreading through his chest when he saw the biggest grin form on Spider-Man’s face; although he made sure he didn’t show it, he refused to show his soft spot.

“Holy shit! This is so cool! This is literally the coolest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life; oh my God! Ned is going to flip!” Spider-Man gushes as he pulls the suit out and examines it.

“I just thought about you running around in your glorified sweats and I couldn’t sleep. So enjoy the suit, kid. It has its own AI and everything.” Tony nonchalantly says as if that wasn’t one of the biggest things to the teen.

“There’s an AI? Holy shit .”

“An AI who’ll - hopefully - help you be careful out there. She can help you navigate the city and deal with whatever shenanigans you get yourself into. The material of the suit itself should keep you - more or less - resistant to the kind of attacks you’ll be dealing with. It’s also fireproof, but I’d really prefer you didn’t go testing that out.” Tony begins listing off everything he put into the suit.

“Are you kidding? I’d never risk burning this. This is literally the best thing ever! I’m going to look so cool.” Spider-Man continues to gush making Tony snort at the teen’s clear excitement.

“Hell yeah, you are.”

Gently, almost as if he was going to destroy it then and there, Spider-Man folded the suit up and placed it back into the case, and closed it up.

“This is really awesome Mr. Stark and I really appreciate it but… are you sure? This must have taken a lot of time, and I don’t even know how much it cost-”

“It’s a multi-million dollar suit.” Tony interrupts, hoping that if he just quickly glossed over it, it won’t become a huge deal. “But I want you to have it,” Tony reassures.

“Did you say multi-million? As in more than one million? As in millions ?” Spider-Man gasps. “Mr. Stark, the most expensive thing I own is a forty-dollar sweater from this Star Wars merch site; and technically I got it on sale.” Spider-Man continues to breathlessly ramble.

Tony couldn’t help it when he threw his head back and laughed at the teen’s reaction. He’s never had someone react like that towards his work. The Avengers sure as hell weren’t even nearly half as impressed as Spider-Man was.

“Trust me, kid, I wouldn’t have made this for you if I didn’t think you deserved it.” Tony earnestly says, watching as Spider-Man stopped completely and widened his eyes, almost as if no one’s complimented him about this kind of thing.

Which, now that Tony thought about it, that was most likely the case. The teen probably hasn’t been told that he’s been doing a good job with everything for the same reason he comes to Tony’s apartment; because there’s no one else there to do it.

Tony once again decided that it was up to him to step into that role.

“I think you do good work, Underoos. And - more importantly - I think your hearts in the right place. With some more experience and some better tech, you’ll be able to do some amazing things.” Tony compliments. Spider-Man just blushed and ducked his head shyly in return, which managed to pull a fond smile out of Tony.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark. That’s… That’s really nice of you to say.”

“You’ll be one of the greats one day, kid. No doubt about it.” Tony confidently says, making sure his tone of voice left no room for disbelief. It must have worked because Spider-Man cracked a small smile in return.

Then he whispered a sentence that made Tony’s entire body seize right up.

“Like Iron Man?”

So many thoughts and questions began to race through Tony’s head.

The first question was: did this kid know?

No. He couldn’t possibly know. No one but the people in his old life knew. No one from the public knew or even had close to an idea.

The next question was why in the hell did this kid look up to Iron Man of all heroes? Why did he have to think that Iron Man was what he should be living up to?

Didn’t this kid know that Iron Man is the reason Tony now has nothing? No friends, no girlfriend, no company, no one to live with but the dust bunnies in the corner of his apartment.

Of course, he couldn’t possibly know all that, but that wasn’t going to stop Tony from trying to persuade his thoughts otherwise.

“Mr. Stark?” A tiny voice breaks through all of Tony’s thoughts. Snapping his head up, Tony realized that he had gotten too far into his head and quickly shook himself out of it.

“Nothing, kid. I’d just… shoot higher than the tin can.”

“Are you crazy? You can’t shoot higher than Iron Man! Iron Man is Iron Man! He’s the best.” Spider-Man protests. Tony wasn’t sure what his face looked like right now, but he knew it had to be a look of disgust because Spider-Man just continued to ramble about the ex-hero.

“Hello! The battle of New York? He flew a nuke into a wormhole and then the Avengers closed the portal on him - which was totally uncool by the way - and he still came back anyway. And he defeated the Mandarin after all those bombings happened and then there was that whole thing with the terrorist in Afghanistan and stopping that guy from Stark Industries and rescuing-” And Tony couldn’t help but groaning and rubbing his face when Spider-Man stopped mid-sentence.

Because Tony knew - could pinpoint the exact moment one of his identities clicked inside the teen’s head.

“You're Tony Stark. Oh, my God. I’m in Tony Stark’s apartment,” Spider-Man gasps, “I bled on Tony Stark’s couch. Oh, my God. How did I miss that? Holy-”

“Are you done?” Tony interrupts the revelation, glaring at the - once again - rambling teen.

“No. No, I am not done. I can’t believe I didn’t reconsider you before. Oh, my God. You’re the CEO of Stark Industries.” Spider-Man continues to freak out.

“Ex-CEO” Tony corrects, rubbing his temples to try and stave off an oncoming migraine.

“What?”

“I gave it to my old assistant Pepper. She’s better at it anyway. I told you, I’m just an over-glorified mechanic now.” Tony explains, causing Spider-Man to sputter in return.

“B-But why? You were the most famous inventor of all time until you just… disappeared.”

“If you think fame and notoriety are still the most important things in the world, you’ve got some growing up to do, kid.” Tony lecture. Although it wasn’t a very strong lecture with how tired and done with it all Tony sounded.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way I just… I go to a super nerdy school and I’ve been into tech my whole life. So, I - uhh - I totally followed your whole career when I was younger. It’s why I like Iron Man, too. He made himself into a hero, you know? He saw that things needed to change and so he changed them himself." Spider-Man explains.

Tony just stood there and stared at the teen, trying to process everything he was just told.

Tony had to keep reminding himself that Spider-Man didn't know; that no one knew. No one knew about his secret identity and that it was just a coincidence that Spider-Man happened to look up to Tony and his alter-ego.

That didn't make it any better, though.

Tony hated the fact that Spider-Man looked up to them. That he wanted to be like them. The kid needed to shoot higher for something, needed a better role model than Tony and Iron Man. Which was the conflicting part because this kid really needed a mentor and the only "hero" he just so happened to stumble upon was Tony.  

"I'm not the kind of guy you want to look up to, kid. Neither is Shellhead. Trust me." Tony voices out loud before turning and walking away. He figured the kid knew his way out himself. "Enjoy the suit."

*   *   *

It was until later that night when Tony's hunger got the better of him and he figured that Spider-Man had left a while ago and it was safe for him to that Tony left his workshop and came back out into the living room.

Sure enough, Spider-Man was gone when Tony reached the living room, and the only sign that the vigilante was in his home in the first place was the note sitting on his coffee table.

I think you're selling yourself short ex-CEO or not - Peter Parker

(Now you know my secret identity too. I only thought it was fair)

Tony didn't quite know what to do with that, but if Tony ripped the first part of the note off and kept it in his desk drawer - well - no one had to know.

*   *   *

It was another couple of weeks and, once again, there was no word from Spider-Man.

No, not Spider-Man. Peter Parker.

Almost as soon as Tony got his name, he went back down into his workshop and began researching anything he could find on the kid.

He found out that he went to Midtown, which in itself was pretty impressive, but he even managed to find all of the teen's robotics and decathlon awards, and his grades and GPA.

Okay, well, Tony didn't happen to stumble onto all of that, he probably did a little bit more hacking than he should have, but he was curious. Sue him.

Although the straight-A's and 4.0 really explain a lot about how Peter was able to get around doing all of this hero-ing and how he was able to go for so long without the proper resources. The kid was smart.

But, Tony also found some not-so-fun stuff. Like three specific death certificates.

He wasn't so shocked to find the death certificate of Ben Parker since Peter had already brought his Uncle up, but he was shocked to find death certificates for Richard and Mary Parker.

Something tight settled into Tony's chest when he found those and realized that the teen was an orphan just like he was; albeit a little younger.

After that, Tony stopped his stalking background check and decided that he would get the rest of whatever information from Peter himself.

Two days after he started his research, another knock came from Tony's front door.

Once again, Tony couldn't help but be paranoid at the sound, but quickly forced himself to relax when he reminded himself that the only person who comes to visit him is the Spider-Kid.

Sure enough, when Tony opened up the door, Peter was standing on the other side of the door, holding up a bag of cheeseburgers in one hand and a bag with a bunch of drinks and snacks in the other.

"There better not be mushrooms in that thing," Tony says in lieu of a greeting.  

"Excuse you. This is an all-American cheeseburger. There's lettuce, tomato, onion, pickles, meat, and cheese and that's that." Peter scoffs.

"I've never respected you more, honestly," Tony says as he widens the door and steps aside so Peter could walk on in.

The teen gave him a big grin in return as he made his way into the apartment, quickly settling onto the couch like he had been coming over for years. Which considering the kid only really comes over when he's severely injured, Tony is beginning to feel like he's aged a few years.

After the kid hands out the food to both him and Tony, he began to make his way into the kitchen and pour them both a glass of water.

Tony couldn't help but watch with amusement, kind of shock, and touched at the same time that Peter was no longer afraid to make himself at home. Maybe it means the kid is going to start coming around more so Tony doesn't have to constantly worry about whether or not he's dead in an alleyway.  

Almost as soon as Peter set down the glasses of water, he was sitting down next to Tony and practically inhaling his burger.

"So good. A-plus. Really made the robbery worth it." Peter talks around the bite of burger in his mouth, completely missing the incredulous and somewhat angry look Tony was giving him.

"You got these at a robbery?"

"When you see a Shake Shake being held up, you gotta intervene. And if the owner gives you free food as a thank you then," Peter shrugs as he sets his bottle of sprite down, "the friendly neighborhood Spier-Man would never be impolite enough to say no."

Tony couldn't help but huff and shake his head at the teen's antics and the audacity he had to actually look smug about it all.

"And we can't have that, can we?" Tony continues the light banter they have going.

"No, sir," Peter replies, both of them instantly laughing once they caught each other's eyes.

"So, fix anything today?" Peter asks as Tony settles down onto the couch right next to the teen.

"Neighbor downstairs had her car malfunction; took a look at that for her today. Nothing fancy. How's the suit.?" Tony quickly changes the subject, hating talking about himself more than he needed to. That usually led to very important - very secretive - stuff getting out by accident.

"It's incredible! Like, seriously, Mr. Stark. It's the coolest thing ever, and it works so well, and I've been getting so many compliments. Did you see me trending on Twitter? That was so cool!" Peter bursts out, almost as if he was holding all of that in until Tony said something.

"Yeah, I saw that. Might have contributed to a few on the conspiracy theories." Tony smiles the weird warmth in his chest once again spreading at the sight of the happy teen.

"Are you serious? Mr. Stark." Peter groans. Tony had to try and choke down his laugh at the sight.

"My personal favorite was 'Spider-Man steal Daredevil's suit and cuts off horns'" Tony continues to tease, earning a whining type noise in return. "Hey, you'll grow. Probably."

"I retract my compliments effective immediately." Peter dryly says, making Tony give the kid another smirk.

"Sorry, no takebacks. Can't erase this memory." Tony says as he taps his temple before finally reaching for his weird robbery burger.

"Hey, Mr. Stark?" Peter hesitantly asks, gaining Tony's attention. "Why'd you sell your tower to the Avengers?" Peter asks once he was sure Tony was paying attention.

Which... that wasn't a question Tony was prepared to get asked.  

Tony stopped eating his burger and cleared his throat before actually answering. "They asked and I agreed. I was planning on moving SI operations anyway."

"So, it isn't true that you did some work for them?" Peter continues to question. Tony's heart instantly began to pound. He couldn't help but feel nervous as to where this line of questioning was about to go.

"Why do you say that?"

"Twitter." Peter shrugs before returning to his burger. And, of course, of course, Twitter would figure out viable information like that.

"You know, it's constantly surprising to me that more national secrets aren't revealed on the internet every day." Tony deadpans, causing Peter to gape at him.

"So you did?"

"I consulted on some of their tech. That's all. No biggie." Tony sighs, already knowing that Peter was going to make a huge deal about it and he was going to have to talk about it more than he already wants to.

"No biggie? It's a huge biggie! Did you work on their suits?" Peter rapidly questions, gasping when something dawned on him. "Is that how you were so good at mine? Did you work on the Iron Man armors?"

"Can't a man keep any secrets anymore?" Tony asks in the hope to be able to drop this conversation completely.

"Not if they involve the Avengers." Peter was quick to deny. All Tony could do was stare at this teen in annoyance.

What did this kid see in the Avengers that gave them all of his awe and respect?  Didn't he know that the avengers are some of the worst people out there? Apparently not, and tony was going to have to be the one to tell him.

"Why do you even care about the Avengers so much? Because I'm telling you, they're nothing to be fanboying about. They were dysfunctional, aggressive, and uncooperative. They preached about teamwork but were the first to turn on each other when the going got rough. And when things got bad, when people started dying because of their actions, they decided their own self-righteousness was way more important than the will of the entire world." Tony began to rant, getting so into finally being able to let out all the pent-up rage that he didn't even notice when Peter's face began to fall.

"They were called 'Earth's Greatest Defenders', but in the end, what did it all matter when everything that mattered to them disappeared. When even their so-called family didn't matter more to them than their pride." Tony finishes spitting down, Peter looking down at his lap with discomfort and hurt in his eyes.

"Just because they weren't perfect doesn't mean they weren't still great. Everyone has their bad side, but they still tried their best." Peter tries to defend, making Tony nod when he realized he was going to have to break this down and make Peter see his point.

"Okay, but what if what's right and wrong stopped being so simple? A guy starts a fight in the middle of the street; that's wrong. So you break it up. Easy right? Aliens invade the Earth. That wrong, right? So you defeated them." Tony waited until Peter showed he understand before continuing.

"But, what if, before they were defeated, you saw that you only got rid of one percent of the threat. That beyond them was something infinitely more terrifying just waiting for the perfect moment to attack. What if you knew that threat was imminent. What do you do?"

"You build your defense. You prepare." Peter confidently answers.

"But here's the thing; what lines do you cross to prepare? What boundaries do you have to set? The Avengers were a group of superpowered people thrown together without any foundation so when questions like those popped up, they didn't have enough faith in one another to resolve them without breaking apart. So, tell me then, what were they really thinking about? Their hearts? Or their pride?"

"The Avengers split up because of the Accord, didn't they?" Peter asks, slowly getting to the root of the real problem.

"The Accords were just the catalyst. In the end, it was betrayals on the inside that made them irreconcilable and what made half of them go into hiding and the other turn into fugitive still playing a vigilante on the down-low." Tony huffs before crumpling up the take-out bag in his hands, just to have something to do with them and to make his next admission easier.

"I've been around too many superheroes to be blind to the costs of it. And no one lost more than Iron Man."

"You know what happened to him?" Peter gasps. Tony just gave a wry smile as he nodded.

"He lost the love of his life, he lost his team, he was betrayed by his best friend, he lost everything until all he had left was a suit. But what purpose did that serve? When everything he fought for had slipped right through his fingers." Tony vents, trying as best as he could to reel in his emotions afterward.

"That's terrible," Peter whispers as he shrinks into the couch.

Tony doesn't really say anything after that, too shocked with how much better he felt. He finally feels like the tight knot that constantly sat in his chest has loosened; even if it was just the tiniest bit.

Tony hasn't once talked about everything that's happened. He's never brought up his and Pepper's breakup, what happened to him during the Accords, or even what happened after he went after Steve. No one knew.

Except now for this random-ass kid. And even though he thought it was about Iron Man and not Tony, having someone actually know and understand surprisingly helped Tony.

Maybe it was time for Tony to accept what had happened and call Rhodey.

"If you...," Peter tries to begin before clearing his throat and trying again, "if you hate superheroes so much, then why- why did you make me a suit?" The teen finally gets out. And for the first time since Peter began asking him about superheroes, Tony actually felt confident and sure of his answer.

"I've met a lot of heroes since my time with the Avengers. I've met magicians and aliens and enhanced, but I've never met anyone like you. If the Avengers had half the heart you did, I think the world would be a different place right now." Tony certainly says, giving a small and soft smile when he saw the teen blush under the blatant compliment.

"I'd given up on superheroes. I guess the jury's still out now, Peter."

"I don't know if I deserve that," Peter whispers, shaking his head.

"You want to be as good as Iron Man and I'm telling you you're better."

*   *   *

After that, it's like Tony can't get rid of Peter.

The teen quickly began to pop in weekly, just to check-in; or at least that's what he says it is.

And Tony would deny it to his last dying breath that he actually enjoyed the kid's presence. If anyone asked, he was annoyed every time but accepted it anyway. But secretly, deep down, he really did enjoy having Peter's company every week.

Tony hadn't realized how long he's been alone until he finally had someone to interact with.

Slowly but surely, Tony begins to learn a bit more about Peter and what makes him tick.

Peter lives with his Aunt currently; although she knows nothing about his "extracurricular" and he preferred to keep it that way. He had three really close friends -  Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones, and Harry Osborn; let's just say Tony was a bit - read a lot - dramatic when he found out Peter was friends with an Osborn. He also found out that the kid was in tenth grade, which didn't help with the guilt Tony felt for actually encouraging Peter's behavior; although to make himself feel better, Tony just kept reminding himself that Peter was doing this way before he dropped into Tony's life, and if anything he was doing everyone a favor by helping out.

Taking everything into consideration, Peter seems to be a typical teenager. But there's still something behind the scenes, Tony's noticed.

There's always something a little lingering - wanting - behind Peter's eyes sometimes. Something a little dark behind all the shy looks Peter gives when Tony compliments or praises something good Peter has done.

Tony hates it - no one that young should look that haunted - and is officially deadset on making it all go away one day, or at least making it better and easier.

Currently, Tony was working on a project in his workshop, waiting for JARVIS to let him know when the teen got to the apartment.

By now, Peter is no longer shy about just waltzing into the apartment through the balcony door, and Tony has since stopped caring and learned to just leave it unlocked so the Spider-Kid could come in, but he still was working on something extremely delicate and the kid was too light-footed for Tony's liking.

The last thing Tony needed was for his location to be outed just because he got startled by a teenager and blew the whole building up.

'Sir, Spider-Man is requesting access.' JARVIS finally chimes in, the heads-up causing a small smile to form on Tony's face.

"Great! Tell him I'm waiting for him and let him in, J." Tony adjures while patting Dum-E on the head and taking the smoothie the bot was offering.

And Tony had tried to pay attention to when Peter walked into the lab, wanting to see the kid's eyes light up when he saw what had to of been a wet dream for the teen, but that was until Dum-E started trilling and trying to go after the smoothie he had just handed over.

"Don't you dare," Tony stops, holding a finger up to keep the bot in place. "Step away from the smoothie, Dum-E."

Dum-E just continued to chitter, nodding his head while Tony insistently shook his. "Nope, you already perfected it without the motor oil. That's overkill. You trying to kill your Dad?" Tony continues to argue with the bot.

"Aww Mr. Stark, he's just trying his best, aren't you?" Peter coos, alerting Tony to his presence.

"Hey, you, knock it off or you'll positively reinforce this nonsense." Tony scolds, although the overly-fond look he was giving took away most of the seriousness.

"You into chem now?" Peter asks once he gets over to the worktable Tony was at and looked through all the magnifying glasses.

"Actually, I'm trying to make exploding webbing for you," Tony announces, "but the process isn't going as smoothly as I thought," Tony admits. Peter on the other hand was practically bouncing out of his skin with excitement.

"Are you for real right now?"

"Realer than real, kid," Tony replies with faux seriousness.

"This is so crazy. I'm science-ing with Tony Stark. Ned's going to lose it." Peter continues to marvel.

Tony couldn't help but grin at the teen's excitement, handing him a pair of safety goggles. "How is he anyway? Has he gotten over dying from the suit?" Tony questions, making Peter snort.

"No way. He went on about that for weeks, but he's valid." Peter answers.

"And school? No trouble in minor paradise?" Tony continues to question, adding that as his contribution to the darkness in the kid's eyes for the day.

"No different than normal." Peter shrugs, purposefully avoiding eye contact with Tony.

"I take it 'normal' isn't usually slap your knee fantastic?" Tony aims for light-hearted.

"It's nothing. Just high school." Peter brushes off while fiddling with a screwdriver. That sad look was beginning to return in Peter's eyes, making Tony's mentor - not parental thank you very much, he didn't have any of those - instincts go haywire.

"You know," Tony begins, picking up a wrench and fiddling with that also, "I used to get bullied too when I was younger," Tony admits, figuring that this was what this was.

"No, you didn't." Peter denies, scrunching his face up in disbelief.

"Genius kid with a smart mouth and at least four years younger than everyone else in his classes? I'd be more surprised if I wasn't pushed around." Tony snorts.

"That sounds way worse. My thing really isn't a big deal." Peter defeatedly says.

"If it bothers you, then it's a big deal. Spill, kid." Tony genuinely says, poking Peter in the side with the wrench to try and get him to start talking.

"Honestly, Mr. Stark, it's nothing, it's just this kid... Flash," Peter finally begins to open up, "He's just mad that I 'stole' his spot on the Decathalon team and he thinks that making fun of me will make me leave or something, but it won't. But it doesn't make it any less sucky, and I thought that all the stupid stuff he said didn't bother me, but sometimes..." Peter trails off.

"You hear the stuff he says when you're already feeling kicked around?" Tony finishes for the teen, his voice sympathetic.

"Yeah. Exactly." Peter agrees, finally looking up at Tony.

"Yeah, that's the way that kinda stuff goes. No one's immune to thing like that, Pete, no matter how much we say we don't care." Tony says, and his point must be getting somewhat across because the teen looked back down at his lap, lip firmly tuck between his teeth.

"With that said though, everything that Flash kid told you? Automatically tossed in a trash can based purely on the fact that nothing a kid named Flash says can be accurate in any way." Tony teases to ease some of the tension in the room, smiling a bit when it seemed to work and got Peter to smirk. "Sorry not sorry, that's just a fact. It's all purely bullshit."

"But what if it's not." Peter blurts out, dropping his head right into his hands. And that - the fact that Peter believes some of the things this asshole says - that doesn't sit right with Tony.

"I guarantee non of the things he says about you are true. You said it yourself, he's jealous that you got something he didn't; and with a name like that, he's probably used to getting everything he's ever wanted his whole life, so the second it doesn't go his way, he throws a tantrum. It's not even about you. Not really. It's all about him and his own insecurities." Tony calmly rambles, wanting anything for this kid to realize his worth.

"Yeah, but it still sucks! It sucks, and I hate it, and I wish he'd just leave me alone!" Peter shouts, taking Tony back a bit. He's never heard Peter yell about something before, and Peter must have realized that because he instantly began apologizing.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. I just- I'm just so frustrated. And I'm so over it, and I've never even done anything to him. And he just doesn't leave me alone."

"Hey, it's okay." Tony comforts, gently squeezing the teen's shoulder. "That guy's a jerk. Be upset. We can build a dummy right now and you can have at it after we tape his face on it." Tony continues to soothe.

"I don't think that'll help to be honest." Peter snorts.

The self-deprecating look in Peter's eye still lingered, sending thousands of alarms bell of in Tony's head telling him to fix it fix it fix it. Someone so good and kind-hearted shouldn't ever have this look, it killed Tony inside to see it. So, Tony did the only thing he knew how to do; he began to ramble.

"Peter, you fight crime as a hobby and still play Legos with your friends. You have a big heart and you're ridiculously smart. You're literally every parent's dream child and you're the only teenager in the world that's actually likable.  You're killing it on all fronts. And if you want me to go down to that asshole's house and scare him with some avengers tech, I'm game, but if you want to do cool science stuff he'll never be able to do in a million years, I'm game for that too."

"I'm the only teenager you know," Peter responds, the watery tone in his voice telling Tony that his point finally got across, but it was just better to focus on something else at the moment.

"Excuse you, I'm a well-connected man. I know teenagers. And they're all terrible." Tony jokes, taking the bait and allowing the subject to change.

"Except me." Peter points out, finally cracking a grin.

"Except you." Tony agrees, poking Peter in the forehead. "You're a cool kid, Peter Parker."

Peter just groaned and pushed Tony's hand away before arguing. "Do you know how uncool it is to be called cool by a senior citizen?"

"Banned. Blocked. Unfollowed." Tony says as soon as the forbidden "s-word" left Peter's mouth, pointing at the door.

Although, it was hard to be mad when the kid's infectious laugh rang throughout the walls of the lab.

*   *   *

It wasn't very often that Tony thanked his mind. Nine times out of ten his mind was betraying him and either sending him into a spiraling panic or into a spiraling depression; there really wasn't an in-between.

But every now and then, Tony's brain will supply him with an idea that he can't help but be grateful a million times over. Putting an AI into Peter's suit was one of those times.

At one-fifty-three in the morning, Tony got an alert from JARVIS, saying that Peter's AI in his Spider-Man suit was trying to reach him.

Tony quickly sat up in bed and demanded that JARVIS put her through.

"Karen?" Tony calls out, only slightly cringing at the random name Peter gave the AI.

'Mr. Stark, as per the baby monitor protocol I am to inform you that Peter's heart rate is currently at 148 beats per minute.' Karen informs, making Tony's heart sink at the news.

"What? Why? Is he hurt?" Tony questions, quickly hopping out of bed and putting clothes on.

'Peter currently is unharmed, although it appears that he's having what you would call a panic attack.' Karen informs, making Tony curse.

"Is he on his way here?"

'Yes, he is approximately thirty-eight seconds away.' Karen says, and sure enough, by the time Tony ran out to the living room, Peter was flipping onto the balcony.

Tony opened up the sliding glass door before Peter even had a chance to, hating the scene he saw before him. He hated that the kid had to go through all of this so young.

"Hey, kid." Tony lamely greets.

"Mr. Stark. I can't." Peter rasps. Tony just gives the kid a sympathetic smile before lightly placing his hand on Peter's arm.

"Yes, you can, but let's sit down first," Tony says, gently leading Peter over to the couch.

While Tony made sure the sliding door was just and the curtains were closed, Peter all but flopped on the couch and ripped his mask off of his face, gasping as if the thin material was suffocating him.

Before Tony could even get over to the teen and help him, Peter began to struggle out of his suit. The teen's jerky movements were doing nothing to help him though, instead, making the suit stick even more to his skin.

All it took was one swift tug, and the next thing they both knew, the suit was ripping clean in half.

"Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Mr. Stark, I-I- the suit- your suit- I-" Peter began to gasp, Tony quickly brushing away his shock so he could walk in front of Peter. Honestly, the suit really was the least of his worries at the moment.

"Kid, hey, kid, listen to me." Tony tries to calm, grabbing Peter's face in both of his hands in an attempt to ground him.

"It's okay. You're okay. The suit's okay. Everything is okay." Tony firmly says. Peter just shook his head, effectively pulling it out of Tony's grasp. Tony's heart ached so deeply when he saw the tears pooling in the teen's eyes.

"No, it isn't. No, it isn't." Peter insists, dropping his head in his hands. "I messed up, Mr. Stark. I messed up really bad."

"Every single problem in the universe has a solution, Peter. We'll find it." Tony confidently says and his heart actually felt like it was shattering when he saw the tears begin to drip down Peter's wrists.

Figuring it was better to let Peter get it all out of his system and calm down before talking, Tony got up and made his way into the kitchen.

He started the usual tradition he and Peter had slowly developed, making sure a pot of coffee was beginning to brew and a kettle of water was boiling on the stove.

Once he was sure everything was being made, Tony went into his bedroom, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and a random shirt for Peter to get changed in. They might be huge on the scrawny boy, but anything had to be better than sitting in his boxers.

Returning back to the living room, Tony exchanges Peter's suit for his clothes before heading right back to his lab. He looked over the suit while he walked, looking over the rip to see how bad it truly was.

He still honestly couldn't believe that the teen ripped it in half. It was defiantly going to take some fixing, but at least it'll keep Tony busy for a while.

"It's a quick fix. Trust me, the machine will sew it right back up." Tony reassures Peter about the suit once he heads back to the kitchen once again.

There wasn't a response, not that Tony was really expecting it, so Tony just made himself busy by making himself a cup of coffee and a hot chocolate up for Peter. He even made sure to add extra marshmallows in the cup along with some whipped cream, hoping that even the small gesture would be enough to help Peter feel better.

Tony took his familiar seat in the armchair across from the couch, holding out the mug of hot chocolate to Peter.

"It's not the suit that's bothering you, is it?" Tony guesses as Peter begins to take the offered mug.

No one said anything for a while, which was fine. Tony was more than happy to just sit there and wait for Peter to calm down and gather all of his thoughts. He just sat there and allowed the silence, occasionally turning his attention onto his coffee every now and then.

Eventually, Peter took a tentative sip of his hot chocolate - which Tony considered a huge win - before clearing his throat and whispering, "There was a fire today."

Tony just looked at him, making sure the teen knew he had his full attention.

"Karen told me about it and I went there as fast as I could, but when I- when I got there-" Peter continues, stopping to collect himself before he fell completely apart again, "the fire was- it was so big, Mr. Stark. It was- I'd never seen anything like that before and I just..." Peter trailed off.

"You froze." Tony finishes for the teen, having a hunch that was exactly what was happened. He's been there himself enough times to know for himself.

"Yeah, I froze. But then people were yelling and someone was screaming about their sister and I just- I just ran in there. And it was so smoky and everything was on fire and it was so hot, I thought I was going to die." Peter says, refusing to look up at Tony.

"And then I heard her screaming. And I tried to get up as fast as I could using the elevator shaft, but when I got to the third floor, I didn't- my senses were going haywire and I couldn't- it took me so long," Peter chokes, "when I found her-" Peter tried again, gasping and covering his mouth like he was trying to swallow the words back down. Tony just sat patiently, trying everything to hide his shattering heart from the teen; the last thing he needed was to make Peter feel guilty for something else he couldn't control.

"When I found her, she was on fire too." Peter finally gets out, the tears fully coming out along with the words. "She had passed out from the smoke and I just panicked. I was so scared- I didn't know what to do, but Karen just started listing off protocols and I rolled her in the carpet to put the fire out and then I grabbed onto her and I broke through the window, and I got her down, but her face-" Peter spits out all at once, almost as if once he got the words out he wasn't about to stop.

"She was my age, Mr. Stark. And now she has to go to school with burns all over her body because I couldn't get to her in time." Peter whimpers.

Tony just stared for a bit at Peter in awe. How could someone so small take on the guilt of the world? This kid was beating himself to a pulp because some girl now had scars. He didn't even care that without him there the girl wouldn't even be alive right now.

Tony couldn't take it anymore; he couldn't sit here and listen to this kid destroy himself anymore.

Slowly, Tony sat his coffee cup on the coffee table and made his way over to the couch. Almost as soon as Tony was sitting down next to Peter, he was pulling the teen on for a hug without even thinking.

For a second Peter just sat stock still in Tony's arms, making Tony think that maybe this wasn't the best idea. He's a grown man hugging some random teen and - yeah - maybe they've been getting closer lately, but he still was thirty-some years older; Peter probably thought he was some kind of creep.

But then Peter suddenly wrapped his arms around Tony tightly, burying his face into Tony's neck and officially breaking down.

Tony just held Peter in his arms, allowing him to get his grief out. The poor kid's shoulders trembled with how hard he was sobbing causing Tony to look up at the ceiling to make sure he didn't start crying with the kid.

He felt so helpless just sitting there while Peter was going through all this turmoil. The kid really deserved so much better and Tony had no idea how to give it to him.

Eventually, Peter's cries began to tamper off and his breathing began to slow, his body finally crashing from the lack of adrenaline and all the emotional distress he had just gone through.

"You saved that girl's life." Tony finally says once Peter's breathing settled enough for him to pay attention to what was being said. "If you hadn't been there, it would have been too late. You gave her a chance, Peter. Nothing in the world is more important than that." Tony earnestly says, wanting nothing more than to have his message get across.

Peter was at least hearing him because he tightens his arms around Tony once the words were floating out in the air.

"You did your best, kid. That's all you can ask from yourself." Tony continues to drill.

"But what if your best isn't good enough?" Peter wavers and - shit - wasn't that the million-dollar question? That was the same exact question Tony's been asking himself since Afghanistan.

Tony just took a deep breath and gave the answer that he wished everyone else would have given him when he asked the same thing.

"Then we keep on trying anyway."

*   *   *

"Where did the Avengers go?" Peter blurts out one night while they were working on web formulas together.

Tony didn't mean to, but he practically froze at the question. He's been trying not to freeze up every time Peter brought up the Avengers - because let's be honest, the teen is constantly talking about them - but usually Tony could tell when a conversation was steering over towards that subject.

He didn't even know what to do when Peter just blurted these kinds of questions out.

"No one knows. That's why it's called being in hiding, kid." Tony tries to brush off, forcing himself to relax and get back to work; although he was no longer focusing on the task at hand.

"You worked with them though - you know them - you don't have any idea?" Peter continues to push.

"If I had to put money on it, I'd say they were in Wakanda, but the hell if I know." Tony huffs, tugging his goggles off and tossing them onto the workbench.

"Thor's in Asgard, though; that I can tell you for sure. And Bruce..." Tony trails off as he thinks about his long-lost friend. As he thinks about the past two years without him, about where he could possibly be, if he was even still alive. He honestly missed him, even though he tried his best not to think about it too much since it always led to memories about them.

"Were you two friends?" Peter cuts through Tony's thoughts, making the scientist look back up at the teen. Tony just stared a bit before huffing, multiple memories of him and Bruce flashing through his mind.

"Yeah, we were. We worked on some projects together. It was fun." Tony says, giving the bare minimum of information like always. Except, like always, Peter continued to gush and talk about the subject.

"That's so cool! Dr. Banner is, like, the biggest expert on gamma radiation ever! That must've been crazy!" Peter practically drools over this bit of knowledge, slowly getting Tony excited about all the good memories he and Bruce had.

"He was really good at the tech stuff, too," Tony adds, his smile slowly growing as he continued to think back on his time with Bruce. "And he was really funny. He didn't mean to be half the time, but there was just something about him."

"Do you think that... do you think that any of them will ever come back?" Peter hesitantly asks, once again bringing up a question that Tony constantly thought about to himself.

Tony stopped to think about it for a second, about what it would be like if the Avengers came back. On one hand, it would be great to have a backup if that threat from above came down, but on the other hand, Tony knew they wouldn't be much help anyway; they would probably be too busy arguing with each other to even save a single person.

"I don't know. A part of me hopes they do, a part of me hopes they don't." Tony honestly answers before turning towards the teen. "Do you?"

"The world needs the Avengers, Mr. Stark. It always has." Peter replies without even needing to think about it.

A sick pit of dread began forming in Tony's stomach when he realized that this was probably the answer most people were going to have towards the Avengers. That, yeah, there were several thousand people who hate the Avenger's guts and everything the Avengers stood for, but there's also probably several thousand people who look up to the Avengers. Who's counting on the Avengers to be there when another threat attacks Earth; and none of them were to be found.

They were going to let several thousand people down once again. That was enough to make Tony want to run for the hills again.

"I think they'll come back." Peter confidently says, breaking Tony out of his downward spiral. "They're heroes. They're the heroes. If something happens, there's no way they can just sit back. That's not what heroes do."

"Not everyone who wears a suit is a hero, Pete. Pretty sure Captain America said that." Tony says, repeating the - unfortunately - familiar words.

"Well, then he doesn't know what he's talking about because the Avengers are heroes even without the suits. I know it." Peter firmly says, a silence falling on the two afterward.

The weird warm sensation was spreading in Tony's chest once again at the thought of Peter actually thinking Tony was something worthy of the hero title; even if he didn't actually know that he was inadvertently talking about Tony.

"And I don't know if I can do it alone. What if something big comes against and it's just... me?" Peter questions in a small voice, not even looking up at Tony. Tony was kind of glad, though, that Peter wasn't looking at him because he knew that he wouldn't be able to give the comforting look the teen was looking for.

He didn't want Peter to know the truth; that he was terrified of that exact situation happening.

"Then we'll figure it out." Tony eventually answers.

"We? No offense, Mr. Stark, but you being on the scene would just stress me out more." Peter huffs, and despite the matter of the subject Tony couldn't help but crack a small and knowing smile, finding the fact that he could be out there with Peter and the teen would have no idea amusing.

"You'd be surprised, Pete."

*   *   *

To say they were all surprised three months later when a gigantic spaceship appeared across the sky was an understatement. Well, Tony wasn't as surprised as he was terrified.

Tony was at work when he just felt a shift in the air. Dread was quickly filling up throughout his body until he could no longer ignore the paranoia and had to look outside.

As soon as he got outside, a ring of sparks began to form, making Tony jump back a bit; especially when a man began to walk out of the sparks.

"Tony Stark? I'm Doctor Stephen Strange. I need you to come with me now." The man announces in a no-nonsense tone.  Tony just continued to stare at the man in complete shock, unsure of what the strangest part of this whole thing was; the fact that the guy's actual name was Strange, that he just walked through an actual portal or the fact that he was dressed in a tunic and cloak.

"Oh, uh, I know you're Iron Man, by the way." Doctor Stephen Strange adds as if that was going to make Tony want to go with him even more than before.

"I'm sorry, who the fuck are you, exactly?" Tony questions, his heart sinking at the idea of someone knowing his alter-ego.

"We need your help. It's not overselling it to say that the fate of the universe is at stake."

The next thing Tony knew, he and Bruce were being reunited, another wizard was telling him some messed up version of the big bang, and now they were fighting aliens in the park.

The threat - the threat - that Tony has been worrying over for almost ten years is here, and Tony really didn't know how to feel about it.

Part of him was relieved - the wait was over and he no longer had to live with the anxiety of guessing what day it was going to happen - and part of him wanted to throw up and keel over because the wait was over - it was here. Everything Tony has been preparing for was finally happening.

All of a sudden, one of the big aliens with a hammer knocked Tony out of the air, slamming him to the ground and getting ready to bash his armor in. Tony made sure to turn his back to the gigantic hammer, hoping that would help with the blow a bit, but the blow never came.

Tony quickly whipped around, trying to see what stopped the alien, sighing a bit when he saw Peter clad in his Spider-Man suit, holding the alien's hammer back.

Tony doesn't even know why he was shocked about the fact that Peter was out there to help, they've literally had discussions about Peter helping against the next threat and his fear of not being enough.

Tony just hates that Peter has to get roped up into something so big at so young.

"Iron man?" Peter whispers in shock once he turned around and actually saw who it was that he saved.

"No time for intros, Kid," Tony says, pushing Peter out of the way of where the alien's arm was swinging.

"Y-Yeah! Of course!" Peter agrees, webbing the alien up so Tony could blast him with his repulsors.

"What's this guy's problem?" Peter questions.

"There's a wizard with a very important necklace and these guys wanna steal it." Tony dryly replies, watching as Peter got flung by a well-timed punch. Before Tony could even react completely and make sure the teen was okay, Strange was zooming past them completely unconscious and on a slab of floating concrete.

"Kid, that's the wizard. I'm going to need you to grab him, can you do that?" Tony instructs, still trying to focus and destroy the stupid alien in front of him.

"Yeah! On it! I won't let you down!" Peter assures, quickly swinging off after Strange.

Tony continued to blast the alien with his repulsors, getting more and more frustrated as time continued and he wasn't any closer to defeating the damn creature.

"Mr. Iron Man, sir? I-I'm being beamed up!" Peter calls after a bit, shooting fear all throughout Tony's body.

"Hang on, kid! I'm coming." Tony promises, zapping a statue in half, hoping that it falls on the alien would be enough to knock it out.

Thankfully, sensing the urgency, Strange's sidekick sucked the alien into a portal to some other place, giving Tony the chance to blast off in the air and chase Peter.

"Mr. Iron Man? I don't- I can't breathe." Tony hears Peter gasps, the fear building the higher they went. The last thing he needed was for the ship to go too far up into the atmosphere; his suit still could only fly up so far no matter how much he worked on it.

"It's the air, it's thinning out," Tony explains, mostly to remind himself that something needed to be done right then and there. "You gotta let go, Pete. I'll catch you." Tony says as a last resort.

Tony knew as soon as he said Peter's name, the kid would put two and two together, but he couldn't find it in him to care as he continued to push his suit to its limits.

"Mr... Stark?" Peter wheezes out before falling off the side of the ship. As soon as Tony saw that Peter was falling he commanded JARVIS to let loose the nanite Spider-Man suit he's been working on for the past couple of months.

Tony didn't let himself even breathe until he saw the nanites wrap around Peter and the teen was laying safely in Tony's arms.  

"I got you." Tony breathes out, quickly flying them and landing back safely on the spaceship. Figuring that the jig was up, tony flipped his faceplate up and began looking Peter all over to make sure he was okay.

"Kid, you almost gave me a heart attack."

"Me? What about you? You're-You're Iron Man! You've been Iron Man this whole time and you never told me!" Peter accuses causing shame and guilt to wash over Tony. He never wanted to lie to the kid, but admitting who he really was just wasn't in the cards at the time.

"I know, and we can talk about it later. But, right now, I have to go grab Strange and you need to go home." Tony sternly says, making sure there was no room in his tone for arguing. Not that that ever stopped Peter.

"No way! I can't leave you here. I-"

"You've done enough, kid. And I can't let anything happen to you." Tony says as he ruffles Peter's hair before pulling away. "JARVIS?" Tony calls out, and before Peter could continue to protest, a parachute is bursting out of the back of his suit, causing him to fly backward and back to the ground.

Once he was sure that Peter was gone and wasn't going to head up to space with them, Tony turned back to the wall of the spaceship and began lasering a hole that he could get through.

Tony quickly began walking all around the spaceship, eventually finding the middle of it where Strange was. The weird Squidward-looking alien was ranting about the stone around Strange's neck, pushing sharp crystals into Strange's skin.

Tony's attention was ripped off of Strange when he felt a tapping on his shoulder, making him whip around and get his repulsor ready. Tony sighed a bit when he saw that it was only Strange's cloak from before, but it didn't do much to settle him. Especially when a familiar Spider-Kid began to slowly drop down in front of his face.

"Peter? What the hell are you doing here?" Tony all but screams.

The reality of the situation quickly began to sink in, leaving Tony breathless. Peter was here. On this spaceship. That was currently in space.

There is no going home after this, this is it. Tony was fully ready to die up in space, seeing this fight to the very end whether he makes it out alive or not. But everything changes with Peter here. He couldn't prepare to die when he has an actual child to look out for and make sure he gets back to earth safely.

"I couldn't just leave you! How could I do that?" Peter basically cries, giving Tony a pleading look; although Tony wasn't going to give in to it.

"Peter, this isn't a trip to Coney Island. This is a one-way ticket, and now you're-"

"This is a fight for the world. That's why you're here, aren't you?" Peter continues to push, making all of the emotions that were brewing inside of Tony bubble over.

"I'm here for you. I'm here because I've known this day was coming for years and it's been taunting me in the back of my mind for ages, and when Bruce and Strange found me I knew I had to do something, but I also knew that it couldn't be you." Tony rants, running his hands through his hair and taking a deep breath in, trying not to blow up too much at the kid. "You've been talking so much about being worried about doing things on your own, and I knew if you saw this ship, you'd come running. And I couldn't let that happen. But, now you're here anyway and this is just another prime example of me being a Class A screw-up."

"I thought I'd given you this whole hero shtick, you know. After everything happened with Steve and the others, I couldn't do it anymore. And, now, I finally feel like I have a reason to put this suit on and believe in something and now you're here risking your life, and do you see how this is a problem?" Tony stresses, needing Peter to see it realistically instead of having his hero-complex clouding his judgment.

"Mr. Stark," Peter begins, his expression faltering as he tries to hold it together long enough to get his point across to Tony, "that's how I feel about your life too, you know. And I know you want to protect me, but who's going to protect you?"

And, damn, what was Tony supposed to say to that?

He was so far from being used to having a team that actually wanted to have each other's backs instead of every man or themselves. If he had someone this determined on his team, including Strange - who was also extremely stubborn - maybe this could work. Tony would just keep as close of an eye as he could possibly have on Peter.

Anything to get the kid back home to his Aunt after all of this.

After a few moments, Tony relented, pulling Peter close and brainstorming a plan with the teen to get Strange free. For once, the kid's pop culture references were coming in handy, because they were able to suck the alien out through the wall and save Strange.

Now they were on an express route to Titan. A whole 'nother fucking planet. With Peter right by Tony's side.

This is going to be a shitshow. That was all that went through Tony's mind on a loop until a few hours later when Peter finally nudged him in the shoulder.

"Why didn't you tell me you were Iron Man?" Peter finally asks the question Tony was preparing for since they got on this stupid ship.

"I was done with it. I tried to save the world and it cost everything. So I tried to run." Tony admits.

"But if you hated superheroes so much, why did you help me?" Peter asks in a tiny voice, making Tony's heartache once again over the fact that the teen still didn't understand what Tony saw in him. As if Tony hasn't been trying to drill it in the past couple of months.

"Because you're someone who deserves the title." Tony smiles, figuring It was time to tell Peter the truth of how he knew about Spider-Man before even meeting him.

"I'd been looking into you before you crashed into my window. I keep tabs on all the new heroes that crop up, just to make sure they're coloring between the lines, so to speak. I guess maybe I was just trying to make myself feel better like the world wasn't going to die without us punching our way through all our problems. I felt like the city was in good hands, and then I met you, and I knew it was." Tony says, sparing a glance at Peter and having to look away when it looked like the kid was about to start crying.

"The Avengers disappeared because of all sorts of reasons. Thor left to find infinity stones, Bruce ran away because he was afraid of the 'monster' inside of him, Natasha needed a family and I wasn't enough, Clint broke the law, and Steve and I lost all trust so he left and took everyone with him. And when they left, I couldn't look at the suit anymore." Tony continues to word-vomit, finally catching Peter's eye.

"I lost sight of what made me put it on in the first place until you came in. The world is in danger and I can stop it. So I have to do something about it." Tony can't stop the smirk from tugging on the corners of his lips after that bit. "Sound familiar?"

Peter just gave a watery smile in return. "A little."

"I've always been better when I have someone to fight for. I want to protect the world, but I also want to protect you from all this," Tony waves his hand towards the window that showed nothing but empty space, "you don't deserve to be here, Peter. You should be out living teen life, worrying about Spanish tests and girls, and I'm going to make sure you go home to it." Tony promises.

And even though it was a gigantic promise, Tony was willing to give his life to see it through.

"We'll both go home." Peter firmly says, his tone of voice leaving no room for argument. "Because we both deserve it. And I'm sorry about everything that happened with the Avengers, but I'm not going to go anywhere. It's my turn to be there for you now Mr. Stark."

And what the hell was Tony supposed to say to that?

All Tony could do was ruffle Peter's hair and try to push aside his breaking heart with only one thought running through his brain.

I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure you don't have to.  

*   *   *

Just being on Titan was enough to have the hair on Tony's body standing on end. Just the reminder that they were in space, that this is the same place Tony saw in his nightmares, was enough to have his anxiety through the roof, but the dread in his body only got worse when Thanos arrived.

The mad titan was exactly that; mad. Almost as soon as Thanos landed on the planet, he was raving about his lost home on the same planet they were standing on; although Tony couldn't care enough to listen to his whole "tragic backstory villain spiel" and apparently neither could everyone else because Stephen was quickly rising with magic swirling around his hands.

Taking that as his cue, Tony blasted off in the air, throwing an entire metal column right on top of Thnaos' head. In retaliation, Thanos began to attack Tony with thousands of black projectiles, which was apparently enough to fuel Peter's fury because the teen began to launch webs into the mad titan's eyes.

Tony tried everything he could while everyone else began to fight to keep an eye on Peter and make sure the teen wasn't getting too deep into the fight. He didn't want to get in the middle of what Peter was doing so he didn't accidentally get him hurt, but it was impossible not to step in once Thanos grabbed the teen by the throat and crushed him into the ground.

Tony instantly saw red and was no longer accountable for his actions. He quickly began to blast Thanos, throwing a bunch of explosives all around him, seething, even more, when he threw Peter away like he was nothing.

Thanos used one of the stones to redirect all of the explosives back at Tony, causing Peter to get amped up once again and run back over to where they were. The teen webbed up Thanos' gauntlet to limit his use of the stones, once again getting thrown to the side.

Tony grabbed a huge chunk of the spaceship and threw it right in Thanos, causing him to tumble to the ground.

Once everyone realized this was the exact moment they needed, they jumped right into action. Strange wrapped the gauntlet up in his magic, Quill threw in a device that pulls Thanos' other hand apart so both his arms were spread out, and Peter began to web up Thanos' chest to try and keep him down.

As soon as Tony was sure Thanos was under control, he flew down and grabbed onto the gauntlet, fully ready to begin yanking on it.

"Sleep." Mantis commands after sitting on Thanos' shoulders, holding her fingers over his temples to make him fall into the trance.

"Peter, get over here. We gotta be quick, she can't hold him much longer." Tony instructs once Thanos for sure stopped resisting it all. Peter dropped his webs and ran over to where Tony was, both of them pulling on the gauntlet with all of their strength.

"Not so strong now, are you?" Quill gloats as he begins walking up to everything, making Tony roll his eyes.

"Alright, toot your own horn later, space-boy, come help us pull this thing off." Tony grits, the gauntlet still only moving an inch off of Thanos' hand.

"He has my girlfriend, I want to know where she is," Quill explains, making Tony's frustration reach its boiling point.

"He won't be answering anything right now, the second we have this thing, though, you'll be able to as him whatever you want. Come on, already!" Tony screams, knowing if something didn't happen right now, this whole plan was going down the drain.

"Quill, I can't hold on much longer." Mantis gasps.

Finally realizing that he needed to give it up, Quill clenched his teeth and reluctantly began helping Tony and Peter yank on the gauntlet. It slowly began to move further, but Tony knew he was going to need a bit more manpower to get it completely off.

"Hey! Blue!" Tony shouts, gaining Nebula's attention. "Wanna help out?" Tony rhetorically asks.

Nebula quickly got the message and ran over to them, helping them all give one last pull. The gauntlet finally came off, causing all four of them to go flying backward.

For a while, Tony just laid on the ground with the gauntlet wrapped firmly in his arms, just trying to process what had exactly happened.

"We did it," Tony whispers in disbelief, "holy shit.

The victory was short-lived, though, because Strange's voice quickly rang through. "Stark! We can't let him get hold of it again."

Knowing exactly what Strange was telling him, Tony got up on his feet and chucked the gauntlet up in the air, grabbing Thanos' hand to help hold him down afterward. Strange didn't waste any time to fly forward and grab the gauntlet; disappearing in sparks of orange once it was all in his clutch.

For a moment, nothing happens. No one really dares to move, trying to figure out if they really did it or not; if it really was that easy.

Tony was looking over his shoulder when it happened - when Quill began to question Thanos once again about his girlfriend - looking Peter up and down just to reassure himself that Peter was still there with him and that he was successful in keeping the teen safe-ish.

All of a sudden, a fight begins to break out, Tony turning back around to see Quill and Drax shooting their guns to try and stave off Thanos' fury.

Thanos - having realized that his gauntlet was now gone - was going on a rampage, tossing everyone who tried to attack him away like they were nearly a piece of paper. He even managed to throw Mantis directly into the ground so hard that the gravel underneath her splintered.

"Stay back, Peter. I mean it." Tony sternly commands. He spent all day making sure the teen made it out of this alive, he wasn't going to risk everything now that they were so close to being sone with all of this.

Tony had his faceplate materialize back over his face, taking a deep breath before going in on Thanos.

Tony made the ovular knife he built within the suit appear out of his wrist, slashing at the mad titan before him. While he was doing that, Tony made all of the missiles loaded in his back shoot at Thanos so he wouldn't be aware of the rest of the attacks coming his way.

Taking Thanos' confusion as his opportunity, Tony threw a souped-up widow's bite at Thanos, making him crumble to his knees. Tony didn't waste time in punching Thano's through some of the rocks there, creating a punching match between the two of them.

Eventually, Tony was able to get a strong enough hit in, sending Thanos to the ground right in front of Nebula. The poor, blue girl didn't even hesitate before taking her sword and stabbing her father clean through his heart, and ending the fight once and for all.

Tony loomed over the purple body, panting and trying to hold himself up now that the adrenaline was leaving him.

Before he could stumble to the ground, Peter was right there, holding him up and giving him a look of adoration and raw love.

"You did it, Mr. Stark. We did it." Peter says, and all Tony could do was pull the teen in for a tight hug and let out a short huff of disbelief.

They did it. It was officially over.

Tony's nightmare that has been living with him, breathing over him, controlling his life, for the past six years, was finally gone.

They did it.

"Yeah. We did." Tony breathes out, still shaking his head in disbelief. "We did it."

"Now let's go home."

*   *   *

Tony was in trouble almost as soon as he got back.

Rhodey and Happy were both waiting for him once he and Peter got back to his apartment, both men looking worried beyond belief.

Rhodey just lectured Tony about how stupid he was going into space alone and how worried they all were while Happy silently agreed and wrapped up all of Tony's injuries.

Rhodey was still lecturing Tony even after Happy finished bandaging him up, making the scientist huff and pull his oldest friend in for a hug. That managed to successfully stop Rhodey from berating him anymore and just left him thankful that Tony was there, alive in his arms.

Since everyone was a bit more settled, Tony was able to finally introduce Rhodey and Happy to Peter, only slightly regretting it when Rhodey pulled Tony to the side and demanded to know if Peter was his secret love child or not.

Eventually, everyone left, needing to get back to responsibilities that the battle only made worse, but Tony was a bit surprised when Peter came back the next day; he figured the kid's Aunt would want him to stay in the apartment for months on end considering he disappeared for the whole day of the battle.

Peter explained that there were quite a few people injured by all the flying debris, though, so his Aunt has been working overtime at the hospital trying to get everyone taken care of.

Of course, that sent Tony into overprotective dad mentor mode - despite him still being bandaged up on the couch - making sure that Peter was comfortable and had everything he needed; even though the kid was adamant that he was able to care for himself for a bit while his Aunt was gone and he only really wanted to check and see how Tony was.

Before they could really even get settled, though, Pepper was barging into the apartment completely unannounced.

Tony just stared at his ex-girlfriend, who stared back, confused about why she was there until she began to shake her head.

"You wonderful idiot." Pepper finally says, plopping down on the couch next to Tony and grabbing his hand.

"I'm so glad you're okay. When I heard about everything that was going on here I just knew that you were going to get involved with it and I just had to get on the next plane and come out here to see if you were okay." Pepper admits, stunning Tony into silence and prompting her to continue.

"I always knew you weren't going to stop until everything that was haunting you was taken care of, and as much as it killed me having to watch you constantly put yourself into the ring of fire, I'm so glad to be able to see you become the man I knew you always were," Pepper says, gently taking Tony's hand into hers.

"I'm so glad to see you be able to rest, now."

Tony wasn't even sure if he could say anything to that, his throat closing in response to all of Pepper's kind words and with the realization of how much he truly missed her presence.

It's not until later on in the day - several hours later when he and Pepper ran out of things to catch up on and Pepper had sent him to bed - that Tony realized Peter had left.

Although, Peter didn't allow too much time in-between for Tony to begin missing him, because the teen was back the very next day and was adamant about taking care of him.

"Kid, I'm fine, I promise." Tony exasperatedly says as Peter brings out an omelet and a cup of coffee made exactly how Tony liked it.

"Any more of this overbearing nonsense and I'll have to go find another bad guy's ass to kick." Tony threatens once Peter begins to change his bandages. Although, Peter must not have appreciated the faux threat because he glared right at tony as soon as the words left his mouth.

"Don't even joke," Peter says before settling down on the couch next to Tony, stiff as a board.

Tony just continued to stare at Peter, watching as the teen would glance at him before looking away and fighting his shirt, only to repeated the process.

"What?" Tony huffs.

"Nothing! It's nothing!" Peter tries to deny it, deflating a bit when he saw the unimpressed and unconvinced look on Tony's face.

"Okay, it's not nothing, but it's not a big deal," Peter relents a little, hunching in on himself as he asks his question. "I was just wondering if... if this means Iron Man's back."

Which, out of all of the questions Peter had about Iron Man, this was the easiest one for tony to answer.

"Yeah. I'm back." Tony replies without hesitation. "I used to think it was about the suit, that that was the special thing. The heroic thing. But it isn't. I am Iron Man, and I always will be." Tony honestly says, letting Peter in on what he was thinking about for the past couple of days.

Looking over at the teen, Tony saw Peter smiling so wide at the conformation that Tony was almost positive the kid's face would split in two. The reaction just made Tony huff and roll his eyes, fully ready to dismiss everything he had said.

"Plus, someone has to keep an eye out on you. I have a heart condition, you should know that by now." Tony teases, making Peter fake groan.

"Oh, my God, you just want to babysit me!" Peter pretends to complain, the happiness shining in his eyes giving his true feelings away.

"What can I say? You're a handful, Parker." Tony continues to tease, grabbing the cup of coffee Peter had made for him. "Sorry to cramp your style." Tony apologizes, despite not actually feeling sorry.

"Nah, you fit just right, Mr. Stark."

*   *   *

Two Months Later 

*   *   *

'Mr. Stark, it appears, Peter's vitals are entering dangerous levels.' Karen chimes in, making Tony put down his soldering iron.

"Pull up his vital readings for me, will ya, baby girl?" Tony asks, sighing when he read over Peter's vital signs. "Put him through for me, please, Karen."

"Hey, Mr. Stark!" Peter greets as soon as Karen connects them, trying to keep a smile on his face to convince Tony that he was alright.

"You can quit the charm, I see your oxygen levels decreasing by the second," Tony replies woodenly, completely unimpressed with the teen at the moment. Of course, Peter just continued to chuckle awkwardly, still trying to convince Tony that everything was hunky-dory.

"It's fine. Everything's fine! I'm just- you know - on the back of a helicopter. But it's chill! Haha, get it." Peter jokes, wincing when there was no response.

Finally, realizing that if Peter was already that far into it, he wasn't going to be able to let the whole mission go, Tony sighed.

"Bring 'em down, Spiderling, and then come over so I can check on you." Tony eventually relents.

"Yes! Okay! Gotcha!" Peter agrees, nodding so hard to show his understanding Tony was surprised his head didn't pop clean off.

"Be careful, kid," Tony warns.

"Always, Mr. Stark!"

Tony sat there for a second after the call ended, rubbing his face and letting all his worry flow out with the deep breath he released.

"Karen, connect with JARVIS and give me a live feed of the fight," Tony commands as he begins putting his tools away, knowing that he wasn't going to be able to focus on anything else other than making sure Peter was safe.

‘Will do!’ The A.I agrees, a holographic video popping up right after.

Tony didn't tear his eyes off of the video for even a second, watching every movement to make sure Peter was doing okay; he even had one of his suits on standby just in case Peter needed him to step in and help.

Once the fight seemed to be wearing down, Tony made his way out to the living room and began ordering some take-out, knowing for a fact that the spider-kid was going to be starving and attempting to eat him out of house and home if he didn't do so.

Timing it perfectly had Tony paying for the take-out just as Peter was coming in through the balcony.

"Is that Thai? Yes!" Peter cheers once Tony turns around, making the older man tut.

"Ah, ah, ah, first, injury report."

"I'm fine! Promise. Even ask Karen." Peter groans, Tony looking the kid up and down just to be sure.

"Fine, I'll believe you. But I will be checking later." Tony relents, only because he watched the video and didn't see anything too life-threatening occurred. "Now, go grab some plates; I'm starving."

"Where's Miss Pepper? She's usually home by now." Peter points out while doing what he was told.

"She has her hands full with the whole 'Iron man is revealed to be yours truly' thing." Tony frowns, shaking his head as he takes the offered plate. "I swear Stephen did it on purpose; dropping us in the middle of the city like that."

Peter just snorted before responding, "I really don't think that was what he was thinking about. I feel like it was more the infinity stones he had? The ones he had to scatter to keep the entire universe safe? Remember that?"

"Details." Tony brushes off as they began to dig into the food and pile their plates as high as they would go.

As they did so, Tony couldn't help but begin to think about everything. About every single little thing that he had now all because of one little thing.

How his biggest nightmare - the thing that constantly dictated every decision in his life - was finally over, how he and Pepper were finally able to talk things out and get back together, how he was happily Iron Man and people actually knew and were happy about it. How he was no longer so lonely that he had no idea how he was going to get by day by day. All because of one little thing.

All because some random ass kid from Queens broke into his apartment and almost bleed out on his couch.

Tony couldn't hold his laugh in at the realization even if he wanted to.

"What?" Peter questions, making Tony laugh even harder at the defensiveness in the teen's tone.

"Nothing. It's nothing. I'm just remembering that you broke into my place and then tried to offer to buy me a new couch."

"Hey! I was stabbed and I was tired and, in my defense, you have the same exact apartments!" Peter defends before looking back down at his plate and mumbling, "And I totally would've bought you a new couch."

Looking at the teen, Tony couldn't feel any more grateful than he did right there. Peter saved him in more ways than one and Tony was almost positive the kid had no idea about it; which didn't sit right with Tony.

"I was dying when you met me. I know I didn't look it, but deep down, where everything counted, I was a mess. But you inspired something in me, kid. And I think it's important you know that. I wasn't alright, and now," Tony gave the stunned teen a small smile, "well, I think I'm doing pretty okay."

Tony didn't even have time to prepare before Peter was launching himself at him and wrapping him in a tight hug.

"You changed my life, Mr. Stark. Even from way before I met you. And I never say it, but thanks for always being in my corner. You've never let me down. Ever. And you're the only- the only one who gets it. Really gets it, I mean." Peter rambles in return, Tony holding the teen as close as he could.

"Jesus, when did this get so mushy." Tony jokes. Just because everything else has changed and Tony was getting better, doesn't mean that he was getting better with feelings and emotions.

"Well, you started it." Peter laughs as he pulls away.

"Hush you. And hurry up and finish, I have a cool project in the workshop waiting." Tony dangles the offer, making Peter perk up instantly.

"Do we get to make things explode?"

"Of course we are. What do I look like to you, a heathen?" Tony replies as if suggesting any other type of project was completely preposterous.

"Okay! Okay! I'm almost done."

"God, finally. Then I'll get the hot chocolate started and-" Tony begins to say.

"-I'll make the coffee." Peter finishes, making Tony smile once again.

Later on in the day, when they've made enough explosives to blow NATO out of the water, Peter decided that them actually managing to get a couple of lines of code written was a good stopping point.

Tony watched as the kid began to put on his backpack, deciding that it was now or never to give him the envelope he's been holding onto for weeks now.

Peter just stares at Tony curiously, which meant that Tony got to see the exact moment what was in the envelope clicked in Peter's head.

Peter quickly began to rip the envelope open, sucking in a quick breath of air when he pulled out a key.

"I figure it was time to stop breaking in whenever you want to come over. Consider this an official open-door invitation." Tony shrugs, hoping that if he remained nonchalant Peter won't make it a gigantic deal.

"Mr. Stark, that's-"

Tony instantly held up a finger to stop Peter from finishing his sentence, knowing exactly what the teen was about to say. "If you say it's too much I might have to throw out all your hot chocolate."

Peter just laughed at the fake threat, knowing Tony wouldn't even try to do anything of the sort. "You wouldn't. But what I was going to say before you just assumed you knew everything was finally. Scaling the building every time was getting really lame."

"You know what, I take it back. Give it here, Parker." Tony teases, pretending to hold his hand out expectantly. In return, Peter let out a cackle as he jumped away from Tony, practically booking it out of the lab.

"No take-backs!" Peter yells, turning back around right before walking out the door completely. "And I'm coming over early on Tuesday to help you with your dinner party thing, don't forget!" Peter reminds.

"Well it doesn't matter, does it? Just let yourself in." Tony says, his chest warming at the smile the teen gave him in return as he left Tony alone once again in his workshop.

For several years, Tony had been alone. He knew he was going to be alone the day he decided to disappear and to run away from all of his problems until they all eventually caught up to him. He was prepared to be alone once everything fell apart.

But now, as he stood there all alone in his workshop, for the first time in a very long time, Tony felt anything but.

Tag List: @spideyspeaches @lost-lunar-wolf @joyful-soul-collector @i-love-my-selfinserts @thatcrackheadsadbitchtm

[lokis-army-77]

If You Please

Chapter eleven

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3560

This is technically a reader insert but without the (y/n) and all that. She also has no name mentioned so feel free to imagine as you please.

Follow the reader through the events of the Captain America movies and experience her love for Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: none

Note: Honestly, this chapter reads a little weird to me but my friend who helps me edit said it was fine. IDK going from the 40s to 2012 is weird when trying to write.

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Masterlist

Seven months had gone by since Steve and I had been unfrozen. This new world I suddenly woke up in was exhausting. Everything had changed from the simplest thing like manners to complicated things like technology.

Days after waking up, we had been sent to a place called “The Retreat” so we could catch up on the seventy years we had missed out on. There was so much that we took to writing everything down in small notebooks, so we could remember.

I caught onto using the new technology quicker than Steve since I had worked with Howard Stark for several years. Being able to adapt to strange and new tech on the fly was a requirement when working with him.

After those few weeks there, we were both moved into two separate government apartments located in New York. I wish I could say that it got easier with time, but it didn’t. Instead of going to hang out with Steve or actually trying to make acquaintances with anyone, I just stayed in my room, locked away from everything. Coping with being in the future was the easy part, learning to live without everyone I ever knew was hard.

I hadn't known peaceful sleep in a long time. Every time I closed my eyes I am met with nightmares. The softness of the mattress had made it feel like I would fall through at any moment, back into the ice. To try and combat this I pushed my bed into the far corner of the room and made a cot directly under the frame. It felt safer to lay on the hard floor in the dark. The nightmares still came through, sometimes they were battles, sometimes they were of the plane crashing, but most of the time they were about losing Bucky. Every time I woke up in a cold sweat and never went back to bed. I just stared unblinking at the metal that made the bed frame.

One night after a particularly taxing dream I decided to take a walk. It was three in the morning, so I wouldn't have to deal with a lot of people. I changed out of my pajamas into some of the clothes I had been provided. The clothes of the future were tighter than in the forties. It had taken me a while to get used to the feeling of fabric clinging to my legs and upper body. The outside world was quiet except for the occasional car passing by. I kept my eyes to the ground, not really caring where I ended up. I only looked up when I was almost run over by another late-night walker. Peering from left to right, my eyes fixed on an old faded sign hanging above me. The letters were just barely readable and said in large letters ‘Boxing gym’. With another survey of the area, I realized where I was. This was the gym that Bucky used to take Steve when teaching him self-defense. I had tagged along a couple of times before I had joined the SSR, I was surprised it was still here. I smiled weakly and turned to the door. The light inside was on, it couldn’t hurt to see if they were open. The door creaked open and I slipped in quietly. The sound of someone working out came down the long brick hallway. Hesitantly I made my way to the open doors that led to the sparring room.

Stopping just past the threshold, to my surprise, I spotted Steve, who was busy punching the life out of a punching bag. I walked through the small office and around the boxing rings before I stopped again and leaned against one of the columns a few feet away from where Steve stood. I watched him for a while before he landed a hard punch on the bag and it flew off into the distance. I started clapping slowly and he turned around in shock.

“Good job, you broke the bag, but you do know you’re gonna have to pay for that right?”

“Hey kid, I haven’t seen you in a while. I came by your apartment but you didn’t answer.”

“I know Stevie, I just haven't felt up to company since we got back to New York. I hope you can forgive me.” He looked at me with sad eyes and took three long steps in my direction. His arms came out to engulf me in a hug.

“It’s okay, I understand. Promise you’ll tell me if something's wrong, okay?” I nodded into his chest and he squeezed me tighter.

“I couldn't sleep, I guess you couldn't either.”

“No, too many thoughts.” He let go of me and went to get two more punching bags. He hung them up a few feet away from one another before turning to me and asking if I wanted to join. Pretty soon we were both laughing together if it felt almost like we were back home before everything happened. That was until the same dark-skinned man from that day seven months ago showed up. I later learned he was Nick Fury, director of SHIELD.

“I’m glad to find you both here.” He stated.

“Are you here with a mission, Sir?” Steve asked.

“I am.”

“Is this to try and get us back out in the world?” I asked.

“No, I'm trying to save it.” he thrust out an open manila folder. I grabbed it slowly and brought it to where Steve and I could both look at it. The blue cube that had evaporated Johann Schmidt was in the photograph pinned to the first page. In large bold letters beside the pictures spelled out TESSERACT. We slowly walked to a nearby bench and sat down.

“That's HYDRA’s secret weapon. I thought it fell into the ocean that day,” I whispered.

“Howard fished it out of the water when they went looking for you both. He thought what we think, that this cube could be an unlimited sustainable energy source.” Fury informed us.

“Who took it from you?” Steve questioned.

“He’s called Loki, he’s not from around here. We have a lot we're gonna need to catch you both up on if you agree to help. This world has gotten stranger than you already know.”

“I doubt anything could surprise us anymore, right Stevie?”

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“Ten bucks says you’re both wrong.” Fury bet. We both got up from our seats and handed the file back. Steve went and grabbed another bag from the floor and I just headed straight for the door.

“There are debriefing packets at your apartments, read through them and get back to me by tomorrow afternoon. And before you leave, is there anything we should know about the tesseract?”

“You should have left it in the ocean.” Steve and I said at once before walking out of the gym. Once we were outside on the sidewalk we hugged and said our goodbyes for the moment and then went our separate ways.

The walk home felt longer than the walk to the gym, but this gave me time to think about what I wanted to do. Whether I wanted to go on this mission, or if I just wanted to lay low and live my life. By the time I walked through my front door I had almost made my decision, but I was waiting to read the file before I decided for good. With a quick look through the minimal information provided I sighed and threw the papers down onto my kitchen counter. Shaking my head I murmured to myself.

“No, I am not doing this. This cube is not worth it.” Rubbing my eyes I went back to my room and crawled under the bed, not caring that I was still in jeans and a t-shirt. I was not going to walk blindly into anything dealing with that cube again. I lost my fiance and everyone I have ever known because of that stupid blue thing, I'm not going to go anywhere near it again. I laid there quietly for a while before I eventually drifted off into a restless sleep.

The next morning I woke up with a start, almost hitting my head on the bed above me. Furious honking made its way from the street into my room. One thing I definitely missed from the past was how quiet it once was at seven a.m.

Along with the decision to not join the mission, I had also made up my mind about leaving New York. This had been a long decision in the making and the talk with Fury last night was enough to make the choice for me. I couldn't live in this city anymore. The places I used to hang out at were still here, but they had been renovated so many times that they were unrecognizable. Everywhere I turned It was like I was walking through a strange alternate reality. I saw glimpses of the past, like ghosts around every corner, it was worse when it was a place Bucky and I frequented.

When I had gotten back from the Retreat I made the mistake of going to mine and Steve’s old apartment. It had been torn down to construct a bookstore, along with several other retail shops. I broke down in the street when I saw it, waves upon waves of emotions crashed into me. All the memories I had there with Steve, mom, and Bucky had no place to live now other than in my mind. The next mistake I made was to go down the next few blocks to Bucky’s apartment he shared with his mom and sister, Rebecca. It was no longer there either, a bakery stood in its place. I turned and left before the onslaught of tears came. After that day I thought it would be best to go somewhere else, somewhere I had no memories.

I crawled out from under the bed and slowly moved to the bathroom to start getting ready for the long day to come. Once I had showered and gotten dressed I sat myself down on the living room sofa, looking wearily at the telephone on the end table. Hesitantly I picked up the receiver and dialed the number that had been in the tesseract briefing file. It rang twice before Nick Fury answered.

“Mr. Fury, I’m calling to tell you that I won’t be joining your team for whatever mission you have going on. I just want to lay low and rebuild my life and live it quietly without interruption.” I let out a long breath.

“Well, that’s unfortunate. Was really hoping to have you fight with us. If you change your mind, you know where to contact me. Goodbye Agent Rogers.” He hung up quickly after that, not giving me a chance to tell him goodbye as well. The next call was going to be the hard one, I had to tell Steve my plans. I dialed his number slowly as I raised the receiver to my ear. It didn’t even have time to get through the first ring before Steve picked up.

“Hello?” He asked on the other end.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“What’s up kid. Have you called Fury about joining the mission? I called about an hour ago letting them know I’d help.” He sounded a little enthusiastic.

“That’s actually what I’m calling about. I’m not sure how you’ll feel about this but I’m not going to help with the mission.”

“Oh,” he sounded surprised. “Why not? I thought you’d want to help get rid of that thing once and for all.”

“It’s not that, I want nothing more than for the tesseract to be gone for good. I just don’t think I can be a part of it, I don’t want this thing to take over my life if we can’t get rid of it. This brings me to another important thing I need to tell you. I can’t stay here in New York, so I’m moving to DC.” He was quiet for a while after I had said that, the only thing I could hear coming from his side was his breath. I grew more anxious by the minute waiting for him to say something.

“What do you mean you’re moving? Why can’t you stay here with me?”

“Don’t be selfish.” I snapped.

“I’m not being selfish, you are.” he raised his voice. I huffed through my nose, getting annoyed.

“I can’t stay here any longer. I have no idea what it is like for you, but for me, being in this city is torture. I see ghosts from the past every time I leave my house. I can’t go anywhere without seeing him, and every time I see him, I break down. I never got to say goodbye and that day plays over and over in my head. Steve, I’m being tormented with nightmares to the point where I have barely gotten five hours of sleep in the past week. I need to get out of here whether you like it or not.” Tears had started to stream down my face as I yelled into the phone.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could have helped you, I still can help you if you let me. If you leave I can’t keep you safe, I can’t protect you like I’m supposed to.” He was using his soft “grown-up” voice he always used with me when I was younger to try and calm me down but the tears kept streaming down my cheeks at a rapid pace.

“I can protect myself, we did take the same serum,” I choked out. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to bother you with my problems, I can deal with them myself. Plus you have your own things to deal with, you don’t need to help me with mine.” My head was starting to hurt now and my cheeks and neck itched with quickly drying tears.

“Fine. The only way I will be okay with you leaving is if you promise to call me at least twice a week and you let me help you move.” I gave a strained laugh and nodded, even if he couldn't see it.

“Okay, it’s a deal. I actually already have an apartment lined up, so you can come over and help me pack everything up whenever you want to. I’m going to try and be out of New York by the end of next week.”

“I’ll be right over.” I laughed as I told him that I’d be waiting. I laid the receiver back down in its spot and stood up to go to the bathroom. I stared at myself in the mirror, thinking. I was glad my relationship with Steve could handle an argument, understand one another, then go right back to normal, I don’t think we would be this close if it couldn't. I blinked back a few stubborn tears and bent down to grab a rag from the sink cabinet, I dampened it in warm water then wiped the dried tears from my face. The warm water felt wonderful on my skin.

Over the next week and a half, Steve and I boxed up what few belongings I had and packed them and the furniture into a moving truck. I didn’t own a car so the moving truck would be my transportation to DC. One of the many things SHIELD had us do was take a modern driving test, which wasn’t hard, just a few more signs to remember and more gadgets in the car than there used to be, I ended up passing with flying colors.

By Friday morning we had everything ready to go. Steve would follow me on his motorcycle and I would drive the truck the whole three and a half hours to my new apartment.

We stopped several times on the way down, mainly so Steve didn’t have to sit on the bike for the whole three hours straight. We also stopped for lunch. All in all the trip took us about five hours, with traffic added. We made it to my new home just after two and we started moving my belongings in immediately.

Admittedly the apartment was way too big for just me but I liked the extra space, it was different from the tiny two-bedroom apartment I had grown up in. The first thing I made sure to unpack and put up was the bed. I still hadn't told Steve I wasn’t actually sleeping in the bed, but he didn’t need to know that. After that clothes were sorted through and put in their respective places. With our enhanced strength and stamina, we had the whole place relatively furnished in just under two hours. We stopped for dinner when everything had been brought up from the moving truck.

The day went by fast with us talking and laughing like we used to, it was a good change of pace from my usual aimlessly roaming around my apartment alone. But, all good things have to come to an end and Steve had to leave. He pulled me into a tight hug, almost crushing me, and wouldn’t let go until I pinky promised to call him several times a week. I just laughed and promised him I would. I was sad watching him walk down the hallway to the stairs.

I turned back into my apartment and closed the door, locking it behind me. I stared at the box littering the floor and decided to get to work unpacking the rest of what we hadn’t gotten earlier.

Most of my belongings I found in thrift stores and antique shops around the city. It may have been the twenty-first century now, but that wasn’t stopping me from making my home a comfortable, familiar space. If you walked in from the outside world, you would have thought you had been transported to the past with how much authentic 1940s and before things I had littered about. Some things had been saved from the apartment we lived in in the forties. I learned a few weeks before we came back from the retreat that Peggy had been the one to put everything in storage after they had failed to find Steve and me in the ice. I had gone through all of it and took out what I wanted to take with me and Steve had done the same. I was thankful Peggy had done what she did, otherwise, everything would have been lost to time.

That night as I tried to sleep, I realized it was a little easier to relax. DC was a whole lot quieter than New York, there was no honking or yelling every two seconds to keep me awake. I was left alone in almost complete silence, which for others may be worse than being bombarded with noise, but I didn’t mind. I fell asleep almost an hour after laying down for the night and had a restless sleep. I woke up many times in the night covered in sweat, but I couldn't remember the dreams, anything I could remember dissipated as soon as I opened my eyes.

I woke up again very early the next morning, the clock on my wall said it was four forty-five. It was still dark out, but I could hear birds starting to chirp. I crawled out from under the bed frame and went to put on some exercise clothes. Running always helped to clear my mind after not being able to get any sort of rest. The run itself didn’t take long, even though it was seven miles, any normal person would be exhausted but I had barely broken a sweat. I did get to see some nice places, taking a route around the zoo, to the National Cathedral, and then back around to the Dupont Circle neighborhood, where my apartment was. The sun was just starting to come up as I made my way back into my building.

Although I had just moved in the day before, I was ready to start finding some sort of job. The money SHIELD was giving me to help assimilate back into the world comfortably was appreciated, but I wanted to make my own way in life without their help. Finding a job was going to be harder than it used to be, but I did have expertise in several areas. Upon being unfrozen, along with the driving tests, SHIELD created a new resume for me. I had degrees in history pertaining to the 1940s, World War II, and several of the New Deal programs, with a specialty in the SSR. I was also given a Veteran ID, although I don’t really know how that one works because I definitely was not a part of the apparent ongoing fighting in Afghanistan. I still looked twenty-four, I doubt anyone would believe it.

Anyway, I had interviews lined up for today at the Smithsonian, and hopefully, the resume that SHIELD created and my knowledge would be enough to land a job. I had already figured that I would be volunteering at the local VFW. I knew I could find people there to relate to and hopefully be able to make some friends.

Tag List: @ginger-swag-rapunzel @underc0vercryptid-reads @geek-and-proud @intothesoul @leyannrae @starkleila

[erikavixin2006]

Drunk Marinette! Adrienette

'Adriennnnnnnn~ I want youuu~'

If Adrien's phone wasn't left charging at home he could've have a gallery full of pictures and videos of Marinette.

A very drunk Marinette.

It all started with a girls night out that Alya had suggested, along with Alix's suggestion of getting themselves hammered for the rest of the night. Juleka and Alix in the end were the ones who could take on their fifth glass of shots, while the others were drunk messes.

Ivan merely carried Mylene all the way to their car, Mylene, despite her small size and usually kind demeanor, had turned into a very dominant being, and Ivan had to hold down the color on his cheeks as Mylene rambled on about the things that was best kept censored.

Alix had to help a struggling Nino, who had to deal with Alya's hallucinations. The upcoming worldwide famous blogger had begun to chase after an imaginary bug heroine and cat hero. And Nino daresay his girlfriend is stronger than she looks.

Juleka only had to drag a tipsy Rose into their car, which was most probably the easiest task out of everyone here.

The girls represent different types of drunks, and most of them were easy to handle, but Marinette is a different story, and that brings them to where they are right now.

Adrien ignored his lady's suggestive words and had finally managed to carry Marinette into their car. He was in the middle of buckling her into her seat when her two tone arms wrapped around his neck, pulling his face close to her red ones. Giggling quietly as she whispered more seductive words into his ear. Her breath is hot and her voice is silky, definitely not helping his hormones at all.

'No Mari, you are drunk, you're not thinking straight,' Adrien strapped her to the chair safely, removing him from her arms and starting the car. Tikki had joined Plagg at the back of the car, giggling softly at the moment.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her red face in a pouty expression, her bottom lip tugged out and her nose scrunched up, honestly the most adorable sight he had ever seen.

'I am thinking straight, if I'm not then you wouldn't be naked in my eyes right now,' the bluenette giggled seductively. Adrien almost crashed the car, tensing up like a frightened cat, his green eyes connected with his girlfriend's bluebell ones. The blue orbs most definitely checking him out.

Biting his bottom lip, he focused back on the road, attempting to ignore those seductive eyes, he spoke in a voice a bit too hard, 'Marinette, no,' .

He made a mistake.

Terrible one.

Marinette's bottom lip trembled, moisture surrounding her eyes. Adrien stopped at the red light, always the first to apologize, 'No wait, I'm sorry milady, please don't cry,' he panicked, devastated to see his bugaboo cry because of him.

Marinette brought her legs up to her chest, her black leggings complimented her Chat Noir themed blouse well. The woman hiccuped as sobs erupted from her throat, 'You don't love me anymore Adrien! I know I'm fat and ugly and one day you'll finally see that and go for more prettier girls, and then I'll be left alone with no one else to love meeeeee!' .

If this was a serious situation Adrien would go to the ends of the world just for her to be happy but this particular scene was far to funny and adorable to be sad, chuckling softly, Adrien caressed the woman's red cheeks and assured, 'I do love you buginette, oh my goodness you're too adorable for this world. You're not fat and you are most definitely not ugly. I love you and will not leave you, remember that okay?' his adoring eyes reflected in the drunk heroine's watery blue orbs.

Marinette hiccuped softly and wiped her tears away, holding up her pinky finger like a child, she softly spoke, 'Promise?' , Adrien's hear tugged in his chest, his sweet bugaboo is too precious for this world. Holding up his own pinky, he curled it around hers, 'Promise,' .

The cat hero sigh in relief as the woman resulted back into her quirky happy self, giggling at every moving image out of the car window, a whole colorful fantasy displaying in her perspective.

It was when they reached their apartment door did she rushed into their home, already in the bathroom and puking her guts out. Adrien placed his lady's bags down and rushed to her aid, holding her slightly long midnight blue hair away from her face, allowing her to puke a bit more comfortably. Plagg and Tikki followed in with their holders, already reaching their makeshift bed, retiring for the night. It had been a long day.

By the time Marinette finished, she was already collapsing weakly into her kitty's arms, almost passing out. Adrien smile softly, flushing the toilet before assisting her to their room.

After a few years of living together, Adrien and Marinette were both comfortable enough to assist each other in intimate ways. The blond changed her into one of his shirts, as the woman always wore his whenever they went to bed, saying it's much more comfy than her other sleepwear.

As soon as he laid the beautiful girl down onto her side of the bead, Marinette had already curled up into the blankets, fully drifting off to sleep, a contented smile on her lips.

Adrien eyes softened at the beauty, placing a kiss onto her forehead, he went out to clean the place, before collapsing into their bed tiredly, wrapping the girl in his arms, his way of escaping a tired day from work, and an ever more tiring task of taking care of his bug, not that he was complaining though.

__________

Marinette moaned softly in her sleep, waking up from her slumber with a throbbing headache.

She recalled the wild night she and her friends had last night, and memories came flooding into her mind, including parts of blurry images of her emotional outbursts on her boyfriend.

Her blush intensified as she recollected memories of her suggestive words and gestures towards the cat hero, not noticing the blond that was cradling her so gently in his arms had begin stirring awake, soft green orbs observing his lady's current state.

'Morning milady, you were a mess last night,' he reminded, feeling rather mischievous on a Saturday morning. Marinette buried her face into his chest, 'Sorry kitty, I shouldn't have drank too much and cause you trouble,' she mumbled weakly, her voice muffled in his shirt.

Adrien chuckled, 'Trouble? Never princess, you were absolutely adorable last night, it's a shame I left my phone at home, I could have created a new album dedicated to your drunk self bugaboo!' he tapped her nose softly.

Marinette rolled her eyes, 'And your albums of Ladybug and Marinette aren't enough?' she recalled back to the hundreds or maybe even thousands of pictures of herself Adrien had saved in his phone and laptop.

'I can never have enough pictures of you princess. I know beautiful art when I see one, and you my darling, are absolutely ethereal,' his fingers resting on her bottom lip, brushing it softly, watching the woman's cheeks flushed a pink hue.

'Now come on sweetheart, what would you like for breakfast my princess?' Adrien sat up from bed, years of being part of the Dupain-Cheng family the man had learn to make simple dishes for his lady.

Marientte groaned as she felt a wave of dizziness washed into her head, muttering for caffeine and something sweet for her morning hunger.

Adrien rubbed the heroine's temple softly, connecting their lips together, Marinette mumbled a "thank you" as they separated, breathing in his scent in an attempt to soothe her pain.

Adrien could get used to drunk Marinette.

[luvknow]

parasitic | bang chan

genre: bang chan x fem!reader | college au ; roommates au ; enemies-to-lovers ; alcohol mention summary: your roommate is going abroad for the semester and now you’re forced to share your apartment with bang chan, who you basically lived with for the past semester except he didn’t pay rent, he ate all of your food, and crashed on your couch after a long night out. you were going to do everything in your power to avoid him until your roommate comes back. that doesn’t work out so well. wc: 11.8k a/n: omg a month late, but merry christmas to @channiechanchan!! did you know it was me?? LMAO I’M SO SORRY LKJDSLKFJ IT’S ALSO NOT EVEN XMAS RELATED BUT....... I HOPE IT WAS WORTH THE WAIT, ILY SLKJDSL

The sun rays peeked through the gaps of the curtains letting you know that a beautiful Sunday was upon you. You would spend the morning making breakfast for you and your roommate, clean your room of all the bad vibes, knock out some homework, and light an overpriced candle to conclude a stress-free day.

A long morning stretch in bed was the start to your day, and you had the widest smile on your lips upon exiting your room as if there was nothing that could ruin your energy. That dropped quickly once you were greeted with a loud, snoring, almost-naked man face down and passed out on your couch.

“Sorry about him,” roomie Yeri said out of habit while practically crawling out of her room. “Again.”

She looked like a hot mess, with her hair frazzled in all directions and last night’s make-up still smeared around her eyes. Her timing was impeccable - it was like she could sense your annoyance through her walls. 

“Why?” you whined childishly. This had to be the tenth weekend by now!

“You know why! Lucas had his birthday party last night, remember? Which you were invited to but totally flaked last minute.”

“I have an exam this week.”

“We have an exam this week and it’s not until Thursday!”

“So? I like to be prepared!”

“Can you two shut up?” the bane of your existence interrupted. The newly brunette (who had dyed his hair in your living room, thanks to Yeri) ran a hand through his wild hair, hoping it’d alleviate some of the pain from his hangover. “I have a pounding headache.”

“And whose fault is that?” you scolded bitterly before yanking your blanket off of him. The poor man below you shriveled up and buried his musty legs under your beautiful couch pillows for some sense of warmth. “Not like you pay rent here for you to have the right to complain, or anything.”

“Lighten up, buttercup. You’re so uptight.”

“Gotta do my job around here and exterminate the parasites.”

“Suck my dick.”

“Too many STDs.”

Yeri chucked a pillow each at the both of you so you’d shut up and avoid waking up any grumpy neighbors. “Please, for the love of God, can you guys chill out for once so we can have a relaxing Sunday together?”

“Together?” you and Chan groaned simultaneously.

Yeri was not having it and shot a glare like an angry mother, to which you and Chan mumbled some sort of noise of confirmation and went about your separate ways. You inhabited the kitchen and Chan dragged himself to wash away the sticky shame and Hennessey in the shower. Yeri hopped over to help you make pancakes as if her two best friends weren’t just itching to pull each other’s hair out. She liked to think of herself as the glue of the group, like the quirky friend in the middle who was delusion to the tension in between. Neither of you had the heart to ruin her sitcom fantasy.

“Morning ~” she sang cutely.

“I hate him.”

“He’s not that bad!”

“You’ve been saying that the entire fall semester, but almost every weekend of mine has been ruined by his presence!”

Yeri winced and took a step back as she watched you vigorously mix the pancake batter faster than an electronic stand mixer. Another step back was taken while you violently dumped in the blueberries. Cooking and baking was one of your favorite hobbies and she knew you could be quite passionate about it, but she never saw you angry-cook before. It was a scary site to see, as if you being angry wasn’t scary enough.

“He’s only the way he is because you never gave him a chance.”

“What does that even mean?”

“He’s the type of person who likes to be liked, you know?”

“So? Don’t we all?”

“Of course, but it’s different with people like him. When those types of people meet someone who doesn’t like them, they can get a little… How do I say this? Defense mechanism-y?”

“Wouldn’t you think that would motivate him to, I don’t know, be nice to me and not inhabit my space and eat my food every weekend? Perhaps he’d kiss my ass a little?”

“Like I said, defense mechanism-y…”

“More like melodramatic.”

No matter how Yeri tried to explain to you how Chan was ‘different’, you weren’t buying it nor did you care to argue any longer. Why should you have to like him just because he was your best friend’s other best friend? This wasn’t some algebra problem that could be easily solved by the transitive property - this was a matter of respecting each others’ personal spaces and each other in general, and Chan had been the one to cross both of those lines first, that dick. While Yeri lectured like your math professor, you mindlessly hummed here and there pretending to understand, just as you would in actual math class.

The bathroom door opening prompted you and Yeri to shut up immediately. Then, a moist Chan walked out of the steam with nothing but a familiar lavender towel wrapped around his disgustingly chiseled waist.

“Is that my towel!?” you shrieked in fear.

“Yeah. Hope that’s ok with you!” The fake honey sweetness in his tone made your skin crawl like there were bees under the dermis. “By the way, you’re out of shampoo. I love this scent! What is it, tea tree and mint?”

Yeri had to hold you back from hitting him with a hot spatula and Chan managed to escape back into the bathroom with a change of clothes that he kept here ‘for emergencies’, of course. They hung on the open clothes rack in the living room that was meant to show off yours and Yeri’s tasteful jackets, but the aesthetic was ruined early fall and even your jackets began to smell of Chan’s sophisticated cologne.

“I’m gonna kill him in his sleep,” you seethed.

Yeri patted your head like you were an angry kitten. “Killing the captain of the basketball team isn’t exactly kosher, love.”

“I’ll show you kosher.”

“Can’t keep on threatening me, babe,” Chan tisked while throwing on a t-shirt upon entering the A and B conversation.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m just trying to make our friendship better. You know, since we’ll be roommates soon.”

Excuse me, what? “What are you talking about…”

“Oh, you don’t know?” a sly Chan smirked.

When you turned to interrogate Yeri, she quickly stopped the sign language that clearly meant ‘shut your GODDAMN MOUTH, Christopher’ and gave you that sweet, innocent smile that let her get away with practically anything because who could say no to her rosy cheeks and rainbow-shaped eyes?

“Yeri, what is he talking about…?” you asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, about that… I got accepted into the study abroad program!”

“That’s amazing and I am very proud of you and I love you, but what does this cockroach mean when he says we’ll be roommates soon!?”

“Hey!” he pouted.

“Oh, shut it!”

“Ah, well, I figured to lessen the burden of paying double the rent, I thought it’d, you know, take it upon myself to save you the stress of finding a subletter and Chan was the only one available…”

“Really? Of the entire cheerleading team, the pottery club, the damn pilates and cycling club, hell even the other players on the basketball team, Chan was the only one free to sublet? The only one?”

“Um... yes?”

“You know, I don’t really consent to this -”

“Please, _____, it will only be for the semester, I promise! I leave next week and I can’t take much with me, and Chan is the only person I trust to stay in my room and not ruin anything and steal my underwear!”

“How can you say that when he’s probably going to bring girls home and do them on your bed!?”

“I would never do that!” Chan interjected.

“Yeah, ok.”

“No, really! Why would I ruin her bed when I can just ruin yours while you’re gone?”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Christopher -!”

“See!” Yeri brought the two of you into a esophagus-crushing headlock so you two would shut up. “You two are already getting along so well!!”

Chan managed to slip away and steal you from Yeri, giving you a rough knuckle sandwich. “We’ll get along swimmingly, Yer-bear, I promise. Isn’t that right, _____?”

Yeri couldn’t help but look at you both with sparkly eyes, thinking that yes, maybe there’s a chance that a beautiful friendship could blossom from this! Jabbing an elbow to his ribs with a fake smile of your own, you wordless agree with a nod.

As long as Chan stayed in his room and you stayed in yours, maybe there wouldn’t be much to worry about, right?

--

The first week with Chan was exactly how you expected it - seeing his bare ass because he never closed the bathroom door, stealing your snacks, taking up the living room space, and blasting his loud soundcloud music that you could hear through your paper-thin walls. Still, even through all the frustration and the annoyance, you thought it would be best if you two just lived your lives separately and didn’t bother making nice with each other. Rather than fighting and yelling, ignoring each other for the sake of everyone’s sanity was for the best.

What pushed you to the edge was when he took the last pack of fruit snacks you were really looking forward to after a long week of classes.

“Oh, come on!” you groaned into the cupboard. “Chan!”

“Yes, darling?” he called from his - Yeri’s - bedroom, to which you stomped over to confront him. Seeing a grown man on Yeri’s white desk on a pink gaming chair playing some PC game was truly a sight to see.

“Did you eat the last of my fruit snacks!?”

The sly boy swiveled the desk chair to face you. “Ooh, was that the last one? I swear there was one left…”

“Come on, dude!”

“I’m sorry, ok, it’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal! That’s not cool!”

“No, what’s not cool is that you’ve been avoiding me all week.”

You were taken aback by his bold, although correct, assumption. You really didn’t expect him to call you out on this so early. “I… have not…!”

“You’re such a liar!” He pointed accusingly. Although you seemed heated in the argument, Chan was grinning because of course he was right, that dick.

“You don’t think I have anything better to do, like do my homework or-or hang out with friends outside of this apartment?”

“That’s not what I mean. I mean every time you come home and see me in the living room, you go straight to your room.”

“That’s normal!”

“Ah yes, but then you wait until I go into my room -”

“Yeri’s room.”

“- to cook dinner or grab a snack.”

“That’s just a coincidence -”

“How about the opposite, when I come home and you’re chilling in the living room and then you go to your room and shut the door? No ‘hi, how was your day’, or anything.”

“Well -”

“Or how about the mornings, when you’re sitting at the kitchen table relaxing and drinking something warm and sweet-smelling with a tired smile on your face because this is the only time in your day where you get to truly relax, but the second I leave my room to go to the bathroom or grab some water, you chug whatever’s barely boiling in your cup, dump it in the sink, and head out.”

“... I’m that obvious, huh?”

“Wow, look at that smug look on your face,” he pointed again. You didn’t even feel that proud smile on your lips. But Chan didn’t think it was amusing. His lips formed a frown, like he was insulted or even hurt at how cold you could be towards him. “What have I done to make you hate me this much?”

Your eyes bulged incredulously. “Let’s go down memory lane, shall we? Almost every weekend of the fall semester you; crashed on our couch, ate all of our ramen and eggs and sriraicha the morning after to recover from your massive hangover, used our laundry detergent, and used our bath products just to name a few! All without a simple thank you or even asking beforehand!”

Chan couldn’t deny that yes, maybe he’d been a little, um, unceremonious with his intrusion on your life, but come on, everyone deserves a second chance! The very prideful man in front of you rolled Yeri’s pink chair to the threshold only to clasp your hands together in his and now you were sweating.

“Ok, I’ll admit that I was a terrible guest this past semester.” Does an apology count if the guilty party rolls his eyes? “So, out of the goodness of my heart, I am very, very sorry.”

“My ass.”

“What!? Does this not look sincere to you?” he asked, pointing to his fake pouty face.

“Ok, I’m leaving.”

“No no no, c’mon!” Chan whined as he chased you into the living room. He grabbed your trailing hand to stop you. “Look, I’m truly sorry that I sometimes use your things -”

“Always use my things.”

“Most of the time use your things. I am sorry, really. Please believe me, ok? Aren’t you tired of avoiding me all the time?”

A tired sigh escaped you because you were absolutely exhausted from it. “I accept your semi-sincere apology. But why, for the love of God, why don’t you ever use Yeri’s things!? Why mine? She’s the one that’s your friend!”

“Honestly? I wanted to get your attention.”

“Oh, my God, what are you, five?”

“Hey, you’re the one who ignored me like a rude hostess from the get-go! You never gave me a chance!”

“My first impression of you was all I needed to not give you one.”

“I couldn’t have been that bad.”

“You puked in my backpack with some of my textbooks in it and poor Yeri had to clean up your mess!”

“Oh yeah, I remember that… That was on Sunwoo’s birthday.” You tried walking away again, but Chan’s grip was too strong. “Ok, fine, I’ll admit my first impression was horrendous, but you never let me redeem myself after that, so I kept annoying you so you’d confront me about it! That’s not fair that you judged me so quickly!”

“Yeah, and look how annoying me turned out! It went from my first impression to my thousandth impression.”

“I mean, it eventually worked, right?”

Another tired sigh. “Chan, is there a purpose to this?”

“Yes. I want to start over.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Start over? Like, erase all the shit that happened between us?”

“Exactly. A clean slate. Clean plates, I’ll even do your dishes tonight.”

You did hate doing the dishes… And you were so tired of stressing out over avoiding him, even if it had only been a week. After a long, painful pause, you held out your hand for him to shake. “Fine, a clean slate it is.”

A prideful and grinning roommate gladly shook your hand. “I pledge to not be an asshole anymore.”

“And I promise not to have a stick up my ass.”

“Wow, look how far we’ve come, huh? Cheers to a new friendship?”

“After you do my dishes.”

“... Fair enough.”

To commemorate this new and fresh friendship, you joined Chan in the kitchen. You didn’t do anything as he hand-washed your handmade dishes made in pottery class, but in return for eating your last fruit snack pack, he offered you some cookies he’d been hiding to which you gladly obliged. It was a peaceful silence in the kitchen other than the clinking of dishes and running water that offered some white noise while you read one of your books (after Chan called you a nerd). This had to be the most stress-free thirty minutes of your life.

“So,” your new ‘friend’, if you’d generously call him, began after finishing the dishes. He took a seat next to you and grabbed a cookie of his own. “Now that we’re cool and all, I would like to formally invite you to our basketball game tomorrow.”

"First of all, we're not totally cool just yet. Think of this as like a trial. Gotta pay your premium subscription fees before getting the premium benefits.”

“Yeah, yeah, so do you wanna go or not?"

"Hm, a basketball game? Like you're playing in it?"

"As the captain, I sure hope so."

You thought about it for a second - what terrible things could possibly come about if you went to one of Chan's basketball games? Well, it's set in a crowded and sweaty arena, whose crowd and players are also sweaty, it was loud, the food and drinks were expensive, and you literally could not care less about basketball. But, out of the goodness of your heart, which was now willing to give people a second chance for some reason, maybe you could tolerate sitting through a quarter or two.

"Sure, I'll go."

"Really? I wasn't expecting that."

"Then why'd you bother asking?"

"I'm tryna be homies, and that's what homies do! Invite homies to their basketball games."

"Please don't call me homie."

"Ok, home skillet."

"I'm gonna be honest, I don't know anything about basketball."

"Like, at all?"

"I know the cool far shots are worth like three points, right?"

"Oh, darling, you have a lot to learn. Here, lemme do a spark notes run down."

Professor Chan, PhD in sports and partying, took however many hours to explain. You lost track after two. At the end of the night, all of the cookies and milk were gone and you both went to bed at two in the morning.

--

"You, at a basketball game!?" Yeri snorted from the other side of the world. "And you and Chan being civilized!? Lord, how long have I been gone?"

"I have many regrets…"

"Don't say that! I think it's cute that you guys are finally getting along. Who would've thought that locking you two in the same apartment for one week was all that it took?"

"It might have been sooner if he'd just apologized right away instead of stealing all of my stuff to get my attention."

"Yup, sounds like Christopher."

"So you're coming back soon, right…?"

"If soon means a couple of months, yes."

"Yeri ~!" you whined, hopelessly missing your Sunday night partner watching crime documentaries.

"Chill, you big baby, just hang out with Chan if you're so lonely."

"Ugh, gross." Ironically enough, you stepped on a freshly-spat wad of gum upon entering the half-filled gymnasium.

"But not too often cuz, you know, you might fall in love ~"

You hoped no one saw the way your face twisted in disgust. "Are you delusional!?"

"Or even worse, you two might get drunk and make out and then fu -"

"OH-KAY, bye, Yer-bear love you!" You hung up immediately, traumatized at the thought she planted in your head. You hated how your face heated up so brightly. Don’t sweat it, _____! There’s no way that something like that could blossom from something that was nothing!

"Hey, you actually made it -" Chan had burst into your bubble without a warning, causing you to jump and drop your phone. After wiping off another fresh glob of gum from your phone screen this time, you bucked up the courage to stand face-to-face with a confused Chan wearing his basketball uniform. "Jeez, you good? You're all blushy. Ah, you saw Jaehyun's nudes, didn't you?"

"No, idiot! You just startled me, although I should be used to you invading my space by now."

“Ha ha. Stop being weird and take a seat. We’re still warming up, but hopefully we’ll start soon.”

“Uh, is there like, designated seating, or?”

Chan’s dimply smile accompanied a rough hair ruffle. “How cute, you’ve never been to a game before, huh?”

“I would rather die than willingly pay to go here on my leisure.”

A strong, sweaty arm wrapped around your shoulders. “Sit right over there,” he said, pointing to a single spot in the middle of the one hundred level that allowed for the best view of the entire court. “You’ll see me in action the whole time.”

“Next to the dude eating a chili dog and the chick with a cut-out of Woojin’s face?”

“The superfan section truly is not of this world.”

“If I came all the way here just to watch you lose, I’m gonna be pissed.”

“Don’t worry, baby, we never lose!”

The coach called Chan back to warm up some more which left you no choice but to enter the germ-infested purgatory and sit in between the superfans. Glancing at the other team, it was clear that they had the intimidation factor of being the taller and bigger players, so you weren’t sure how this was going to turn out. But your team, although smaller, had an enormous amount of unwavering energy. Perhaps it was because they were playing at home and had the entire half of this court filled to the brim cheering their names.

Chan was busy next to the couch, watching the form of his teammates as they were shooting three pointers. There was no doubt to anyone, even if no one had ever seen him before, that he was the captain. Who knew the barf-filled, void for a stomach, almost always naked asshole had the mindset of a lion? Every now and again, he’d pull one of his teammates to the side, probably a newbie to the varsity team, and help him with his form or give pointers or remind him of what play they were going to execute once the buzzer rang.

At some point, you realized you were watching him for far too long because he caught you right where he placed you. By the smirk on his lips, you’ll never hear the end of it if you see each other back at the apartment, and you would have looked away almost immediately if he hadn’t grabbed a ball not a second later. What was he doing?

Chan dribbled the ball to the free throw line (at least you think that’s what it’s called). He looked at you again, but this time he was pointing, like he was challenging you. Every pair of eyes in the gymnasium managed to pinpoint his target to you and if he thought you were blushy before, he should really see you up close now. After the very dramatic scene, Chan focused on dribbling the ball a few times which brought everyone’s attention back to him, thankfully. He dribbled a bit more, stopped to set up his shot, followed through and swoosh, there it went, right into the basket like a mathematician's perfect parabola.

“That was for you,” he mouthed silently with a sense of tease dripping from every word.

Normally, you might have flicked him off, but who were you to ruin the vibe just before the game started? Out of the goodness of your heart, you lightly clapped at his performance like this was the opera.

And so the game began! Mingyu, since he was the tallest member, did that thing where they toss the ball up in the air and they try to get it on their side, and since he was like 6’5”, it was easy for Chan’s team to start with the ball. There was a lot of back and forth head movements and eye scanning and you felt like your brain was being shaken up. To be honest, before you stepped into the stadium, you thought that none of this was going to excite you in the least. The idea of sweaty boys running around with a ball was completely barbaric, didn’t you think? But when someone, especially Chan, shot the ball or blocked it or did some weird dancey footwork, you gasped and cheered with the rest of the gym, the spirit of the game blooming in your soul much to your resistance.

The game ended almost too quickly and thankfully your team won. All of the superfans and the cheerleaders ran towards the team, congratulating them with cheers and hugs and mounting their beloved captain on their shoulders. Chan had his bright and dimply smile you’ve been seeing too often this week. You considered waiting until the crowd died down so you could congratulate him right then, but being the captain meant he was the center of everyone’s attention, not just yours. You shrugged off the impatience and headed for home. You could always congratulate him tomorrow, so long as he hasn’t puked anywhere.

Just before exiting the gym, you heard your name being called.

“_____, wait!” Chan yelled, sprinting to you as soon as his people made a walkway.

“I guess a congratulations is in order,” you said. “Congrats on winning. You looked super cool out there.”

“Hold on, can you say that one more time?” he teased, whipping out his phone to record you.

“Congrats, asshole!” you greeted the camera with double birdies.

“Thank you, m’lady. Where are you going now -”

“Channie!” a cute voice cried. Channie?

“Miyeonie!” he parroted back at the pretty cheerleader.

“Are you coming with us to Mingyu’s or what?”

You almost forgot it was the weekend already. It was time for drunk Chan shenanigans to ensue and that meant locking yourself up in your room and hiding the newly-bought fruit snacks.

“Oh, uh…”

Chan looked back at you like he was about to ditch his little sibling who had asked to play with him. Before any embarrassing pity invites were thrown out, you quickly bid your farewell.

“I’ll see you later, Channie ~” you waved off playfully.

“_____, hold on,” he said in urgency. Oh no, please don’t do what you think he’s doing… “Uh, I think I’m going to skip out on tonight, Miyeon.”

Both of you looked at him like he had three heads and two tails. Miyeon’s the only one brave enough to speak up on it. “Party Boy Channie is ditching us tonight? Why?”

“I’m super tired.” You’re full of shit, Chan! Why are you ruining my quiet night in!? “I’ll catch you guys next week, though.”

“Fine. Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Ok ~” She then quickly kissed him on his lips and he welcomed it fully like they’ve been doing that for some time now. Could it be that Party Boy Channie has finally settled down, despite all of his sloppy stories he used to slur about every weekend? How was it that he, of all scumbags, was able to have a significant other and you couldn’t even get a tinder date! “I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t get too wild tonight.”

“No promises!”

Chan sighed helplessly and turned to face a disgusted? Shocked? No, a very uncomfortable you who had watched a corny teen drama movie unfold right in your face.

“Sorry about that,” he said sincerely for once.

“Oh please, I absolutely love watching true love express itself right in front of me, Channie.”

He rolled his eyes. “First of all, it’s not love.”

“Really? You’re telling me kissing pretty cheerleaders isn’t your love language?”

“Not when they cling to me like mothballs.”

“You’re so cruel, Channie.”

“Stop calling me that,” he warned. “Secondly, what are we doing tonight?”

“We? I don’t know who this we is, but I’m going home.”

“Aw, c’mon, really? I just ditched a Kim Mingyu party and perhaps some ass for some quality roommate bonding time!”

“I did not ask you to do that.”

“Don’t you wanna go out to eat or something? I’ll even pay for you.”

“No, because there’s food at home.”

“There isn’t food at home, you liar!”

“Well ok, not yet, I still have to go to the market first and then I’ll cook.”

“Oh?” You can cook? He certainly didn’t know that. “You’re cooking us dinner?”

“I’m cooking me dinner.” Chan folded his hands and gave you a poor excuse for puppy eyes. But he did just win the game, and you bet doing all that sporty stuff made him starving. “But I guess I can make you a plate... I guess you and I can… eat together…”

“Don’t sound too excited.”

“I’m clearly holding back my excitement.”

Usually in movies or tv, they have the head chefs of famous local restaurants come to the markets between four and five in the morning. The amateur chefs like yourself prefer to pick off what was left for much cheaper at night time. It’s not that the stuff left over was any bad, it was just the important people managed to pick out all the perfect prawns and symmetrical vegetables and what have you. It was much less stressful in the evenings anyways, when everyone was already home cooking and you were left to wander as you pleased before the vendors packed up for the day.

“Do you come here all the time to grocery shop?” a freshly-washed Chan asked beside you. When he went grocery shopping, as long as the produce didn’t have any bruises and the meat was red, that’s all he needed. He never inspected the peaches for its plumpness or asked what time the fish was caught today, unlike you, though now and again he’ll slap a watermelon to test its juiciness.

“Goodness, no, am I made of money?”

“How expensive can this place be, they’re not even in a store.”

“Oh, Chan the naivete. Think of the most expensive piece of produce you’ve ever bought. It’s probably organic, right? Free of pesticides and the like?”

“I think it was an avocado.”

“Right, completely ridiculous that you’re paying $2.50 per avocado. The avocadoes here? Double that.”

���You’re shitting me.”

“I really wish I was. Those are the morning price avocadoes though. Nighttime shoppers like us are lucky to snag them for $3.50.”

“Why bother paying so much when you can go to the local store across the street from your house?”

“Even though I can get much more for the price I’m paying here,” you paused and handed Chan the brightest and quite possibly the smallest strawberry he’d ever seen. “You can taste the difference.”

Snipping off the green stem and leaves, the clueless boy popped the berry in his mouth and you watch the flavor brighten his eyes.

“Quality over quantity,” you bragged.

The rest of your time there, you had to stop Chan from eating a single grape from every little basket at every single vendor.

“You are a child.”

“Baby me, baby.”

Coming back to the apartment with your’s and Chan’s arms full of groceries, anxiousness rushed in the second you stepped beyond the threshold. It occurred to you that you’ve never actually cooked for anyone before besides Yeri. This will be the second time you’ll see someone’s first reaction to your cooking, and it’ll be from your worst enemy.

“Need me to sous chef, head chef?” he asked while unpacking.

“Actually, that would help me a lot. Could you wash the vegetables?”

“Sure. While we’re at it, can I get your opinion on something?”

You raised your brow in confusion. “Do I have the knowledge for it?”

“You have ears, so yes.”

From that point moving forward, you decided not to question Chan because he was going to do whatever he wanted anyways. As you prepped the kitchen, you ignored the loud rustling in the living room with the occasional ‘ow, fuck’ following a stubbed toe. Out of curiosity and right before yelling at him to hurry up, Chan had finally pressed the play button and an unfamiliar song played through his massive speakers that he brought outside.

“Is this your new song?” you asked.

He did the ‘hand-sexily-but-also-shyly-running-through-my-hair’ thing before answering. “Yeah, and I’m not sure if I like it that much. The guys say it sounds good, but they’re my homies so they have to say that, y’know?”

“At least you know I won’t bullshit you.”

“Be gentle at least, please.”

“I will once you help me with dinner finally.”

“Right, right.”

Of course one song didn’t cover the entirety of the dinner preparation. After the one, which you honest to God liked a lot (“Stop lying.” “I’m not! You asked me to be honest, dick!”), Chan shyly but happily showed you more of his work. Some of it was already posted to his Soundcloud and some weren’t uploaded because he either hated them or he was stuck and left unfinished.

“Like, how is it possible that I can’t finish a project whose finished product is less than three minutes long!?” By now, Chan gave up trying to help after he cut his finger several times and sat at the table munching on his expensive basket of berries as he explained his creative block to you as if you were his therapist. “It makes me seem lazy, doesn’t it?”

“People hit creative walls all the time,” you reassured. “Don’t get yourself down about it.”

“Have you ever even hit a wall before?” he challenged.

“I do in the kitchen all the time, you ass.”

“How is that even possible? What walls can you even hit in the kitchen?”

“The difference between baking and cooking is that baking has less room for error, but tons of room for visual creativity, which is why I think baking is much harder. Cooking measurements for a meal, on the other hand, are meant to be adjusted with freedom which is nice, but how many times can someone change the presentation of a bowl of rice, meat, and vegetables?”

A bowl of said food was placed in front of a drooling Chan who had to sit through the tortuous cooking process smelling the aromatics and satiate his rumbling tummy with sour fruit. He hadn’t even taken a bite yet and his eyes were already sparkling with anticipation. It was reactions like his that made you the most embarrassed because what if he tasted it and hated it!?

“Whoa, this looks delicious!” he beamed.

“You didn’t think I could cook, did you.”

“No, I thought you were joking and when you weren’t I was like, ‘I HAVE to taste her cooking’. I'm a little disappointed that it doesn’t look inedible.”

“Ha ha, just eat your food, parasite.”

With anticipation, you watched Chan take a huge bite with all the fixins on the spoon. You could sense the awkwardness when he turned away.

“Stop staring at me,” he mumbled with cheeks full of rice.

“Not until you tell me what you think.”

“Well, of course it tastes good.”

“Really?”

“Yes, now stop looking at me, I’m not your zoo animal.”

A huge sigh of relief escaped you and a heavy weight off your chest was relieved. Something about cooking for new people always made you want to pass out, but if both your best friend and your best enemy admit to how good it is, maybe you’ll become more open to the idea of cooking for others more often. You DID like that huge sense of pride that rushed in.

Chan finished the bowl in two minutes. He held it up for you to take. “More, please.”

“Wow, ok.”

You were lucky enough to get a bowl yourself with Chan practically inhaling everything, and even then he still had room for dessert. It was atrocious how much a college man could eat.

“They say someone’s cooking says a lot about them,” Chan proposed while washing down his food with soda.

“They who?”

“I don’t know, the internet?” he shrugged.

“Oh, yeah? What does the internet say about a bowl of rice for dinner?”

“That you’re uptight and don’t like to have fun.”

“Hey!”

“And probably a virgin.”

Your cheeks burned an embarrassingly bright red at the proclamation. “Wh-What makes you say that!?”

“It’s a safe meal to make. You know, hard to mess up and a little simple so it’ll always taste good?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Where’s the excitement, _____? The improvisation!?”

“There’s not much room to improv in cooking, Christopher.”

“Don’t you want to live a little? Have some spontaneity?”

“Are we still talking about my cooking or…?”

“No, dumbass, I mean your life, too!” Chan hopped up from his chair and took your hand to twirl you around the kitchen like the scene in Beauty and the Beast. Oh God, you hoped you didn’t accidentally poison him or that he was having a weird allergic reaction to sesame, or something. “Have some fun for once!”

You somehow broke away from the hypnotic dance and stood as far away from that crazy man as possible. “Don’t act like you know me all of a sudden because you read some corny Buzzfeed article about a fucking bowl of rice and meat, Bang Chan!”

“What do you mean, I’ve come to know you for a whole semester.”

“A whole semester of being blacked out.”

“Hey, that means nothing!”

“Ok. Tell me one thing you know about me from a whole semester of being unconscious on my couch.”

“You have an in-depth skin care routine.”

“Anyone can guess that.”

“From the books you have lying around and a few paintings on the wall, you dabble in that horoscope bull shit.”

“So do a lot of girls, next.”

“You like heart and star-shaped marshmallows in your hot cocoa.”

You’ll admit that one had you silent for a moment. Only Yeri knew about that, but that was because those were the only marshmallows you bought specifically for hot cocoa. They add a little pizazz to your drink, especially with the edible glitter. “That doesn’t count, there’s no other marshmallow in the apartment.”

“True,” he began, pointing an accusing finger at you. “But you like a whole handful of marshmallows in your mug.”

“... S-So -”

“Ah ha, got one!” 

“So what, a ton of people like marshmallows!”

“Yeah, but not pink hearts and purple stars ones!”

“How do you even know that?”

“Hm. I think it was the night of Hongjoong’s birthday. Yeah, I passed out, woke up, whined to Yeri, and she made me hot cocoa and said, ‘Do you care if the marshmallows are shaped like hearts and stars?’ And I said, ‘I ONLY want hearts and stars’.”

A shy smile spread across your lips. It’s moments like these when you weren’t chewing his ear off that he finds you a little cute. Just a little.

“Is there a reason for those specific marshmallows?” he asked.

“They’re cute,” you pouted.

“Well, do I get a prize for knowing one thing about you?”

“Yeah, doing the dishes.”

“What!?”

“I cooked now you clean!” you said before running off to your room.

A tired, but willing Chan dragged his feet to the sink. He could just throw all of the dishes in the dishwasher, but somehow hand-washing while reminiscing about all the Fridays he’s crashed here with you barking like a chihuahua the next morning was much more fun.

His cheeks hurt from smiling too much by the end of that night.

--

A virgin… How the hell does cooking a bowl of rice for your roommate somehow make you a virgin!?

Ok, so maybe it wasn’t the most outstanding meal you’ve ever made or could have cooked for him, but that ungrateful man who couldn’t even fry an egg shouldn’t be so picky!

But why, of all the insults and swears he’s ever thrown at you, was virgin the one that hit you the most?

Who cares if you were or weren’t one! What difference did that make you as a person, right!? At first glance, of course no one would be able to tell whether you were or weren’t one, but what did that say about people who did know you, like Chan and Yeri? Was that the kind of vibe you gave off? Were you too goody-goody, too play-by-the-rules? Was Chan right when he said your life lacked that spark, that spontaneity he seemed to so-crave?

Now that you thought about it, you haven’t gone out on a date or even found someone remotely interesting in a very long time… Since your first year of college at the very least.

Maybe you should show him how spontaneous you could get.

“That’s another thing I noticed last semester,” Chan’s charming accent shook you from your thoughts. You looked to the boy intruding in your room who leaned against the door frame, once again in only his pajama pants and a wet towel slung over his neck to barely cover his torso. He was built like he was carved from the finest slab of marble - how was his skin so white and smooth? “You tend to space out a lot, especially when you’re working on something.”

“How can you tell?”

“You get that dumb look on your face.”

“You mean the same one you have on all the time?”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“Thank you. What are you getting all dressed up for on a Tuesday night?”

“Miyeon said she was coming over like, ten minutes ago and I felt musty, so here I am, half naked in front of your door like this is the greatest dream you’ve ever had.”

“Is that the cheerleader from your game last weekend?” Chan hummed as a response, drying his hair with the towel around his neck and a toothbrush in his mouth. “Is she your girlfriend?”

You heard him choke on the toothpaste. “God, no, why do you think that?”

“I mean she kissed you… ?”

“Eh, it’s kind of an on-again-off-again thing, but nothing was ever official between us.” A sudden realization hit Chan and then that sly smirk that loved to tease you came back to haunt you. “Why? Are you jealous?”

“Jealous of some cheerleader who’s clearly in love with a man who has no interest in her while he lives with another woman?” you scoffed. “Green with envy.”

“At least I have someone in my life!” he called from the bathroom.

That, too, hit a little too close to your heart. He was right - at least he had someone who kept him company, who adored him, who he could go out on dates with… And what did you have? A lousy roommate who uses your body wash.

“What are you doing tonight?” he asked after coming back fully clothed. Your bed was much softer than Yeri’s, who had a rock hard firm mattress. Perhaps Chan should take his naps here instead.

“Nothing. What is there to do on a Tuesday night?”

“Lots of things! It’s Taco Tuesday at that food truck on campus, it’s Tteokbokki Tuesday at that Auntie’s restaurant by the bookstore, ooh and the record store down the street gives out free seltzer water for the hipsters.”

“Is that what you and Miyeon are doing tonight?”

“No, she just wanted to make-out I think.”

“How romantic…”

Chan laid on your bed and kept his thoughts to himself for a while. Somehow after only a few weeks of living together did you tolerate his presence enough to not nag him to get out of your room, let alone off your bed. While you studied the infinite pages of words in your textbook, Chan was able to steal a few glances. The way your brows furrowed in frustration, the messiness of your hair, the slight pout in your lips, it was all quite cute for someone as grouchy as yourself. Although he supposed he’d be an asshole, too, if he was studying seven days a week. You must be tired and frustrated.

Without you paying attention, he whipped out his phone and texted his date.

“Darn,” he sighed convincingly. “Miyeon just cancelled on me.”

“Good for her.”

“Well, now that I’m free, it looks like it’s just you and me tonight.”

“Sike, I have some homework to do.”

“Oh, yeah?” Chan hopped off the bed and peaked over your shoulder at your homework. He was so close that you could smell his woodsy cologne. You kind of liked it. Kind of. “Homework that’s due on Friday? God, _____, at least try to be cool, you nerd.”

“Hey!”

“Get dressed, those tacos and tteokbokki won’t be piping hot forever ~”

“I’m not going!” you tried to argue, but that annoying boy was already out of your room and putting his shoes on. Evil chuckling could be heard from the living room - what a weirdo. As your stomach violently growled, it was really hard to resist such a tempting offer of food, even if it meant going with Chan.

An impatient roommate danced his way to exit. “I’m walking out the door ~”

“Chill, will you?” you mumbled while throwing on your coat. “How are you going to invite me and then abandon me?”

“Then move faster.”

“You move faster…”

“Ah ~” Chan pinched your cheek lightly. “You’re kinda cute like this.”

“Shut up.”

“You know, with trying to kick up the spontaneity in your life and what-not.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

It’s a cold Tuesday night and you almost heavily regret wanting to be spontaneous and cute and uncaring, all because a soundcloud rapper called you a virgin. But the thought of a hot cup of spicy rice cakes was enough for you to travel through the polar vortex. It helped that you weren’t the only one suffering.

“All those nights I crashed on your couch, I’d always buy a cup of this gold before heading over,” Chan admitted. “It was a shame for the days I threw it up.”

“Ah, no wonder your puke is red! I thought you were always almost dying.”

“Sometimes I wished I was.”

Of course the auntie knew Chan by the amount of times he’s stumbled upon the place drunk off his ass (“Wow, you’re walking straight and talking in sentences today!” “Ha ha, auntie…”). The fiery cup of rice cake was the perfect hand-warmer.

“Do I not give off the virgin vibe yet?” you half-joked.

A charming burst of laughter came from your annoying roommate. How could he forget that he called you that! “You’re not hung up on that, are you?”

“I just… I mean, do you think that’s the reason why…” you struggled to speak your insecurities into existence because once you did, that meant they were real and totally holding you back.

“Why what?”

“Tell me something - am I really that uptight? Does it make me seem… I don’t know, unapproachable? Unlikable, even?”

“Please, you are totally uptight.” A loud, unladylike groan echoed throughout the crowded streets of campus. “Unapproachable, yes. Unlikable? I mean, not necessarily? Some guys think that’s hot.”

“So what you’re saying is I’ll be single forever or marry some pushover.”

“Hey, don’t put words into my mouth! Look, if you really want to change how your aura appears to people, you already have! You’re out on a Tuesday night eating rice cakes with the sexiest guy you know. That’s progress in my book, all thanks to me.”

“Somehow you’ve turned my insecurities into praising yourself.” It was impressive, honestly. “You’re something else, Christopher.”

“Thank you!”

“What’s next on our impromptu tour of the town?”

“Ya like vinyl?”

“Huh?”

Chan said nothing else as he cut you off and walked right into the record shop and low and behold, potential buyers were holding skinny cans of flavored seltzer.

“C’mon, princess, there’s not enough seltzer for everyone!” Chan urged.

The vastness and number of collections of the record shop rivaled the local book shop down the street. Although much noisier and haphazard, the concept was still the same and the neon signs and signed posters gave the shop quite the personality. Actually, it was almost as if it was Chan personified. 

In front of you was a basketball-loving ear-pierced punk-ass roommate who wore leather jackets in sub-freezing temperatures and didn’t know how to fold his laundry flipping through the Wu-Tang Clan basket. And there was you, the personified small local bookstore, watching him longingly and wishing you could be like him, who was cool enough to attract other cool people and be someone so approachable and likable. He was the complete opposite of you, and yet somehow you’re both here together, acting like you never had to kick his ass for using your toothbrush four too many times.

How was it possible to think that one day, someone could be in love with a plain and boring bookstore like yourself? Could someone like Chan love someone like you one day?

You hoped so.

Chan wondered where you were and found you looking at him with tired eyes. Of all the things to look at, you somehow could only look at him. With his dimply smile, he said, “Falling in love with me?”

Something made you want to say yes. “Did you find something you like?”

He silently gestured to you to come over with a lazy hand. As expected, he pulled out one of the Wu-Tang Clan records and played it on one of the modern record players that had one set of headphones at the station.

“Here, put these on,” he instructed while putting the over-ear headphones on. A smooth and unique rap style voiced over the equally-smooth instrumentals. It was unlike anything you’ve heard before. Perhaps Chan’s intellectual layers lied within his knowledge in music.

A slight pressure pressed against your right ear. You couldn’t see from your peripherals, but you could smell Chan’s rustic cologne again, and that itself already made you blush deeper shades of red than you could ever imagine. Since there was only one set of headphones, Chan obviously had no other choice but to listen to this track with you like this - invading your space bubble and making you weak in the knees.

“Do you like it?” you could barely hear.

“I do,” you replied. The song wouldn’t be over for another two minutes and Chan refused to move. “Is this what you like?”

“It’s inspirational to me.” The vibrations of his voice almost sent you into shock because wow, was he close to you or what.

He knew you were nervous. He could tell simply by how your shoulders squared the moment his ear pressed on the outside of the headphones. That’s yet another detail he’s come to notice while crashing on your couch and living with you. Whether you were nervous because he was shirtless after coming out of the shower or you were annoyed because he’d eaten all of the ice cream you were saving in the back corner of the freezer, you always straightened your posture upon seeing him because God forgive you ever show any emotion. Why were you like those stuck-up librarians at the hipster bookstores down the street who turned a blind eye to anyone who didn’t look like they read books?

Or maybe, just maybe, you were liking this. You liked being in close proximity to the sexiest guy you’ve ever laid eyes on. You liked the almost-but-not-really skinship you almost-but-not-really shared. You were nervous, not annoyed, weren’t you? Or were you annoyed that you’re nervous around your most hated enemy?

Either way, Chan wins, and that’s all that mattered to him.

You spent most of the spontaneous night in the record store listening to soul, trot, pop punk, underground hip-hop, and everything in between. Quite literally in-between, as Chan would not stop pressing his face to yours because he refused to find a second pair of headphones for him to borrow.

“Stop doing that!” you whined for the fifth time.

“I wanna listen, too ~”

“Then go steal another set of headphones!”

“But I like this. It’s way more fun. And your cheeks are so hot that the radiated heat is warming my face up.”

You’re silent at that point forward because your cheeks thought their purpose in life was to burn as hot as the sun and serve as a radiator to intrusive boys who wanted nothing more than to listen to good music with you.

Honestly, what’s there to complain about?

The record store didn’t close until midnight and you practically stayed until then. At that point, Chan with his black hole for a stomach was hungry again and led you to the taco truck he talked about earlier.

“Is it Taco Tuesday still if it’s past midnight?” you wondered.

“It’s still Tuesday until the sun comes up in my books.”

Tacos weren’t exactly an easy-to-eat street food, so you used the tin foiled rolls as hand warmers until you were back in the comfort of your kitchen where you could happily eat greasy tacos with your sworn enemy.

“What do midnight tacos say about me now?” you questioned the food and vibe expert across the table.

“They say you like cliches and you care a little too much about what people think of you.”

“How the hell did you come up with that?”

“Please, Taco Tuesday is so cliche! And you conformed to it because you want to seem more playful and less of a stick-up-your-ass, am I right?”

The pout on your lips was enough of an answer. “Now I feel like a virgin in sheep’s clothing.”

“Hey, we all have to start somewhere.”

“Do you think I’m more likable this way?”

Perhaps Chan was a little harsh with his words the one night you cooked for him. He thought he would be able to know you front and back after nearly a month of living together, but it seemed that he was farther away from that than he thought. After all this time, he thought you didn’t care one bit about how people perceived your feisty self. Maybe instead you cared too much and you had built a wall to prevent others like Chan from knowing.

“You were always likable,” he admitted honestly.

“Please stop lying,” you groaned.

“I mean it! Even when you were yelling at me or trying to kick me off the couch or stealing back the food I was trying to eat, I never hated you. It was so much fun messing with you because you were not afraid to cuss me out.”

“And that makes me likable how?”

Chan shrugged. “I have fun when I’m around you. Do you think I would have kept coming back to crash here if I hated you?”

“Yeah, to torture me.”

“Well, to clear things up, I don’t hate you. And I bet my bottom dollar that you don’t hate me, either.”

“Sike.”

“You’re telling me you still hate me after the fun we had tonight? Or the night you watched me play and cooked for me? Or even the one night after Lucas’s Halloween party when I passed out here even though your heater was broken and you wrapped me up in your fuzzy blanket?”

Another blush spread across your cheeks. “You remember that?”

“How could I forget the first night you showed me any compassion?”

“Fine, you’re right, I don’t hate you… You’re, in fact, quite tolerable.”

Who knew Chan’s eyes could light up so brightly at such a mediocre compliment, if you’d even call it one. “You like me ~”

“Stop.”

“You’re gonna fall in love with me ~”

“Chan -”

“I bet you already have ~”

“Ok, I’m going to bed.”

“No, you aren’t!”

You tried to run out of the kitchen and into your room to lock the door, but Chan got to you just as you reached the living room. He entrapped you with his big, strong arms and held you in a suffocating hug, drowning out his giggles with your screaming. Your resistance was strong, but you were smiling brighter than he’d ever seen before. Today was a long day for both of you and the moment Chan rested his chin on your shoulder was when you stopped struggling to break free. His tufts of chestnut hair and slow breathing tickled your cheeks.

“Oi, wake up,” you demanded, hitting his forearms.

That only made him hold you tighter. “No.”

You stopped fighting him and let the poor boy rest on your shoulder. “You don’t think this is weird?”

“No. We’re just two roommates fighting, right?” he teased, shaking you in his arms.

“Yeah, fighting.”

“Do you think it’s weird?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Please.”

His giggle rang in your ear and made goosebumps travel throughout your skin. Then Chan did what spontaneous Chan does and surprised you by kissing your cheek with a loud, moist, audible smooch.

“A-Ah, Chan!!” you gasped.

“Goodnight, beautiful.”

Before you could scold him further, he had already let go and went to his room. How long was he holding you? Because now you’re left stunned in the living room feeling the cold from the draft of your windows. Your cheek felt like it had been branded by his soft rose petal lips. It burned so much that you ended your night lying in bed staring at the ceiling cupping the tainted cheek.

“I hate him,” you mumbled to no one. Your words hold zero weight the moment you screamed into your pillow.

--

The first couple of days after the incident were a little weird, to put it simply. You circled back to your old habits of avoiding him and keeping conversations short and that didn’t slip past Chan for even a couple of hours. At first, he thought he might have ruined whatever weird friendship you had together, but the way you avoided him was not how it used to be.

You were embarrassed - dare he say even shy. Your avoidance held no malice and didn’t feel icy as it did last semester. Rather, you fled because you felt vulnerable. Your words were no longer full of insults, but instead were soft and sprinkled with stutters. It was like a scene from a drama set in high school where the cute shy nerd has a massive crush on the super sexy jock and won’t admit her feelings because she doesn’t think she has a chance. And knowing you, you would never admit to having feelings, so how was Chan supposed to get a confession out of you?

Cornering you was the only option he thought could work, but sadly that didn’t.

“Chan, c’mon, I have to use the bathroom,” you whined on the other side of the door.

He didn’t say a word when the door opened and steam spilled out into the halls. Yet again was he dressed only in his pajama bottoms and a towel around his neck, hair still damp and hanging loosely over his eyes. He took a step forward and you’re given no choice but to back up.

“What are you -”

You cut yourself off when your back hit the wall and Chan had you in the palm of his hands. Proximity was close to nothing as your toes touched and you could smell your body wash from his freshly-washed chest. Seriously, he still used your body wash!?

“C-Can I use the bathroom or what…” you stuttered.

He stared right in your eyes, then admired your cute nose, and finally down to your lips. He was teasing you! Like, actually teasing! He’s making you think that he wanted to kiss you! All of the possibilities of him making a move on you were just as equal as him not going through with it and your mind was racing like crazy and it was really starting to stress you out! Why, why was it stressing you out!?

Then he took a huge step back to let you through.

“All yours,” he whispered.

Well, that sort of worked… You didn’t say a verbal confession, but your face sure showed it. But no, that wasn’t enough. He needed to hear you say it. He had to do more, and he knew exactly what to do to push your limits.

For the whole week, whenever you did something for him whether it was answering a simple question or giving him a plate of whatever you cooked for dinner, Chan would kiss your cheek. That’s right, those soft rose petal lips would every-so slightly graze your cheeks almost everyday and even when you tried to scold him or fight back, you didn’t, as if you were stunned frozen every single time. This of course scared Chan - no emotion meant uncertainty on his end. Well, did you like it, or not!?

At some point, after a whole week of cheek kisses, you kind of… got used to it. Got used to the damn kisses, his flirtatious winks, the invasion of your space bubble, eating all of your food, using all of your bath products, taking unsolicited naps on your bed while you studied, all of it! You’ve gotten used to being around the man that is Bang Chan and you would almost admit that you liked being around him… almost.

And neither of you spoke up about it.

So… what were you two…? That’s right, you’re asking yourself the infamous ‘so what are we’ question - it’s really reached that point. No longer were you enemies or just plain roommates living separate lives, and of course you two weren’t dating, either. So did you consider him a friend? Sure, I mean you wouldn’t cook dinner for just anyone, right? But everything Chan did was not what normal friends do. At least in your experience - who knows if he’s doing this type of stuff to his other ‘friends’, like Miyeon.

Speaking of which, you hadn’t heard about her in a while, and you were almost convinced whatever relationship they had was over when she called off their date that one Tuesday - until Friday night.

The night was still young when you arrived home to your roommate mixing and playing with some beats over those impossibly loud speakers. It’s been a long week dealing with school work on top of figuring out your conflicting feelings of the boy in the next room and a quiet night without any games from Chan would be ideal, but life never worked out for you in that way, did it?

“Welcome home, darling ~!” he greeted playfully over the blasting bass before turning it down. “Cookin’ anything for dinner?”

The tiredness in your sigh didn’t go unnoticed. “Nah, I don’t feel like cooking tonight. I might do delivery if you’re up for that?”

The charming man came out of the room all dressed up like he was planning on going out and not coming back for the night. “That’s ok, I actually have plans tonight.”

“Oh? Where are you going?”

“Miyeon’s taking me out to one of her friend’s birthday bash, or whatever rich girls like to do, before we all go out tonight.”

Miyeon, the gorgeous cheerleader. Somehow, you’ve completely forgotten her existence. Of course they were still talking, idiot! How could you even think that you could compete with someone like her?

“Are you her date?” you asked hesitantly, not wanting to know the answer.

“If that’s what she’s callin’ it, I guess so.” Chan adjusted his shirt collar and unbuttoned the top. “Do I look good?”

“Do you not consider her your date?”

“Not really. All I have to do is sit and look pretty.”

“You don’t think she’s asking you because she likes you?”

“Please, she probably only asked me because Mingyu said no.”

“Chan, you don’t know that for sure.”

You began to feel his frustration when he threw his hands in the air in disbelief. The truth hurts, doesn’t it? “Why are you so hung up about this? Why does it matter to you?”

“It doesn’t!” you said a little too defensively. “I just don’t think you’re being fair.”

“How?”

“What if she really likes you? What if she’s asking you out to this thing because she wants you to know that? If she does like you, can you even say that you like her back?”

“Tch, no.”

“Then why even bother going and leading her on!?”

“Who said I’m leading her on? I’m just keeping her company!”

“What, so you’re going to have your arm around her waist, look into each others’ eyes and kiss and it’s going to mean nothing!?” At this point, you were screaming before you knew it. “Because that’s what you two normally do, right? Kiss each other like it means nothing?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what it means, nothing! I -” Chan sighed heavily. “Ok, it does sound a little ridiculous when I say it out loud, but I promise it doesn’t mean anything! Wait a minute, why am I even explaining myself to you? Are you jealous, or something?”

No, you’re not jealous. You’re angry that Chan was that kind of guy who played with women like they were toys or little pawns on a cheap chess set. You’re angry that you were one of them.

“Have fun tonight,” you said flatly, retrieving to your room.

“_____, wait.” You didn’t wait and instead locked your bedroom door. “Fuck.”

Well, Chan’s End Game plan to get you to confess out of jealousy backfired badly. The party wasn’t even real! Dammit, now where was he supposed to go looking like this!?

A small lightbulb went off in his head. Off to the grocery store!

Maybe going to your room was a terrible idea because now you were left to reflect on how you poorly reacted. You had your strong points about how Chan didn’t know how Miyeon truly felt about him, but the flipside was that she could have felt the same - that she was just using Chan as some accessory and he was totally ok with that. Who were you to judge the weird mutualistic relationship that they had as head cheerleader and captain of the basketball team? The concept seemed corny and straight out of a teen movie, but perhaps those movies weren’t too far off base as you thought.

You’re also left to reflect on what he said before you stormed off into your room - were you jealous? At first, your anger could easily be mistaken for jealousy, but what was the truth? Of course you’re furious that Chan played these stupid fucking games with you! But you’d be less mad if you were the only one he cared to fool around with. 

You finally left the room around an hour after your sulking to bump into Chan’s rock-hard chest.

“Jesus Christ!” you screamed. “Chan, what the hell!” 

“Sorry, I was about to knock!”

“What are you doing right in front of my room, you werido!?”

The cheeky, dimply boy held up a paper bag. “Buzzfeed said people who like desserts are emotionally-driven and a little cold-hearted, but sweet as sugar once they get their fix.”

“Buzzfeed said that or YOU said that?”

“Both.”

You shook your head tiredly. “What are you doing here?”

“I… I lied. I don’t have some extravagant party to go to tonight. I haven’t texted Miyeon in weeks.”

“What? Then why did you…?”

“I had this dumb idea that you would confess your undying love for me if I somehow made you jealous. Clearly that didn’t work.”

“You’re right, you’re dumb ideas never work.”

“Hey, I didn’t say that! Fine, let me try Plan B. Let me know it it’s also dumb.”

“Gladly.”

“_____, I like you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “Y-You what?”

“I like you. A lot. Since you threw that blanket over me that one night last semester and I knew you didn’t truly hate my guts after all. And then I got to live with you - to witness your multi-faceted personality, to talk with you, and to get you to laugh at my dumb jokes and cheek kisses. Tell me, _____, am I dumb for falling for you like this?”

“Well… I’d say yes, but that would admit I’m stupid, too.”

“Oh?” He smirked playfully, taking a step forward. “And that’s because…?”

You mumbled something incoherent. Then, Chan dropped the bag of desserts and scooped you in his arms again, nuzzling his nose in all the ticklish places on your neck.

“Chan, stop!” you giggled.

“Hm? What was that?” he asked. “I can’t hear you ~”

“I like you!”

Finally, he stopped, lifting his head to look at you but keeping you safe in his arms. “Do you? I mean, really, do you?”

“I like you. Surprisingly a lot. And I hate it.”

“Music to my ears, baby,” he grinned. He buried his face once more to flower you with cheek kisses. “Say it again.”

“Don’t make me say it again.”

“Please ~” his kisses trickled down to your neck.

“It tickles!” you giggled some more. “If I say it, you gotta stop.”

“As much as that burdens me, fine.”

“I like you, Bang Chan.”

“See? Doesn’t that confession feel great? Like a huge weight lifted off your chest?” He pulled you in closer, to which you oblige and it only made his ego bigger and his heart beat faster. “I could get used to this.”

“Me too,” you sighed dreamily.

“Would you like dessert to commemorate this beautiful union, my love?”

“Sounds delightful.”

“Will you kiss me first?”

You pulled on his shirt collar to bring him down for a long, deep kiss that Chan thought he could only ever dream about. It left him dizzy and a little light headed and the way you break the kiss to let your sweet lips linger so closely was torturous and almost had him begging for more. Almost. Bang Chan did not beg.

“Whoa,” he sighed breathily.

“That’s what you get for the past couple of weeks.”

“Ah yeah, I suppose I deserve that…”

You left the stunned Chan to go ahead into the kitchen. “Let’s go, lover boy. I want some ice cream, please.”

“Anything for you, princess.”

--

EPILOGUE

“You two are what!?”

You and Chan looked at each other with fear written on both of your faces. Yeri was on the other end on speakerphone screaming curse words and ‘are you kidding me’s and ‘I fucking knew this would happen’s.

“Yeah, we’re uh, kind of dating now,” Chan repeated bravly.

“I cannot believe what I’m hearing! This is disgusting!! _____, what do you have to say for yourself, you hypocritical piece of poo!”

“I have nothing to say, I am just as ashamed as you are.”

Chan nudged you playfully. “Hey, we’re in this together, you know!”

“Ugh, I hate how I have to support this!” Yeri whined and cried and sobbed. “Just… Just don’t do it on my bed!”

“Don’t worry, apparently to Chan I’m a huge virgin because I know how to cook.”

“I was kidding!! And that’s gonna change now that I’m here -”

“Oh, gross! Stop! Please stop!” Yeri groaned. “I hate you both, I’m gonna kick your asses when I come back!”

“Love you too, Yer-bear,” you and Chan said in unison.

[sarcastically-defensive17]

Forget me? Forget us. - B. Hargrove

Inspired by ‘Forget me too’ by MGK and Halsey. I love this song and it has been stuck in my head all day and I couldn’t think of anything but a toxic relationship with billy. This isn’t a happy story, but it is a sad reality of some relationships. Some people are so bad for each other yet their love is too intense. “I love you so much that I hate you” describes this perfectly.

Gif is not mine, nor are the lyrics used within the song or Billy Hargrove. Hope you enjoy!

Let me know if you want to join the Billy taglist, or my general tag list!

Original story by sarcastically-defensive17

TW: This story contains an intense description of a very toxic relationship. In no way do I condone this kind of relationship and I recommend seeking help if you are in a relationship like this and you fear for your safety or that of another.

Billy was dangerous. So was Y/N. She was cold, he was burning hot. They were powerful separate, a raging storm together.

They were made to love one another, but not made to be in love with one another. They were furious, passionate, loving, angry, fearful, high on possibility.

They were inseparable, but couldn’t bare to be with one another.

They were purely paradoxical, and they loved every heart aching second of it.

They had broken up once again, their love blowing up in a fury of broken objects and obscenities. One of their distant friends from high school decided to throw a party, despite her status as post-high school adults. Billy was in attendance, obviously.

Y/N had yet to show up. Her absence elated him, and disappointed him. He loved her. He loved her so much that he couldn’t stand to be around her, for he was too scared to lose it.

Their love was temporary, yet the temporary was permanent.

They were always going to fall apart. They were always going to become one again. They would fall apart soon after. It was a viscous cycle of heartbreak and hopeless love.

He waited for her, drink in hand, clad in tight jeans and a white tank top. His staple denim jacket was missing.

Another woman - Bethany, Billy thought her name was - stood awfully close to him, her bony hand resting on his arm as she spoke. He had no idea what she was saying, he had zoned out almost as soon as she approached him. He had little care to listen to her prattle on. His mind was waiting for one person.

Bethany kept chattering and Billy fought the urge to roll his eyes. He was showing zero interest, yet the woman would not shut up.

Well, she hadn’t, until a hand grabbed her hair and yanked her entire body backwards, until she fell flat on her behind.

Y/N stood behind her, Billy’s jacket draped over her shoulders and a look of pure fury in her eyes.

I saw you walk in the room and I tried my best
Not to panic while I'm lookin' for the back door,

I smelled the perfume and it's obvious, i'm gonna stay and put my key in the bag more.

She wasn’t directing it towards Bethany, no. She was locked and loaded right on Billy.

Flight or fight kicked in, and Billy panicked, but only for a minute.

She looked divine. Wearing his jacket, marks on her neck from their last positive encounter on show for everybody to see.

She smelled like perfection, her chocolate scented perfume drawing him in, filling his senses with her.

She drove him crazy, made him more furious than he could comprehend. They would fight, they would love, they would fall apart.

Her hand connected with his face, yet he wasn’t angry. No. He connected his lips with hers, feeling her fingers slide through his hair. All eyes were on them, yet everybody had seen this scene before.

They were possessive, they were horrible to one another and others, but god help anybody who messed with their relationship. Only they could crumble the walls that they build.

She pulled back from him, smirking, watching as he bit his lip with temptation.

“Missed me baby?” She winked at him, allowing his body to pull hers along as he grabbed her hand and started leading her outside.

She may be the reason that his small apartment had a broken window and multiple holes in the wall, but he sure as hell didn’t hesitate to follow her to wherever she led.

The alcohol wore off by the time he woke, his head pounding and his vision spinning.

Her leg was stung over his own, both of them as bare as the day they were born. He rose carefully, moving her body from his as gently as he could.

However, in his efforts to make it out without waking her, he dropped his belt, and the clatter of the buckle on the hardwood floor caused her to snap awake.

It escalated quickly.

You want me to forget you? Okay, forget me too.

You tell me you hate me, baby, yeah, I bet you do

“You’re such a fucking asshole, Hargrove!” She shoved at his shoulder, trying to get past him so she could get to the bathroom. He was blocking her way.

“Oh, of course. I’m the asshole.” He snarled, a smile on his face. You’re the one who starts screaming at me, but I’m the one in the wrong!”

“You’re in the wrong because you ducking broke up with me, then tried to skip out before I woke up.” Her hands were in her hair, grasping at the roots. “You’re so fucking selfish. I’m waiting around constantly for you, but I make you wait one fucking time and you’re throwing a tantrum!”

“You left me waiting for an hour, Y/N! What, were you out with Tommy? What about Stevie? You always had a soft spot for him.” They were malicious. They knew how to hurt one another and they both knew it.

“God, you’re such a joke.” She laughed in his face, shoving her shoulder against his so she could grab her stuff from the bathroom. “Sometimes I wish I could forget I ever fucking met you, Billy.”

“You wouldn’t survive without me holding your hand, princess.” He snarled, perfect lips turning up to show perfect teeth.

They connected once again, pulling at one another, crashing into the wall, the door frame, the bed.

“I hate your fucking guts,” she growled, pulling his shirt over his head.

“I know you do, baby.” He flipped them over so his body was covering her own and connecting his lips to hers once again.

I've wasted so much time waitin' around for your phone calls every night

She would sit by the phone every night, waiting for his call. She would excuse some night, knowing if his terrible home life, but when he got his own place, he rarely called, rarely picked up the phone.

She spent so many days, so many nights, waiting up on him.

She got her own back at him.

He was taking her to see a new movie, planning to meet her at the arcade next to the theatre at 6 o’clock. He had to drop the bratty step-sister off, so he figured two birds.

He waited there until an hour later, the movie already beginning. He was seething. He hated being stood up, and she knew it.

Y/N arrived at the theatre 15 minutes later, but there was no Billy in sight, nor his sleek camaro.

She drove to his apartment, furious yet also proud. She gave him a taste of his own medicine, and she couldn’t wait to see how frustrated he was. She hated hurting him, but he hurt her just as bad.

We'd both be better off alone.

Still think I'd get you on the phone with one last breath in me.

I'd die before I let you leave

He had already downed five beers by the time she got there. It was rare for her to see him sober, and it was rare for him to see her while he was sober.

It escalated as soon as she walked in the door, slamming the heavy wood behind her.

“I was waiting for you and you didn’t bother to fucking show up!” He took a drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke in her direction. She hated when he smoked, she despised the smell of nicotine on his breath but found the sight of him smoking to be incredibly attractive.

She fell for his bad boy side, and found home in his caring heart and troubled personality. It was a broken home but she couldn’t bare to leave.

The argument grew more and more, she threw a phone book at him, sending it through the window in his living room.

“I’m done. I’m sick of the bullshit, Y/N. We’re fucking better off alone!” He slammed his hand on the table, silencing her shouts of obscenities at him.

She laughed, slumping down onto the beat up couch. They had been saving money every paycheck to get him some new furniture. Y/N had also been putting money away to get her own apartment, despite Billy’s offer for her to live with him.

Such a volatile and temporary relationship couldn’t withstand constantly being in the presence of one another.

“We would die before we ever give up on one another, Billy.”

Tell me why you do the things that make me hate you,

It's an emotional kaleidoscope when I face you,

Permanent calligraphy, I just tattooed your name on me forever, fuck

Y/N and Billy love each other intensely, but they also know exactly how to make the other hate them.

It was a horrible cycle, yet nobody could make them happier than the person they hated the most.

Even if they wanted to forget one another, they could never forget the love they shared.

Tag List: @snookiebrookie (because you’re always so kind)

Let me know if you want to join the billy taglist!

[maybe-itll-be-someday]

How Far We’ll Go

Chapter 15

Definitely some mature content in this one, so if you’re below 18, there is absolutely nothing here for you.

However, if you’re above 18 and into break-up sex.... 

Read on AO3

--

He never thought he could feel her absence more potently than her presence.

Emily always seemed to overwhelm him any time she was near - a comforting figure he always had in his periphery, his gaze stuck on her long before he realized it. He had stolen tiny tastes of it in the past, in a past lifetime before Foyet and Doyle where she was just his subordinate and he her superior. Aaron had long ignored the slight flush of his skin when she was near, the way he'd look back to her for a split second longer than he knew he had to. It was a magnetic pull he was barely conscious of, an unnoticeable habit swamped by mountains of paperwork, close brushes with their demise, and an unspoken understanding.

It wasn't until the walls between them started toppling, the neat bricks of their professional relationship crumbling whenever she smiled and his heart lurched a little further towards her, that he truly started to feel her presence. He couldn't stop the way she pulled his gaze around a room, noticing the soft dip of her collarbone and the supple pull of her waist. Catching tastes of lavender and clean laundry when she hovered over him, pointing out a tiny detail from a file with a slender finger. Small moments, easily maskable and explainable, that soon became the solace that he stole away to at night.

When she kissed him for the first time, tinged with an impatience and neon lights, she overwhelmed him. He remembers how she tasted - sweet and buttery, remnants of maple syrup in the small factions of her lips, and he was left heady. Thoughts unable to form, barely focusing on her words because all he wanted to do was feel her. He wanted to feel the way her breath, laced with decaf coffee and a spearmint she offered him, brought a welcome contrast to the biting cold. His fingers twisted on her waist, finding purchase on the curves he'd thought about more frequently than he'd ever admit. When he undressed her for the first time, an endless expanse of smooth skin that formed hills and mountains his fingers travelled with a soft touch, a fire consumed him, burning through every limb of his body. An unexplainable need to orbit around her - the center of his universe.

But now, it’s over.

Torn up by Doyle, his influence still reaching from beyond the grave. He had branded her memories of that night into a messy four leaf clover on her chest, staining her for life. She slipped through his grasp, almost as easily as she came.

Her absence burned through him more than Haley's had when they divorced. He thought his ability to compartmentalize was stronger than it was - he was always able to put his home life in a separate thought than work, refusing for the two to mix because he knew only certain disaster would await. Haley and their problems could easily be compartmentalized, tucked away in the confines of his mind and saved for a time when other lives didn't depend on him.

But now there was an emptiness that followed him everywhere he went. Small reflexes that were remnants of their time together - seeking for her in briefing rooms and precincts, wanting to ask her opinion. A lone shampoo bottle in his bathroom, tucked away behind his body wash and a mug with a faint outline of pointy ears and whiskers drying upside down on his counter. The old faded Yale t-shirt he had found in his laundry, an item easily overlooked, forced the air out of his lungs when he gripped a million memories sewn into the soft fabric in his hands.

He had a taste of bliss, only for it to falter on his tongue the moment he had it.

He always ached for her presence.

But now he was drowning in her absence.

--

In the first month, Jack takes it harder than Aaron notices.

The apartment is unusually clean, Jack's books neatly tucked into their assigned spaces on the bookshelf and toys put away in their proper bins. Jack finishes his vegetables and fruit with an unrelenting concentration, even finishing all of his peas despite the fact that he hated them. Aaron had chalked it up to him growing up a little bit and didn't pay it much mind, the grief of losing Emily a heavy burden he thought he was carrying alone.

Not until one Sunday morning, one of their very firsts without her, when Aaron is working on some paperwork in his office and hears a loud crash coming from the kitchen. Jack had said that he wanted orange juice and insisted on getting it himself, the streak of independence Aaron could've sworn he'd gotten from her. He sighs to himself, making his way to the kitchen.

"Jack, are you alright?" Aaron calls. He frowns when there isn't a response and walks in, only to see Jack standing in a sea of shattered glass as tears streaked his cheeks. Aaron carefully steps over the shards of glass, moving to pick Jack up in his embrace and quickly inspecting him to ensure that he wasn't hurt.

"I-I'm sorry, Daddy." He says between ragged breaths, and Aaron lets out a breath of relief at the lack of blood on him. Jack continues to sob into his shoulder, a sting of worry still lingering at the tears that fall from the eyes that looked so much like Haley's it still stole his breath away.

"You don't need to be sorry, Jack. Accidents happen. We'll clean this up together, okay?" Jack slowly calms down, as Aaron cradles him to his chest. It was too reminiscent of the way he'd comfort Jack when he was younger as he bounces him up and down, running a soothing hand down his back.

When the tears cease, only bubbling hiccups remain, that's when Jack asks him a question that nearly brings him to his knees.

"You're not going to leave me too, right Daddy?"

The pain is hot and prominent in between his ribs, his own tears rising in the corner of his eyes. Aaron had been so consumed in his heartbreak, assuming that he was the only one that was devastated by Emily leaving. He forgets that Jack had a taste of life with Emily as well, of stories with funny voices, weekends spent with his hand in hers as they explored DC, and a love that had filled the both of them. She had carved out a new place in his heart, right next to where Haley was, and her departure had left a hole in him too.

Aaron is quick to shake his head, tightening his hold on the young boy.

"Jack, you listen to me, okay? I will never leave you." Jack is easily placated with promises of chocolate ice cream as Aaron suggests he go grab the broom so they could clean up the broken shards of glass together.

Aaron is left standing with shards of glass around him, and wonders how you put something back together that has shattered beyond recognition.

--

In the fourth month, Emily starts to get used to the London streets.

A coffee shop with croissants that melt on her tongue is only a ten minute walk from her flat, she's learned the particularities of the personalities of her team, and she actually knows of the Sunday market taking place downtown. The fear that pricks the back of her neck and fills her fingertips with a nervous energy dissipates slowly as she carves familiar pathways in London streets.

The nightmares cease and she builds a new routine. A black coffee in the morning, a splash of cream and sugar from the break room (she avoids Splenda at all costs because when the sweetness hits her teeth, all she can remember is the small box of Splenda he had added to his grocery list, just for her, tucked away in his kitchen), followed by hours of meetings with superiors and colleagues or a case that whisks her to whichever part of the world beckoned for them, only to crawl to her flat when the work had ceased and pour herself from one of the multiple bottles of red she kept with worn paper labels printed in French.

She savors the warmth of the expensive sheets she splurged on, the soft silk a gentle caress on her skin to soothe the dull ache in her chest when she crawls into bed alone. She throws herself into social nights spent with her team, trying hard to recreate the feeling of family that she had left behind in an attempt to try and build her own. She flirts, admittedly poorly and without any true effort, when a few glasses of wine had entered her system in an attempt to shield the emptiness she feels when she thinks she caught a glimpse of his brown eyes in the dim lights of the bar and the following disappointment because of course it would never be him.

She tries to keep in contact. Penelope and Derek are the easiest, because they had both insisted on flying with her to London to properly see her off. Derek had realized that she was leaving before she even told him, understanding as she had expected him to be. Penelope had, of course, found out from Derek that she had accepted the Interpol Unit Chief position and came to her with tears beading behind her sparkled frames and booking flights for her and Derek before she could protest.

But it's obvious from the first few phone calls that they were skirting around the team to talk to her. JJ had been a little more confused, given the fact that she knew that there was more than just the BAU she was leaving behind.

"Are you sure about this, Em?" She had asked, when Emily pulled her aside for their last coffee date. Emily remembers the concern in her look and the mild disappointment, but she had just swallowed the words I'm not and said that she was. She doesn't tell JJ of the nagging voice in the back of her head, the one that insisted that she must have been making a mistake.

But the voice was small, insignificant compared to the fear that plagued her for months. So she accepts the hurt on JJ's expression and pulls her into a tight hug, promising that she would call, visit, and they could still play Scrabble.

Reid had pulled his eyebrows together, reminding Emily of how Jack looked when he didn't understand something. He had snapped away from her eyes the moment the words I'm leaving left her lips, his body language stiffening as she told him of the opportunity with Interpol. Spencer had been in the room with her when Clyde had first made the offer and he felt betrayed and lied to once more. It was obvious in the way he slightly pulled away from her last hug before telling her he had a meeting and stalked off towards the elevator without another word. Spencer still hadn't spoken to her directly since.

Dave just sat in silence, listening as Emily filled in the gaps she purposefully left out the past few months because he deserved an explanation. Disappointment had flashed on his face when she finally told him that she had accepted another position, his expression unreadable as he plucked out the question that she knew everyone else on the team was wondering as well, even if they didn't voice it.

"What about Aaron?"

"He'll find someone else." She had said, her tone joking but her eyes betraying the sharp pain that throbbed in her chest at the idea of someone else loving him. Dave had just nodded, wishing her good luck and promising to send her the names of restaurants in London that she'd enjoy. She knew that Dave still didn't understand, hiding his disappointment from her until she caught his eye right as she emptied her desk on her last day. His gaze had landed on her, heavy for a split second, before straightening up and walking into Aaron's office and closing the door behind him.

So her phone calls with Penelope and Derek were taken behind closed doors and with hushed voices, not wanting to agitate the hurt that palpated from the team. She stops reaching out and they do too because maybe they all needed a little space.

She builds a new routine, because this is what she wanted. It was the new life promised that gave her a reason to fly out of Dulles, leaving the sparkling city skyline and the only family she's ever been a part of.

It's 3:40 AM on a Tuesday night when her phone cuts through the silence of the night, groaning as her sleep was abruptly interrupted by the shrill ringing on her bedside. Her eyes are half open as she squints at the bright screen, only to pop up into a full sitting position when she realizes who's calling.

"Aaron?" She calls out, fear and anticipation tight in her throat as she waits to hear the voice that plagued her memories more than she would admit.

Instead, an excited high-pitched voice comes through the phone, flooding her with a familiarity and a sharp ache all at once.

"Hi Emmy!"

"Hey honey." She says, her voice cracking as tears build in her eyes at the sound of his voice. Jack was one part of her routine that she had never quite replaced. It was a different emptiness that she felt when she realized that her apartment was devoid of his dinosaur sneakers, his crayons and books left open and scattered on communal surfaces, and the sounds of his make-believe echoing from his bedroom.

It was an emptiness she didn't bother to fill, because she knew that nothing could.

He had been devastated when she told him that she was leaving. She had insisted on being the one to tell him, knowing that she had the rare chance to explain herself to Jack instead of having Aaron make up excuses on her behalf. Jack deserved that much and Emily felt like the reaction he gave her was something she deserved too.

He had flinched, like he had been burned, when she told him that she wouldn't see him for a little bit. His brown eyes grew wide, tears sparkling when she explained to him that she was moving to a city called London that was far away and that she wouldn't see him or Aaron after work or during his soccer games.

"You're leaving?" Jack asked, voice hard and sounding much older than his six years. Emily had reassured him that she would always love him and that he could call her anytime, but yes, she was leaving.

His tears came fast after that, and he bolted to his bedroom and slammed the door behind him.

"Are you okay? Is Daddy okay?" She asks after a split second, because Jack was still calling her in the middle of the night and she was under the impression that he didn't really want to speak to her, especially since it had taken so much coaxing to convince Jack that she wasn't leaving forever and that she'd come see him, it just wouldn't be as soon as he was used to. This had to be an emergency call of some kind.

"We're okay. Daddy's in the shower but I did a school project on chameleons today!" Jack starts to ramble on about some of the facts he knew about chameleons: that there are over 160 of different kinds, that their tongues suction cupped their prey ("Like the things we hung on the window that one time Emmy!"), and that chameleons aren't deaf but don't have ears. He launches into his grand review of his project and Emily thinks that maybe she should stop him because it was too late into the night for her, but she just stays quiet and lets a small smile curve at her lips as she listens to him recite facts like he was reading them. She knew that he wasn't, that he was probably sitting at the dining room table and kicking his feet while he talked.

She had tried so hard to forget that this is exactly what she left behind.

Tears catch in her throat as Jack's voice is suddenly interrupted by a much deeper one.

"Jack! Why do you have my phone?" Aaron's voice, soft yet disciplined, was somewhere in the distance. It was the first time that she had heard his voice in over four months and she shifts awkwardly on the bed, curling her legs tightly to her chest as she hears rustling on the other side.

"Hello?" He says, the tone as smooth and deep.

"Aaron. Hi." She breathes out, cursing the relief that filled her at the sound of his voice.

"Emily. I'm so sorry about Jack - I didn't realize that he had my phone, let alone that he knew to dial your number..." She had emailed him her new number after her first week in London, along with a short update on how the move had gone, that Garcia and Derek were driving her crazy trying to organize her flat and hoping that he was doing well.

The email went unanswered and it hurt her more than she would ever admit.

"It's okay. I missed hearing his voice."

I missed yours too.

"Isn't it late over there?"

She chuckles, glancing over at the bright neon clock on her bedside that tells her it's a little past 4 AM now.

"Early, actually." Aaron sighs, doing the quick math in his head and realizing that Jack probably had no concept of what a time zone was.

"Were you asleep?"

"Yeah, but it's okay." She says. There's a stiff silence on the other end, stretched over thousands of miles across the ocean. Her legs curl tighter around her chest, shielding her heart from the pain that she knows will follow. This was the first conversation they've had in over four months, and she's never found herself speechless in front of him, unable to pull any words that would sound right.

Because there are so many things she wants to say, sentiments that she should have said.

"I'll be sure that he only calls you at appropriate times." Aaron's tone is too reminiscent of how he would talk to police chiefs and their superiors on the phone, clipped and stringent - more Hotch than Aaron.

More impersonal than he had ever been with her.

"You don't have to do that, Aaron."

"You know that I have to." He says, and she knows what he means.

It still hurts too much.

She doesn't know what the appropriate words are. If I'm sorry would ever encapsulate the regret that she has for hurting him.

The regret that still lingers in the back of her mind- that she had walked away from the best thing she's ever had.

"I should go." She says instead, giving him his escape. He takes it immediately and without a second thought.

"That's probably for the best. Get more sleep, alright?" The call ends before she can say goodbye. She's left with the dial tone in her ear and the ache she's been trying to forget echoing in her entire being.

When she finds the strength to end the call, she finds herself drawn to a file box tucked away in her closet. It was the only box she never unpacked, knowing that its contents were better kept in cardboard.

But tonight, for just tonight, she wants to remember instead of forget.

She finds the box right where she had left it, in the back of her closet still untouched after four months. She lifts the lid and her breath stalls as memories wash over her, every single moment she's kept locked away in this box rushing to the surface and stealing all her air from her lungs.

A drawing of her, Aaron, and Jack that was done in crayon and presented to her on one Sunday morning that had lived on her fridge door. An old cotton shirt with a faded Georgetown logo, one she had convinced Aaron to part with in their early days with promises of indecency and ice cream. A napkin she had swiped from the diner where they had their first date, the logo imitating the neon sign that had shone above them when she kissed him for the first time. A handful of pictures she had printed of Jack and Aaron, intending on showcasing them in frames instead of living in a box, shoved to the back of her mind.

She finally reaches the picture she's been looking for.

It was the picture that Aaron had in his wallet, his panicked handwriting on the back. Its edges were now worn from the numerous times she had pulled it out of her pocket that day that she had almost lost him. She never gave it back, the right opportunity slipping from her fingers along with her confession.

It could've been different. If they had figured this out sooner, if Doyle hadn't stolen her sanity and her life from her from the grave, if she was just a little less broken than she was.

Her fingers trace their figures, pure and unbroken captured in a perfect moment.

All she had left of him was a box of their memories and list of if and buts she had left unanswered, dotted with the finality that it could never be.

--

Aaron tries to ignore the date. He briefs the team on cases they had on deck, finishes up the paperwork that was piling on his desk, and wills everything in him to not think of the only person that's plagued his every thought the past six months. He had come into the office early, way earlier than he normally would because Jack was off at summer camp. It was an old decision swayed by the hope that having Jack away for a week or so would give them some time together, maybe in some cabin tucked away in a remote mountain range, spending their days encased in sheets and walking underneath canopies of dense trees hidden away from the rest of their world.

And maybe, just maybe, he would've taken the time to ask her something that had haunted him for months.

A headache builds at the base of his skull, the tension of being hunched at his desk with his pen tightly gripped in hand pinching the muscles around his neck. He doesn't know what time it is, instead pouring all of his attention on reviewing the team's reports and filling out his own. The sun had set hours before and most of the team had already left for the day, but the time was lost on him.

"Aaron." His head snaps up and he winces at the movement that causes his neck to ache, spotting Dave hovering in the doorway with two glasses and a bottle of his oldest scotch tucked in his arm.

He wordlessly crosses into the room, setting the two glasses against the dark mahogany of his desk and pouring trickles of amber into the crystal. He slides one of the glasses over to him before settling in the seat across from his desk.

They let the pregnant silence blanket them and Aaron doesn't have to ask why Dave's in his office this late at night.

"Are you allergic to looking at the time today?" Dave asks, motioning to the lack of a watch on his wrist. "I haven't seen you without a watch in the fifteen years I've worked with you, Aaron."

Aaron doesn't even pretend to be surprised that Dave had caught on. He was the only one who ever did.

Instead, Aaron tips his head back, letting the harsh sting of alcohol soothe out the emotions that have been lodged in his throat for the most of the day. He was wondering how long he could get away with shunning himself in his office, willfully ignoring the thoughts of her skin and her smile that were smattered between the words he wrote in his reports.

"You know what today is." Aaron says, the words bitter and heavy on his tongue along with the whiskey.

"How are you holding up?" Dave asks, his concern evident. Aaron doesn't know if he has the right words to answer that question - if he could describe to him how amplified her absence was that he couldn't bear to walk into the apartment that was now devoid of any of her belongings but cradled some of his favorite memories. How those memories, once sweet and wanted, now felt like they had been soaked in a poison that wrought his thoughts.

How badly he wished that she was still here.

How much he longed for her.

And how much he hated that he did.

So instead, he doesn't answer, and finishes the rest of the whiskey in his glass because there weren't any words. He would rather leave them unsaid, like so many things between them were, and hopefully it would wither away the same way that flowers perished in the winter. Slow but guaranteed, that one day he would wake up and the memories of the slope of her cheek and the way his chest would clench when he realized she wasn't next to him would dissipate.

But today wasn't that day.

"I think I should head home." Aaron croaks out, when the whiskey has bloomed warmth into his abdomen. Dave doesn't stop him, polishing off his glass of whiskey before wishing him a good night and retreating back into his own office.

His apartment is as dark and as empty as he feels. He finds himself being drawn to his safe, unlocking it and reaching in to pull out something he hasn't had the chance to look at since she had left DC all those months ago. It was a thorn in his side, a dull ache that was easy to tuck away in a metal safe underneath his suits and old coats. His fingers touch the velvet box and Aaron almost expects it to burn to the touch.

He doesn't have the strength to open it. He doesn't want to because he still thinks that it's perfect for her. Instead, he lays the unopened box on his coffee table and opens up a bottle of red wine. It was her favorite, a bottle he had managed to track down from an old winery in Châteauneuf-du-Pape. He wanted to save it for a special occasion, one that ended with the ring sparkling on her left hand, but there weren't any occasions for it anymore. He pours himself a glass and raises it to no one.

"Happy anniversary, Em."

--

3,000 miles away, Emily buys a bottle of whiskey before she retreats to her apartment for the night.

She lets the whiskey burn her throat and drip down the old cotton shirt draped over her frame, his scent long gone and faded. Her tears prick at the back of her eyes as she traces the outline of his face with the pad of her thumb, a memory pulled from the box still left untouched in her closet.

"Happy anniversary, Aaron."

--

The wedding invite comes as a surprise.

JJ had gushed to her the previous month that she and Will had decided to marry after he had a brush with death as a suspect gunned him down in the middle of DC. It was in a hospital room that she told him to ask her again, a redo of a night that ended in more tears and harsh words rather than in celebration. She wanted him, all of him, no matter what tomorrow brought.

The off-white envelope embellished with her name comes in the mail on a Wednesday morning bearing an invitation to their wedding in DC.

She calls JJ, confused that she had gotten an invitation.

"Emily." JJ starts, indignant at her assumption that the wedding invite had been a mistake. "Of course I would send you an invitation."

"It won't make things.. awkward?" She asks. Months had passed now and while it had already felt like another lifetime, she knew that there were still some harbored feelings. Reid had only started speaking to her in the last month and she hadn't heard from Aaron outside of the emails that he had helped Jack write. She didn't want to aggravate the healing wounds she knew that still lingered, not wanting to cause any more pain to the people she loved.

She's had her fill of all that for this lifetime.

"Em, you're one of my best friends. I know it might be a little weird, but I want you there with me."

"Just let me think about it okay?" She says, promising that she would give her an answer by this week. She decides to talk to Clyde about it, ignoring the half-hopes that she was sent on a case so that she had an excuse not to go as she taps on his office door.

"Darling! I had just sent you an email - The CIA needs a consultation on one of their current cases, interested in going stateside?"

"I actually wanted to talk to you about that. JJ, the Communications Liaison over at the BAU, is getting married and she wants me in DC for the wedding."

"That sounds like wonderful news, darling. But why, may I ask, do you look disappointed?" Clyde asks, a twinkle in his eye and she curses her inability to shield her emotions from him. He was one of the only people, outside of Aaron, who had the ability to dissect her motives with a fine precision.

“I’m not exactly racing to head back to DC.”

Clyde hadn’t questioned her decision to leave Washington, thrilled that she had accepted his proposal. It wasn’t until weeks later, when she had settled into her glass-walled office that overlooked the messy streets of London, that he had asked about Aaron.

“Are you and Aaron still…?” He asked, as he had grazed a wound that felt like it would never finish healing.

She had just shaken her head, smiling weakly at Clyde, before changing the subject.

"I know you're dying to see him."

“I’m not…” She starts to protest, but Clyde just holds up a hand to stop her and Emily’s jaw tightens, doing the math on how many seconds it would take to completely snap his fingers in half.

“Darling, as much as I love having you here, you haven’t exactly been the happiest camper. And I’m not going to question your decision because it benefits me, but go see him before you start to depress all of London.” Clyde dismisses her then, a call coming in from one of their contacts in the CIA and told her he needed her in the US for the consultation. She was ordered to stay there for the week - no matter what she decided to do with her time.

She books her flight back to DC when she gets back at her office.

She hated it when he was right.

--

Aaron fumbles with the small knot on Jack’s tie, his fingers filled with nerves that crackle with anxiety. JJ had let him know that Emily was coming to the wedding, a conversation she chose to have with him behind the closed door of his office - an indication that she knew more than she let on. Emily had told him in an email, letting him know that she was going to be stateside. He wasn’t sure if it was a warning or an invitation.

He had been unwillingly counting down the days, JJ’s wedding invitation was now taking prime real estate on his fridge next to Jack’s drawings and appointment reminders. The days had passed quickly and unbearably slow at the same time - the end of each day a surprise but the rest of the days after seemed to stretch out into eternity.

“You ready, buddy?” Aaron asks, taking a shaky breath as he brushes the small shoulders of Jack’s suit. He walks into Dave’s house, following the slew of caterers that are doing last minute tasks, bustling in and out of numerous hallways and doors.

That’s when he hears it.

A sound that he had played over and over again in his head, simply replaying a fading memory of a memory until he convinced himself that he actually didn’t remember what she sounded like. He follows the sound, calling him in like she was a pied piper. He steps through the doorway, Jack in tow, to see Penelope animatedly talking to an overwhelmed Emily, who had an amused smile on her face as Garcia asks her if she had liked the tea she had recommended.

Her eyes find him from the corner of the room, barely a glance in his direction but he catches it with ease, a dance they’ve practiced to perfection. Jack breaks from his grip before he can truly register what happens, flying right into Emily’s legs and bursting into tears.

He wails as Emily scoops him up in her arms, already too big to be held, with an old reflex. Derek and Penelope have the sense to avert their gaze, shuffling awkwardly in their spots as Jack’s cries into Emily’s shoulder.

“Hey honey.” She says, voice cracked and laden with her own tears that she refuses to shed. He’s heavier already, his feet dangling an inch or two farther than it used to when she would hold him.

But he still wrapped his arms around her in a ferocity that grounded her to him, just as unwilling to let go as she was. Slowly the tears bubble to soft sniffles, snot running down his nose and wiped with the back of his new suit's sleeve much to Aaron’s chagrin. Emily puts him on his feet, wiping his tears with the back of her hand and smiling softly at him.

“You’re here.” Jack says incredulously, despite the fact that Aaron had told him in previous days that she would be.

“I’m here.” She confirms, unable to stop herself from running a hand through his hair in a familiar gesture. Aaron catches it and his eyes lock on hers, their gazes heavy and weighted as Derek and Penelope take that as their cue to leave.

“Hey buddy. They got a really cool fountain here.” Derek says, catching Jack’s attention and knowing that they probably needed a moment alone. “Want to go see it?”

They wait for their footsteps to fade in the distance, along with Jack’s excited ramblings about some dinosaur she’s already forgotten the name of. Her gaze is stuck to the back of Jack’s head, not turning back to face him until he speaks first.

“Hi.” He says, the smallest of smiles edging his lips.

His eyes follow the form of her dress, admiring the way the dress hugged her form tightly. The deep neckline teases the top of her breasts, the curves triggering a million memories of worship for them. The dress flows across her skin in waves of soft fabric, painting her skin in a shade of red invoking his own skin to flush to match the shade. Her lip wedges itself between her teeth and he can feel a sharp current of electricity go straight to the pit of his abdomen.

He hates that his reaction to her is stronger now, triggered by the pull of her teeth over her lower lip. A taste of water after almost a year in the desert.

“Hey.” She says, the corners of lips turning up as her eyes raked over his form, making him squirm under her scrutiny.

“You look good.” Is all he can manage to say, averting his eyes towards the mantle with a few lone decorations, an attempt to stop himself from outright staring. She giggles, light and airy, and his own smile breaks on his lips.

“You don’t look too bad yourself.”

It’s the first conversation they’ve had in almost eleven months, and it makes her stomach curl when she realizes that she hadn’t heard his voice in her own ears in that same time period. Aaron was once her solace, a listening shoulder she had relied on more times than she could count, his wisdom and words of affirmations constants  - only to be reduced to strained conversations stripped of the foundation they had built for themselves

“Dolcezza. Garcia told me that JJ’s looking for you.” Emily glances at Dave, who breaks the tense atmosphere with his sudden presence. Emily shoots Aaron an apologetic look and heads further into the house, leaving him standing with the traces of her perfume and a longing that roared in his chest with an unrivaled ferocity.

--

JJ is beautiful, gliding down the aisle in practiced steps before smiling at Will, who twists his hands nervously but the excitement on his face obvious. Their story finally had the happy ending that they deserved.

Aaron can’t help but let his gaze linger on the one person he was sure he’d meet at the end of an aisle.

She would have been a gorgeous bride.

--

He’s jealous.

Derek’s arm is tight around her waist, dipping her as a laugh bubbles out of her. They were all a few drinks in, the alcohol imbibing looser tongues and muscles. The team was paired off on the dance floor, the kids being occupied by Reid’s nimble fingers as he pulled the card he had told them to memorize. Dave was dancing with Erin, JJ and Will swaying to the soft music while Emily was swept away in Derek’s arms.

He breaks his gaze to finish the rest of his whiskey, an old crutch that was reminiscent of his father’s tainted breath.

For a brief moment, he understood why alcohol was his vice.

He watches as Jack cuts through the dance floor and tugs on Emily’s dress. She smiles, blinding and bright, as Jack giggles and tries to tug her in Reid’s direction, no doubt in search for her attention even after months apart, easily sliding back into familiar routines like she had never left.

Emily picks him up, plopping Jack on the angle of her hip as Derek retreated, hands up in defeat.

Jack’s smile is wider than Aaron has seen for a while, his giggles loud and delighted as Emily tickles his sides. His arms wrap around her neck tightly, resting his head against her shoulder and molding into an intimate scene that will never stop stealing the air from his lungs.

They sway gently, and Aaron can see Jack’s eyes softly close, the lateness of the night amplifying how exhausted he was. Emily’s lips move against Jack’s ear, soft whispers of sweet nothings as she rocks him to sleep.

His chest is heavy, twinging tightly with a pain he thought had dulled enough to be ignored. An old wound that’s burst at the seams, bleeding with nostalgia and regret.

They had been so close to having it all.

--

She catches him alone, his whiskey glass filled for the third time that night, as he leans against the marble balcony in a quieter section of Rossi’s mansion. Every inch of Dave’s house reeked of well-deserved success, tall columns and elegant furniture that she had no doubt had cost a fortune.

She steps out into the cool night, a slight shiver running up her spine as Aaron turns his head towards her, eyeing the glass of red wine in her hand.

“Hi.”

He smiles, an actual genuine smile that deepens the dimples on his cheeks and causes her heart to stall in her chest. The whiskey slicked his muscles, now unable to keep his guard up around her. All he could process was the soft scent of lavender and roses.

God, did he miss her.

“Hey.” He says, turning back towards the city view in front of them. Buildings that lined the skyline, dotting the black night in soft dots of light. They were in a nearby suburb, creating a barrier between them and the noise of the city - a carefully curated landscape of artificial life.  

No words are passed between them, Emily reaching for the glass of whiskey in Aaron’s hand, knowing that she needed more liquid courage to survive an interaction with him.

“I thought you hated dark liquor?” He asks, his expression amused as she swallows with no hesitation. Aaron’s eyes can’t help but linger on the column of her throat, following the supple movement of liquid under her skin, smooth and taut.

He still remembers the tension of her muscles as his lips explored the path from her jaw to her collarbone.

He turns away, letting her polish off his drink and bites at the inside of his cheek to regain some form of control.

“I actually learned to like it.” She says, the alcohol flooding her in a warmth that draws her a little bit closer to him. She ached to crash into him, to feel the warmth of his skin and the weight of his solid form, anchoring her down to Earth.

But she had given it up, she reminds herself.

She chose to walk away from this.

“What are you doing here, Emily?” He asks. She knows that he’s not referring to the wedding, or DC, but in this small balcony that overlooked the city. She stiffens, tears beading in her eyes before she can stop them, his presence shielding her in a safety that she had missed.

“I don’t know.”

He looks at her, eyes growing wide at the tears in her eyes. He reaches up to brush a tear that had strayed, her cheek resting in his palm as Aaron’s fingers brushed against her skin. His touch was hot and wanting, stepping closer to her and nosing the hinge of her jaw, pulling her scent to his senses.  

She still smelled the same.

“Aaron.” She whispers, unable to find the air in her chest to tell him to stop. He pulls back, her eyes locking on him with a question.

Are you okay with this?

He nods, imperceptibly.

Yes.

Her lips brush his once, twice, with a hesitance that he hasn’t seen since they had first started to dance around each other almost two years ago. His senses flood, an addict being given a taste of their vice, and the dam breaks.

He pushes her back away from the door, pressing her right up against the brick wall and covering her body with his, shielding her from view. He could feel the warmth of her, already slick, against the fabric of his suit. He kisses her, the desperation dripping off his actions as if she was going to evaporate in his grip.

She moans, the noise strangled in her throat at the contact and his skin feels like it’s aflame underneath his suit, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the heat that was building. She hikes a leg up on his hip, the fabric of her dress falling to reveal the long expanses of thigh that he’s spent many mornings and nights between. His teeth edge the skin of her collarbone, causing the expected sigh to fall from her lips.

He still remembers.

His fingers reach down, pushing the damp fabric of her underwear to the side and slides one finger, then two, pumping and stretching in an old rhythm he created on a Sunday morning. Her head falls back, exposing the object of his fascination. His lips quickly latch on, running his tongue down an old path as his fingers follow the same pattern.

“F-Fuck. A-Aaron.” His name tumble from her lips, and his throat catches at the familiarity of it all.

Her hips roll in tandem with the flicks of his wrist, the palm of his hand grinding against her until he feels her fingers thread through his hair, curling with a force that makes him wince. She feels the tightening of his eyebrows against her skin and she smiles.

“Sorry.” She says breathlessly, a laugh and a moan tumbling out as her hips start to buck against his hand. He curls his fingers, brushing her in a spot that causes expletives that would cause her mother to cringe to fall from her lips. It doesn’t take long until she flutters and shakes underneath him, her limbs curling around him with stars bursting in her vision. He anchors her to him, a strong arm looped around her waist to stop her from tumbling to the floor.

“Jesus Christ.” She whispers when she’s caught her breath, her muscles shaking from the force of the orgasm he had drawn out of her.

“Actually, it’s Aaron.” He quips and she shakes underneath him in laughter, a gentle slap to the back of his head and he can’t help the grin that stretches against her shoulder. His finger slips from her and she whines in protest, her hands reaching down to undo his belt with a snap . She wraps her fingers around him, heavy and rigid in her palm. She squeezes him gently, her wrists twisting in practiced precision that causes his hips to stutter to follow her movements, his head dropping to her shoulder.

“No.” He growls into her ear. “Inside you.”

She nods, a whine bursting from her lips and he seals his own over them to silence her. He was still acutely aware that they were on a balcony, with his team in various states of inebriation and could walk in on them at any time. He nudges against her, so slick and aching before pressing in, her name chanted in prayer as he split her open. He can’t think, can’t form the words to describe how she feels around when he’s fully sheathed, her fingers tight in his hair and her walls even tighter around him. She can’t stop the soft sighs, drawn out by the feeling of him filling her with a fullness that plagued her fantasies. He drops his lips to the plane of skin that he had once whispered his reverence to, savoring the vibration of her moan as her spine curled into him, already desperate for more contact.

She still feels the same.

But everything between them had changed.

Tears bead in her eyes as his hips stole the air from her lungs with every thrust. She stretches and burns, a feeling she’s tried to chase underneath her sheets with thoughts of him guiding the feeling of her fingers. His hips start to vary in rhythm and she knows he’s quickly losing control.

“F-Fuck. I missed you.” He croons into her ear, reaching down between them to swipe at the sensitive flesh, determined on bringing her over the edge with him. He bends his knees slightly and changes the angle, pressing harder and deeper into her until her chest starts to rise and fall rapidly underneath his. He covers her mouth with his, muffling the increasingly loud moans that were lodged in her throat.

She can feel his lips mouth the words he doesn't say out loud, caught in the shell of her ear along with a moan and her heart clenches because he shouldn't say it.

She didn't deserve it.

She falls apart between him and the brick wall and he’s right behind her, filling her to the brim like the city lights in the night sky.

Another three words left unsaid between them.

--

He descends the stairs into the living room, the imprints of their indiscretion hidden in a wadded up handkerchief in his pocket and the slight wobble in Emily’s step as she follows a few minutes behind him.

No one in the team seems to have noticed, all of them flushed with warmth from the open bar that Rossi had set up in the garden. Aaron heads over to JJ and Will, explaining that it was getting late and that he needed to put Jack to bed. JJ nods, eyes glazed and skin pink as she settles an unfocused gaze on Emily.

Her eyebrow quirks in question and Emily ignores her pointed look, instead reaching for her phone to check the time.

There’s a handful of emails from her team with status reports on the cases that she had assigned them and she’s suddenly hit with the sickening reality that this wasn’t home anymore.

She wasn’t going to crawl home to Aaron, curling up under his duvet while he put Jack to bed with a promise that he’d be there afterwards, a teasing kiss pressed to her lips on things to come if she was up for it. She would crawl back to the hotel room she had booked in the middle of the city, large and empty, and she would curl up underneath unfamiliar sheets with the dull ache between her thighs as the only remembrance of him. They had fucked, quick and dirty, in Rossi’s balcony upstairs. They weren’t a couple, routines threaded into their reflexes.

She had given that up, months ago.

She ignores the way Aaron is baring his gaze into her, an unspoken question in his eyes until he heads out the front door with a sleeping Jack in his arms. She couldn’t keep dragging him along, stealing tastes of him whenever she could because she was lonely and missed him. She had chosen to move to London, thousands of miles away from here, and she didn’t get the luxury of him anymore.

She had done enough damage.

--

When Aaron calls the next day, she stares at the ceiling and lets the ringing echo in her hotel room, intensifying the dull ache in the base in her skull and the heavy sting of tears in her eyes.

She doesn’t answer.

She flies back to London two days later, ignoring the vibrating in her pocket and the flash of his name on her screen.

Later that month, she crawls to a dirty bar in Central London after a long case in Turkey. There’s a man by the bar, dark and brooding, his eyes on her as she tipped back her second whiskey for the night.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket, her whiskey blurring the edges of her memories and for a split second she thinks that it’s him.

She’s disappointed when it isn’t, cursing herself for the longing for him that never seems to stop following her around. She tucks away the memory of him, shaking the invisible ache between her thighs and in her chest. She moves towards the stranger at the bar and asks him to buy her another drink.

She tries to ignore the bile in her throat when he says yes.

--

[theydontknowaboutusimagines]

This Christmas - A Harry Styles Christmas Series (Part 2)

Two life long friends. Secretly in love. Home for the holidays. Will they risk everything by telling the other how they feel? Or will they spend another year loving from afar? 

Read these first    Prologue      Part 1

**

Harry had never been more grateful to turn down his mother’s street as he was in that moment. He was tired of driving and he really had to pee. He probably shouldn’t have stopped to get that last cup of coffee an hour ago. He was so distracted as he pulled his car into the driveway he didn’t even notice the unfamiliar car parked in it. Turning off the car and grabbing his bag, before heading inside.

He dropped his bag in the guest bedroom connected to the guest bathroom and headed straight for the door. The lit candles and soft music took him off guard as he swung the door open. His eyes quickly scanned the room for a reason behind the setting, when they landed on you in the tub.

“AH!” You screeched when you noticed the open door and Harry standing in the doorway, looking at you.

“Um… I uh… shit,” Harry said, trying not to look at you as he turned himself around. “I uh.. Just going to uh use the other…”

He quickly left the bathroom and headed for the other down the hall. Once he was done, he washed his hands and leaned against the cabinet. Embarrassment shot through him over what just happened and he knew the longer he stayed in there the more awkward it would become.

That was not how he pictured seeing you again and now he wasn’t sure how he was going to save himself for this. He shook his head and finally talked himself into leaving the bathroom, just as you were walking out of the other bathroom. You both stopped in your tracks, looking at the other, embarrassment and awkwardness clearly evident on your faces.

“Uh… sorry… about uh... that,” he said, nodding towards the room.

“Um.. yeah… I probably should have locked the door,” you blushed.

“I didn’t know anyone… that you were here,” he said.

“Oh, um, I’m staying out in the guesthouse… I was just using the tub,” you replied.

“Right,” he nodded.

“So, this is awkward,” you laughed, pushing a stray strand of hair back.

“A bit, yeah,” he said, scratching the back of his neck.

“Well, I uh… should probably get back to my uh… room, talk tomorrow?” You asked.

“Yeah, sounds good,” he nodded.

You both stood there for a bit before finally making the move to go, you waved goodbye awkwardly before quickly darting out of there. Harry sighed going into the guest room, sitting on the bed. He was beyond exhausted and couldn’t think clearly, but he knew that wasn’t how he wanted his first conversation with you to go. He had so many questions, one being why you were staying with his mum and not your own.

He looked at the window, watching you walk to the guest house just outside where his room was located in the main house. Even with the darkness, he could tell you were just as beautiful as you had always been. It was already going to be hard enough being here in his hometown wondering what life would be like if you two were together, but knowing you were staying only a few feet away, it was going to be even harder.

**

You groaned the next morning as the sun seeped in through the small window of the tiny house. You didn’t know what time it was, but you did know it’s been only a few hours since you finally fell asleep. After your little run in with Harry, you hadn’t been able to fall asleep or write because you kept focusing on what had happened. And of course, all the feelings that came crashing back full force at the sight of him and the sound of his voice.

Since you were up anyway, you decided it was best if you tried to use this time to write before the inevitable of seeing Harry again later that morning. You weren’t sure why you were acting this way, you knew the odds of running into him during your stay were high. However, you also thought that you’d be at your Mum’s by the time he came back. Apparently you were wrong, very wrong.

You slid out of bed, walking over to the coffee maker and making some. You took a mug from the small rack of four and filled it with water to put it in the maker. As soon as the mug was filled with boiling hot energy, you took it in your hands to warm yourself up a bit. Then you headed over to your computer, opening it up to the black page. Looking over your notes, you sipped on your coffee before cracking your knuckles and getting to work.

A couple of hours and two cups of coffee later, you had written the first two chapters of your book and you couldn’t be happier. You could have kept going, but your stomach was rumbling. Even though it was only just after eight in the morning and you were still wearing your pajamas, you found yourself checking your hair and face in the mirror before heading out to the main house.

When you opened the door, Anne was standing there cooking something that was sizzling on the stove.

“Morning,” you smiled.

“Morning, love,” she smiled. “How’d you sleep?”

You blushed at remembering the previous night’s events, “Um, for the time I slept, it was wonderful, but it was a bit of a late night.”

“Oooh writing?” She asked.

“Uh… yeah… I’ve gotten a lot done since I’ve been here,” you answered, which wasn’t technically a lie.

“Oh before I forget,” she said. “Harry was supposed to arrive tonight, but he must have snuck in the middle of the night. I heard him snoring as I passed through the hallway this morning.”

“I don’t snore,” Harry mumbled walking into the kitchen, right on cue.

You felt your cheeks blush and you really hoped it wasn’t noticeable.

“Oh, this is so cute!” She smiled. “It’s just like old times, yeah? Breakfast is almost finished. I have a meeting I need to phone in for, so I’ll be taking mine in the office.”

Taking her plate and a cup of tea, she headed out of the kitchen, leaving you and Harry alone. Neither of you spoke up, simply waiting on the other to grab their food.

“Go ahead,” he motioned for you.

You walked over, taking a plate and filling it up with half of the food before walking over to the table. You poured yourself some water and took a seat as Harry did the same. Both you sat and ate silently making it even more awkward.

You sighed, “Okay, we just need to get this conversation out of the way because this is awkward and it’s driving me nuts.”

Harry put down his fork, looking over at you, “I’m really sorry about last night. I didn’t know you were in there or that you would be here at all.”

You sighed, “I know…”

“Speaking of, why are you here?” He asked.

“Rude, much?” You rolled your eyes. “But anyway, I’m staying here because I’m working on my next book. I have a deadline to meet and my flat wasn’t cutting it, so your Mum invited me here.”

“Oh,” he nodded. “How’s that going?”

“Well, it wasn’t going until after I got here,” you sighed. “I've been struggling with this one for a while and I finally got an idea last night.”

“It doesn’t involve a guy walking in on his best friend while she’s in the tub does it?” He joked.

You glanced over at him, trying to hold back a laugh.

“Too soon?” He winced.

“No, it’s just… you said best friend… I wasn’t aware we were still classified as such,” you admitted.

Harry sighed looking down, “You’re always going to be my best friend, Y/N.”

“Am I though?” You asked. “Harry, we haven’t spoken in years. I don’t know anything about you that isn’t from the internet or from your Mum or Gem.”

“I know… I’m sorry for that,” he whispered. “But I-”

“Harry it’s fine,” you interrupted him. “We’re older now. We have separate lives. It happens.”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen with us,” he said, looking into your eyes.

“But it did,” you shrugged. “We can’t change the past.”

“No, I guess we can’t,” he sighed. “But could we… could we maybe change the future? Start over? I want you back in my life, Y/N.”

“I want that too, Harry,” you whispered, reaching over and taking his hand in yours.

“So, does this mean it shouldn’t be awkward anymore?” He laughed after a moment.

“It should, but I feel like it’s going to keep being awkward for at least a few more days,” you giggled.

He laughed, shaking his head as the two of you continued on with your breakfast and catching up.

**

After spending well over an hour chatting with Harry during breakfast, you made your way back to your writing space and got back to work. By the time you finished chapter ten, your neck was aching and so were your fingers from all the typing. You looked outside, noticing it was now pitch black and you realized you spent the entire day writing. It has been ages since you’ve gotten that much done in one day. As a treat, you decided to give yourself the rest of the night off and enjoy some reading. Glancing out the window, you saw Harry and Anne in the kitchen. They appeared to be cooking dinner, so you decided to head over and see if they needed help.

When you walked in, they both were singing and dancing along to Christmas music. You giggled watching them and for the first time, you noticed just how different Harry had looked since you last saw him. Yes, you saw photos of him all the time and could easily see the difference in him, but there was something about seeing him in person. He was definitely more muscular than before and there was a bit of stubble growing across his face. There were more tattoos and his hair was much shorter.

“Y/N!” Anne smiled, catching you standing there in the doorway.

You wondered if she knew you were staring at her son.

“Hey,” you smiled. “It smells delicious once again.”

“This one is all Harry,” she smiled. “He insisted on cooking dinner tonight.”

“I’m surprised you’re letting him even near the kitchen,” you smirked.

“One time. I fuck up one dish and no one ever lets me forget it,” He sighed dramatically.

“It’s because you more than fucked up a dish. You poisoned us all,” you pointed out.

“To be fair there was also a stomach bug going around at school, so it could have easily been that,” he said, pointing a knife at you.

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes. “Anyway, is there anything I can help with?”

“Oh, you can grab some wine from the cellar,” Anne said.

“You have a wine cellar?” You raised an eyebrow.

“It’s actually a wine refrigerator, but she likes the way cellar rolls off the tongue,” Harry joked.

You laughed shaking your head as you headed towards the pantry where the wine was stored.

Once dinner was over, the three of you sat down in the living room to watch a Christmas movie together. Christmas lights lit up the room as the fireplace filled it up with warmth. The rest of the night you three laughed, cried, and drank hot chocolate. After watching two movies, Anne finally called it a night, leaving you and Harry by yourselves once again.

“So, I assume since you’ve spent the last four hours watching Christmas movies, you got some writing done today?” He asked.

“First ten chapters,” you smiled, proudly.

“Wow, congrats,” he said. “I take it Mum was right about you coming here for some inspiration.”

“Guess so,” you laughed. “But I still have about twenty-thirty more to go.. I usually hit another block about halfway through.”

“Do I get to know what it’s about?” He asked.

Had it been any other concept, you wouldn’t have hesitated to tell him, but afraid he would read between the lines, you decided not to tell him.

“Nope,” you smirked. “It’s a secret until at least the first draft is over.”

“Well, damn,” he said. “I was hoping for a little sneak peek. I mean… as your number one fan and best friend… surely I can get a little something.”

“You’ve read my books?” You asked, shocked.

“Every single one,” he said. “Don’t look so surprised.”

“I am, though,” you said. “I didn’t know that.”

“Now you do,” he said.

“I assume this goes both ways, right?” You said. “I mean… surely you’ve been working on new songs.”

“I have,” he nodded. “And I’ll see if I can arrange something,” he smirked.

You laughed, shaking your head as you sip the last little bit of your hot chocolate,”Hmm, I guess I better call it a night,” you said.

“Oh, yeah, it is a bit late,” he nodded.

You took your mug into the kitchen Harry following you. You both put your dishes in the sink and you both stood there, not saying anything yet again. For two people who used to say everything to one another, there are many moments filled with silence between you.

“I had a good time tonight,” you said. “I’m glad we have this time to reconnect.”

“Me too,” he smiled.

You smiled, “Well, I guess this is goodnight.”

“Yeah, goodnight,” he said.

You gave him a small wave before heading out to the backyard. You were halfway to the tiny house, when you heard your name being called.

“Y/N, wait,” he said.

“Yeah?” You asked, turning around.

“Tomorrow… I know… I know you’re here to write and don’t need distractions, but I was wondering if maybe you’d want to hang out or something,” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

You smiled a bit, pushing a strand of hair out of your face, “I’d love to. How about this, give me the morning to write and maybe we can go out for lunch?”

“It’s a date,” he smiled.

You raised an eyebrow.

“I mean… like you know.. That was in a response of agreement, bloody hell,” he mumbled.

You giggled, “I know what you meant.”

“Right,” he blushed.

“Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said.

“Yeah, tomorrow,” he nodded.

When you got back to your room, you shut the door, heading over to your computer once more that day. You couldn’t stop smiling as you thought about what tomorrow might bring.

**

And that’s PART 2!

Check back for Part 3 tomorrow, posted at midnight CST!

[nctstany]

Love Me Now

Pairing: Jaeyong (Jaehyun x Taeyong)

Plot: All Taeyong wants to do is finish his last two years of college in peace but since he’s the son of a famous CEO he must do something he never thought he would do even in his next life time, marry his ‘enemy’.

Genre: Light angst, fluff, angst, smut???, light smut??, language, sexual themes, family problems, *cough cough* daddy issues

SIX

He can’t believe it. Today is the day, it happened too quickly. He honestly can’t believe it. The whole chain of events happened too suddenly even with avoiding it for most of it. It still managed to creep up on him and ruin his morning. It started with getting his phone blown up by Mark at an godly hour so that he can get ready in time. Also the fact that paparazzi find out where he lives but luckily Mark and Doyoung were there to save him with excuses. The only good thing that came from the morning events was the ice coffee he got after putting his suit on. 

Taeyong spent the rest of his afternoon waiting for the ceremony and guests to arrive. Doyoung and Mark stayed for only the getting ready part since it was both father’s request to make sure an escape didn’t take place. It was a good thing too since Taeyong faked going to the bathroom and almost got away with pretending to be a staff member. Nonetheless Taeyong sat pretty scrolling through his phone at peace until he heard a knock at the door. He expected it to be his father coming in to threaten him one last time. 

“Yo~” Shockingly it was Jaehyun popping his head in, even better~

“Are you nervous?” Is that a trick question?

"No." 

"You look nervous."

"Well then you're not helping." Tae sighed, putting his phone down on his lap.  

"Hold my hand if you're nervous." 

"I'm not touching you, Jaehyun."

“You’re going to have to kiss me up there anyway. Why is holding hands a big deal right now?” Jaehyun said with all seriousness which almost made Taeyong laugh in his face.

“Do you really think I’m going to kiss you?”

“You kind of have to~” A grin appeared on Jaehyun’s face as he put his arm around the other’s shoulder, “Picture this; we say I do and not kiss. Headlines and the media are going to eat us alive, along with our fathers and you should already know what will happen after that.” Taeyong just rolled his eyes at that logic but in the end Jaehyun is right, they both know that the media has power. 

“But anyway I came to get you, we’re starting.” Jaehyun had a little cheer in his voice and cleared, “I’ll see you at the end of the aisle.” Once the other left Taeyong sighed getting up from his chair and simply said with exhaustion, “Well fuck it.” 

“Taeyong, over here~” As soon as he left the room he could see his father’s grin even before turning around. He gripped onto his son’s arm and they began to walk down the aisle, music playing and the guest starring. His father said a mouthful in his eye and all he could do was fake a smile. A little bit of it was true once he saw Jaehyun in the tux he picked out, his ears red and standing proud. 

“You do understand the kind of trouble you’ll put everyone in and yourself right?” They made it to the end and Taeyong finally had the realization of everything crashing down on him at once. 

“Loud and clear.” Leaving one grip to another that felt way too inviting. The ceremony started and it turned into a staring contest between the two. Jaehyun tried throwing off the other by pulling him in closer or grinning at certain words that were being said. 

“I pronounce you two as partners.”

An awkward couple of seconds went by, as the two just stared into each other’s eyes. Sound was muffled around them. It would be weird if I gave him a handshake…… Jaehyun noticed the other pondering into thought and went in to whisper in his ear. Instead of going to whisper something he was surprised by a kiss to the cheek. Cameras flashed and people cheered, throwing rice as the newlyweds walked down the aisle holding hands. 

"I can't believe you gave me a kiss on my cheek."

"Shut up." 

“Also you’re holding my hand.” Jaehyun whispered and Taeyong quickened the walk.

↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕↕

The after party was something Taeyong actually felt scared about. People coming up and congratulating him about something fake, lying about loving Jaehyun. If only these people knew the whole story then everyone would just quickly get drunk. That’s something Taeyong will have to pass on tonight since the last time he got drunk he was on Jaehyun’s couch. 

“Hey wifey~” Taeyong pushed Jaehyun away but with a smile and gently since there are witnesses.  

“Not even a little kiss on the cheek again?” 

"Would you shut up about that already?" 

"But I miss your kisses~"

“I’m not afraid to kick your ass in front of all these people.” Taeyong kept a straight face. Jaehyun chuckled a little and took a sip from his glass, “You won’t because all these people we are in front of are pretty important people to our parents.”

“So doing that would be the same thing as telling them everything is a lie.” Jaehyun continued on with that damn smug face. “And I really doubt you could kick my ass, Lee Taeyong.”

“Come on, let's go mingle.” You’re lucky I like dancing…..with you. 

“Look at the two lovebirds!” Jaehyun’s father hollered out with Taeyong’s father near by. Clearly even after getting married he’ still out free from all the bullshit. 

“Clear your day tomorrow, you have to move into Jaehyun’s house.” Moving in? Taeyong laughed for a moment and soon enough came to since he was the only one laughing.

“That wasn’t part of the deal!” Angry build up quickly. “It’s bad enough I actually agreed to this shit show but now you suspect me to live with him?”

“It was Jaehyun’s idea after all and I completely agree with him. A married couple should live together especially if we want it to look believable.” 

“It was his idea, really?” Taeyong tilted his head and looked over at Jaehyun with the same question, “It was your idea?” You could almost hear the other gulp as he uttered the word Taeyong didn’t want to hear. Without question he pulled the other to a separate room with no witnesses in sight. 

“Okay don’t get mad.” 

The punch was so strong and quick that Jaehyun didn’t even realize he got hit. He rubbed his jaw and looked over at Taeyong who was breathing heavily. He swung again but this time Jaehyun dodged it and kept a grip on the other’s arm. 

“You weren’t joking about kicking my ass today.” 

“Was bothering me all my life when we were younger not enough for you?” Taeyong quickly pulled away and aimed for his face again but this time Jaehyun caught it, pinning him against a wall. Heat went straight to Taeyong’s face and looked away. 

“I didn’t bother you, this isn’t bothering you. I suggested it because we have to make people believe this bullshit idea our parents came up with.” His voice was sweet and deep as he tried his best to explain the situation. A reaction came out of the other from it and ended up being Jaehyun getting kicked in the groin. 

“You hate me that much?” Jaehyun sounded hurt, broken almost and it sent a chill down Tae’s spine. He stood back with 

“......no.” His mind couldn’t work any faster for the question. “I like my privacy, that's all." 

"It's not going to be forever."

“I’ll make sure it isn’t.” 

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SHORT PART

“This big house just for you to live in?” Taeyong looked around the house for the first time and he won’t admit that he’s amazed by it. “Seems like a waste.”

“Shouldn’t you be asking if I’m lonely instead.”

“Are you?” Tae knew where this was only to lead to, “Since you’re here probably not anymore.” and he was right like always. 

“I knew you were going to say that. That’s why I didn’t want to ask.” 

“But you asked anyway~” 

"I have my own room?" 

"You said you liked your privacy and don't worry my room is down the hall so if you need a cuddle buddy." Jaehyun winked making Tae full body cringe instantly. 

“Can’t believe I’m gonna spend the next two years here with you.” 

“I know, it’s so exciting!”

“I can’t believe this.” 

[calpalirwin]

Lunchtime Disaster

A/N: A thing for mostly @philthepegacorn.

Trigger Warning: ? Bigoted bullshit that in no way reflects my own views. If you’d rather not read it, that’s what the warnings for. Don’t come bitching to me for writing it because A.) I warned you and B.) this fic largely isn’t for you 😊

Word Count: 1.5k

And away, and away we go!

__

You were so excited about getting ready for lunch to see your old childhood friend, that you didn’t hear the first knock on your door. Or the impatient three thumps that followed a few moments later. Or anything beyond the music blaring from your phone as you exited the bathroom and found Michael standing in your bedroom doorway, arms crossed over his chest. So, you did the natural thing: you screamed.

Michael’s hands went up to plug his ears while you continued to shriek, “Michael! What the fuck?! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!”

“You should really learn to lock your door.”

“You should really learn to not barge into people’s houses!”

“I knocked for one thing. For another, you knew I was coming over today. Didn’t you?”

“I-” you faltered, your eyes wide and mind racing with your plans. Were you and Michael supposed to hang out today? How had that slipped your mind?

Michael sighed, crossing the room to sit down on your bed. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

“Michael, I am so sorry!” you apologized, sitting down next to him. “I must have mixed up the times, I just… Faith called me saying she’s in town, and I guess I got too excited to see her again, I forgot about any other plans I had. I’m so sorry.”

“Faith? Your high school best friend, yeah?”

“Yeah! And…” you trailed off to check the time on your phone. “I really need to leave before I’m late meeting her. But I will call you when I’m done, and we can hang out after? It’s just lunch, it shouldn’t take too long,” you tried to make amends as you got up, grabbing your bag.

“Lunch? I like lunch. Any activities that involve eating really.”

You laughed, pausing in the doorway. “You wanna come with?”

Michael grinned as he got up and skipped over to you, interlinking his arm with yours. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Michael listened to you chatter away about how excited you were to see Faith again on the short drive over to the restaurant. About how she had been your best friend growing up and stupid college and time made the two of you grow distant. “Oh, I’m so excited!” you said for the millionth time as you pulled into a parking space. In addition to getting to see Faith in you didn’t know how long, you also had some news you wanted to share with her.

“I can tell,” Michael teased you.

You smacked his arm, giggling as you did so. “Fuck you. You didn’t have to come.”

“And do what with my day instead? Not eat?” he asked as you both got out of your car.

“Is that the only reason you came with me? To get food?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s the only reason. But definitely like 90 percent. The other 10 is because I’m your new best friend, and Faith is your old best friend. So I should probably meet her.”

“Who said you were my best friend?”

He staggered dramatically as he pulled open the door. “The guys warned me. They said ‘Mike, watch out for Y/N, she’s only your friend to get close to the dogs’ but I told them they were crazy. Turns out they were right all along. I’m wounded. Truly.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you laughed, scanning the restaurant, spotting Faith at a table. “Oh, there she is! Faith!” you waved.

The woman turned her head to the sound, spotting you and smiling brightly. “Y/N!” she called out, waving you over.

The two of you crashed into each other for a tight hug as you both let out a small squeal of glee at being reunited, Michael standing awkwardly just a step behind you. He cleared his throat when he thought the greeting had gone on long enough. Faith peeled herself off of you to look up at him. “Oh? And who are you?”

“Faith, this is Michael. Michael, this is Faith,” you introduced.

“Oh?” Faith asked again with a slight lilt that came from wanting to ask if you were just friends or more without directly asking.

“Just a friend,” Michael clarified, understanding what wasn’t being said. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Faith smiled at him.

As lunch started, and you and Faith started up a conversation, you began to wonder like you often did how the two of you had drifted apart. What with endless ways of staying connected, it was crazy to you that you hadn’t stayed in better touch. But after she came back from excusing herself to the restroom, you quickly remembered why. “What’s up?” you questioned, noticing her face pinched in disgust.

“It was a fuckin’ gender neutral bathroom…”

“That’s probably really helpful for single parents,” Michael commented offhandedly.

Faith shot him a look. “Yeah, but like make a single use family restroom for them then. Don’t make the existing bathrooms gender neutral. That’s gross…”

Michael pulled a small face, but shook his head and went back to his food. “Okay…” he muttered under his breath.

You, however, didn’t show as much restraint. “What’s so gross about gender neutral restrooms? It’s a restroom.”

“Yeah, but…” Faith looked around before leaning across the table and talking in a hushed voice. “This is how it starts.”

“How what starts?”

“The bending over backwards to make everyone feel safe. It’s a bunch of shit. There’s already equality with there being a men’s restroom, and a women’s restroom.”

“Which is great. For those who identify that way.”

Faith snorted. “As if there’s any other way to identify.”

Your skin felt like it was on fire with the level of rage boiling inside you. You definitely weren’t going to tell her your news now. “Well… It’s like Mike said. It’s great for single parents to have access to gender neutral restrooms.”

“Oh, I bet. But you could just make a separate restroom for that. But for everyone else? Just pick a restroom.”

“I don’t think it’s as easy as that.”

“Oh sure it is! Either you’re a boy, or you’re a girl.”

“But there are people who identify as both…”

Faith snorted again. “Please. That’s almost as bad as bisexuals. It’s an excuse not to make a choice, really. Or a way to be cool. Because bottom line, end of the day, you’re one, or the other.”

“Interesting…” 

“What? You think I’m wrong?”

“I think…” you said, keeping your voice tightly controlled, “that your viewpoint is a closed-minded one.”

“Everyone’s entitled to their own opinion. This one just happens to be mine.”

“That it is.”

“Anyway!” Faith decided before launching into a new story, but you couldn’t focus on anything beyond the gnawing feeling in your stomach. When the time came for the three of you to leave, you could almost weep with relief.

“I’m not sure I like your friend so much,” Michael murmured once you were safely tucked away in your car, and Faith in hers.

You let out a loud laugh. Then kept laughing until it turned into sobs, your body heaving as you hunched over your steering wheel. Michael’s hand reached over to gently rub up and down your back. “It’s alright,” he soothed, not quite sure of what else to do.

“No it’s not!” you blubbered, adjusting just enough to look at him, tear tracks down your face. “She hates me!”

“How does her being a bigot translate to her hating you, exactly?”

“She hates people like me, Mike!” you continued to wail, your tears now leaving wet spots on his shirt as you clung to him for dear life.

His arms wrapped around you, holding you to him. “Hey, slow down. What are you talking about? People like you? Are you…?” he let the question hang in the air.

“Bi? Yes,” you hiccuped.

“No, I knew that. I meant your identity.”

“Yes, I’m non-binary…” The confession fell from your lips, and while the word flooded you relief at finally saying it to someone else, Faith had tainted the experience even though she wasn’t here to witness it. “And now you hate me too, don’t you?”

“Aw, c’mon Y/N. I could never hate you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. I love you too much to ever hate you.”

That shocked you enough to choke on the next cry. “You… what?”

“I-” Michael stumbled, his face bright red. “I meant like as friends I love you.”

“Oh…”

“I mean… I’m in love with you too. But I was kinda saving that confession for another time. When you’re less… distraught.”

You looked up at him with your eyes puffy and red from crying, the tears making your lashes stick together. “You’re in love with me?” you whispered.

He chuckled softly as his thumbs brushed away the tears still on your face. “Of course I’m in love with you. Why wouldn’t I be? And no, I don’t care if you’re in love with me back. I mean… I do. But it’s not gonna change anything for me if you don’t. Because you’re you. And there’s nothing you can do, or be, that would make me not love you.”

__

Tag List

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[imagineaworlds]

I Love You (Part Thirty-Nine) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Light smut!! I don’t think anything gets out of hand in this chapter. Talk of BDSM, Dom/sub relationship, etc. I think that’s it? SAVE YOUR SIMPING FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER! The black box is coming. Good lord...

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 11527

Timeline: One month after part thirty-eight.

A/N: Posting this wayyyy early because @ thomassgolfball on TikTok posted a Greg Montgomery edit for me, so I’m in a great mood!

The weekend of our wedding was chaotic, to say the least. On Friday, the boys (including Morgan, Reid, Rossi, and Anderson) stole Aaron away for a bachelor party who knew where. It happened as we were walking to our car after work. We stepped out of the building together, hand in hand, having just finished saying goodbye to the security team in the lobby. We barely stepped off the sidewalk when Rossi approached from behind us, a car pulled up in front of us, the door back door opening, and Rossi rushed to get Hotch into the car. I sighed and yelled at Morgan, who was sitting in the driver’s seat, to not let Aaron get into too much trouble. And then they sped off.

I shook off the smile on my face and continued to our car a few rows back in the parking lot. From a distance, I saw Emily leaning against the hood of the car. Well, the boys had stolen Hotch off for a boy’s weekend, and it seemed that the girls were stealing me off for a bachelorette party. I held my hands up in surrender. Next thing I knew, Emily was wearing a smirk as she handcuffed my left wrist to her right wrist. She didn’t release me until we arrived at a spa retreat out in the middle of nowhere in Virginia. It was Garcia’s idea.

“Tada!” Garcia cheered, her arms stretched into the air, her fingers jazz-dancing. “Do you like it?”

I rubbed my wrist as the handcuff fell off. “I love it.”

“Good, because we’re here until Sunday afternoon,” Emily whispered in my ear.

Because Hotch and I were in such a rush to get married on our anniversary, which was on a Monday, we had to make sure that the BAU got a long weekend, that Jack’s school was aware he wouldn’t be in class, and that everyone else we were inviting (friends and family) knew that they would have to miss some work. The good news was that all of Hotch’s friends were prosecutors and Bureaucrats, so it was fairly easy to get them out of work. When we told the Director that we were getting married, he insisted that we invite him and give him the list of Bureaucrats we were inviting so that he could ensure that they got that Monday off. As for who I was inviting, the list was pretty limited since my friends were all in the FBI, and the one person from my past that I would’ve considered inviting was off the grid. She did that a lot. So, we kept it small. It was going to be lavish, but small. And that was okay. I didn’t need a big, ostentatious wedding. I just needed my future husband, the team, and my parents. But Hotch needed everyone to know that he was marrying me.

When we found out that the team was planning on kidnapping us for separate weekend-long celebrations, Hotch and I started talking in the roundtable room as the team was filing in about how we wanted the night before the wedding all to ourselves. We tried playing it cool by stopping when someone would enter the room; but we knew that they were listening. So, when Emily told me that we were leaving the spa retreat on Sunday afternoon, I was relieved. Hotch and I were going to have Sunday night all to ourselves. Wonderful.

Sunday didn’t matter when we were out at that retreat, though. We spent Friday night in a jacuzzi together, sipping on wine and gossiping. Unfortunately, I had to stop drinking because it was upsetting my stomach, but Garcia seemed to drink for me. JJ and I laughed at her when she downed the glass I couldn’t finish. When we were all pruning, we went inside the cabin the girls all contributed to renting at the retreat for the weekend. We slid into pajamas, grabbed a bunch of blankets, and we laid on the floor in the living room, a fresh log fire beside us. JJ was responsible for bringing the shitty snacks. Since this was supposed to be a “healthy spa”, they didn’t necessarily supply snacks like Cheetos, chips, chocolate, etc. JJ already had most of that laying around at home because of Henry, so she told Emily and Garcia that she would bring the food, and that she did. Since Garcia was drinking for me, and Emily was trying to catch up to her, I stuck to the chocolate.

Time passed by so fast. I didn’t even get tired. We all crashed in the early hours of the morning, but all I could do was smile up at the ceiling while listening to Garcia snore. I was happy. My wedding was approaching, and I was with a handful of the people I loved most on planet Earth. I didn’t need anything else… Except a massage. Thankfully, my wish was granted, because, when I was woken up by Emily, we headed for breakfast at the meal hall, then went to the spa cabin where Garcia had scheduled our massages. Garcia was hungover, of course. Getting her to the meal hall was hard enough, but dragging her out of the spa once our hour long massages were done was a near impossible task.

By the time lunch came around, Garcia was passed out in the bed she had claimed as hers when we first arrived. JJ, Emily, and I gave up on her. We decided to get lunch without her, then, when we were done, we were going to watch a movie in the cabin.

The biggest bed in the cabin was a California King that Emily and I were supposed to share. However, the three of us managed to sit—or, in my case, lay—comfortably on the bed while watching Pride and Prejudice, which was JJ’s idea.

“If Hotch doesn’t say something as romantic as that on Monday,” Emily said after Mr. Darcy had proclaimed his love for Elizabeth for the first time, “then I’m pulling you off the altar, and I’m going to marry you myself.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” I answered, playing along with her tease.

I fell asleep before the movie ended. When I woke up, I saw that Emily and JJ had fallen asleep, too, but they were wrapped in each other’s arms. I eyed them suspiciously for a moment before rolling out of bed to head to the bathroom. I really shouldn’t’ve eaten that much chocolate last night. My stomach was killing me, and I blamed it all on the snacks JJ brought.

“Y/N,” Emily’s voice followed a knock on the door, “are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just under the weather.”

“Nerves?”

“Or chocolate.”

She laughed. “Okay. Well, Garcia’s up, and she’s hungry, so we’re going to head to the meal hall, if you want to join us.”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

“We’ll check on you when we come back.”

They technically never got that chance because I fell back asleep soon after they left. It was supposed to be a relaxing weekend, and I was certainly taking them up on the opportunity. Considering Hotch and I were going to have the night before the wedding to ourselves, then our entire honeymoon, and then the rest of our lives… I knew I was going to be restless for a while. Besides, sleep was good. With our busy schedules, we hardly got a weekend to just relax. I liked that I got to spend all of this time with the girls, then sleep as much as I wanted, and I could rinse and repeat that cycle until Sunday afternoon.

And I did. By the time Sunday afternoon came around, I packed up my bag (the one Emily had packed for me without my knowing on Friday when she left for her lunch break), and we headed home. Garcia was not allowed to drive. She and I slept most of the drive home, my house being the first stop.

“Don’t let him leave any hickeys,” Emily warned as I got out of the car.

I chuckled. “No hickeys, must have a speech superior to Mr. Darcy’s, and…”

“And no breaking your heart. Ever.”

“And no breaking my heart. Got it. I’ll let him know.”

“Have fun,” JJ teased with a sing-song voice. “We’ll pick you up tomorrow!”

“Bye, my loves.”

“Bye…” Garcia groaned.

The three of us laughed at her before I waved to them while they slowly traveled down the neighborhood’s street. When they turned out of sight, I headed up to the house, unlocked the door, turned off the alarm, then headed to the kitchen to get a glass of water. My stomach had stopped hurting, but now I had a raging headache. I swore then and there that if I was sick on our wedding day, I was going to call every single person invited in order to tell them that the wedding was off before leaving to elope with Hotch.

“You’re back,” Hotch noted happily as he stepped into the kitchen.

“Headache,” I pointed to my temple.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I’ll get you a Motrin.”

“Wait—”

“What?”

I grabbed his hand and pulled him towards me. “I love you.” I jumped up on my toes and kissed him gingerly. “How was your weekend?”

“I don’t think Morgan understands that strip clubs aren’t my thing.”

“It was more for them than you.”

“I know.”

“You got a lap dance, though, right?” I questioned with a grin.

“No!” he defended.

“Why not?” I pouted at him and played with the hem of his V-neck. “It would have been fun for you.” I ran my hands over his chest. “Wasn’t that the point of your weekend?”

Hotch wrapped his arms around my waist. “The only person I want to ever look at or touch is you.” He kissed me. “So, how ‘bout a lap dance—”

“Headache,” I reminded him.

“You’re a tease.”

“I know. Sir.”

He laughed and kissed my forehead gently to help heal my headache, then he left to get me a Motrin, like he promised. I made my way to the living room. Since Jessica must have been in on the weekend plans, Jack was spending the weekend at her house. We didn’t have to worry about looking after a kid for at least another two weeks because we were leaving for our honeymoon on Tuesday, and because Monday would be our wedding night… Well, Jessica had offered to just look after him until we got back from our vacation. No kid, just us. As much as I loved Jack, I also loved the idea of just getting to spend a lot of one-on-one time with Aaron. If we had met at a different point in our lives, a point where he didn’t have a kid, and might not have ever been married to Haley, then it was possible that Hotch and I would have done everything the classic, boring way. Date for a few years, get engaged, stay engaged for at least a year, then get married, go on vacation, then have a kid. That would have left us with years of alone time. But since we had Jack to look after—not that I minded that one bit— everything was backwards; and with the chaos and tragedy in our lives, we were in a rush to be the classic, boring, nuclear family.

Mom, dad, and kid. That was everyone’s dream, right? The big house, the perfect family, and maybe even a pet to make everyone happy. But we already had the big house and the perfect family. All that was left to do now was make it all official with the wedding certificate and the rings on our fingers. I’d be content at that point.

“Motrin, a heating pad, a blanket, and your favorite pillow,” Hotch said, entering the room with full hands.

I craned my neck to watch him walk around the back of the couch. “You’re amazing.” I took the Motrin from him as he sat down. “Thank you, baby.”

“Of course.”

Hotch shook out the blanket before laying it over my body, then plugged in the heating pad so that I could rest it on the back of my neck. By the time he had me situated, I was already relaxed. When he sat down beside me, he put my favorite pillow on his lap, a silent signal that he wanted me to lay down on him so that he could play with my hair until I could fall asleep.

“I know that this wasn’t exactly what you had in mind when we were talking about spending the night together,” I said apologetically. “I’m sorry.” He shushed me. “I haven’t been feeling well all weekend. It’s my own damn fault for eating that chocolate.”

“You’re here. That’s all that matters to me.”

I closed my eyes in response to the comforting feel of his fingers combing through my hair. When we had been talking about spending this night together, I imagined that I’d be tied to the bed with Hotch between my legs, torturing me endlessly. This was nice, though, like he said. It wasn’t imperative for us to have sex in order to be intimate. Yeah, it didn’t suck, but we were going to have plenty of time to tie each other up and fuck each other until we couldn’t breathe. Hell, we had our whole lives to do that. For now, I enjoyed just lying down on his lap, curled under a blanket, falling asleep as he massaged my scalp to ease my headache.

----

Monday morning, I woke up in our bed upstairs, Hotch cuddled up against my back. I smiled and kissed his knuckles. Hotch shuffled behind me as he was coaxed awake by my touch. Telling by the time, JJ, Emily, and Garcia were going to pick me up soon, but I didn’t want to leave our bed just yet. I was excited to get to the venue, but I was also fine where I was. Maybe we could just get married in bed.

“Good morning, my love,” he whispered groggily in my ear.

I hummed. “Good morning.”

“Is your headache gone?”

“Yeah. Did you carry me up here?”

“We fell asleep on the couch, and I woke up around seven, so I decided to bring you up here instead of leaving you down there.”

“Thank you.” I rolled over and kissed him, our eyes still shut. “I’m sorry, again, for last night.”

“Don’t be.”

“We could…” my hands drifted down his chest, “do something now…”

He moaned and tensed under my touch. “I thought we have to leave soon to get ready.”

“We’ll make enough time…”

“Not enough time for the black box, though.”

“We’ll just take it with us on the honeymoon.”

He grabbed my chin roughly. “Mmm… so, you want to be ruined for two weeks straight?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Hotch rolled on top of me, kissing me so roughly I couldn’t move or breathe. “Screaming my name and cumming for me over and over again?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You’re always so needy for me.”

“Only for you, Sir—” I groaned with annoyance when my phone started ringing on my bedside table. “Just ignore it.” I grabbed his face to make him kiss me again. When the call went to voicemail, Hotch rolled his hips against mine, letting me feel how hard he was getting. “Sir…” And then the doorbell rang. “No,” I groaned again.

Hotch leaned back. “I think it’s time to go.”

“Can’t they wait?” I asked, running my index finger over the outline of his erection through his pajama pants. He moaned and fell forward. “Please?” The doorbell rang again, but this time, it didn’t stop. It kept ringing over and over again until it got annoying. “I’m going to fucking kill them.”

“You have to go.”

“I don’t want to yet.”

“I’ll see you in a few hours when you come down the aisle. Aren’t you excited for that?”

I nodded. “But what about you?” I asked, referencing his erection.

“I’ll handle it. You’ll have two weeks to make it up to me.”

I pouted, then kissed him again. “She’s not going to stop ringing the doorbell,” I said, rolling out of bed. Hotch sighed, falling onto his back, his hand snaking under the waistband of his pants to palm himself. I rubbed my thighs together at the sight. “I’m going to kill Emily Prentiss,” I said to myself.

When I opened the front door, Emily was snatching her hand away from the doorbell on the doorframe. She smiled innocently. I told her that I needed to change into something comfortable, then I would meet them in the car.

I was not responsible for my dress, my shoes, my jewelry, or anything of the sort. My mom was responsible for making sure all of that arrived at the venue on time. My job was to show up. That was it. I made it very clear to everyone that those who were showing up to the venue early had a responsibility. If something were to go wrong, it had to make it up a chain of command before getting to me. If something couldn’t be handled by JJ or Penelope, then it made its way to Emily, my maid of honor (since I didn’t have anyone else coming that I was as close to. She was one of my partners in the field, so it only made sense to ask her to do it.) If Emily couldn’t handle it, my mom probably could. If, by some off chance, my mother couldn’t take care of it, then it could become my problem. Other than that, I just wanted to sit in the bridal suite. I wanted to get ready in peace, have fun with my friends for a few hours before the ceremony, and talk with my mom. That was it. If anything or anyone were going to bother me, I was going to be pissed. I didn’t want to be a bridezilla, but it was reasonable for me to request an entire day off, alright.

Hotch was cleaning himself up in the shower while I got dressed in one of his college hoodies and a pair of leggings. Before I could even hear him start washing his hair, I was out the door and in the car with JJ, Garcia, and Emily again. Garcia seemed much better than the last time I saw her. She wasn’t completely out of it, which was a plus, considering I wanted her to be there for the day. Besides, if she showed up still hungover, I think I would be in more trouble than her when Morgan would have found out.

When we arrived at the venue, JJ parked to the side so that the vendors could move about freely within the parking lot; then, when they were done setting up inside, there would just be more space for the guests to park. We had found this amazing, quaint place that was surprisingly cheap. The building itself almost looked like a warehouse—but it was all sandstone brick and glass. It was one floor, but the walls were ridiculously tall, and the glass ceiling inside in some of the rooms made it feel only that much bigger. The set up of the building inside was like a square donut. There was the main lobby when we first walked in, but just behind that was a hallway on either side of the front desk, and just between those two hallways was a glass door that led to the huge open-air courtyard where a vendor was setting up all of the foldable white chairs for the guests during the ceremony.

Garcia pulled me down the left hallway before I could stare at the courtyard for too long. The left side of the building, for our purposes, was reserved as the bride’s suite. Meanwhile, the right side was for the boys. My mom was adamant about Hotch not seeing me at all after leaving our house up until the ceremony. All of the superstitions about a groom seeing the bride in her dress before the actual wedding had tricked my mother into thinking that if Aaron happened to waltz into the wrong room, I’d topple over and die right then and there. So, he was supposed to stay away. The boys had the entire right side of the donut, and the girls had the left side. It was fair enough.

When we stepped into one of the large rooms that had been designated as the suite itself, I saw my mom standing in front of a tall clothing rack where my dress was hanging. She was fussing with it. If there was even one wrinkle, my mother snuffed it out. She was going to do whatever it took to make sure that dress looked good, even if it killed her sanity. But, she stopped for a moment when she heard the door open, and she turned to see that it was us, and she smiled.

“Finally,” she cheered, flinging her arms around me.

I hugged her back. “Hi, Mom.”

“You look pale.”

“I wasn’t feeling well yesterday.”

“What is it?” She released me from our embrace. Her motherly worry was plastered to her face, and she’s trying to figure out what was wrong with me before I could even respond.

I shook my head. “Chocolate and nerves. It’s nothing, Mom.”

“Well, we’ll just cover it all up with makeup, anyhow.” She pointed to the makeup artist and hair stylist that were getting their things set up to the side. “Don’t even worry about it.” She peered over my shoulder to look at the girls. “Champagne and snacks are on the table over there,” she pointed to the left, “hair and makeup will call each of you over one at a time,” she pointed back at the two women who were still getting set up, “and then your dresses are hanging over there,” she pointed to the right where a clothing rack on wheels was holding up the dresses they bought—since Hotch and I weren’t exactly doing the whole bridesmaids and groomsmen thing.

If it were up to my mother, we would have had a much bigger and extravagant celebration with a wedding party and everything, but I argued against it. The compromise was that my mom could pay for ridiculous things like champagne and snacks, while I got to decide that the ceremony would be small, short, and easy. So, my mom offered to pay for the girls’ dresses and the guys’ tuxes, as long as I got to stay adamant about not having matching dresses and having them walk down the aisle before me. My mom was fine with that.

“The bride goes last,” Mom continued. “So, just sit down and relax for a bit, baby.” She gestured to the two large couches over by the champagne and snacks, silently telling us to sit down and stay out of the way until we were called up to do something important.

I threw my hands up in surrender. There was really no point in fighting my mother about all of this, especially on an important day like my wedding. She was a… controlling woman. Elle got that from her. My mother liked knowing that everything was perfect and that she could handle it all herself, and if I got in the way by arguing, I was going to lose that fight. Not that I even wanted to try. Like I said, I wanted to lay back and relax. I was going to keep my feet up until I had to get into my dress and walk down the aisle towards Hotch, and then, I’d crash again.

“Want any?” JJ asked, holding up the bottle of champagne for me to see the offer. I shook my head. She cocked a brow at me, eyes searching all of me for answers. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” Garcia asked worriedly.

I shook my head. “Of course not.” I sat down abruptly. “I’m just nervous.”

“What’s there to be nervous about?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted with a laugh.

The four of us reclined, but the three of them kept chatting while I sat by, watching as they drank champagne. There wasn’t a reason to be nervous. I knew that. Of course I knew that. I loved Aaron, he loved me, and we wanted to get married more than anything. This had been our dream for a few years, but it never worked out for one reason or another. But, finally, the timing worked out. Finally, there was nothing standing in our way… and yet, I was still panicking. I didn’t doubt that this was the right thing to do and that we would be happy together. I just couldn’t put my finger on what it was that really had me all wound up.

And then my mom whistled lightly from the doorway. Growing up, that was her call to me and Elle whenever we were out in public and she needed us to be by her side and behaving within an instant. I’d recognize that whistle anywhere. It was like saying: “Mom needs you now, and if you don’t come over here, she’s going to be mad.” So, I pushed myself to my feet and headed to the door,

“What is it?” I asked. “Is it Aaron?”

My mom chuckled at my panic. “No. He’s okay. Your dad’s giving him a hard time, but he’s okay, I promise. I need to show you something, though.” She grabbed my hand and snuck me out of the room before anyone could notice because the girls’ attention was on Garcia, who was sliding into her dress now. I followed my mom with a hesitant stride. “Come on, it’s a good surprise, Y/N.”

“I don’t understand—Shouldn’t I be getting into my dress?”

“In a minute. You’ll want to see this first.” She opened the back door of the venue, leading us into the alleyway. I cocked a concerned brow at my mother. “There.” She pointed, and I followed her gaze.

There was a figure standing in the shadows, hiding their face under the hood they were wearing, and their figure was hidden under all of the layers. It didn’t make any sense. Who the hell was that? Why would my mother risk bringing me out here? I tried asking my mom, but she only pushed me forward as an encouragement. I rolled my eyes and walked a few more steps towards the stranger.

And then I stumbled to a halt. Her face was familiar, like I had only seen her just yesterday, but everything else about her was different. Her hair, her style, her posture, even the way she did her makeup. She was half a stranger, half a reminder of home and family. A shuddered breath left my lips.

“Elle…”

When I saw her smile back at me and open her arms for a hug, I ran to her and crashed against her chest. Her arms wrapped around me tightly. I hugged her waist, squeezing her until she tapped on my shoulder for me to release.

“What are you doing here? I didn’t know how to invite you—”

“Mom sent me the invite,” Elle answered. I smiled against her shoulder and squeezed harder. She laughed at how she couldn’t breathe now. “I had to see you.”

“Wait ‘til I tell Aaron and Derek; they’ll be so excited!”

Elle suddenly pushed me out of our hug so that I could see her stern face. “You can’t tell anyone I was here, Y/N.”

“What?”

“Especially Hotch.”

“What are you talking about?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want you to worry about it.” She grabbed my hands before making me spin around in a small circle for her. “Look at you!”

I wasn’t fooled, however, by her attempt to distract me from what was really going on. All this time, I didn’t know why she left, where she went, what she was doing, and I certainly didn’t think anyone had contact with her, let alone my parents. When I thought about inviting her, I tried calling her old phone number, which had been disconnected. When I tried her email, it didn’t go through. And when I asked my parents if they knew anything, they said that they would handle it. Of course, I didn’t understand what that meant at the time. But now that my sister was standing in front of me for the first time in two and a half years, I thought I would want to be happy and distracted with her, but now I just wanted answers. So, I asked. All of these burning questions that had been churning in my head over the past few years finally spewed out of me. There was nothing I could do to stop or control it. There was just so much, yet so little time.

Elle looked at the ground and kicked a pebble around. “It was just in everyone’s best interest if I left,” she finally said. That wasn’t a real answer. We both knew that it wasn’t enough for me, yet… I didn’t fight. It was the weirdest thing. For once, when it came to Elle, I didn’t pry. “I’m really happy for you, Y/N.” She looked up at me and smiled. It wasn’t faux or forced. It was a genuine smile that she always wore.

I couldn’t believe I almost forgot how much her smile made my day, and how her laugh was like music to my ears, and how much I just fucking missed her. She had been gone so long, she had turned into a distant memory in the back of my mind. Now that she was there, however, everything was returning to me like she hadn’t been gone even a day.

“You’re not going to come in; are you?” I questioned, my smile fading. Hers disappeared, too. “Morgan and Reid miss you a lot. I know they would really love to just see you one more time—”

“Y/N, I can’t. I made promises to people, and I made promises to myself. This part of my life is behind me.”

“So, then, what are you doing with your life?”

“Traveling. A lot.”

I smiled. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling back. “I always wanted to get out and see the world, you know that.”

Actually, no, I didn’t know that. Elle had a very specific idea as to what her life would look like, and I knew what those plans were because it was practically the same dream I had for myself, too. Because of her dad, she wanted to become a cop, so she did. Because of my dad, I wanted to join the FBI, so I did. There was never any mention of getting out to see the world. How could we afford to go traveling all the time when our careers always came first to everything else? She had been doing so well for herself in Seattle, and then she joined the BAU. Things were really working out for her. Yet, the one time she decided to travel outside of the country for vacation, her entire life fell apart. One would think that experience would have stayed her secret urge to travel. However, it didn’t. I couldn’t blame her, though, for wanting to get out and travel the world, if that was really what she wanted, and if she was happy doing it—and it seemed like she was really happy. That was all I ever wanted for her. So, I didn’t argue.

“What have you been doing while traveling?” I asked. The FBI paid well, but not well enough to travel and spend money for the rest of her life without working.

“Oh, you know…” she trailed off. I shook my head because I didn’t know. She was being awfully vague and awkward. Maybe it was just the fact that we hadn’t talked in so long, so there was a disconnect; but we had gone decades without talking while she was working sex crimes in Seattle and I was stuck in Quantico. This was no different than that. So, what gave? “Partying and boys, mostly.”

I squinted at her. “You’re not working at all?”

“I don’t need to. I keep a pretty low profile while I’m out there.”

“Someone’s coming,” Mom hissed from the back door of the venue just down the alley.

When I turned to give her an acknowledging nod, I suddenly felt Elle crash into me for another hug. She wasn’t a big hugger. In fact, Elle struggled most times with any kind of affection. I was pretty sure that it stemmed from the fact that she lost her father, her favorite person, when she was really young, and she didn’t know how to cope with that loss. Our mom wasn’t a very affectionate person either, which was possibly where Elle got it from, but it also made sense that Mom didn’t know how to console and love Elle the same way her dad, which was just another disconnect to the idea of affection for her. But there were moments like these where Elle would find courage within herself to show her love for me. A hug was so small. Jack and Hotch hugged me all the time. Morgan and Emily hugged me all the time. I was a big hugger. Not Elle, though. That was why this had caught me so off guard, and actually made me break into tears.

“I don’t want you to go,” I whispered into her hair.

“I know.”

“Elle,” Mom hissed another warning.

So, Elle released me from her embrace. “I’ll see you around.”

I knew that was a lie. There was no way she was ever going to come back again. I could see it in her eyes and in her behavior. Sometimes, especially in moments like these, I really hated being a profiler. “I’ll see you around.”

Elle smiled lightly at me as she pulled the hood of her jacket over her head, then turned on her heels and calmly made her way out of the alley while keeping her head down.

“What are you two doing out here?” Dad asked, walking into past Mom to see me standing alone in the alleyway. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting into your dress?”

Mom hit his bicep, then started pulling him back inside. “Stop messing with perfection.”

Even though they were divorced, the two of them were still close, and they were comfortable with playing around like that. They almost reminded me of how I was around Morgan. We were serious, but we loved each other, and we knew how to be silly in order to show affection and lighten the cloudy days of our lives. My mom and dad did all of those things, too. It was a wonder they got divorced in the first place. I mean, now that I was older, and there was hindsight and all, I knew that they got divorced because their jobs got in the way; the same reason Hotch and Haley got a divorce. They still loved each other, and they still loved me and Elle, but it was just hard for them to be apart so often. Mom was always off traveling the world for the CIA, meanwhile Dad was stuck at the Academy, teaching a bunch of kids whose dream was to be in the FBI, just like mine had always been. They just got busy. Work got in the way, but they never fell out of love.

Honestly, though, that was the reason I had so much hope for mine and Hotch’s relationship. We worked together. Our time at work and home were spent together. There were only a handful of times when we really missed each other; but we always knew that we would come back together and keep working cases together, or go home to fuck each other until our minds stopped working. We worked because of that. Our job didn’t get in the way of our relationship, which meant that it was just one less thing we had to worry about.

Mom poked her head back out of the venue to ask if I was alright. When I nodded and forced a smile onto my face, she invited me back inside, and led me to the bridal suite so that I could get my hair and make up done before sliding into my dress. “Guests are starting to show up,” she explained frantically while pushing me into the hair and makeup seat. The two women who had just finished getting JJ ready immediately started attacking my hair and face before I could even register what the hell was happening.

“Can you let me know if Sean shows up?” I asked.

My mom stared at me with wide eyes through the mirror. “You invited him? Why didn’t you—” She sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Does Aaron know?”

“No.” I didn’t tell anyone on purpose.

When I invited Sean, I had done it secretly after Hotch insisted that he didn’t want his brother to be a part of the ceremony as best man or groom—or whatever the hell we were doing. After Haley’s funeral, when we realized that Sean hadn’t shown up, Hotch promised that he was done with his brother for good. But I just couldn’t let them fall out like this. To be fair, a lot of people didn’t come to Haley’s funeral for one reason or another. I knew that Sean was somewhat of a fuck up, but he didn’t deserve to be punished for showing up to Hotch’s ex-wife’s funeral… Right?

By the time I was done getting “prettied up”, as my mother would put it, and I shimmied into my dress, there was still no news of Sean, or, frankly, Elle. Some part of me held out hope that she would have turned around to come back and see me walk down the aisle. Maybe I was foolish. But I always thought that my sister would be there for my wedding day. Even though she and I didn’t exactly get along sometimes, and there was a fair period of time where we didn’t talk, I imagined that she would be there. I imagined that she would be celebrating this day with me. Perhaps that was why I had invited Sean, too, because Hotch secretly felt the same way about having his brother there. Maybe the two of us were just destined for each other and that was it… We didn’t deserve our families. I mean, Aaron’s family didn’t deserve him; but I knew that he always wished that he had grown up in a better family. It was a miracle that he turned out the way he did. He was so close to becoming Sean; but he didn’t. That was admirable.

“Everyone decent?” Dad asked after knocking on the door suddenly, snapping me out of my train of thought. Mom told him that he could come in. As he stepped inside, his mouth fell agape, a small smile crawling onto his face. “Y/N…”

“You’re not allowed to cry yet, Ken,” Mom scorned.

“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted her. As she rolled her eyes and giggled at his silliness, she started ushering the girls out of the bridal suite so that they could go find seats at the ceremony and let everyone know that we were about to start. The door closed behind them. “You ready for this?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“It’s not too late to back out now,” he joked.

“Do you want me to?”

He shook his head. “Not in a million years.”

“You like him, right, Dad?”

He stared at me for a moment, his smile fading so that he could pout at my doubt. “I think he’s perfect for you, Y/N. I’ve never seen you so happy. As long as he makes you happy, and as long as he treats you well, I’ll love him like he’s my own.” I smiled at the ground. “And, no, I don’t think it’s weird that he’s older than you.”

“I know you don’t,” I played along.

He stepped forward and tilted my head up with the side of his curled index finger. “Let’s get the boring part over with, shall we?” I nodded. “Alright.” He turned and opened the door, holding out his arm for me so that I could loop my arm with his.

When we stepped into the hallway, the woman who had done my hair handed me my flower bouquet to carry down the aisle, to which I quietly thanked her for. We traveled down the hall a few steps before I stopped. Dad took a step forward like he was already going to lead me down the aisle, but I felt frozen in place. Deep down, I knew that I was ready to marry Aaron Hotchner. I knew that I wanted nothing more than to finally call myself Y/N Hotchner, and to be his entirely. Yet, I couldn’t seem to move my feet. The corner was right there, with the aisle just past it, and Hotch waiting at the end of it. He was waiting for me, and I was absolutely panicking.

I didn’t want us to fail. That was the first time I had admitted it to myself like that. I knew that we were destined for great things and that we loved each other so much, but I was terrified of failing him like Haley failed him. He had been through so much, and I really, really didn’t want to let him down like everyone else had. I knew that he made me happy, and that I made him happy… but what would happen if I ever lost him? I couldn’t bear to think—

“It’s going to be alright,” Dad promised, squeezing my hand.

My breath sputtered as a tear slipped down my cheek. “Were you this scared when you married Mom?”

He smiled and nodded. “I thought that I was going to throw up all over my tux.”

“What helped?”

“Seeing your mom come down the aisle,” he answered quickly, like he had anticipated the question. “I remember that I couldn’t stop shaking and my head wouldn’t stop spinning, but then I saw her, and everything suddenly made sense.” He reached up and wiped the tear from my cheek. “Once you see him, you’ll feel better. I promise.”

“I don’t want to fall over,” I admitted. I was so nervous about taking that first step and tripping over myself. I felt like I could collapse at any second between the panic coursing through my veins and the tightness in my lungs.

“I won’t let you.”

I let my eyes flutter closed before taking in a deep breath, holding it, then slowly releasing it. I did it again, this time a little faster, and my head stopped spinning long enough for me to nod a signal that I was ready. He squeezed my hand again, then took another step, pulling me along carefully. I finally took the first step forward. I felt a sigh of relief leave my chest as I realized that I hadn’t fallen over yet. We took another step, this time with a longer, braver stride, and I felt more confidence wash over me. I was one step closer to seeing him, and that was enough to encourage me to keep going. So, we continued on, one step after the other, slowly gaining speed until we hit the cliché wedding walk pace. We reached the corner, and I closed my eyes again as my breath picked up once more. Hotch was waiting just around the corner. I would see him for the first time on our wedding day, and for the last time as my fiancé. This was real. It was really happening. We were about to do this.

“Just find him and breathe,” my dad whispered.

I nodded again, and he led me around the corner. I opened my eyes as I heard the audience rise to their feet and turn to face me. I looked around the space, spotting the team at the back of the crowd, spread out amongst the bride and groom’s sides. Morgan was standing on my side, just beside the aisle, and he smiled at me. I felt my racing heart slow down a bit when I managed to smile back, but it wasn’t until I looked past the crowd and down the aisle to find Hotch standing with Jack at his side that I finally found tranquility. Every bit of panic left me in one, relieving wave. Every ounce of worry or conflict disappeared without a trace. Just like my dad said, when Hotch’s eyes met mine, I suddenly forgot how scared I was, and I was overwhelmed by happiness and excitement. I felt like I could start running down the aisle now if it meant that I would just be in his arms again.

My eyes pouted, but I smiled at him as brightly as I could. He was smiling back, even though his jaw was practically on the floor in response to seeing me in my dress. And all I could think about was getting to kiss his lips for the first time as his wife. I wished we could skip the whole ceremony altogether and just get to that part. I wished that I could teleport down the aisle and jump into arms, both of us refusing to let go of one another.

We took another step and I watched as Jack looked up at his dad, both of them sharing a smile of excitement between each other. With every row of the crowd we passed, I felt my speed pick up, almost like I was dragging my dad along with me now instead of the other way around. I was in a rush to finally get there, hear that we were married, kiss him, and hold him in my arms forever as husband and wife. There wasn’t a moment to waste.

As we passed the last row, I felt myself nearly trip over my dress as I got a little too excited with my steps. Dad caught me, just like he promised, and I chuckled to myself slightly, looking up at Hotch to see that he was acting like nothing happened. Dad leaned in when we were standing just in front of Hotch, Jack, and the officiant. He kissed my cheek and squeezed my hand one last time before untangling our fingers and unlinking our arms. I felt my nerves return as I realized that there was no one there to hold me upright anymore, no one to catch me if I were to trip again.

I felt my anxiety return, my heart racing in my chest, my blood pumping in my arms, my lungs struggling to take normal breaths, my head beginning to spin. I closed my eyes, trying to find my balance and my ground— and then I felt him. His large hand was over mine on my bouquet, his thick fingers trying to pry my left hand away from the flowers. I let him do as he wished, my eyes fluttering open as he took my hand in his and pulled me towards him carefully.

Hotch’s eyes met mine as he led me to stand closer to him, my right shoulder facing the crowd. We stared at each other with that same light that I noticed every morning when we woke up and he would remember how happy he was to have me there with him. I got lost in his chocolate brown eyes as he lifted his other hand up to my face and brushed some of my hair back behind my ear.

“How obvious was I?” I asked quietly.

Hotch bit back a laugh. “I don’t think anyone noticed.”

“Trick question. If you noticed, everyone noticed,” I snickered. Without warning, he leaned in slowly and pressed a gentle, loving kiss against me. It felt like a ghost had barely kissed me. Just as I felt that he was there, he was gone. “You’re supposed to save that for the end,” I whispered as he pulled away slightly, his breath still hot on my nose.

He kissed me again with the same considerate touch. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“Friends and family,” the officiant began loudly, practically tearing me and Hotch apart due to shock. We giggled at each other quietly. “We’ve gathered here today to celebrate the joyous union of Y/N Greenaway and Aaron Hotchner. As I understand it, the bride and the groom have both prepared something to say before we start with the official vows.”

Hotch nodded, squeezing my hand that he was holding. He released me for a short moment so that he could fish out his speech from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. I giggled at him. He was shaking just as hard as I was, and it was made plain to me when the flimsy paper trembled in his touch. He smiled at my giggle. “The past two years have been… taxing, to say the least. Together, we’ve really been rung through the works, and there were times when I thought we wouldn’t make it to this day for one reason or another. But for the past three years, you have stuck by my side, no matter what, and you’ve given me a reason every day to keep pushing and keep living. I wouldn’t be here today without you. It’s true. Every day, I look at you and Jack, and I remember that I love you both more than anything in the world. I know that I will always fight for you because I love you, and no matter what the world throws at us, that will never change. Your messes are my messes, Y/N. I wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world. I swear that from this day on, I will be by your side, supporting every decision you make, cheering you on while you make a difference in the world, and loving you as vigorously as I can until my dying day. I promise to never hold anything back from you—emotionally, physically, spiritually… and, of course, when it comes to secrets. My whole world belongs to you, Y/N, and I want it to remain that way until my last breath, or until the world stops spinning. I love you.”

I smirked and bit my lip. “I love you, too.”

“Stop biting,” he whispered dominantly.

“I can’t help it.”

“Your turn,” the officiant said to me.

“Right—” I said with a laugh. I surprised Hotch by letting go of his hand so that I could dig into the right-side pocket of my dress to retrieve my speech. “Pockets,” I teased him. He bit his lip. “Don’t bite.”

“I can’t help it,” he whispered through his teeth.

I rolled my eyes at him before glancing down at my paper. I had written it a thousand times before landing on this version that I was… satisfied with. Unfortunately, there weren’t enough words to tell Hotch how much I loved him. At least, there weren’t the right words. I used what the English vocabulary had available, seeking out some of Reid’s help, if I were being honest, but it still wasn’t exactly what I meant. There would never be a speech long enough to list all of the ways I loved Aaron Hotchner. Even if the words to express my love for him existed, my lungs probably would have given out before I could have finished telling him. The good news was, he knew. Hotch knew the truth. This whole show was for the people we loved, like Jack, my parents, and the team. This was for them to see how infinite my love was for him. Hotch didn’t need to hear it. Every kiss I pressed to his lips was my way of telling him in the only way that made sense. Telling him: “I love you” were the only words that came anywhere close to what I meant. Scratching his back as he thrusted into me was a way of telling him that he was mine, and that I loved him, and I would never stop loving him. He knew all of that. So, even though words failed me during that speech, I knew that the one person there who knew the truth about my love for Aaron Hotchner was the only one who mattered.

“I made a promise to you once that I would love you unconditionally and I would always fight for you. It took you a long time to believe me when I said that your messes are my messes, but they are, and they always will be. No matter what, I will never stop loving you for that very reason. I do love you, Aaron. I love you and I love Jack more than anything in the whole, wide world. You welcomed me into your life, into your home, and into your family. You let me love your son like he’s my own, and I know that I will spend the rest of my life thanking you for that opportunity. And I want to spend my life thanking you. I want to spend every second by your side, running around the country while we do what we love, coming home to our son to hold him in our arms, and repeating that process. I love my life with you. I love you. No one can ever take that away from us. Ever.”

He gave me a look that asked if he could kiss me. I had to shake my head because we still had to get through the rest of the ceremony, and I wanted the very next kiss to be the first one that would start off the rest of our lives together. I wanted it to be the kiss. I didn’t want to ever forget the next kiss. So, I glanced away from him, just to deter his urge.

The officiant looked to Hotch, “Please repeat after me. ‘I, Aaron Hotchner.’”

Hotch reached up to my face and brushed some of my hair back behind my ear. “I, Aaron Hotchner.” He continued to repeat every line, each one gaining in speed as his excitement took over. “Take you, Y/N Greenaway… To have and to hold… For better or for worse… In sickness and in health… To love, to cherish, to appreciate for as long as we both shall live.”

I had memorized the words before the officiant even turned to me. I knew that I had to be patient, and to repeat the same words at the same pace that Hotch had just done, but I wanted nothing more than to just race through it, say “I do” then kiss my husband for the first time. But patience was key. So, when the officiant started, I followed.

“I, Y/N Greenaway, take you, Aaron Hotchner, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health. To love, to cherish, to appreciate for as long as we both shall live.”

It felt like a million pounds had been lifted off my chest by the time we got through it all. The long part was done, and now came the best part. The words “husband and wife” barely left the officiant’s lips before Hotch and I were jumping each other. He grabbed my hips roughly, pulling me against him as eagerly as possible, and he tilted his head down. I swung my arms around his neck, letting him lift me off the ground somewhat, and I pressed my lips to his for the first time as his wife. I smiled against him. Hotch giggled as the officiant finally said the cliché: “You may kiss the bride” a few seconds too late.

“Don’t let go yet,” Hotch begged before kissing me again.

I pulled away for air. “I’ll never let go.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” I leaned into him. “I love you—” We kissed.

----

At the reception, I felt my head spinning. It was like an out of body experience. I was standing there beside Hotch, his arm wrapped around my waist, his hand on my hip; and we were talking to everyone who had come to the wedding and wanted to give us their personal congratulations. But I just couldn’t hear them. I was staring at Hotch, admiring how perfect he was. He was finally mine. I couldn’t believe that only a few hours ago, we were standing on the altar, sliding our wedding bands onto each other’s ring fingers. And now we were standing there… And I was just trying not to tip over. Even if I did waver, Hotch would have caught me. I trusted him with my life, and I understood that he could catch me if I ever fell—just like he had caught me when I tripped somewhat on my way down the aisle. He had me. I was all his, and he was all mine. We would always be there to protect each other.

“Oh, look, it’s my favorite taken agent,” someone cheered before tickling my sides. I laughed and gently sent my elbow back into his stomach. He playfully groaned after releasing me so that he could guard his stomach. “Man down! Man down!”

I turned and hit his arm. “Derek Morgan, you are acting like a child.”

“Only for you, sweetness.” He reached out to wing his arms around my shoulders, pulling me in for a tight hug that we both strained our strength for. “I’m so happy for you.”

Before I could respond, I felt someone tap my shoulder for their attention, and then they were quickly prying me off of Morgan. I giggled again as she pulled me into a hug that was even tighter than the last one I had just been trapped in. Emily laughed. “I told you they’d all see the truth,” she said giddily in my ear.

“Is he a Mr. Darcy contender or what?” I whispered back. We both laughed as we parted. I stared at her for a moment, admiring her smile. “I love you, Em. I don’t say it enough. But I do.”

She smiled and punched my arm lightly. “What’s got you being all sappy?”

“Mr. Darcy.”

“Ah. Yeah, I can see how that could happen.” She searched my face. “You look better than yesterday.”

“I feel better. It was just nerves.”

“Are we all congratulating the bride?” I heard a familiar voice ask behind me.

I smiled and turned. “Cody!”

I hugged him—but this wasn’t like with Morgan or Emily. No. Cody was the Director of the FBI, and therefore he was still my boss. Yes, Hotch and I were good friends with him, but there still had to be some level or respect and professionalism with him around while still outside of work. So, our hug was brief and polite. It didn’t mean much. But the looks on Morgan and Emily’s faces were priceless, honestly.

“They’re playing a slow dance for us,” Hotch told me. He grabbed my hand and started pulling me to the dance floor before I could finish talking with the Director and Emily, or even really get a chance to wave goodbye to them.

I giggled at how fast everything was happening. One second I was on the altar with him, then I was talking to Morgan and Emily, then the Director butted in, and now I was dancing with Aaron—my husband. The world was wild sometimes.

“You shouldn’t interrupt me next time.” I brushed his hair back out of his face then scratched my fingers down his five o’clock shadow.

He smirked and leaned in to whisper in my ear. “But you’re all mine now, and I don’t want you to forget it.”

“I’m all yours,” I whispered back, cupping my palm over his cheek. “Always.”

He pulled me close for a kiss until our chests were touching and he was almost towering over me, his hands on the small of my back the only thing keeping me from falling to the ground. I let my arms curl around the back of his neck. We giggled against each other’s lips as we ran out of breath, but he was adamant on still kissing me and proving his dominance to me as if no one were watching. Well, as if all of our friends and family at our wedding weren’t watching. That only made me laugh harder.

He nibbled on my jaw. “I love you, Y/N.”

I tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling at the strands lightly until he removed his lips from my skin in order to let me get a proper look at him. His eyes were dialed, a sign of love and lust. He was so predictable. But he had enough self-restraint to recognize that he couldn’t jump me then and there while everyone was watching as we swayed, laughed, and kissed. My mom was smiling and crying, thinking that we were the cutest, most innocent thing she had ever seen. If only she knew. My dad, on the other hand—as well as Rossi and Morgan—had a look that said: If you hurt Y/N, we’ll kill you ourselves. He would never hurt me, though. I knew that better than anyone else. Aaron Hotchner cherished me more than I could ever cherish him; and that sometimes frustrated me, but it ultimately made me feel infinitely and unconditionally loved.

Hotch rotated us as we continued to sway. I could now see the other side of the room where Emily, Reid, Garcia, JJ were all standing, pointing and gawking at us. I rolled my eyes at them. They were so embarrassing sometimes. But I loved them. Endlessly. There was nothing they could ever do or say that would make me love them any less. It just wasn’t possible. They were my family, and I was theirs, and that meant the whole world to me, considering the way my family fell apart. My parents split up for dumb reasons, and my sister was off the grid, becoming a free-spirit or some shit like that. Now, however, I had Jack and Hotch, my real family. It was a nice consolation that I had the BAU in my corner, there to protect me and save me if need be, there to love me or scold me if I fucked up on a case. Even JJ, the one who doubted mine and Hotch’s relationship since the beginning, was a part of that family, and I still valued her opinion and her love. Like I said, I would always love them. If we fought, so be it. But, in the end, we were always going to be siblings, in a way.

“Do you ever wonder what the team would look like if Elle and Gideon were still there?” I asked Hotch quietly.

He cocked a brow at me. We had gone from practically sticking our tongues down each other’s throats to talking about random, old memories. I understood why it caught him off guard. I understood that it probably wasn’t the best time to ask; but it had been weighing on my mind as we swayed to the slow music.

“Sometimes,” Hotch agreed. “But I’m extremely grateful that we found Emily, and that Rossi came back.”

I nodded and rested my cheek against his chest. “I miss them.”

“I know.”

“Even though Gideon was a total asshole.”

Hotch chuckled. “Yeah. Even then.”

As the song came to a slow, steady end, Hotch and I parted from our embrace to kiss again, this time with a little less lust and a little more passion. And then Bohemian Rhapsody started playing. I laughed and pressed my forehead against his.

“I should probably let you get back to chatting with everyone,” he whispered.

I shook my head. “Just dance with me for a little longer.”

Hotch grinned, grabbing my hand, then stepped back from me before pulling me in and spinning me around until my back hit his chest. I was wrapped in a hug now. I rested my head against him, letting us sway and bounce to the music at a faster pace than we had been going with the last song; and since the slow dance was over, everyone else had wandered back onto the floor, too. So, Rossi wandered over. Jazz hands out, feet shuffling, his iconic Italian smirk on his face, he came to congratulate us.

“Bella!” he cheered, reaching to grab my face between his palms. “You two certainly know how to put on a show.” He kissed each of my cheeks roughly. “You, on the other hand,” he said, turning to Aaron, “need a few dancing lessons. I’m available on Thursday evenings." He patted Hotch’s shoulders.

“I know how to dance,” Hotch argued playfully.

“Clearly not.”

We all giggled. That was when I spotted a familiar face from across the room, which caught me off guard. He was sitting at the bar we had, ordering yet another drink from the bartender who hadn’t cut him off yet. I shook my head. Of course, he was late. And of course, he had to be getting drunk the first chance he got. I didn’t want to hold any biases against him, but he was making it really hard to keep defending him when he continued to pull shit like this and refuse to recognize that it was a problem. I just wished that he would let us help him.

I looked at Hotch and excused myself for a moment. He nodded an acknowledgement before turning back to his conversation and I left to walk across the room. “Taking advantage of the open bar?” I asked as I approached Sean.

He turned with a full glass in his hand. When he saw that it was me, he rolled his eyes slightly. “That’s what it’s here for, isn’t it?”

“Aaron’ll cut you off eventually.”

“I’ll be gone before then.”

“Will you even try to talk to him?”

“He doesn’t want me here. Why would I?” Sean sighed while setting his glass down. “Sorry. I know that it’s your day, and I have no right to stir up family drama.” He smiled. “I’m happy for you guys.” He started to walk away, but I caught his bicep.

I searched his eyes. “He really does love you, Sean. He’s just been hurt too many times.”

“Yeah, well… Him and everyone else in the world.” He pulled his arm away from me before striding off.

I sighed in defeat while shifting my weight on the balls of my feet. I just wanted them to make up. Ever since Haley’s death last year, Hotch had gone out of his way to make sure that none of us were affiliated with Sean. When he didn’t show up to the funeral, that was Hotch’s breaking point. He needed his brother there, yet Sean was too busy doing who knew what. Like, what could have been more important than that funeral? I didn’t understand. However, I still wanted Sean around because I knew that Hotch and Jack both needed him in their lives. Hotch, on the other hand, wasn’t having it. This was why. I should have known better. I should have known that Sean would still disappoint, no matter what. At least he showed up at all.

“Thank you,” someone whispered in my ear as they snaked their arms around my waist. I rested my head back against their shoulder. “You tried… That’s all you can do.”

I shook my head. “I thought he would just try to talk to you.”

Hotch ran his hands over the fabric of my dress, my stomach tensing up because it tickled a bit. “It’s okay.” He kissed my neck. “Hey.” He was trying to catch my attention, so I hummed a tone that asked him what was on his mind. “You wanna get out of here?”

“It’s our own wedding.”

“They won’t miss us anymore. All the important stuff is over.”

“It’ll be embarrassingly obvious.”

He hummed and smiled against my ear. “How about this…” He grabbed my hips roughly. “We’re leaving. Now.”

I gulped at the dominating, stern tone that practically vibrated throughout my entire body, sending a chill up my spine in response. Well, that was a preview as to what the next two weeks were going to be like for me. It made me smile. “Yes, Sir.”

Hotch nibbled at my earlobe light before whispering, “I love you.”

I turned my head so that I was looking at him while still resting against his shoulder. I kissed him. “I love you, too.”

--------

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