#i mailed mine last week and it has already been counted

[stevviefox]

We did our civic duty. Never seen so many cop cars out and about.

“There are other forces at work in this world besides the will of evil.”

[cuttergauthier]

New Jersey One

Jack Hughes x Female Reader

This is chapter One of Four

Warning: Ex, fluff, cursing, Non supportive parents? Let me know if i missed any.

This has been in my draft for a while, I finally finished it.

word count: 1.7k

let me know what you guys think🤍

She was tired of the life she was living back home, the boy she loved broke her heart when he left to follow his dreams. She had gone to university in her hometown instead of going to the one of her dreams. Her parents didn’t want her to leave, but she couldn’t stay there anymore.

She decided to apply for a transfer to Columbia University, her dream university in New York. Thing is she hope she could stay away from her ex who moved away to New Jersey. New York and New Jersey are both big cities, right? There’s no way they would run it to each other, or so she thought.

Will her parents be mad at her for moving to New York, or will they be happy for finally living her dream.

Y/n wanted to start her own Clothing company, ever since she was 11 years old, she’s been designing clothes, planning outfits, she loves it and what better way to start her own company than New York. Now she’s 19 years old, still living in Michigan with her parents and a student at the university of Michigan, alongside some old friends.

She was ready to start living the life she wanted, not what her parents wanted. Even if that meant being closer to her ex-boyfriend, her first love. Her and Jack were childhood best friends, their moms were also best friends, so when they had kids, it was obvious they were also going to be friends. Her older brother James was the same age as Jack’s older brother Quinn, they had both played hockey together since before they could walk. Now Quinn, James, and Jack were all following their dreams of playing in the NHL. If her older brother could follow his dreams, why couldn’t she?

...

Today was the day I was finally going to tell my parents I wanted to move to New York. I have always wanted to go to Columbia University in New York, but when I had told my parents this when I was in high school, they told me it would be better if I stayed in Michigan and go to University of Michigan.

They didn’t want me to leave, even if they always encouraged me to follow my dreams. My older brother James was drafted in the NHL he moved to Ottawa Canada, since I was the baby of the family my parents didn’t want me to move away since they had already lost their first born.

Ever since I was 11 years old, I have always been drawing clothes, my dream was to start my own clothing company, my parents have always encouraged me to do so, they just didn’t want me to move away.

Columbia University has always been the place I wanted to be, I wasn’t happy being at Michigan anymore, I was miserable, sure most of my friends had decided to stay in Michigan after high school but that was their decisions not mine.

When I was 16 years old, I fell in love with my best friend Jack and he felt the same way, thing is when he’s an amazing hockey player just like his brother, so when he was 18 he was drafted in the NHL to New Jersey. When he moved to New Jersey so he could play for his team we broke up, I was going to be staying in Michigan while he was leaving, it was a mutual decision, but it still hurt when he first left.

When I got the letter saying I got accepted at Columbia university I was excited because my dream were finally going to be coming true, I was just afraid I might run in to Jack when I was in New York since we haven’t talk in over a year, but New York city and New Jersey are big enough I probably wouldn’t be running into him, but I was still scared.

I am 19 years old, it was time to finally do what I want to do, and to stop listening to what others want me to do. My acceptance letter came in the mail last week and I still couldn’t get the courage to tell my parents, thing is I had to let the university know before tomorrow morning, so my decision had to be made tonight. Christmas is a few days away, my parents are in a happy mood, what better time to let know I wanted to leave to go to Columbia.

I made my way downstairs to the living room where both my parents were sitting watching a Christmas movie with a fire on. I walked slowly and stop in front of them.

“Mom, dad can we talk” I asked playing with my neckless, It was a habit I always did when I got nervous.

“of course, honey is everything okay?” my mom asked worriedly

“No, everything is fine, I have some news I would like to talk to you about.”

“sure honey, you know you can tell us anything” my dad said this time giving me a small smile.

“I know since James moved to Canada, you guys didn’t want me to move away, but I don’t love the university of Michigan, my dreams have always been to go to Columbia” I told them

They both looked at each other, then back to me.

“If that’s really what you want, and if you really aren’t happy here at university, we can talk about you maybe going to Columbia next year” my mom said remaining calm

“That’s the thing… I applied for a transfer, and I got accepted, I need to give them my answer by tomorrow”

“what? Why didn’t you tell us this before?” my dad asked

“I was afraid of what you guys would say, this is my dream and I really want to go” I said, I really wanted them to understand that this was my dream university, it where I always wanted to be.

“We really wish you would have told us this before honey…” she said looking at my dad for some help then back at me.

“Please, mom I’m begging you, please say yes, this is what I want” I begged

My dad looked at my mom before looking back at me.

“We really wish you would stay here honey, but we understand, if this is your dream you should follow it. We have always encourage you and your brother to follow your dreams, were sorry we stopped you from doing that” my dad said resurging me.

“Thanks dad, mom?” I asked looking at her

“Does this mean you’ll be leaving after Christmas so you can be there for next semester?”

“Yes, I’ll be leaving December 28th if I say yes”

“Well if this is what you really want to do, then say yes” she said standing up and hugging me.

My eyes started watering; my dad joined our hug making us chuckle.

“We are so proud of you honey, your dad and I will come visit you, and you’ll be close to Jack again” my mom said happily

“Mom I haven’t talked to Jack in almost a year, I was away this summer, and I was hoping I wouldn’t run into him” I said nervously.

My parents along with his have always thought that Jack and I would be together forever. My brother and his thought the same, and honestly so did I, I’m just afraid of getting hurt. He’s a famous hockey player now, there’s girls everywhere wanting to date him, and what’s to say he didn’t move on, he could have any girl he wanted, why would he want me.

“I have a feeling you guys will run into each other” she said smiling.

Christmas had passed and it was now December 28th, the morning I was leaving for New York. My parents had told the Hughes family about me leaving so they were supposed to come over so they could say goodbye, the Hughes family are my second family.

I am going to miss them, especially Luke, he will be going to university of Michigan next year, the second he found out I was transferring to Columbia he texted me saying he was mad we weren’t going to be going to the same university next year, but that he was happy I was following my dreams. He was also happy that I was going to be closer to Jack same with his parent’s.

I was finally all packed up and ready to go, it’s only 10 a.m. and my plane is leaving at 2 p.m. so the Hughes will be here in a few minutes to say goodbye before I must leave to go to the airport.

“hello, were here to see our favorite girl before she leaves” I heard from the living.

I looked up and saw Ellen smiling at me, making me rush over and give her a hug.

“oh honey, I am so proud of you. Now I’ll be going to New York more often.” She said making me laugh

“Thank you, it means the world, I can’t wait to see you when you visit.” I said relishing the hug and going to Jim.

“Congrats honey, always follow your dreams” he said smiling

“Thank you, Jim,”

“I’m not going to miss you” Luke said, which made Ellen slap the back of his head.

“Awe Luke I’m going to miss you too” I said chuckling and giving him a big hug

“Please, go annoy Jack for me” he said

“I’ll think about it, deal?”

“deal, just know I’m going to ask every time we facetime” he said smirking

“I wouldn’t except anything else” I said laughing making him smile.

“I hope you have the best time in New York, and you better tell me all about it”

“You know it”

“Honey you ready to go? We need to get to the airport” my dad asked me

“Yeah, I am” I said happily

My parents dropped me off at the airport and said their goodbye and promised they would visit soon enough.

Just like that I was looking at down while we were landing in New York.

I couldn’t be happier as an uber driver was driving me to my apartment close to campus.

[theworldoffostering]

Raising kids is not for the weak.

The good:

DS took his road test and passed it! It felt so nice to do a normal kid/parent thing and see him be successful.

The anniversary of his adoption day was this month. It’s been 15 years.

Ms. 6 was accepted into a university.

Ms. 6 is going to graduate high school next month!

We are progressing in attachment therapy with Baby.

School is almost done for the year.

The mediocre:

DD broke up with her fiancé and is already seeing someone else. I did not care for her fiancé, but already seeing someone else is a red flag.

I talked with the students with disabilities center on Ms. 6’s campus this week to try to get her some services. In turn, I had to request her IEP. Her IEP from fall was a train wreck so I reconvened the team this week and told them to rewrite it appropriately. Apparently the guidance counselor quit in the fall and no one has taken his place. For real, without a parent, most kids are completely lost.

I signed Ms. 6 up for college registration and orientation. Students have to bring a parent. I offered but she wants her mom to go which is fine. However, we don’t know if her mom will go. She was too hungover to take Ms. 6 to the hospital when she had knee surgery scheduled a couple of months back. Last week she didn’t get out of bed to take Ms. 6 to a somewhat major dental appointment. I told her I would go, but her mom insisted that she was going so I could not attend. I stood down and then she didn’t show up. Same thing happened with the knee surgery.

The challenging:

So much drama with Ms. 6’s family of origin. Ms. 6 lives over three hours away from us but is enrolled in a high school near us and her graduation will be where we live. I offered to throw her a graduation party and invite her mom. Ms. 6 was thrilled. Her mom told her to cut DH and I off and that she could no longer talk to us or receive mail from us. Now her mom is threatening to take away Ms. 6 attending her own graduation altogether.

Ms. 6 insisted she completed her FASFA. She did, but it was for the 23-24 year, not the 24-25 year. I straightened it out two weeks ago and filled it out for her (she’s an independent so parent income doesn’t count). Financial aid packagers don’t go out until next month so I’m hoping she will still get enough to be able to go to school.

Ms. 6 told me this week that she never obtained a new birth certificate or social security card despite me directing her in how to do both things multiple times in the fall after she left here unexpectedly. I finally just ordered (and paid) for a new birth certificate for her this week.

I feel incredibly burned out. Like maybe I need meds? My endocrin called and told me I need to start doing B12 injections because after taking oral supplements for three months, my b12 levels actually went down. I don’t know if it’s that, or wading through all of the drama, or both. Some days, I don’t feel like I can even put one foot in front of the other. It’s too much. How do you ever get a break from everything?

Tomorrow we are meeting with DD to try to work out getting her a $4k car from a friend of mine. It’s a 2006 Odyssey with almost 200k miles on it. The insurance (collision only) would be $2k for the year. She’s bouncing from one hourly job to another and not saving anything. She desperately needs a vehicle to get to and from work. Currently she’s relying on her fiancé and her vehicle, but now that they’re no longer together, it seems more important that she have her own. She has zero money saved, but I have a college fund set aside for her with about $10k in it. Clearly she’s not going to college right now so I think we are going to pivot with that money and pay for the car and the insurance for a year.

I was planning to drive 6.5 hours this weekend to meet up with Ms. 6 and her BF who she met online. Ms. 6 has really been pushing for this. I asked for his address so I could locate a nearby hotel. She said he didn’t want me to have it. Then I asked for his name. He apparently did not want to disclose that to me either. I did tell her that was super sketch, and now I do think he’s like a really scary person who no one has vetted. Ms. 6 has already stayed with him several times so maybe not a serial killer, but anything else is possible in my brain. He’s definitely older because he has his own apartment.

It’s so much, you guys.

[oddman-the-oldman]

.

Ok, I’ll come clean:

You see there is this Ocarina I found in an antique store last week. I bought it for a injured friend who plays Ocarina. I’ve been playing it off and on waiting to turn it over to her. You have to understand, I’m a flute junkie and Ocarinas are counted among the flutes.

It plays really well and might be the best one I’ve ever put my hands on. Even so it plays about an octave too high for my comfort, especially this morning and I already have more Ocarinas than I can carry to a gig in two three trips.  My wife made me learn to make my own flutes because it was getting expensive. “One is too many and a thousand is never enough, i just need one more.”

My friend doesn’t trust the mail since she use to work for them and insists on picking it up later today.

I’m having real trouble remaining convinced that it will fit her needs better than mine, but it really will. She plays down at the river when she walks her dog. Carys the one she plays on a lanyard around her neck and it is getting banged up. this one can go on a lanyard too but it has a soft case with a loop. She can carry it in a few different ways until she is ready to play.

.

[collymore]

Why tell the truth, when lies are far more interesting and convincing?

By Stanley Collymore

Nearly five months on and quite evidently still distinctively in solid silence, bless her patriotic heart, and actually counting; the dutiful mother, simply ever loving wife and patriotic citizen, Kate is unquestionably at home rather ardently, obviously recovering from her quite non-existent cancer, and as she well knows, distinctly like Charles and William do too, there's nowt better to boost your deservingly flagging popularity than a concerted act of simply, cynically induced sympathy; and therefore with cancer being as obviously ubiquitous; but, all the same, not as specific nor iniquitious as let's say gonorrhoea, herpes or VD, it's a safe bet to play the cancer game while very assuredly being guaranteed the rather accumulative sympathy of the surfeit of unquestionably brainwashed, thoroughly gullible and also the intellectually challenged ensemble of sycophantic serfs, moronic subjects and conditioned plebeians while, at the same time, actually reaching out hopefully and successfully to those Brits that clearly still delude themselves that Britain is patently somehow extra special with its evidently, in their pathetic assumption, outstanding traditions, and consequently therefore they must simply align themselves and accord Charles, Kate and William the undeniable benefit of the doubt, ostensibly for Britain; and, as such, clambour aboard as well this specific disingenuous and totally outright lying Windsor monarchical train!

Why then is the media trying to stir things - ask a daft question eh - up with this daft William appointment? As if intelligent folk don't already know! But it's succour for the fawning serfs, white racist Karens and as well likeminded Gammons; all 59 of them that responded to the Daily Mail article, in a UK population of 66.97 million as per the 2022 census, are kept happy and can openly vent their own racism.

Anyway, last week the MSM made it sound as if it was fresh news, this investiture of William, when in point of fact it had been announced a year previously. And having done that the said media are now simply obsessed with speculating that evidently Harry would have been given the job had he stayed in the monarchical family. The categorical answer to that is "No"! As it is pure bullshit. As this position which really was previously held by Charles in his own position as Prince of Wales was handed over to William as Charles' successor in that position when Charles became king.

A state of affairs that was quite inevitable requisite to the next Prince of Wales which clearly is now William. Yet quite obviously, here are all your literally purblind cunts in your element of clearly Harry and Meghan bashing. No surprise then that Charles like Kate who no more has cancer than I or you obviously have the bubonic plague, are in obvious collaboration with the MSM, really pulling the wool over your rather distinctly, fucking daft eyes. Rather obviously not all that difficult; as the lot of you, are as thick as pig shit!

(C) Stanley V. Collymore 13 May 2024.

Author's Remarks: I always speak only for myself and stand by the decisions I've made, because I do always engage in serious research before I write anything, backed up by longstanding and well trusted sources.

And it's no doubt whatever in my mind that neither Charles nor Kate have ever had any form of cancer. It's a bloody lie on both of their parts and a sympathy grabber since Charles has clearly proved to be what even his own mother regarded him as. A clearly narcissistic cunt who basically listens only to the vile and odious flattery of the Queer sycophants he surrounds himself with.

And as one longstanding German friend of mine from when I moved there in 1980 to rid myself of the dumbing down of the so-called education I saw coming in 1980 and didn't want to be any part of it; a decision which I've never regretted - if Charles, she said, has cancer, despite being already and clearly an unwarranted billionaire actually through no effort on his part, merely vilely acquired hereditary and inherited wealth, what Charles should now do is patent the formula that has caused this outstanding physical transformation in him, as nobody with real cancer and of his age bounces back with such incredible vigour. Further stating, she said, it's all a bloody lie but your Brits, obviously unlike your sort she went on, are so gullible, thoroughly class indoctrinated and pathetic that it's easy to see why they'll believe this shit from their feudal overlords, and specifically a dimwit like Charles.

Her comments on Kate were even greatly more excruciating. For how she asked can Charles ostensibly with Cancer also be so fit and mobile and this stupid bitch half his age needs 5 months and counting to really recover? It's marital with her I riposted. I know that, and any idiot can see from the antics of William that this isn't a many that is worried about a supposed, really cancer stricken wife, but someone who wants out of a dead marriage but doesn't want to in effect create a Diana situation as Charles did.

My thoughts entirely, but I didn't actually have to prompt my German friend or anyone else I've discussed this matter with; for intelligent people, even Brit ones, just really don't give a fuck. And why should they with a paedophile Jimmy Savile and Bishop Peter Ball very longstanding buddy, a serial adulterous asshole and a distinctly a pathological liar be trusted; because he allegedly came, out as firstborn, from the so-called appropriate monarchical fanny? We're in the 21st Century not the kiss-me-ass feudal Middle Ages! And some of us are mentally liberated and don't fancy ever being serfs, subjects or fawning plebeians.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

RIP, Roger Wood, genius assemblage sculptor

Last week, my dear old friend Roger Wood died, very suddenly, of cancer. He was 80. Roger was a brilliant sculptor, a Canadian veteran navy gunner, and gay. He was my neighbour for a decade. I miss him already.

Roger and I both lived in an old WWI munitions factory in Toronto, which had been turned into 15 illegal live-work studios with 20-foot ceilings which leaked, massive south-facing windows (which leaked), and a warm and collegial vibe of weirdos and artists.

Roger was a self-taught sculptor, a mad collector of all sorts of junk: scrap metal, old toys, discarded electronics, decorative items. He tore these apart, painted and mutated them, and turned them into whimsical assemblages.

Many of these were built around clocks; often with a small feather attached to the second-hand that quivered as it revolved around and around the clockface. Roger was making things that could be called “steampunk” before the term existed — and once he learned it, he embraced it.

In those years, I was working very long hours on the early web, but I was often and easily sidetracked at Roger’s studio, where I’d sit and smoke cigarettes with him and hear navy stories (his time with the big guns had left him somewhat deaf) or just tour his beautiful new pieces.

Roger, too, had an incredible work ethic. He told the Toronto Star’s Barbara Turnbull, “Even on Sunday mornings, when good citizens are off to church, I’m off to the local flea market, always scrounging different bits and pieces.”

https://www.thestar.com/life/2007/10/13/timepieces_of_art.html

And he was content: “But I survive, so why complain? I think mere survival as an artist in Canada propels me into the top 10 per cent of the ranks in this country.”

Turnbull really captured Roger’s studio when she wrote: “But it’s the overwhelming number of storage containers, loosely labelled and filled with the items he uses for his fanciful designs that makes the jaw drop: picture lamp bulbs, lamp parts, wooden balls, drawer pulls, buttons, clock springs, gears and faces, dials, jewellery, candlesticks, shoemaker moulds, picture frames, musical instrument parts, vacuum tubes from old radios, gas lamp parts, typewriter keys, bottle caps, old gauges, camera lenses and nameplates.”

Roger loaned me dozens of his largest, most impressive pieces for my wedding, where he was resplendent in a hall that was filled with his sculptures. I was living in the UK at the time, and shortly after, high Toronto rents pushed Roger out of the city and to Hamilton. I saw him again a few years later when he came to an event of mine in Hamilton and we had dinner.

But then he moved back east, to Nova Scotia, where, he emailed me, he built the studio he’d always dreamt of. I didn’t see him after that, though we corresponded some. Mostly, I felt in touch with Roger because I’ve got so many of his sculptures in my home, including the diptych he gave us as a wedding gift.

Knowing Roger is gone has left an ache in my heart. He deserved to be so much better known, and better treated by the cities he graced with his art and his presence. He was a sweet, kind, talented, funny man and it showed in his art.

In Roger’s obituary in the Globe and Mail, his family says, “Donations to the Charity of Your Choice or support an artist, buy an original piece of art.” Support the artists in your life, folks, and cherish them. Goodbye, Roger. I was very lucky to count you a friend.

Here are some of my photos of Roger, his studio and his work:

https://www.flickr.com/search/?user_id=37996580417%40N01&sort=date-taken-desc&text=klockwerks&view_all=1

[buckyownsmylife]

Follow you - Chris Evans smut

The one where Chris becomes your roomate and finds out he has a domesticity kink... and more

Warnings: Smut, breeding kink, domesticity kink, friends to lovers, rommates au, pandemic mention, hair-pulling kink, daddy kink, cockwarming, kind of allusion to an age gap, but can be read as reader being into teasing chris

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: Thanks to @mollygetssherlockcoffee​ for reading this over and helping me make it better! You’re the sweetest person ever!  this is for my own birthday celebration challenge! Like I explained here, I’m going to try to fill every single AU I listed with the characters I picked for the challenge, and since the deadline if May 27, these fics will be posted randomly, as I finish them. Hope you guys like it!

Chris’ P.O.V.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” I’d been trying to convince her to close her laptop for the last two hours, unfortunately without any luck. She just glanced at me before returning to her document, and I groaned as I left the living room in search of what I knew we needed.

“Close the laptop and I’ll give you a sip.” This time when she looked up, she found me holding a bottle of my most expensive whiskey, the one she’d been dying to try ever since she first got invited to my place.

It was a tense moment of evaluation while she took in my offer and her workload, her head turning from her computer to me and then back to the device again, and I found himself growing anxious because of how desperately I wanted her company that night.

“Please?” I tried to convince her, even going so far as to pout - which at least earned me a giggle. I considered it a win, especially with the way it made my chest warm up. “C’mon, we deserve it! After the week we had?”

She frowned when she thought back on the stresses we had confided in each other for the last couple of days, and I watched with glee when she slowly closed her laptop, prompting me to wave my arms around in victory. “We?” She teased, getting up to stand before me with her arms crossed in front of her body, making me laugh.

“Alright, so maybe just you.” I couldn’t really deny that my work “problems” paled in comparison to hers. “Listen, I’m only trying to help.” She narrowed her eyes at me, reaching out for the bottle and unscrewing it before taking the sip I’d promised.

“Shit, this really is good.” A smug smile took over my face as I wrapped my arms around her, walking us back to the couch before making us fall over it.

“Only the best for you, babe.” I watched her roll her eyes at the pet name, snickering at how it affected her. I knew it made her giddy and she hated it, it’s why I insisted on doing it - or so I told myself.

Something deep inside of me whispered differently, though. I tried to ignore it. She was my best friend and we were going to be living together for the foreseeable future. No one knew when this pandemic would let up.

And lord knows that nothing positive had ever come out of my investments in romantic relationships. So every rational thought in my mind was begging me not to overcomplicate this. I couldn’t stand to lose her friendship, anyway. That’s why I had invited her to spend lockdown with me - my need to know she was okay, and be able to have her around whenever I needed to vent.

She was the only one outside my family who got my anxiety well enough to help me work through it when I was feeling bad, and she had even been able to prevent me from having panic attacks more than once.

I just couldn’t imagine going through this with anyone other than her. I simply hadn’t anticipated how fucking horny this period of forced sexual privation would make me, and I never expected her to become a willing victim to my needs.

But boy, once the liquor hit and she ended up over my lap, shivering as she rode my thigh without a care in the world, was I glad that she did.

“Is this what you like?” I asked, looking up at her with my mouth hanging open, unbelieving of how fucking sexy she looked as she used my body for her pleasure. I didn’t even care that my cock was straining against my jeans, begging me to move her on top of it. As long as I could keep enjoying the show, being a part of it, I was satisfied.

“I wanna learn it,” I pressed, moving my hands to hold her ass, squeezing it the way I’d always wanted to do but never allowed myself to dream about. “I wanna learn how to please you.” She made me feel something I hadn’t felt before, in any of my past relationships. There was attraction, of course, but there was also this deep, familiar feeling that made me feel at home. It made me feel safe, and with the help of alcohol, I was desperate to explore it.

“Ugh,” she groaned, letting her head fall back, drawing my attention to her breasts, the way they bounced in front of my eyes, unfortunately still covered. My mouth watered at the sight of it, wanting nothing much than to strip her bare and wrap my lips around one of her nipples.

“Don’t say stuff like that, Evans.” The comment threw me off, making me frown as I took a hold of the hair on the back of her head and yanked her to me, devouring her lips. They were soft - so much softer than I’d ever allowed myself to imagine.

“Why not?” I panted against her mouth once I was forced to separate from her taste of whiskey to search for some oxygen. She kept moving, her eyes hazy and glossed over, and it sent a pang of lust straight down my body when I realized it wasn’t completely due to the drinks we shared. There was also desire in there.

“You want to learn?” She asked, hands bunching up my shirt as she used her hold to grind against me faster. “Then fuck me, Chris.” She molded her body to mine, engulfing my lips once more as I laid her down on the couch, excited to have her underneath me - excited to see her naked body, explore it, get to know every little thing that made her tick.

I knew it would be a moment I’d forever remember, regardless of the amount of bourbon in my blood. I just never expected it to become something I was so eager to relive over and over and over again.

It was supposed to be a one time thing. When I woke up in the morning, I was ready to go back to being roommates. We were good at that. She was a morning person, by the time I woke up every morning, she already had breakfast ready for me, and then we’d go out to the backyard to let Dodger out together.

We’d sit and talk and then I’d go for a run - she’d have done her yoga already, while I was still asleep - I’d answer some e-mails, she’d work on her laptop by my side and the silence was just as comfortable as all of our late night conversations.

She’d sneak out to the kitchen and come back with a few sandwiches for our lunch, and then the rest of the day would go by with us doing whatever mundane task we had in mind, together even if we were doing separate things, and I didn’t feel suffocated.

I didn’t even run out of things to say. By the time dinner rolled around and I followed her back to the kitchen, cleaning up the dishes while she fixed us dinner - I wasn’t allowed to cook in my own stove, mostly because she was terrified of my food but hid it under the excuse of that one time when I started a fire - then we’d eat together, watch a movie together, talk until we fell asleep - always together.

I was shocked. It’d never been this way in any of my previous relationships. In fact, I was certain it was the reason why they had never worked. I’d given up on any realistic expectation of settling down precisely because of this: I just never expected to find anyone with whom a day-to-day life wouldn’t eventually grow boring.

It’d been three months and I still loved to wake up to her coffee. We still fell asleep every night side by side, too tired to move into different beds because we had laughed our asses off after skyping Scott.

And now that sex came into play in our relationship? I just knew there was no way I’d ever go back to being nothing but friends - or living in a place where she wasn’t the first person I saw when I woke up.

It sucked that it took a pandemic and a night of alcohol to make me realize that, but damn, was I grateful that I decided to open a bottle of whiskey that evening.

I kept waiting for the catch, the moment it would all go to shit, but it never came. Our lives resumed to how they used to be, only now I had this ongoing inner battle to not just bend her over the nearest piece of furniture when we were busy, and the ability to do exactly that whenever there was nothing else to do.

And for a while it was bliss. There wasn’t a nagging voice inside my head questioning this arrangement because it was theoretically perfect. I had a best friend, a roommate and a fuck buddy, all wrapped into one single person that I adored.

Life couldn’t possibly get better - until I realized that I wanted more. Talks of lockdown being over started and she had plans of going back to her place, of course, but I couldn’t stand the thought of being away from her.

I wanted to see my family too, but I wanted to take her with me. Introduce her to my mom, see her get along with my sisters. Witness how she’d be with my nephews and nieces - I knew how much she loved kids. And that’s when it hit me.

I’d given my heart to her. Somewhere between the morning coffees and afternoon runs, the nights where I’d rant about all of my silly problems and she actually listened to them - really listened, never making me feel bad about what could only be described as rich people problems.

All the innocent little gestures, and the not so innocent ones - when I discovered she was exactly the nasty slut I’d always dreamed of, the way she would randomly drop to her knees and suck me off, even while I was on the phone. Most times she didn’t even let me repay the favor. She just genuinely liked to blow me.

She also liked to play with me randomly, like when we were watching a movie and she mindlessly reached for my crotch, rubbing me until I got hard. It almost always ended in sex, and I just loved it.

I loved it, and I loved her, and the idea of her ever sharing this idyllic lifestyle with anyone else made me irrationally jealous.

And that’s how I knew it. I didn’t want to mess it up. But how could I not fuck this up?

Xxx

“Chris…” Her sweet voice called out to me, reaching my ears while I was hiding in my office, trying to get my thoughts in order so I wouldn’t just randomly blurt out what I was feeling for my best friend to my best friend.

To her credit, she didn’t try to force me to keep her company - but that only made me fall even deeper for her, leaving me a complete and utter mess while she went about her day as if nothing was wrong in the world.

“Yes?” I looked up to see her by the threshold, clearly reticent about invading my privacy. It made me smile, thinking back on all of the times my exes hadn’t been as understanding, even after I let them clearly know what I was needing.

“I made cupcakes, do you want me to bring you one?” The thought of her in the kitchen, baking a sweet treat just for me had my cock twitching in my pants. Biting my lips, I pushed away from my desk to finally get up and stretch my legs, taking advantage of the monitor to hide my hard-on.

“No, I’ll come eat them downstairs with you.” She smiled before leaving, and I soon trailed after her, walking into the kitchen to find the most delicious-looking little treats, just waiting to be devoured.

Much like her, I supposed.

I was reaching for one of them, already licking my lips in anticipation when something caught my eye, prompting me to raise my gaze and look at her again, but really look at her this time.

She was wearing an apron.

There was nothing inherently sexual about the damn thing, but the way she looked with it, going about her business in my kitchen like she owned the place… It just felt right, seeing her there.

And suddenly I couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Y/N…” I started, leaving the cupcake back on the counter and brushing off the crumbs as I circled the kitchen island to go stand in front of her. She hummed before turning to meet me, smiling slightly to signal that she was listening to what I had to say.

But I didn’t know how to say it. So we just stood there, staring at each other until eventually her smile became a frown. “Chris, what’s going on?” I still couldn’t speak. Much to my absolute surprise though, she just sighed, wiping her hands on the apron while shaking her head, a knowing smile on her face.

“You’re stressed, aren’t you? You’ve been working so much, that’s why I thought the cupcakes would be a good idea,” she explained nodding towards the tray where her sweet treats laid. “They’re a reward and a break all wrapped in one delicious cake.”

The comment was like a punch to the stomach - or a scalding wave of desire rushing through my body, straight to my groin. The idea of her thinking about my needs and catering (quite literally) to them just did something to me, and I didn’t know how to explain it - I don’t think I understood it myself.

“But since they didn’t work…” she continued, blissfully unaware of the conundrum she had put me into. “I know something else that will definitely work.” And just like that, the woman dropped to her knees in front of me, reaching for my sweatpants before I could find a way to close the mouth that was hanging open.

“I guess I’ll grab a sweet treat for myself.” She looked so devious, small hand encircling my already pathetically engorged member, that all I could do was whisper an, “Oh, shit,” when she immediately wrapped her lips around it,  starting to suck me off without any preamble.

My fingers were white as I held onto the counter behind me to keep myself up. She looked so good, staring up at me with her lips wrapped around my dick, I felt like I was about to blow already.

Why did she have to be such a fucking tease?

“Oh, God,” I moaned when she managed to engulf the entirety of my member inside her throat, the choking noises getting to my head. My hand instinctively laced with her hair, first to hold her lips close to my navel, then to pry her completely off of my member.

“What’s wrong?” She questioned once she was able to speak, surprise written all over her features while I was still staring down at her slightly teary face and trying to find my voice.

“I-I have a problem.” There. I said it. I had finally made some progress in my goal to let her know what was going through my head. Only instead of curiosity, what I got was a confused expression from the woman still holding my dick, her eyes darting from my own to the member throbbing between her fingers.

“No, you don’t!” It would have been funny if I wasn’t so fucking frustrated. Yanking her by the hair, I complained, “Not that kind of problem!” pulling her to the living room so I could throw her on the couch, trying to ignore her moans of pleasure in the process.

I’d figured out pretty early on that she had a pretty serious hair-pulling kink, and if my plans of sitting down and having a level-headed conversation were ever in motion, they surely went out of the window the second she pulled my body down to cover hers and adjusted my cock so it would easily fill her.

“Son of a…” I groaned, letting my head fall down against her chest as the little vixen gleefully giggled underneath me, legs wrapped around my torso as she tried to thrust up and tempt me to move.

“Just wait a second,” I managed to reason, but she just shook her head.

“Fuck away your problem, Chris. Use me. I want you to.” Motherfucker. I really couldn’t catch a break with her. Just as she started to make me move again, my hand instinctively wrapped around her neck, lightly squeezing it just enough to get her to shut up.

“I wanna start a family with you,” I finally spilled, looking deep into her eyes as I tried to ignore that I was still balls deep inside of her. Her eyes widened, and now her mouth was the one hanging open.

I couldn’t really relish in it because she looked absolutely delicious and she felt stupidly heavenly to my throbbing dick.

A few seconds went by without as much of a reaction from her and I was about to pull out - despite still being achingly hard - but her legs held me tighter, stopping my plans of leaving her tight haven.

“You know…” She started to speak, a little out of breath, catching my attention as I finally gathered the courage to look her in the eye again. “When I first met you, I thought you were the epitome of a fuckboy.”

The unexpected sentence had me snorting, and then I just couldn’t stop laughing. Finally pulling away from her, she fixed her hair when she sat up and I did the same, shaking my head slightly as I rubbed my eyes.

Our own relative nakedness - well… mine, she was wearing her usual dress with no underwear under the damn apron - didn’t affect anything when I pondered over her words, until I decided to break the silence.

“I mean… I think I was?” She chewed on her bottom lip as she took in my response, analyzing it, weighing its validity in that gorgeous head of hers. I was nervous, but she hadn’t blew me off yet. And quite honestly? I’d do anything for that little hope that was growing inside of me.

“What changed?” Was her question, so unexpected I couldn’t help but question, “Huh?”

“What made you change?” It wasn’t an unwelcome inquiry, especially when the response became clear to me, lighting up my brain and warming my chest, spreading all over my body until I had no choice but to voice it.

“I realized I could have a future with you.” My smile was vulnerable but honest, and in her eyes, I could see that she knew that. When she threw one leg over my lap, straddling my hips, I allowed myself to breathe deeply again, leaning on the soft cushion while taking a hold of her ass.

“So, how are we gonna do this?” She non-nonchalantly asked, slowly rubbing herself against my still half-hard member. I groaned when I realized the implication of her words, knowing that the meaning paired with the feeling of her wet lips dragging along my cock would get it back up in no time at all. “You wanna do me right now?”

The brashness of the question made my eyes light up, as weird as it may sound. In that moment, it became clear just how perfect for me she really was, giving me what I needed exactly in the way I didn’t know how to ask for it.

“See? This is why I’m in love with you.” She rolled her eyes at that, making me laugh. I’d anticipated the gesture, I knew it’d take her longer to say it, but it was alright. The fact that she was willing me to give me a child was more than enough proof of her feelings for me, if her entire behavior ever since she moved in wasn’t already.

“Shut up and fuck me, Evans.” Throwing her back against the couch, she yelped in surprise when I took off my shirt and slapped the inside of her thigh, assuming my usual position of hovering over her smaller frame.

“Spread your fucking legs, darling. I’m gonna fuck you real good.” The way she bit her lip as I slowly penetrated her again showed me just how excited the prospect got her, and as I started to make good on my promise, her moans told me just as much.

“Holy fuck,” she commented as I pounded her ruthlessly, weeks of frustration and the rush of anticipation getting the best of me, and I was glad for the feeling of her nails biting into my skin because otherwise, I’d probably run over the edge of not even caring about her own pleasure as I chased mine.

“You gonna cum inside of me, honey? Make me a mom? Finally fulfill your dream of becoming a daddy?” Her words detracted me from my task of sucking bruises on the skin that was now mine to bruise, mine. I threw my head back, yelling a, “fuck yes,” as my hips sped up, desperate to fill her up, but I was determined to get her to cum before me.

“Say it,” she ordered, small hand circling my throat as best as she could, a throwback to what I’d done only moments prior. It wasn’t enough to choke me, but it did catch my attention. “I wanna hear you say it.”

Tears escaped the corners of my eyes as I blinked, the intensity of the moment overwhelming in the best of ways. “God, you are such a fucking tease…” She chuckled underneath me, giving my throat a squeeze before she raised up on her elbows to kiss my jaw.

“Better get used to it… daddy.” And just like that, I realized that I had yet another kink I hadn’t known about before her. Or maybe it was just her, and I was obsessed with the damn woman, painfully turned on by every little thing that she did.

“I’m gonna cum deep inside your little pussy, sweetheart,” I finally gathered myself enough to do as she asked me to. “You’re gonna belong to me forever now. Give me kids, make me happy. How do you like that?”

The mischievous grin she gave me told me everything. “I love it.” I knew this was her way of saying what she couldn’t yet voice, and I’d take it. I’d take anything she gave me, any chance I got to love this wonderful woman.

We came together, both riding our highs in deep ecstasy. I moaned when I felt myself empty all of my seed inside of her, incredibly excited about the prospect of starting our future together right then.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” I cradled her face in my hands as I struggled to catch my breath, but she turned it to the side and pressed a kiss to my palm and I was breathless all over again. It was such a simple action, why did it get to me so much?

“You’re not too bad yourself, Chris.” I didn’t want to part with her warmth, so I just adjusted us on the sofa in a way that kept me inside of her, sighing contently as I realized I’d never have to sleep away from her again.

“I’m gonna stay right here all night.” I adjusted myself so I was resting my face on her boobs, perfectly happy to do just so, but by the tone of her voice, I knew she had a teasing smile when she called me an, “Old man.”

“And here I was, thinking you’d be able to go again.” Warmth filled my chest at the realization of just how badly she wanted me - just as much as I wanted her too. I was so damn ecstatic. Not even her pokes at my age would be able to affect me.

“Oh, darling… better get ready,” I warned as I adjusted myself to hover over her again, taking notice of the excited glint in her eyes, the way she bit her lip as she stared back at me. “I’m never gonna get enough of you.”

The next morning, I added a new kink to the list of random bits of information that were driving me slowly insane as I felt the overwhelming need to bend the woman that I now got to call ‘mine’ over the nearest piece of furniture and rail her until I had cummed deep inside her pussy: seeing her in my shirt while cooking breakfast.

Yeah, I was going to live a happy life by her side.

[buckyhoney-library]

volume control, b.b

A/N: Hope all is well, please give me feedback about what you think about this one, I had a lot of fun writing this one!

Request: Hi, I'm not sure if your taking requests right now. But if you are, could you do a Bucky x reader smut where the reader loses her voice so Bucky tries to see how loud she can get in bed without her voice? Thank you. You're an amazing writer.

Warnings: language, 18+, overstimulation, oral (fem rec), fingering, praise kink, unprotected sex (no glove, no love)

Word Count: 2.8k

Your POV

     The warm ginger flavored tea cooled the burning sensation of my throat. It seemed to be the only thing that I had tried that had calmed the feeling. Laryngitis had made an appearance this week, completely wrecking the use of my voice. Every time I tried to speak; I sound like a boy going through puberty.

     The last couple of days had the worst in terms of soreness- luckily that part is over. All that seems to be left of the illness is the voice cracks and inability to talk about a whisper. It has become more annoying than anything.

      Every time respond to Bucky, you could see the amount of self-control it was taking not to laugh or make a joke about the croaking.

     Dressed in only black spandex and a t-shirt, I pulled myself off the couch with my empty mug in hand. The couch seemed to be my home for the past week. I had called out of work for the week. Knowing that trying to talk to clients while sounding like a pubescent boy wouldn’t be very professional.

     Calling out of work had proven to be more beneficial in more ways than one. It allowed more time to be able to spend more time with my moody boyfriend and catching up on shows that I had been putting off.

     Bucky called off his avengers’ duties this week and took care of me while I wrestled with the illness. Trading in his weapons for running to the store to grab more boxes of tea, throat lozenges, and a variety of ramen.

“How many of those have you been though?” Bucky questions walking past me pouring the hot water in my mug.

     I pulled out a fresh box, ripping the cardboard lid open. It really did seem like we tried everything to relieve the pain. Spoons of honey, throat lozenges, saltwater, nothing helped other than tea. This means I have been drinking it like a madwoman.

“This is the second box since last night,” My voice cracking at the end. We’re making slight progress, the voice cracks getting further apart. I gesture to the bottle of honey; he grabs it from the counter handing it to me, shaking his head.

“You should probably slow down, you’re not gonna have enough for later.”

“That’s why I have you to get me more,” This time he doesn’t hold back on the laughs when he hears the faint cracks and strain. I turn back around in protest of his action, pretending to be upset at him.

     In reality, it was hard to stay irritated with him when he laughs. The pureness of the sound and the smile that would take up his whole face never failed to make me smile.

    He comes up from behind me, wrapping his arm around my torso. With his body pressing against mine, the coolness of the metal against my arms sent shivers down my spine. The hair on his chin tickling my shoulder, watching me as I finish pouring the honey.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing, you’re not feeling good” He mumbles, his lips nipping at the base of my neck. Moving my neck to the side, granting him more access to it.

    Bucky peppering kisses along my neck and shoulder. This action causing me to giggle and buck my hips against his and gripping the edge for the counter for support. A small breathy groan leaves his mouth when my hips made contact with his.

“I’m feeling fine now,” I manage to whisper without the croaking sound. He twists my waist, forcing my body to turn and face his. I look up at his blue eyes, they were darker than normal. His facial hair grown out a bit making him look softer and cuddlier.

“You sound better,” Bucky taunted, his voice had gotten lower and his eyes looking down at the gap between our bodies.

“Does it?” As soon as I thought my voice wasn’t going to crack, the words fall out cracked and broken. Ruining the seriousness of my tone.

Bucky rolls his lips in holding back a laugh.

“So good, baby,” Bucky slides his hands underneath the bottom of my shirt.

     A breathy whine escaping my lips, feeling his cool hand along the sides of my hips. His eyebrows rose at the sound,

“You sound so sexy,” His tone lowered and his eyes piercing mine. I pressed my body to him, wrapping my bare arms around his neck. His lips connecting with mine and his arms pulling me tighter, trying to eliminate any and all space between us. 

I can feel his bulge forming against my pelvis- all because of a moan.

     Sinking into each other, our lips matching in rhythm and pace. A raspy yelp leaving my lips as I feel a harsh smack against my right ass cheek. Completely forgetting the only thing separating it was thin spandex- Bucky’s favorite article of clothing. He says it is one of his favorite things that we have created.

     He liked the way it made my ass jiggle and moved with whenever I took a step. He especially went crazy when they’re rid up when I’d grab something from the top shelf in the kitchen, exposing the bottoms of my ass. He never failed to smack it, sometimes leaving his handprint through the fabric.

    Bucky’s flesh hand grabbing a fist full of ass and jiggling it himself. His release of the flesh causing me to whine again.

    The bulge that was currently trapped in his basketball shorts, started to throb. If only I could take it in my mouth and relieve all the pent-up pressure.

     Bucky’s lips moved away from mine but kissing alongside my jawline and down my throat. His hands now gripping my hips preparing me to jump back onto the kitchen island. I jumped, allowing him to guide me onto the cold granite.

     With his lips disconnecting from the side of my neck, his eyes peering into mine. It’s as if I could read his mind, knowing exactly what he wants. All I do is nod,

“I want to hear you moan, baby,” His hands teasing the waistband of the spandex. Dipping his fingers inside, but not going far. The feeling making my cunt moisten.

     Bucky’s true talent was his ability to tease. He was never in a rush, always took his time making sure that I was dripping before even daring to pull his dick out. It was like he got off on that the sight of the arousal dripping down the sides of my cunt.

“I want to see if you can still get loud,” My breath hitches, and my core tightening. My chest rises and falls heavier at the thought.

     As vocal as I am in bed, Bucky never put to the test how loud I could go. He was always satisfied with how vocal I ended being. What he loved, even more, was seeing me struggle to keep quiet. Teasing my clit with his fingers till I couldn’t help but moan.

     Bucky’s fingers starting in slow circles, watching me twitch and shudder. He’d dip his fingers inside gathering all the juices and using it to add pleasure. He’d moan at the sight of how visibly hard it was for me to stay silent. Some nights, he’d give me a towel or blanket to bite down on. Other nights, he’d want to see me struggle and wouldn’t give me anything to help.

    The moment I would make even the tiniest of whimpers, the pleasure would be ripped from me and I would be left not being able to cum till I could prove I could do it.

Those nights he was ruthless. Edging me till I was in tears.

Every time he’d pull away, making it almost painful to stay quiet the next time.

      I spread my legs giving him access to the place that was about to cause me a great deal of regret. His fingers slide inside the waistband of the shorts, bucking my hips at the contact. His fingers quickly being removed before they touched my clit.

“You fucking tease,” My voice was barely audible, his lips curl into a devilish smirk. Without any sort of permission, I removed my shirt. My breast dropped and Bucky’s eyes flickered to my bare chest, lighting up instantly. My nipples already hardening at exposure to the cold air.

     Within seconds, Bucky taking one in his mouth and his hand squeezing and kneading the other harshly. Eagerly tugging on my nipple with his teeth and soothing it with his tongue. I whimpered with every tug. I could see the smile on his face when I looked down.

     I wrapped my arms loosely around his head, keeping him focused on my breast. The only movement being when he’d move off the other giving attention to it. The nipping and tugging making my cunt completely soaked. I could feel it soaking through the spandex. The harsh treatment towards my breasts making the ache between my legs so strong, I thought Bucky could feel it.

   Bucky took his time giving each breast a moment to be assaulted, leaving them both sore. I silently prayed that my cunt was next.

    Bucky pulled away from my breasts, removing his shirt. The sight of his abdomen and dog tags, causing my pussy to throb a little harder. He places lips on my collarbone, slowly laying back on the counter and shoving the opened mail and assignment files on the floor.

    The combination of the cold granite and his hand made my back arch. He placed small kisses down my stomach till he got to my naval- that’s when he started to drag his tongue down till he got to the band of my spandex. I hold my breath as he removes my shorts, finally exposing my slick cunt. 

    I pushed my hips into the counter motioning the need for something to relieve the throbbing.

“So pretty, baby…” Bucky murmurs sliding his middle finger down the sopping wet folds, teasing my entrance. His finger only sliding into the first knuckle, he still standing while he does so. A scratchy moan getting past my lips.

“Yes, baby, I want to hear you.” Without warning he inserts two fingers and curling them, hitting the spongey tissue. My walls start contracting.

My throat tensing as I unexpectedly whine at the feeling.

“Good girl, I know you can get louder.”  Bucky eyes not leaving mine, I am now propped on my elbows and grinding my hips into his fingers. He adds his metal thumb to my clit, rubbing the bud at an agonizingly slow pace. Bucky removed his fingers from my cunt, bringing them to my lips.

    I open my lips enough for his fingers to enter. I sucked the clean, tasting myself. The saliva from my mouth being used as lubrication before he slid them back inside. The circles around my clit become faster. Our eyes met and his pace quickened. My jaw-dropping from the pure pleasure of his fingers. His mouth dropping with mine and his eyes darkened as he watched my body start to jerk.

A string of curses left my mouth and my vocal cords struggling to get any sound out.

“You’re doing so good” I laid back down, feeling my limbs fall weak to the feeling of my orgasm approaching. The soreness of my throat getting tighter, but not caring.

     Bucky crouched down coming eye to eye with my cunt, still fingering fucking my entrance. His thumb left my clit, but it was replaced with his lips. His tongue swirling around the bud. His facial hair scratching the sides of my legs adding more sensation down there. His fingers haven’t stopped, if anything they had gotten faster.

     My eyes rolling back, not being able to properly keep them open. I groaned and gasped at the fast-approaching orgasm. There was no denying that this would wreck my voice even more than it was before, but the feeling of his tongue and fingers making the future pain bearable.

“Fuck!” I went into pure ecstasy. I jerked my hips towards his mouth, my lower half becoming incredibly sensitive. Bucky doesn’t even seem to notice my body twitching. I gripped the kitchen towel beside me,

“Bucky, I-“ I was interrupted by his fingers curling again hurling me over the edge. My throat tensing again, it felt like it was bleeding inside.

         Bucky continues to attack my cunt with his tongue. His fingers leave my hole and join his other hand holding my hips down. I didn’t know how much more of the pleasure I could take.

“Such a good girl, you taste so good.” His voice muffled against my throbbing pussy as he licks the rest of the arousal up. I manage to prop myself up again, our eyes meeting again.

     His mouth glistening from my juices. His eyes don’t break eye contact, staring at me as a string of spit drips onto my clit. I watched in awe of him, he licks it up flicking my cunt one last time. My body has cooled down from the brutal assault.

“You’re doing so well, princess.” He brought himself up, I see the wet spot against his briefs. He was soaked through with precum. The tip was red and swollen, looking like it was going to burst with only a few strokes.

“But I know you can do better,” I sit up completely and watch as he frees his dick. It’s glistening with his liquid, reach to take hold of it in my hand. Bucky stops my hand from doing so, guiding it around his neck. Bucky gives his cock a few strokes, before sliding it up and down my folds.

His cock twitching against them.

The harsh usage of my voice was starting to affect my ability to even get any sound out at all.

     Bucky pushes slowly into me and in return, I clawed at his back. Our bodies have no room in between us anymore, my forehead pressed against his shoulder. His pace quickening. His cock stretching my walls and filling my cunt. The size of him never fails to amaze me.

With all I might, I managed to croak out a shocking volume:

“Faster, please Bucky,” He whined at the sound of my raspy plead.

    His thrusts turning into pure pounding at this point. His arms tightly wrapped around my torso. With the support around my back, my head falls back at the feeling of his cock ramming into me.

“You’re doing so good taking my dick,” He peppers kisses around my throat and collarbone.

My nails digging into his skin.

    My moans are loud, and the pain of my throat was masked by the intense pleasure building in my stomach. I couldn’t even think with his cock inside me. My orgasm building as his pace becomes inconsistent. He was close as well.

     I was surprised he lasted this long considering how he went in, already wanting to cum. All that was coming out of my mouth were a mix of curses and moans. His eyes lighting up with every sound that fell from my lips.

“I don’t how much more I can take,” My voice was in shreds, it was painful trying to speak at this point, but I couldn’t conceal them anymore. Not with his current speed and power.

“Cum all over this dick,” With his approval, my walls start pulsating and my forehead falls back against his shoulder. I watched his dick disappear inside me while I cried in pleasure, my legs quivering at the intense pleasure.

     Tears welling as the pain in my throat was becoming too much. Bucky powered through my orgasm, before his cock twitching inside me. His load bursting inside me. Bucky holds us in the same position while we are recovering from our highs. My pussy is milking every last drop of him, whimpering one last time as he pulls out.

   My breathing still heavy and the piercing pain in the back of my mouth becoming more prominent. I lay back against the counter, catching my breath.

“You got so loud, baby, I’m so proud of you,” Bucky coos while grabbing the kitchen towel that I was previously using as a grip.

         He glides the fabric against my cunt, whipping away his cum that was leaking out of me. I twitch with the contact with my clit. He takes my hands and pulls me back up to meet his eyes. I try to speak but wince at the pain shooting through my throat like daggers. His face instantly filling with worry.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have- “He begins to panic, but I grab his wrists,

“It’s okay,” The only volume I could speak in being below a whisper. I hop off the table picking up my discarded clothes, sliding them back on. I bend down, picking up his briefs, and hand them to him.

“It was worth it,” I chuckle. He takes the briefs from me and looks at the abandoned mug.

“I’ll just have to get you more,”

[nobutfredweasleytho]

YOU JUST DON’T LISTEN(F.W)

Summary: Fred’s ex girlfriend writes him a letter to explain the how him using her wrecked her emotionally.

Warnings: angst, like a lot of angst, depressed Y/N, mentions of self doubt, a little swearing, mentions of parents not loving correctly, used reader. Let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: Major thank you to Gabriella @onlyfreds for being an amazing person and encouraging me to write whatever this mess is. I am forever grateful to you

(The font is terrible Im sorry im just getting used to working on tumblr)

Fred Weasley checked the muggle clock on his nightstand. 10:30 AM. His mom will call him for breakfast anytime now. He has been awake for quite some time if he can even count the 30 minutes he tried to sleep but couldn’t, not when every time he tries to close his eyes his mind and eventually dreams are clouded by her. By the last time he looked at her, how devastated she looked, How her face was wet from her tears and her eyes bloodshot red, but the thing Fred will never be able to forget is her voice. How raw and vulnerable she sounded while saying the most horrible thing’s anyone has ever said to him, but he can’t blame her, he has no one to blame but himself because in the end it was he who caused all of this and now its come to bite him in the ass. He hears the door open and his twin brother George enters.

“Mom says breakfast is ready and she wants you downstairs. She says she’ll drag you herself if you don’t show up again today.”

“Tell her I’m not hungry and I’ll come grab a bite later.” I really don’t feel like being surrounded by other people right now. Not in this pathetic state I’m in. Besides it will take me willpower I don’t have to not hex Ron into oblivion.

“Well she will not take no for an answer and I wont either. What’s done is done now and you’ll have to face the world someday so start with your own family because everyone down there is worried sick about you and the least you can do is show your face once in a while so they know you haven’t died of starvation or sleep deprivation.” George has worry written all over him and I’m sure the rest of the family has it too. I feel even more like shit for worrying them.

“Fine. But I come back here if she is mentioned are we clear?”

“We weren’t gonna mention Y/N anyway now lets go moms worried sick for your dumbass.”

Breakfast was going smoothly with Ginny and Ron being exited for Quidditch season, Harry and Bill discussing the unfortunate events of the Triwizard tournament last year, dad asking Hermione about a rubber duck whatever that is, but the most shocking thing is mom asking me and George about the joke shop products. George is doing most of the talking but still the fact that shes even asking is awesome. I was finally feeling peaceful this whole winter break until I heard a hoot outside the window.

“I thought it was Tuesday but since mail is here does it mean its Friday already? Oh how fast time is going.

“No Arthur honey you are right it is Tuesday, Bill or George can one of you see if that owl has the owners name attached to it and bring whatever letter he has here to see who is it for.”

Bill got up from his seat and went to the window next to the countertop to look at the mystery owl. “Do we even know a Y/N Y/L/N?”

The room went quiet. The only thing that could be heard was the owls hoot asking for its treat. Bill seemed not to realise this as he took the letter from the owl, gave him a treat and sent it on its way.

“To Fred Weasley from Y/N Y/L/N… Who’s Y/N is she the girl you’ve been crying over this whole time huh Freddie?” Bill chuckled but I just grabbed the letter. I had no time to even be mad at him because once again my mind fogs up with only her. I couldn’t help but feel relieved and the happiest I felt in a long time. She has forgiven me. Y/N forgave me. That has to be it. Why else would she send me a letter?

“I had a great time with you guys but there’s important matters for me to attend so I have to go to now. Thanks mom the breakfast was amazing as always.” And with that I sprinted towards my room, locked the door and examined the letter in my hands. It was a bunch of them in here. I went to mine and George’s worktable threw some papers that were on top of it to make room for these letters and carefully opened the envelope.

The first thing that I grabbed was a photo. It was a polaroid of me and Y/N on the Gryffindor common room. Happiness filled my heart when I started remembering this night. I looked at the back of the polaroid and surely enough there was a writing on it.

Fred and Yn on the Gryffindor common room at 1 AM the night she turned 17. Listening to ABBA’s “Dancing Queen”. Picture taken by major 3rd wheel George Weasley.

Tears filled my eyes when I remember this night. It was the night I looked at her the way I always should have. Not as a replacement of someone who didn’t care about me.

The next one was also a polaroid photograph but this one I don’t remember being taken. It’s a picture of Y/N teaching me how to play the guitar. I can make up that we are in her dorm but not more as the picture is taken in black and white. I look at the back and surely this one also has a writing on it but the handwriting doesn’t look familiar at all.

A drunken Y/N accompanied by a even drunker Fred trying to play the guitar in the middle of the night. If I fail my charms exam tomorrow I’m killing you both but right now you two look adorable. Picture taken by Cho Chang.

The third one is an actual letter. I chuckle looking at the handwriting. Always so precise and not even one line out of place. I always thought Y/Ns handwriting always contradicts her hot headed persona but it’s actually really cute. I start reading the letter and my heart stops.

Dear Freddie,

I can only imagine the shock that receiving a letter from me would cause you right now especially after our last conversation.

But I have a lot to get off of my chest and I wont be able to move on if I haven’t said it all. Call me a coward but I was really scared to ask you to meet me so I can say it in person, but maybe that’s what I have always been. A coward. A coward because I get scared when someone wants to enter my life, a coward because I hate trying new things at the expense of failing, a coward because I should be able to confront people who brought darkness and sadness to my life.

But one thing I will admit Fred Weasley is that I wasn’t a coward when It came to loving you. It was the first time that I let someone come into my life and heart the way you did, and it will probably be the last. Throughout our “relationship” if you can even call it that as it was more of you customizing me to be her, to be someone I’m not. But that’s why you even talked to me is it, because I reminded you of her.

The signs were right in front of me and I feel stupid enough not to have seen them. But I guess people are right when they say love is blind. Love is such a funny thing to me as the first time I experienced the right kind of love was through you. But that was me creating stuff in my head. You didn’t love me no, you loved the idea of me. But I loved you. I loved you more than anything or anyone I have ever loved, I loved everything about you. But you just don’t listen. You don’t listen to anyone around you. Not George, not your other siblings, not Lee or any of your other friends for that matter, not your professors, but most importantly you don’t listen to me.

You didn’t listen when I told you that the love my parents gave me was only because I reminded them of my brother, the love my old friends back home gave me was one of interest. Everywhere I go no matter who I talk to no one will love me for me. I came to accept that until I met you.

You were funny and crazy and brave and oh so gorgeous. You were basically everything I looked for in… well everything. In a friend or in a partner it doesn’t matter. I thought you saw me for who I am. A broken teenager with issues but that at the end of the day was deserving of love. Oh how wrong I have been but no more wrong than you. You knew this but you just didn’t listen.

That makes us both horrible people now does it. Me who thought you were some kind of savior or some kind of saint and selfishly wrapped myself around your love and you who used me because I remind you of your ex girlfriend who broke your heart. But mine is excused I feel like and yours isn’t.

You would have kept me going for who knows how long just so you can live your imaginations you had for someone else.

Did you think about her the first time we slept together?

Was I not enough for you Freddie?

Was I too clingy too soon?

Is it my hot temper that gets the best of me?

So many questions will be left unanswered on my end because frankly, I never want to speak of you again. Sure I am deprived of love but I will not take it if its not directed directly at me.

I still care about you and will continue to support you and George on whatever you set your mind into. I was waking through Diagon Alley last week and saw this little store with a “for sale” sign. It’s right in the middle of Diagon Alley. I hate how my first thought went that you would have loved it but I seem to do that a lot recently.

I’ll get dressed and think would Fred love this skirt or this shirt.

I start applying lipstick and I’ll think will Fred love this color.

I start eating and I’ll think does this look good enough that Fred would’ve stolen a piece of it when I’m talking to Ginny.

I don’t even know why I am telling you this. How pathetic I’ve become clinging into someone that doesn’t want me.

Anyway I’ve probably bored you enough with my ranting but I wouldn’t have been able to move on unless I said everything that felt heavy on my heart. I also attached some photos I thought you’d like to keep seeing as now you can see yourself with Kayla without having the burden to be near me.

Say hi to your siblings and Harry for me.

Have a nice life,

Y/N

[dorotharry]

tiny dancer ; chapter one

Pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader, platonic!Steve x fem!reader

Prologue | Chapter 2

Word count: 1.2k+ (sorry its so short)

Warnings: fluff, angst if you squint, mentions of war, let me know if in anyway something upsets you and I’ll add that here. 

Summary: After being drafted for the war in 1942, Bucky goes to the ballet a week before having to leave with his best friend Steve. There he becomes infatuated you with the prima ballerina of the show, and he just has to meet you before his last week in Brooklyn is up. He hopes one day you would meet again; little does it know it will be 72 years later.

A/N: It’s going to take me a bit to develop a smooth story line because there's so much backstory I need add, whilst still trying to make it engaging. Anyway thank you all for the likes and reblogs on the prologue, please let me know what you think of this next part. (Also I know some of this isn’t accurate to the movie and time in general but I think it still works.)

gif not mine*

Present day ; 2014

You looked upon the figure before you, trying to work out if it was who you thought it was.

Like many heroes and villains alike, you had a back story, and times like this called you to look back and dwell on how what was once a kind girl could barely be recognised behind your blank expressionless eyes. You felt nothing. Only numbness, and there was reason for that.

1943

After Bucky had left you kept in contact with Steve, catching up with him every so often. That was until he was finally allowed to join the war, and you bided farewell to your new friend. Hoping that one day you would see them again: sooner rather than later.

Not much long after word got around about Captain America. You could barley  recognise your friend. Though from what you had heard he was still the same Steve, just a lot bigger and stronger. Like many things the ballet company you danced for had to close, most men and women were being sent away, many of colleagues had been sent to aid in the medical units of bases and camps. Part of you waited to receive a piece of paper in the mail informing you that you had to go as well. It never came.

One day though you did receive a letter, but not one you had expected.

“Dear y/n,

As I’m sure you have heard and seen, I’m no longer much like I was when I left. Though I would like to hope I am still the same man I was before ‘Captain America’ – and by that I am appreciative of the few friends I made before as they looked beyond what was displayed on the outside and more towards the inside.

Anyway, I didn’t write to you to boast or ramble on much more, but I have a job offer for you. You are one of the finest dancers I (and Bucky of course) have ever laid eyes on and so as Captain America is supposed to go on tour, I hoped you may want to be one of my back up dancers. I know for a fact that you will steal the show though. 

Most of the girls have already been picked but I called in a favour to ask for you to join as well, I only had to mention you being Prima ballerina and the team were very invested in having you join us.

I’m in town at the moment, but we leave tomorrow. If you’re interested have your bags packed, someone will pick you up at 10am sharp.

I hope to see you tomorrow.

Kind regards,

Your friend Steve”

You gasped as his thoughtfulness, barely having to think over this proposition.

Of course, you would go, not only would you be able to continue what you loved, but you would also be helping the war in some way. It was even better you got to work alongside a friend. Your mind drifted slightly, perhaps you would see Bucky as well.

You ran from your living room and began frantically packing your bags with the essentials, and anything dance related you thought you may need. You weren’t sure what they would be providing.

-       

Just as he’d said, a car picked you up driving you to an airport where you would catch a private ‘stark’ plane with the other dancers. You looked around for your friend, disappointed when you couldn’t see him. 

Reaching up to put your bag above your seat, you heard a voice half whisper excitedly behind you.

“You came!”, This caused you to jump as you whipped your head around. There stood Steve, aka Captain America, aka The star spangled man with a plan. Except this time, he was no longer the small man who was constantly picked on when you had known him. Now he was easily 6 foot as you had to look up to meet your friends smiling face.

“Steve!” you responded, engulfing him in a hug causing him to chuckle. You let go of each other and you raised your eyebrow at him.

“And of course, I came silly!”

Most of the time after that was a blur.

You wore a costume that you were sure was too short for the era, covered in Stars and Stripes. Although it wasn’t ballet it didn’t matter as you’d trained in various genres, although it was much easier than any of the dancing you had done before. You girls were known as The Star Spangled Singers. 

It was great getting to see Steve again and you made great friends with the other women who you worked amongst. Of course, there were always whispers about how you knew Steve, rumours flying around about the two of you. You and Steve knew they weren’t true, your heart belonged to another soldier, one you still hadn’t seen. Steve’s belonged to Peggy which he had told you about early on when you’d joined him.

Steve was such a kind man, and he was always grateful for the life he now lived but you knew he wished to help more rather than stand on stage surrounded by women spreading war propaganda.

The tour was coming to an end for the moment as the war got more intense. Your last trip to the final base of some American soldiers, which you had to admit you were most excited for as you hoped you would see Bucky. He hadn’t been at any of the others. You also knew you would finally meet the wonderful Peggy, both Steve and you were beyond excited.

The plane carrying you girls and Captain America finally landed. Everyone excitedly got off, many ready to see their fathers, brothers and boyfriends whom they hadn’t seen in a very long time. You on the other hand were struggling to find a necklace you owned which had somehow fallen off and you fell behind everyone.

“Y/n! Are you coming?”, yelled Steve leaning in from the planes doorway.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” you replied, “I’ve just lost something, I’ll meet you by the camp!”

Steve nodded and left leaving you there to frantically look for your beloved necklace. A gift from Bucky he had given to you a couple days in from knowing him. It was a dainty silver necklace, with two ballet shoes as the charm, you love it. Not just because it was pointe shoes but because it was from Bucky out fo thoughtfulness.

Finally, you found it after was seemed forever, you carefully placed it in your pocket as the clasp had broken off and you couldn’t put it back on. You grabbed your bag and walked of the plane, turning to your right to head to the camp, seeing Steve in the distance you smiled as you watched him talk to a woman who you knew had to be Peggy. Your eyes wandered next to him as you gasped at who stood there chuckling at something that had been said. Bucky.

That was the last thought you had when suddenly you were overcome by blackness and you dropped to the ground.

Present day ; 2014

You shook your head removing yourself from your thoughts, as you ran after the figure which had caused your mind to spin. He was fast, but so were you.

Everyone had known this man as a ghost, someone who had been around for over 50 years killing innocent people under the name of The Winter Soldier. But even under his face mask, and dark eye makeup he wore. Though you weren’t sure how it was possible; you knew who that really was.  

James Buchanan Barnes.

It seemed you weren’t the only one with a tragic story.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: 

@rebelemilu​

[babybluebex]

the proposal [tom holland x reader]

➽ pairing: ceo!tom holland x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 3.9k ➽ summary:your pushy boss forces you, his assitant, to marry him in order to keep his visa status and avoid deportation.  ➽ warnings: forced marriage?? except not really?? ➽ a/n: this is loosely based off the sandra bullock movie of the same name which i recommend you watch bc it’s good classic rom com, but i just see tom being a dickhead and bodying this

I gasped as hot coffee spilled down my front, and I looked at the mail cart that had run into me. “Sorry,” the person steering the cart shrugged, and he continued on his way, totally unaware that he had just ruined my day. I gritted my teeth and looked down at my black-coffee stained shirt, knowing that my boss would be out of his morning coffee, had I not ordered a second. I always ordered a second coffee in case a disaster like this occurred. Mr. Holland could be just awful sometimes, and I only made the mistake of forgetting his coffee once. 

The door to the office opened, and I looked to see my boss striding in. Mr. Thomas Holland was one of the foremost editor-in-chiefs in the world, and he was deserving of it. While he was a great editor-in-chief, he was the meanest man I had ever met. He expected everything to be just his way and, if they weren’t, he would work to make it that way. Past assistants had been fired for less than forgetting a coffee. 

I followed him into his office for his morning briefing, and a single sculpted eyebrow lifted at the stain on my shirt. “Rough morning, Y/N?” he asked with a laugh. I kept my comments to myself and handed him his coffee, and he sat down at his desk.

“You could say that, sir,” I mumbled. “You have a meeting at eleven, and Penguin needs that manuscript by tomorrow--” 

“Who is Jake?” Mr. Holland asked suddenly. “And why does he want me to call him?”

I stopped talking and noticed my boss staring at the coffee that was at first mine, and my face went pale. Written on my cup was the name of the barista that made my coffee every morning, along with his phone number. Mr. Holland looked at me, expecting an answer, and the look in his blue eyes made me want to puke. “Oh,” I stuttered. “That is-- He’s--”

“Do I want to know?” Tom asked. 

“No, it’s better if you don’t,” I replied. “Um, also, you got a call from Immigration Services last night. They need you to come in and do some paperwork.” 

“I sent it in last week,” Tom said cooly, taking a sip of coffee. 

“Not according to them,” I said. “Umm… Can I ask a question, sir?”

“You just did,” Tom said. His dark eyes stared deep into me, and I held down my shiver. 

I sighed. “You know what I mean,” I said. “I thought you were a citizen?”

“Nope,” Tom replied, popping his lips. “I’m in America on a work visa. What time do they want me to come in?” 

“They said ‘at your earliest convenience’,” I told him. 

Tom sighed. “Let’s go get this over with,” he mumbled. “Umm… You might want a change of clothes.” 

I looked down at my stained shirt and huffed out a frustrated grunt, and Tom scoffed. “Alright, then,” he chuckled plaintively, his London accent rolling off of his tongue. I wasn’t blind, I knew that my boss was attractive— a strong jaw that was always clean shaven, brown eyes that shifted golden in the right light, and dark hair, usually styled down with just the ends showing their true curly nature. He was tall and built like a Greek god, and his wonderful accented voice would have been appealing if the words he said with it didn’t cut right through me. Some would say Mr. Thomas Holland was mean; others would say he was blunt. I would say he’s just a dick. “Don’t have to get so worked up.” 

“I—“ I began and sighed. “I don’t have a change of clothes.” 

Tom cocked his head thoughtfully. “Have you ever seen The Bodyguard?” he asked. When I didn’t respond, he said, “It’s a show on the BBC, I should have known you wouldn’t have seen it.” With that, he pulled off his jacket and draped it against his desk chair, and he loosened his tie around his neck. 

“Mr. Holland, what are you doing?” I asked quickly, jerking forward to stop him. 

He looked at me with those honey eyes as he set his tie on his desk. “I am giving you the shirt off of my back,” he said. “Like the kind soul I am.”

I nearly protested, but I knew that he had a spare; I had brought it from the dry cleaners two days ago. I searched for something to say to him as he disrobed, and the sight of his bare chest made me say “Thank you. It is very kind.” 

“Most would say uncharacteristic,” Tom said, handing his shirt. The hand clutching his shirt had a shining watch on the wrist, and, while the sight was enticing, it only served to remind me of how late we were going to be. The shirt was still warm from him having worn it, and he crossed the room to retrieve his spare from the storage closet. 

“Most would,” I agreed. I pulled my blazer off and began to undo my shirt, but I felt as if Tom was staring at me. I looked over my shoulder to him, already doing up the buttons on his shirt, and his eyes lifted to mine. 

“Do you need help, Y/N?” Tom asked, a snide bite to his words. 

I furrowed my eyebrows. “Can you…” I started. “Ya know, turn around?” 

Tom scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Americans are so prudish,” he said. “I undressed in front of you, didn’t I?” 

“Yes, but it’s different,” I said. “Just close your eyes, something, please.” 

Tom laughed lightly, and he made a show of covering his eyes with his hands. “Is that better?” 

I rolled my eyes. It would have to be good enough. I pulled my shirt off and exchanged it for his and, once I was fully dressed again, I said, “Alright. Thank you.” 

“Great,” Tom said and uncovered his eyes. “Are you ready to go now?”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Sure.”

Once we arrived at the Immigration office, Tom was brought in almost immediately, and he had me come in to take notes. A secretary’s job is never done, I guess. I stood by the door as he sat before the officer, and I watched the scene unfold before me. 

“Mr. Holland, you’re here on a work visa,” the officer began. “Which means you’re not allowed to leave the country.”

“Yes,” Tom said, and he raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And you went to an international book fair…” the officer began as he shuffled some papers around. “In Germany, last month.”

Tom scoffed and flipped his tie in annoyance. “It was for my job,” he said. “Can’t I go to work functions?” 

“Not when it violates the rules of your visa,” the officer said. “Because you violated those rules, you have to leave the country and go back to your home country for one year.”

Tom straightened in his seat suddenly and gave a laugh. “I can’t do that,” he said seriously. “I can’t work from a different country for a full year. I’d lose my job.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Holland, but it’s federal law,” the officer said. “The only way you can stay in the country is if you get married by the end of this month, and--”

I had worked for Thomas Holland for a long time. I knew him well. I knew what shampoo he used, what pants size he wore, and, most importantly, I knew what he looked like when he got an idea. His chin went up, his shoulders went back, and he smiled. He rarely smiled, at least where I was concerned. “Um, yeah, w-what if I am getting married?” Tom asked. “What-What then?”

“Well, it would have to be filed appropriately and the service would need to be witnessed,” the officer said. “But, if everything was legal, you would be allowed to stay in the country.”

Tom turned around to look at me and he gestured for me to step closer. “C’mere, darling,” he said, and his honey eyes widened at me. “Don’t be shy, c’mon.” He turned back to the officer and gave a smile to him. “She’s so shy, it’s adorable.”

I stepped closer to him, and Tom stood up and wrapped his arm around my waist. I was confused as hell about what he was doing, but it clicked when he captured my chin between his forefinger and thumb and planted a quick kiss to my mouth. Oh fuck. If he was fired, I would be out of a job too. I needed Tom to stay in the country, which meant that he had to get married. And who better to marry than somebody who already knows everything about you? Fuck. That’s me. “You two?” the immigration officer asked. “Is she not your secretary?”

“She is, yes,” Tom said, and he laughed nervously. “But it wouldn’t be the first time that someone fell for their secretary, would it?” He then gave a deep laugh, and I quickly giggled to ease the tension. “Yes, no, but… Y/N and I are getting married. We were planning on a spring wedding-- you know how girls and spring weddings are-- but we could fast-track it, if it keeps me here… With her.” 

The immigration officer raised an eyebrow. “Really?” he said. “Where is your ring?”

I looked down at my hands, certainly missing an engagement ring. “Oh, umm…” I began. “Well, you see, we don’t want our coworkers to know yet. Seeing as I’m being promoted to editor, we thought it would be inappropriate for our relationship to be… Known to the office. I have a ring, but I don’t wear it.”

“Yes, editor…” Tom began and looked at me, a flash of annoyance crossing his face for just a moment. “Sure, yeah. Yeah, of course.”

“Alright, Ms. Y/L/N,” the immigration officer began. “You do understand that, if you are caught in a lie, it’s five years in a federal prison?”

I nodded and gave a tight smile. “Good thing we’re not lying.”

I watched Tom as we left the building and, once we were outside, I stopped walking. “Wanna explain that?” I called. 

Tom stopped and turned on his heel, his phone already pressed to his ear. “What is it?” He asked. “I’m on a call.”

I huffed and pulled his phone away. “Mr. Holland has business to attend to,” I said. “He’ll call back.” I hung up and shoved the phone into my pocket, and I crossed my arms. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Tom asked, and I gestured back to the building with a huff. “Oh. It’s the only way for me to stay in the country and keep my job. We’ll get a legal marriage by the end of the month, then, when the appropriate amount of time passes, I’ll set up a quickie divorce and you can forget that this funny little thing ever happened.”

“What if I don’t want to get married?” I asked. “What about my boyfriend?”

Tom scoffed. “As if you have a boyfriend.” 

“Hey!” I cried. “You don’t know that!”

“You wake up at four in the morning, every morning, in order to get ready and get my breakfast,” Tom rattled off. “You work from eight to four every day, most times until five. You are on call at all times; your phone never rings twice before you answer it, especially if I am calling you. You bring me food at one in the morning if I need it. No boyfriend would be okay with a work schedule like that. So, Y/N, unless you have any other unfounded issues with this, I suggest we start to learn things about each other that an engaged couple would know.” 

“No.” 

“No?” Tom repeated. 

I smiled sweetly. “Ask me nicely.”

“Ask you what?” Tom asked with a grimace. 

“Ask me nicely to marry you,” I said. 

Tom gave me a look of boredom, and he rolled his eyes before he took my hand. “Will you please marry me?” He asked, his voice full of sarcasm. 

“No, no,” I said. “Down on one knee. You’re an Englishman, Mr. Holland, have some manners, for God’s sake.” 

“Y/N--” Tom began. 

“I wonder what airfare is like to London,” I began. “And moving all your stuff over there, it’ll take forever.” 

Tom sighed heavily, and he looked around us at the busy New York street corner. “Damn it, Y/N,” he mumbled, and he worked himself down to kneel on one knee. “Y/N, my love, my sun, my moon, my stars, my darling girl. Provider of late-night sushi and witty comebacks. Will you please marry me, with cherries on top?” 

I chuckled lightly. “I don’t appreciate the sarcasm, but yes,” I said. “I will marry you… Tom.” 

“Well, thank God you’re on time.” 

“I know, it’s shocking,” I chirped. “It’s almost as if I haven’t been reminding you of appointments for the past few years.”

Tom gave a shallow laugh and welcomed me into his apartment. I had been a few times-- he didn’t call me ‘provider of late-night sushi’ in his proposal for nothing-- but never long enough to take in the place. It was nice, a lot nicer than the apartment I lived in. In my apartment, I could extend my arms all the way and touch either side of my living space. 

“We have a lot of work to do,” Tom said. He wore mostly the same outfit from the day, sans the jacket and tie and the first two buttons on his shirt. It yawned open to expose his chest, dusted with thin, light hair, and, under normal circumstances, I would have liked the sight. Absolutely nothing about this was normal, though. “We have to learn enough about each other to pass the questionnaire that the immigration department is giving us.”

“Won’t be hard for me to do,” I said. “It might be difficult for you, Tom.”

“Nothing is difficult for me, Y/N,” Tom laughed. “Right, we can start right there: what’s my legal name?”

“Thomas Stanley Holland,” I replied. “Son of Dominic and Nicola.”

Tom blinked in surprise a few times, and nodded slowly. “How did you know that?” He asked.

“I had to fill out paperwork for you to make an appearance at a book signing about three years ago,” I said. “One of the forms asked for a middle name, so I asked you, and you told me that exactly.”

Tom nodded. “Umm… My birthday?”

“June 1,” I said. “You’re a Gemini, even though you think astrology is fake.”

“How do you--”

“For the past couple of years, you always sneer at the horoscope section of any magazine,” I told him. “It’s not hard to figure out what you think of it.” 

“You’re right,” Tom said slowly. He looked over to a pad of paper with his scribbled writing on it, and he picked it up and scanned the list. “I found this list online… A list of questions similar to what they’ll ask us. Alright, there’s no way you know this: my childhood nickname?”

“Which one, Dutchy or Billy?” 

“How in the fuck do you--”

“On your last birthday, you got a letter in the mail from your mom,” I began. “It was addressed to Dutchy. That was easy; Holland, Dutch, Dutchy. Kinda cute, actually.”

“And Billy?” Tom winced. “How did you find out about that?”

“One of your old uni friends works for a publishing company in Glasgow,” I said. “You sent him a letter to catch up-- but really to get him to do something for you-- and you signed it Billy.”

“Do you know why I was called that?” Tom asked. His honey eyes were unwavering as he watched me, and he seemed to deflate when I shook my head. 

“I have no idea,” I said. “If it’s anything like my college nickname, it came from a night of drinking and something unfortunate happened.” 

“What was your college nickname?” Tom asked, suddenly amused. 

“Oh, right, you don’t know everything about me,” I laughed. “Well… It was DongNose. My senior year, me and some friends decided to go to a-a… Ha, a male strip club. Things happened and… I ended up getting hit, on the nose, with… Yeah. It fractured my nose and my face bruised up really bad.” 

“Oh, shit,” Tom chuckled. The corner of his mouth twitched, and I rolled my eyes.

“It’s alright, you can laugh,” I said. “It’s a funny story.”

“No, I’m not laughing at you,” Tom said. “Just… Thinking about you in uni. Would we have been friends, do you think?”

“I doubt it,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “You would have been playing rugby or whatever Brits do at uni. I was a TA for a long time, so I hardly left my office at all.”

“Oh, that’s a question,” Tom said, looking at the list. “Where did I go to uni? Or, I guess, college, as you Yanks call it.” 

“Umm, your first semester was at the BRIT School,” I began. “You still get mail from them, asking for donations. But you transferred to Cambridge and graduated from there.”

“Well, Y/N, you’re wrong,” Tom said. “I went to Oxford, not Cambridge. My little brother goes to Cambridge. I don’t usually like to tell people that, it feels too uppity to me.” 

“You say as we sit in your New York City apartment,” I scoffed. 

“See, that’s different,” Tom began pointedly. “I didn’t grow up with much. Me and my mum and dad and brothers lived in this little town outside of London. It was a sort-of poverty area, so we only had what we could get by with. I was young when I told myself that I was going to work to get myself out of that. And…” He gestured to the apartment. “I did. And I was able to get my parents out of that as well.” 

“Oh,” I said softly. “What was the name Billy all about? You never said.”

For the first time since I knew him, I watched color rise in Tom’s cheeks. Was he embarrassed? Ashamed? “Umm…” He began. He looked to the coffee table and to the shelf underneath it, and he quickly pulled out a leather-bound scrapbook. “Mum made this for me before I moved to the States. Just some pictures of home and all. But…” He opened the book and spread it out next to us on the couch, forcing me just a few inches closer to him. There were pictures of him and his family in the gray background of London, most of them stamped with the date and time. A picture from when he was in secondary school appeared on a page, taken beautifully and professionally. A black blazer and striped tie adorned his frame, an insignia for his school on the right breast of his jacket. His hair was short and done in the spiked look that was oh-so popular with young boys several years back, and he gave the camera a closed-mouth smile, probably to hide a set of braces. 

“I was about twelve here,” Tom began. “This was around the time the nickname came around. I did dance all growing up-- Mum said I was too energetic and chucked me there to tire me out, but I ended up loving it. I ended up auditioning for Billy Elliot, and I got the part. I was on the fuckin’ West End when I was twelve, doing ballet every single day. It was great, but… I went to a Catholic school then, and the other boys in my class didn’t think it was all that cool.” Tom chuckled, but I could see the hurt in his eyes. “But then the nickname came around. People at school called me Billy, even after the show closed. I was tormented with it for years. It carried into college, and then uni. And, even though I’ve long since quit dancing, I still have people from uni that call me Billy.”

“Why did you quit?” I asked. 

“I just lost interest.” Tom mumbled with a shrug. “I was being bullied so much that I quit enjoying it. I sometimes wish I never stopped, but what’s done is done.”

The silence was tense between us, and I lightly cleared my throat to diffuse the tension. “Billy Elliot,” I said softly. “Really?���

Tom’s flush came back, but a smile came with it. “C’mon, I was twelve! And I looked like that! What d’ya want from me, Swan Lake?” 

“No, I didn’t mean it like that!” I exclaimed. “Besides, it isn’t any worse than what I did in high school.”

“What did you do?” Tom asked.

“You’re deflecting my question, Tommy,” I pointed out. 

“Answer my question, Y/N,” Tom rebutted instantly. 

“Alright, alright!” I grinned. “When I was fifteen, I played Juliet in my school’s production of Romeo and Juliet. Which would have been great, but my director was so inspired by Baz Luhrmann’s movie that he made it set in the 1950s, but had us keep the dialogue. It was… Not good.”

“Say a line, won’t you?” Tom asked. “Just a few words of Juliet.” 

I sighed, and tried in vain to recall even a single line from the play. “O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Capulet.”

“Shall I hear more?” Tom mused, looking down at his lap. “Or shall I speak at this? I take thee at thy word: call me but love, and I'll be new baptized; henceforth I never will be Romeo.”

A smile slowly filled my lips. “You know Shakespeare?” I asked. 

“My darling, I’m British,” Tom laughed. “I would have my citizenship revoked if I didn’t.”

I nearly didn’t catch how he called me that name. My darling. A slip of the tongue, a thought from Romeo’s mind? Or more? “I guess we’re more alike than we first thought, huh?” I chuckled. “Anyway, I don’t think Billy Elliot is anything to be ashamed of. It’s a beautiful story.”

Tom sighed. “I hope this works,” he mumbled. “I need this job. I’m sure you do too. We both get something out of it. Which, I was meaning to talk to you about that. Editor?”

“Tommy, if I get caught doing this, I could go to jail,” I said firmly. “I’m not going to commit a federal offense if I’m not going to get some benefits afterwards. You get me?”

Tom nodded slowly. “You are a lovely girl,” he said softly. “Any man would be thrilled to call you his.” 

“You do,” I said. “At least, for the next few months, you do.” 

Tom looked at me with those warm honey eyes. “Have you ever been kissed, Y/N?” he asked suddenly. 

“Um, yeah,” I sputtered out. “Of course.”

“Who was your first kiss?” Tom asked. 

“Who was yours?” I said quickly. 

“Zendaya Coleman, one of my best mates from college,” Tom said quickly. “Answer my question. What was his name?” 

I hesitated as I tried to come up with the name of any boy I went to high school with for me to lie about, but my hesitation was answer enough. A slow smile crept up on Tom’s pink lips, and he bit his bottom lip in amusement. “You’ve never been kissed, have you?” he chuckled. “Earlier today, when I kissed you at the office, that was your first, wasn’t it?”

“Jesus, you say that like it’s a bad thing,” I scoffed. 

“It’s not,” Tom said. “It’s just hard to believe. You are smart and witty, beautiful, with a sense of humor… I can’t imagine that boys weren’t falling over themselves to catch you.” 

“Well, nobody’s caught me yet,” I laughed softly. 

“Thank God,” Tom said with a smile. “Or our plan wouldn’t work.”

[taehyungsgrowl]

uhhhh duncan in prison angst 👀👀

hey 👋🏽

i’m sorry this took me so long to answer! but i did make a lil moodboard to go w it :•)

also i've written quite a bit of angst lately so this will be a little angsty, but also smutty.

long distance(?) old school version of sexting, really

hope y'all enjoy!

(yes, i did just discover the indention feature!)

warnings: angst if you squint, h*rny love letters, prisoners cat calling y/n, aaaand smut

word count: 3.5 k (i really don't know how this was supposed to be less than 1,000)

i don't love how this came out but the idea kept floating around in my head so i wanted to share!

Y/N didn't think what started as a harmless little experiment would show her just how powerful words could be.

She scrolled through row after row of photos on the 'write a prisoner' website on a boring evening just for something to do. And now each time she got a letter in the mail from him, her stomach would flutter.

Her finger stopped mid scroll as she came across the photo of the scruffy faced man with cheekbones carved by the gods and eyes clearer than the skies.

Duncan Shepherd.

Her eyes scanned his profile, learning that he was being held in a minimum security prison out of D.C for numerous white collar crimes, including bribery and extortion. He listed his interests as fine arts and finer wines. He'd be out for parole soon but was looking for a way to pass his time in prison.

Out of the hundreds of prisoners Y/N had scrolled past, none of them held her interest like Duncan.

It started off innocently enough. She grabbed a piece of paper from her drawer and her favorite pen and wrote him a simple introduction letter. Even if Duncan didn't seem like a dangerous or violent criminal, she felt a sense of adrenaline in writing him.

Duncan,

I hope this letter finds you well. I like to imagine you get a lot of mail sent to you. I read on your profile that you're a fan of the arts, I'd love to know more about you and what kind of art you enjoy. Truth is, I don't even know why I'm doing this, but figured prison must be lonely so I hope this helps pass the time.

I included a print of one of my favorite pieces of art to hopefully liven up your cell.

All the best,

Y/N

Y/N knew it wasn't much to start off with, but she had no clue what to send to a strange she knew next to nothing about. She printed off a print of one of Monet's Water Lillies and sealed it in an envelope with her first letter.

She let herself forget she sent the letter, not making any expectations. For all she knew, Duncan Shepherd wouldn't even reply to her. It would be hard to imagine that other people browsing the site would ignore Duncan's profile. His beauty, even in a mugshot was beyond compare.

But before long, she'd gotten a beat up envelope in her mailbox from none other than Duncan Shepherd. Excitement buzzed around her as she took a seat in her bed and tore it open.

Y/N,

Thank you for the lovely picture. I've got it hanging above my bed as a reminder of things I loved about my freedom. My mother has an original piece hanging in my childhood home. I remember staring at it for hours, enthralled by the beauty of it.

I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw the print in your envelope.

You know what they say about great minds.

Sometimes I wonder if my family would have let me pursue the arts if I'd be where I am today.

But I am eagerly counting the days until I am able to stroll through a museum in Paris again.

I am dying to know more about you. Tell me what makes up Y/N.

At the bottom of the sheet, was a rough sketch of a garden Duncan had drawn out for her.

The letters continued like that for a few weeks, slowly learning little bits and pieces of each other through writing.

She'd learned a lot about him very quickly. He told her about how troubles with his app and his powerful family led to him going to prison. And he also told her about all of the things he loved to do. Much to her surprise, she had more in common with him than she thought she would have,

Y/N,

We've been writing to each other for some time now and I must admit, curiosity is killing me. Not to mention, I do believe it's unfair that you've known what I look like from the start.

Tell me, did my photograph have anything to do with your interest in me?

I'd love to see you Y/N.

Y/N re-read the letter over and over trying to justify the butterflies in her stomach at the idea of Duncan thinking about her. Wondering what she looks like.

Duncan kept every letter Y/N had sent him using them as a way to fuel his daydreams of the woman behind the letters.

-

Y/N dug through her things in search of an old polaroid camera she had. - she thought Duncan would appreciate the use of instant film. Even if she felt a little silly doing so, she did her hair and makeup and searched her closet for the perfect outfit. In some way, this would be like Duncan's first impression of her. Little did she know, she'd already made a huge first impression with him.

She settled for a deep burgundy silk tank with a cowl neckline. She tossed her favorite leather jacket over it and put on her favorite dainty gold necklaces, letting them rest above her cleavage.

She made a little set up by the window in her room, where the light came in just right for a photo, and propped the camera up on a pile of books before setting it on an automatic timer to have it snap the photo of her.

She stared at the photo, smiling - happy with the results.

Y/N sat at her desk, writing him another letter and including her photo along with it.

-

Duncan opened his new letter from Y/N letting the photo fall from the envelope. He picked it up and stared in awe. He couldn't even focus on reading the words on the page as he stared at her picture.

In his mind, he expected her to be beautiful but was blown away by her photo.

He kept it safe, tucked under his pillow. He would take it out every night to look at it until he fell asleep dreaming of her.

Duncan saw her face... eyes clenched shut... pouty lips formed into a perfect "O" as her thighs surrounded his face.

He saw his hands traveling up her legs... kissing up her bare stomach... kissing her lips.

Everything felt so real.

Duncan woke up in a hot sweat from his over realistic dream. He could almost imagine her taste on his tongue.

The moon shone into his room giving him a sliver of silver light and he pulled her photo out, tracing his finger over her face.

He turned on the little lamp at his desk and sat down to write her back.

I can't tell you the time, but I believe it's past midnight and I can't sleep without dreaming of you.

Forgive me if I'm being forward, but I can't get you off my mind.

What I would give to be with you now...

Y/N, I want to feel your skin on mine. I imagine what it must feel like to have your lips pressed against my own.

I can't stop myself from thinking of all the ways I want to make you mine.

D.S.

--

I want to make you mine.

Y/N kept going back to those words.

If it weren't for the prison bars keeping Duncan away...

Her daydreams of spending the afternoons sipping coffee and strolling through colorful cities with Duncan began to change after the last letter. Knowing that he wanted her sent shivers down her spine.

I can't stop thinking about you either... Especially your last letter.

I want to know all the ways you'd make me yours.

I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it as well. I'm counting the days with you until you're able to get out and do just that...

Y/N colored her lips with her favorite lipstick and kissed the bottom of the page, leaving the perfect kiss mark on it.

She had unlocked something with Duncan with the last letter. Ever since he and Y/N started to exchange letters back and forth, he hadn't even bothered to open mail from other admirers. He only had eyes for Y/N.

Y/N.

Wish you could hear how your name falls off my lips as I chant it over and over when I bring myself relief - picturing your lips around my cock.

God.

It's hard to think clearly when you're on my mind.

You want to know of all the ways I'd make you mine? My hand would fall off by the time it took to write out each and every way I'd do that, sweetheart.

For starters, I'd love to skin my teeth into your skin. Leaving sweet love bites along your neck. Would you like that?

I wouldn't want you to worry about a thing.

You'd let me take care of you, right baby?

Maybe I'd tie up your wrists to make sure you keep still while I work on making you cum.

I hope you know I plan on keeping these promises the moment I get out.

Y/N touched herself as she read Duncan's letter again. His words making her pool between her legs. She dipped her hand into her panties and imagined everything Duncan described that he'd do to her.

Y/N wanted to do something special for Duncan.

She changed into a lacy lingerie set and grabbed her old camera again. Her heartbeat was beating fast with excitement. She held one hand up with her finger on the shutter and pointed it towards her bottoms. As she dipped her free hand into the waistband of her panties, she took the teasing shot of her hand inside her underwear.

Her cheeks felt hot as she took a look at the photo.

She took a few more. A few more teasing pictures - like the one she took wearing her leather jacket barely covering her - along with more R- rated photos.

She grabbed her small stack of photos and tied them with a piece of ribbon in order from least to most risque and added them to the letter she sent off to him.

Do you know what you do to me?

My letters make you touch yourself? What I would give to be able to see it in more than just your pictures. To be able to hear you for myself.

You don't know how much I loved your photos. You make my cock throb, thinking of just how much I want to fuck you.

I need to see you. Hear you.

How would you feel about coming to see me?

I can arrange with my assistants (the ones not in prison) to arrange a flight for you...

Please let me know what you think.

Love, D.S.

Love D.S.

-

"Shepherd. You got a call," the guard buzzed Duncan out of his cell and took him to the phone booth where the phone was waiting for him.

He wasn't expecting a call from his lawyer until later this week so he wasn't sure who would be calling him. Not like he and his family were on great terms at the moment.

Y/N tapped her foot anxiously on the other end of the call, trying to fight the nerves off.

"Hello?"

His voice was lower than she expected.

"Hi," she spoke barely above a whisper. "It's Y/N," she continued.

"Y/N? Y/N? Oh my god." Duncan smiled in a way he hadn't since he stepped foot into prison. "Your voice!" he laughed, "I'm hearing your voice! Wait, how? I - why? How?" he was at loss for words at the surprise.

"I hope it's okay. I called the office where I send my letters to and asked to call you," she bit her lip. "I like your voice."

Duncan chuckled, shaking his head. "Wow. It's so good to hear yours."

They knew they didn't have much time but they were both so wrapped up in the fact that they were hearing each other for the first time.

"I, uh, also wanted to talk to you about your... proposal from your last letter... about visiting you I mean." she paced back and forth in her room. "I'd like that. A lot."

His cheeks would be hurting from how hard he was smiling.

"You've got it, baby. We'll make it happen, I promise."

There was a brief pause, "Don't know how I'm gonna control myself when I have you in front of me, princess."

"Two minutes, Shepherd," the guard called over making Duncan roll his eyes.

"I have to go soon. But include your info in the next letter and I'll have my lawyers work something out with you, okay?"

"Okay," she smiled. "And Dunc, it's so good to hear your voice too,"

"You'll call me again?" he asked, desperation almost bleeding into his tone.

"Yes. I promise."

"Good." he grinned. "I'll talk to you soon. Bye, baby."

-

Over the next few weeks, Y/N and Duncan continued to have phone calls more often, but their letters never stopped. He got in touch with his attorney and passed along Y/N's information for him to follow up and help arrange a trip for her.

Before she knew it, she was being flown out in a first class seat to D.C.

They had her stay in a luxury suite the night before she got to finally meet Duncan.

The morning of, Y/N had piles of clothes tossed around the room as she searched for what to wear.

She'd known Duncan and his taste pretty well from his letters and phone calls to know what he liked. Y/N put on a baby pink silk mini slip dress that tiptoed the line between streetwear and lingerie, and strappy heels.

"Damn, baby. Haven't seen you around here..."

"Are you here for me?"

Along with countless other cat calls flooded her ears as the guard led her to Duncan's cell.

Duncan heard the commotion down the hall and he knew Y/N would be there any second. He frowned, wanting to take her away. None of those creeps deserved to even look at her, and here they were harassing her. It was his fault for bringing her there. He tried to tune them out, wanting to be okay when he saw Y/N.

Y/N was standing behind the guard as they came to Duncan's cell.

"Follow me, Shepherd. You both have an hour," the guard let Duncan out and he could finally lock eyes with Y/N.

She froze, finally seeing. His photo on the website did him no justice. The piercing stare of his eyes couldn't be recaptured on camera. His pink, full lips were even prettier in person.

"Hi," Duncan broke the silence between them. He was handcuffed immediately so he couldn't touch her the way he wished he could have right away.

But they were taken to the parloir where they would finally have some sense of privacy. Duncan's lawyers had worked out for this conjugal visit. They might have slipped the guards a few extra bills to ensure Duncan and Y/N had extra privacy for a moment. But Duncan had been a model prisoner (in one of the comfiest prisons in the country), so the guards had no reason to say no.

"One hour." he reminded Dunc, as he removed his handcuffs and left the room, leaving Y/N and Duncan alone.

"You're here," he closed the gap between them and embraced her. She smelled even better than he imagined.

"Duncan," she smiled with tears in her eyes, "I can't believe it's really you," she giggled.

"It's me," he pulled back, holding her hands as he admired her. "God, you're gorgeous."

Y/N couldn't help herself. She threw her arms around Duncan and kissed him.

Duncan stumbled back a little before steadying them. He cupped her face and deepened the kiss. He could feel her pulse quickening under his hand.

"God, can't believe you're here," he mumbled against her lips.

It'd be so long since he'd be this intimate with anyone - let alone someone he liked so much. He tried to push back the thoughts of the ticking clock counting their time and the cold industrial feel of the room they were in.

"I'm here... I'm yours," she tangled her fingers in his hair before kissing him again.

Duncan led her to the table, setting her on top of it. He towered above her, his hands on her thighs, slowly inching up her dress. She was everything he imagined and more.

"Open your legs for me," he instructed, parting them open.

He lowered himself until he was face to face with her dripping cunt. Her panties, if they could even be called that - they were a piece of barely-there cloth - were soaked. Duncan pressed her lips to the wet spot on her underwear and kissed it slowly, letting his tongue poke out through his lips and coat them with his saliva as well.

"Taste so sweet," he murmured, pulling her panties aside and putting his tongue on her wet pussy.

He lapped her wetness with his tongue, letting it massage her clit. Sucking and kissing her - watching how every move he made caused a different reaction from her.

Y/N tried to keep quiet, biting down on her lip to stifle her moans.

Duncan peeked up at her, holding in her sounds. He remembered the way the other prisoners hollered at her.

"I wanna hear you, baby. Please," he begged. He kissed along her thighs, "Want everyone in this god damn prison to know you're mine."

Y/N let the sounds she was holding in fall freely.

"Duncan. Duncan..." she called his name over and over getting closer to the sweet relief his tongue promised.

"Cum for me, sweetheart."

Duncan felt her heels digging into his shoulder blades as she trembled, finishing on his lips.

"Good girl," he praised, kissing along her thighs.

Duncan stood up as Y/N watched him with her hands pressed on the table, leaning back slightly to watch him.

"What?" Duncan chuckled, slowly undoing his jumpsuit.

"Just can't stop looking at you! You're real!" she laughed.

"Sure am," he grabbed his shaft, closing the gap between them. "I don't know when we'll be able to see each other.. like this again," he leaned down to kiss her. "Wanna make sure I make you feel good,"

He rubbed the end of his cock against her pussy. "Are you ready?"

"Waited so long," she whined, nodding her head.

Duncan pushed inside her, slowly. Savoring the way he stretched her open.

"Fuck," he groaned. "You're so tight," he panted, feeling her clench around his length.

He focused on the way he snapped his hips into hers, keeping a steady pace trying not to finish before she did.

But it had been so long. It had been a long time coming for this moment.

His head was in the crook of her neck, panting heavily. "Fuck, baby." he sunk his teeth into her soft skin. "Gonna cum," before he could finish his statement, he shot his load into her.

He stayed inside her as he rode out his orgasm.

Flushed Duncan faced her; embarrassed for finishing before he wanted to. "I'm sor-" she stopped him by pulling him in for a hard, deep kiss.

She pushed his hair out of his face, bumping her nose with his, "Nothing to be sorry for."

She had Duncan lay on the floor, using his jumpsuit to hold his head up, and then straddled his waist.

Her silky mini dress was bunched around her hips. Duncan found himself getting hard again as she climbed on top of him.

"Thought about doing this for so long," she kissed him. "Can't tell you how often I touched myself reading your letters... thinking about riding you," she sighed, positioning herself over his cock and sinking down.

She rode his cock, bouncing up and down his length. Her nails dug into his chest as she used it for support. The curve of his cock hitting her core made her eyes roll back with each roll of her hips.

Hot sweaty bodies had the coldness of the room forgotten.

Y/N grabbed Duncan's hands, intertwining their fingers, "Gonna.." she started, her legs shaking as her movement got sloppier.

"Me too," he grunted.

She felt Duncan fill her to the brim for the second time.

After a few moments of stillness, Y/N finally stood up, helping Duncan up with her. Her legs were shaky and Duncan helped her sit down.

She reached into her purse for a rag she brought. Duncan took it from her hand and got on his knees again. He cleaned their cum off her thighs, stopping only to give her small little kisses on her legs.

He heard Y/N sniffle and looked up, concern painted across his face. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" Is she regretting it? He thought.

"No! Of course not," she sniffled again, "I just wish... you could come with me. Leave this place with me."

"Oh, baby," he stood up and kissed her forehead. "Soon. I promise," he tilted her chin up to kiss her.

And Y/N knew he meant what he said. Soon they'd be able to be together all the time, but it still broke her heart to leave and have to see him stay behind the metal bars.

tags:

@desertsunflower00 @celestialrequiem @dhampiravidi @ritualmichael @blakescoven @dark-mei-rose @xavierplympton @langdonswhoreprobably @feralthoughtdump @wroteclassicaly @melodylangdon @bloodcoatedeclipse @kitty4860

bonus: screenshot from a very good point drunk!anon made vkfsjk

[sweetdreamhellofanight]

Packages

Adam Cole x Reader Warnings: None Word Count: 1,556 Summary: Always check the address on your packages

It started without much thought.

His mail ending up in your box, and yours in his. 

At first, you dropped it on his doorstep and walked back to yours. 

Your mail, three days past the expected date, on your doorstep. 

But a package with the handwritten address and his name landed on your doorstep one morning and you knew you couldn’t just leave it on the step. Whoever sent it had taken the time and care to wrap it themselves, write out the name, the address, and even decorate it. Whoever sent it was patiently waiting for him to open it and call them back. 

You held it in your hands, careful not to shake it too much, trying not to read anything you weren’t meant to. 

But you’d read the name. 

Adam. 

The door opened fully and startled you, pulling you out of your thoughts, 

“Adam?” you asked. He nodded, slightly confused, until you held the box out to him, “This is yours. It was on my step by mistake.” 

He looked down at the package in your hands and lit up, smiling excitedly, 

“Thank you! I was so worried they’d lost it!” 

You shook your head, 

“Nope, just a few doors down,” you said. 

“Thank you so much,” he said, again, looking up at you, “and sorry about the trouble.” 

You waved it off, 

“Not the first time it’s happened,” you said. You felt awkward, still standing there, unsure what to say except for, “Have a nice day.” 

He looked at you as if to say something else, but you turned around to leave, 

“Thanks again!” he called out behind you. You waved, but kept walking. 

***

The second time, it was his turn to find you, just as you were leaving for work. 

He caught you by surprise as you opened the door, keys and bag in hand, coat hanging over your arm, 

“Sorry!” he said, taking a step back before you could run into him. He held up his hands, a small box in one of them. “I guess it’s my turn to give you your mail,” he said with a smile, handing the box over. 

You stared at it for a moment, processing his words and gesture at the same time, 

“Oh,” you finally said, “thank you.” 

You took it from him, your fingertips brushing against his slightly. He nodded, 

“I would have left it, but I didn’t want anyone to accidentally step on it,” he said, putting his hands in his pockets. 

You smiled, 

“I definitely would have done that,” you said, setting the box down on the table by the entrance.  

He smiled wider, 

“You’re leaving so I won’t keep you, I just wanted to make sure you got that,” he said, quickly, stepping out of your way as you closed the door behind you. 

“Thank you very much.” 

“It’s the least I could do,” he said, “after you brought mine over.” 

“It’s not a problem, really,” you said. 

Again, he looked as if he were going to say something else, but didn’t. Instead, he rubbed the back of his neck, 

“Have a good day, Adam,” you said, turning to leave. 

“You too,” he said, quickly. 

You gave him one last nod before you turned away. 

***

It was becoming a habit, you thought. 

Either your mailman was just that bad at delivering mail, or your mailman was trying to play matchmaker. 

Because now, for the third week in a row, one of his packages ended up on your front step. 

The only difference, this time, was the weight of it. 

You tried a few different times, trying to pick it up and move it around, but you were certain there were just rocks in it because it was impossible to move. 

On your third try, you gave up, pushing it away as much as you could, when you finally read the shipping label. 

It had Adam’s name on it, but your address was clearly printed on it. 

That made you pause and stare at it. 

It wasn’t possible for the 1 to look like a 7 when printed. Sometimes the handwritten addresses were confused, and that made sense. 

But this was very clearly your address and not his.

Unless…

Unless he had meant to put yours instead of his. 

Unless he had meant to send the heaviest package in the world to your door. 

And then you realized something. 

Now, standing at his door, knocking politely, you waited, trying to hide your smile. 

He waited, too, a few seconds before opening the door, forcing his expression into something casual, but you could see him trying to hide his own smile just like you, 

“Hi there,” he greeted, opening the door fully. 

“You got another package at my door,” you said. He looked embarrassed, 

“I’m so sorry,” he said. His eyes darted to your hands but looked back up at you quickly. 

“But the problem is...it’s very heavy and I can’t pick it up myself,” you said, realizing just how lame you sounded right. 

His eyes widened, 

“Oh, yeah here, I can come get it, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, stepping outside. 

He walked with you back to your house, and you let him go ahead of you to pick up the large box with ease when it had taken you at least five minutes to move it an inch, 

“It’s stuff for my home gym,” he said, adjusting the box in his hands, smiling softly. “It’s weird that it ended up on your step again.” 

You smiled, 

“Super weird,” you said, “since it kinda has my address on it.” 

He paused, his mouth open as if to respond, but came up empty. 

And you laughed because it was a ridiculous method of getting your attention and now he’d been caught in the act and didn’t know what to say about it and he just looked so adorable that you couldn’t help but be charmed by him, 

Finally, Adam dropped his head and laughed, 

“I thought it was a good idea at the time,” he said, looking up at you, sheepishly. 

“It’s creative, I’ll say that,” you replied. 

He shifted his weight nervously, thinking of what to say next, 

“I just thought, if you got this package you’d have to come and tell me and I thought it’d make me look strong and make you want to talk to me, which is the lamest idea now that I say it out loud,” he explained. 

“And that’s when you would…? Ask me for my number? Or on a date?” you asked. 

“Yeah,” he said, “on a date.” 

“Okay,” you said, taking a seat on the bench on your front porch, “let’s hear it.” 

He looked at you, confused, 

“Hear what?” he asked. 

“Your pickup line, or whatever you’ve been practicing for this moment.” 

You could see the tiniest bit of red tinge his cheeks and found him beyond endearing. You knew your answer, already, no matter how he asked it. You just really wanted to hear what he had planned. 

“Well, I was gonna talk about my home gym,” he said, nodding at the box, “and you know, maybe flex a little bit. My friends told me that would be a good idea, probably, but now I’m not so sure?” 

“Your friends have the right idea,” you said. He smiled, 

“And then I was going to say, you know, as an apology for this mix up, and all the other ones, maybe I could make it up to you, take you out for coffee some time?” 

“Was that going to be before or after I read my address on the shipping label?” you asked. 

He laughed, 

“Definitely before,” he said. 

You nodded, and thought for a moment, 

“Well,” you said, slowly, “since I did read the label, and I figured out your master plan, I think it’s only fair that we keep up these reversed roles and that I ask you out for coffee.” 

He wasn’t expecting that, you could tell as much by how he didn’t reply, and the way he smiled at the ground, 

“That’s a good point,” he said. 

You stood up and walked over to him, watching the way he waited until you were in front of him before he looked back at you, 

“Would you like to go out for coffee with me tomorrow, Adam? As an apology for ruining your plan to ask me out?” you asked. 

“I would really like that,” he said. 

Neither of you moved for a moment, and as he adjusted his grip on the box, you thought you should at least give him this moment that he’d planned, 

“Do you need some help carrying that back home?” you asked, arching an eyebrow, looking at the box in his hands. 

And it took him a second, but he caught on, and flexed his arms the slightest bit, his muscles pushing their way out of the tight t shirt he was wearing, and winked at you, 

“I can handle this,” he said. 

“You sure can,” you said, staring a little too long at his arms. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked, finally, walking down your front steps, 

“For coffee or for another package you’re going to accidentally send me?” you teased. 

“Whichever one comes first,” he said. You laughed, 

“I can’t wait.” 

[purrincess-chat]

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH7

Happy Valentine’s weekend, my dears! To make up for missing last week, I’m sharing two chapters today. Maybe if you’re all really good, and I have time I’ll share chapter 8 on Sunday. That’s where the fun begins ;) Are you ready for it?

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Previous   First   Next    AO3

Chapter 7: Shake It Out

My dear sweet Marinette,

           How are you, my fairy? I hope that this letter finds you well. When you backpack over Russian mountains, you take whatever mail service you can get. I have so much to tell you about my latest trip, but first I have some exciting news for you!

During my last stay in Africa volunteering to build homes in a humble little village, I ran into a sweet little fairy by the name of Clara Nightingale. She says she met you! Did you know she’s a famous pop star? Anyway, she and I spent a lot of quality time together teaching young children how to read, and I showed her the scarf you knitted me for Christmas. She loved it! She says she will be in Paris again on the 18th and wanted to meet with you about designing for her, so I gave her the address to the bakery. She said she would stop by and see you.

“No way, no way, no way!” Marinette shrieked, kicking her feet. “Clara Nightingale wants me to design for her! I’m gonna faint.”

“This is an amazing opportunity for you, Marinette,” Tikki said as Marinette paced the floor, hugging the letter. “Tomorrow could change your life!”

“I know, Tikki! I’m so excited to- wait.” She stopped abruptly. “Tomorrow?”

“The letter said the 18th,” Tikki said, and Marinette raced over to pull down her calendar. “Isn’t that-”

“Tomorrow! Clara Nightingale is coming to my house. Tomorrow. To look at my designs!” Marinette clutched her cheeks as rapid breaths shook her shoulders. Tikki covered her ears as another scream emitted from Marinette’s throat. “This is a dream come true, Tikki!”

“It’s not that surprising. Gabriel Agreste liked your designs, and Clara attended the show, so it’s not like she’s unfamiliar with your work.” Tikki pointed out. “Plus, you’ve designed for Jagged before too.”

“I know, but getting commissioned by celebrities at 14 isn’t something you just get used to.” Marinette fell onto her chaise with a sigh. “I can’t wait to tell Macy, Eliott, and Martin! They’re gonna freak out.”

“What are you going to do about Chloe?”

Marinette waved it away, reading over the letter again. “I’m going to ignore her. She has no power over me.”

“True…” Tikki said. “But she did have a point. You always look out for your friends.”

“Yeah, but how many of those ‘friends’ came to visit me when I left?” Marinette said pointedly.

“Is that why you left? To see who would come?”

Marinette set the letter down and pursed her lips. “That’s one reason. I wanted to get away, but I also wanted to see who my real friends are,” she said. “I wanted to see who cared enough to chase after me, and I guess Adrien is the only real friend I had after all. Funny how I spent all that time hoping he would notice me when in reality, he’s always been on my side.”

“He thinks really highly of you.” Tikki flitted over to rest beside her.

“I know. My heart was beating so fast when he said those things earlier. Do you think it means he likes me?” Marinette smiled up at her ceiling, biting her lip.

“It definitely means he knows how amazing you are, and I’m sure you can catch his attention romantically too. Especially now that you two are hanging out so much,” Tikki said.

“I feel like all of my dreams are coming true.” Marinette buried her face in the throw pillow with a squeak.

“With everything you give to the city, I think you deserve it,” Tikki said.

“Well, one thing is for sure, I need to defeat Hawkmoth before I become a famous fashion designer and go to New York. That’s priority number one. Chat Noir, Rena- oh-” Marinette sat up abruptly.

“What’s the matter?”

“Well, Alya and Nino are Rena Rouge and Carapace, but after everything… I don’t know if I still trust them,” she said. “I don’t doubt that they would help Ladybug, but if I know who they are, then it might affect me. Do you think I made a mistake picking people close to me?”

“I think that’s a question for someone with more experience picking.” Tikki advised.

Marinette drummed her fingers on her thigh. “You’re right, Tikki. Let’s go.”

Master Fu was playing cards with Wayzz when Marinette knocked on the door and poked her head in. “Master?”

“Marinette, what brings you here?” He lowered his hand calmly.

“I could use some advice. Do you have a minute?”

Wayzz peeked over his cards with a huff. “We are in the middle of a game,” he said matter-of-factly, but Master Fu cast him a sly smile.

“It’s okay.” He splayed his royal flush for Wayzz to see. “I was just winning. What is on your mind?”

Marinette sat on the mat, hugging her knees to her chest as Wayzz zipped off grumpily. Taking a deep breath, she dove in, sparing no details—Volpina, Lila, her friends, changing schools, leaving Alya. Everything. Master Fu listened patiently while she talked, sipping his tea thoughtfully every now and then.

“I’m sorry, Master, but I think I made a mistake picking my friends to be Rena Rouge and Carapace.” She finished, head hanging low. “I don’t think I’m fit to choose our partners anymore.”

“Marinette,” Master Fu said with one of his kind, grandfatherly smiles. “We cannot blame ourselves for the actions of others. Your friends have made choices outside of your control. That does not mean that your judgment was lacking when you picked them. People change, and that is no one’s fault, just the natural order of things.”

“So, you won’t be mad if I pick someone else next time I need help?” Marinette glanced up at him like a small child waiting to be scolded.

“You must pick allies you can trust—whoever that happens to be in the moment,” he said.

“Thank you, Master.” Her shoulders relaxed. “Sorry to interrupt your game.”

“It’s okay. I have a large lead on Wayzz.” He chuckled. “Come back anytime.”

“I will. And next time, I’ll choose people I know I can count on.”

♪♫♪ StopRewind ♪♫♪

“You’re in an awfully good mood,” Macy remarked as Marinette took her seat in home room.

“Did something good happen? Spill!” Eliott leaned in.

Marinette glanced around the room to ensure their classmates couldn’t hear them. “Can you two keep a secret?”

“Oh, if there’s anything we aristocrats know how to do, it’s keep secrets.” Eliott assured her.

“Yeah, you’re our friend now. You can count on us.” Macy echoed with an encouraging nod.

Marinette bit her lip, leaning in close to whisper, “Clara Nightingale wants me to design for her.”

“No way!” Eliott gasped.

“Marinette, that’s huge.” Macy squealed before regaining her composure. “Don’t worry. We will totally keep it on the down-low, but I can’t wait to see the look on Gabrielle’s face when it goes public.”

“Pretty soon you’ll be buying your own yacht, Marinette,” Eliott said with a laugh. “Speaking of, you still need to see mine.”

“Oh, and we should totally have tea at my house! We just had the theater redone,” Macy added.

“I’d love to,” Marinette said. “Clara is supposed to come over today, so I’ll tell you how it goes.”

“We want all of the details tomorrow,” Macy said as Mr. Mercier entered the room and called for everyone to settle down. “We can rendezvous at my place this weekend.”

“Sounds good.”

When school ended, Marinette rushed home, a giddy smile tugging at her cheeks. What type of design would Clara want? A dress? Or maybe a tasteful pantsuit? Her mind was already buzzing with ideas. Hopefully, she didn’t mess everything up. What if she designed something, and Clara hated it? Or worse what if Audrey Bourgeois slammed her design in the next issue of her magazine because she refused to help Chloe? Then it could ruin Clara’s career, and it would be all Marinette’s fault!

“Hi, sweetie. How was school?” her mom greeted when she entered the bakery.

“Fine, except I have no talent, and I’m going to ruin Clara Nightingale,” she said.

“That’s not true. My daughter has all the talent in the world. She can do anything!” Her dad scooped her into a tight hug. “After all, she comes by it naturally.” He gestured to a large wedding cake resting in the back.

“You’re just nervous, sweetie. You’re going to be great,” her mom said.  

The bell above the door chimed, and a woman wearing a hat and sunglasses entered. Marinette’s father put her down and resumed his post in the back while her mother returned to the cash register.

“Welcome! What can we get for you today?” her mom asked politely.

“What I’m after isn’t a sweet treat; there’s someone here I want to meet.” She lowered her sunglasses to peek over at Marinette. “It’s been some time since we’ve seen one another, but your designs are truly like no other.”

“Clara Nightingale! You’re here!” Marinette gasped.

“I want to ask you a request of mine. I’ll run it by you if you’ve got time.”

“Yes, I have so much time!” Marinette said, then composing herself, gestured to the back door. “Why don’t we chat upstairs?”

“Fine by me. This request is top secret, you see,” Clara said. She followed Marinette up to the apartment, and once they were safely away from the public eye, she removed her disguise with a sigh of relief. “Thank you for meeting with me. I assume you read your grandmother’s letter.”

“I did. It arrived yesterday.” Marinette nodded, putting on a pot of tea.

“Excellent! Then you know why I’m here.”

Marinette turned and found herself face-to-face with Clara, nearly dropping the teabags in surprise.

“Ever since I met you, I felt a connection between us like our destinies were entwined. I loved the hat you designed for Adrien, and Jagged has only ever told me great things about you. Then of course, Gina’s scarf was to die for, so, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, would you be willing to design for me?” Clara dropped onto one knee.

“Doesn’t Gabriel Agreste usually design your clothes? Wouldn’t you rather see a professional?” Marinette asked.

“Gabriel’s designs are wonderful, but I think you can capture my essence for this. I’ve been nominated for a music award, and I want you to design my dress for the ceremony.” Clara took her hands with a confident smile. “You and I are both passionate about our crafts, and I think you can bring something that Gabriel can’t, so what do you say?”

Clara’s gaze bore into hers hopefully, and Marinette shifted her weight. “I’ll do my best.” Marinette gulped, and Clara bounced in delight.

“Thank you, Marinette! This favor is one I won’t forget!” Clara pulled her in for a tight hug. “Your willingness means so much, and very soon I’ll be in touch.”

Clara trotted out the door happily, hat and sunglasses in hand, leaving Marinette standing in the kitchen, stunned. She blinked out of her trance when the teapot on the stove screeched and set it aside, barely capable of containing her smile.

She couldn’t wait to tell her friends this.

♪♫♪ I’d Love to Break It to You ♪♫♪

Adrien removed his fencing gloves with a sigh. Another long day of watching Lila manipulate everyone. Even he had to admit it was getting old, especially since Nino spent most of his free time helping Alya with her deputy duties, which were really Lila’s class representative duties that she came up with excuses to get out of.

He ripped open his locker and tossed the gloves into his bag, thinking back to Marinette’s anguished sobs the previous evening. Seeing her so upset was nauseating in a way Adrien had never felt before. Maybe it was because Marinette was always positive and upbeat, doing her best to help others even when she had problems of her own. Someone like her being so broken and hurt was painful to watch. He wanted to help her in some way, but how could he? He could barely stand up to Chloe, let alone Lila.

“Why the long face?” Kagami’s voice startled him.

He turned to face her as she leaned against the locker next to his.

“Just tired.” He slung his bag over one shoulder with a shrug.

“You’ve been like this for the past week,” she remarked as he paced up the aisle toward the door. “Ever since Marinette left.”

“It’s been a long week. I’ve had a lot going on,” he said flatly.

“You miss her.”

Adrien stopped short at the end of the row and glanced back at Kagami over one shoulder. “Why wouldn’t I? She’s my friend.”

Kagami shoved away from the locker, approaching him slowly—lithe like a cat stalking her prey. “I wonder why she left so suddenly. Rumor has it that she had a jealousy spat with that Italian girl in your class,” Kagami said. “What was her name again? Lie-la?”

“Yeah,” Adrien said curtly, adjusting the strap of his bag.

“She sure has everyone enamored.” Kagami paused beside him and cocked a hip. “Well, almost everyone.”

“Why do you care?” Adrien’s eyes narrowed.

“I don’t.” She shrugged.

“So why bring it up?”

“Because you and I both know the truth, and I suspect Marinette does too.” She tilted her chin to meet his gaze. “She’s a liar.”

Adrien let out a breath, the stiffness in his shoulders fading. “How’d you find out?”

“She claimed that her great grandfather was a world-champion fencer who invented a secret technique, but my family has held the championship title for the last six generations,” Kagami said. “Plus, her stories are so obviously farfetched and self-congratulating.”

“Tell that to everyone else,” he grumbled.  

“It’s not really my place. I don’t even go here.” Kagami shrugged again. “Besides, to everyone here, I’m just the ice queen.”

“So, you’re stuck with this knowledge too.” Adrien deflated with a sigh.

“After what happened with Marinette, I have no interest in confronting her. If your classmates want to be sheep, I say let them,” she said. “No sense in letting it upset you. They could easily figure it out if they applied an ounce of brain power.”

“Well, yeah, but she’s using all of them. I thought her lies were harmless, but she has everyone bending over backwards to help her. Now Marinette left the school hurt… I’m starting to get a little fed up.” Adrien averted his gaze, the wave of nausea returning to his stomach.

“So, call her out then,” Kagami said as if it were obvious. “People trust your word, and you have enough celebrity pull to prove it.”

“Yeah, but…” He winced.

“Adrien, your friends will only continue to suffer if you stay silent. Action is the only way to help them.” When he lowered his head, she rolled her eyes and pushed past him. “I hope your friends see the light eventually. For your sake. See you tomorrow.”

Adrien’s hands clenched into fists as she sauntered from the locker room, biting his tongue as anger swelled in his chest. Letting out a heated breath, he stalked toward the door, blinking in surprise when it opened.

Lila stepped in front of him and wasted no time latching onto his neck. “Adrien, you’ve been avoiding me,” she said with her sugary-sweet lilt. “You promised to help me catch up on my school work.”

“Sorry. I don’t think I can. Why don’t you ask Max?” He unhooked her arms and pushed her away gently.

“But you promised!” She pouted.

Her whiny tone sent a shiver down his spine, and he tried unsuccessfully to mask his grimace. “I’ve got a lot going on, Lila. Photoshoots, private lessons, that sort of stuff.” He took a purposeful step away from her.

“You seem to have enough time to go visit Marinette,” she said pointedly, crossing her arms over her chest. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“Lila-”

“She’s the one who’s lying, ya know. I’m sure she has told you all kinds of nasty things about me, but they’re false,” Lila said. “She’s just trying to turn you against me because she’s jealous.”

“That’s not true, Lila.” Adrien’s anger boiled hotter. “Marinette just wants to move on.”

“Is that why she went to Jagged Stone’s concert just to try to make me look bad?”

“No, that’s not-”

“Alya is still upset over their fight. Marinette ripped her heart out and stomped on it.”

“There’s more to it than tha-”

“Honestly, Marinette is the worst person I’ve ever met.”

Something in Adrien’s chest snapped—a rubber band stretched too far.

“How do I know when I should stand up for myself?”

“I get a feeling in my gut that it’s the right thing to do.”

“Enough, Lila!” he shouted.

She flinched, cupping her hands over her mouth. “Adrien, I-”

“Your lies won’t work on me, and sooner or later everyone else is going to see through you too, and you’ll be left all alone. Is that what you want?” He barely gave her a moment to respond before continuing. “Marinette poured her heart and soul into her friends. She made sacrifices for them and never once asked for anything in return, and now you’ve gone and turned her best friend against her and convinced everyone that she just wanted attention. If anyone here is a terrible person, it’s you.”

Lila’s face hardened, her whole countenance darkening. “I see how it is, Adrien.” Her jaw clenched. “If you choose to side with her over me, then I can’t help what happens to you. I own this school now, and there’s nothing you or Marinette can do about it.”

Turning over her shoulder, she slapped Adrien with her hair on her way out, and he balled his hands into tight fists. A feeling he’d never felt before bubbled in his core that made him restless. Adrien always thought Lila just wanted attention, but purposefully targeting one of his friends was not okay.

A new resolve came over him, and he instructed Gorilla to make a pitstop at the Grand Paris on the way home. His fist pounded against the suite door, breaths short and hot.

Chloe was lounging in a yellow bathrobe, feet soaking in a tub of water when her butler let him in. She raised an eyebrow as he entered. “You know I’m always happy to see you, Adrikins, but I’m in the middle of an herbal soak-”

“I want to help you take down Lila.” He cut her off.

A sinister smirk spread across Chloe’s lips, her shock fading to triumphant glee.

“Excellent.”

[leahseclipse]

Souvenirs, secrets and coffee dates

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: Suspicions about a possible partner rise when Spencer starts buying souvenirs and closely monitoring his phone more than he usually does; as he plans a few surprises for his beloved partner in secret.

Warnings: Mentions of case, usual cm stuff, slight mentions of death, loss of a person (not concerning any of the characters; only mentioned in a few paras)

Category: Fluff

Word count: 11.6k

A/N: Hello!! This fic is another fic I accidentally wrote for an event, for @sunlight-moonrise​ !! sorry if some moments are badly written,,,,hope you enjoy tho!!

The total fic is 25.1k, so i preferred to cut it in two parts so it wouldn’t be too long.

Continuation of Dear diary

         After we got together, days quickly got to weeks, weeks to months, and...now

It’s been more than a year.

Time went by more quickly than I thought it ever would, I often think about that diary that allowed the two of us to meet.

I'm glad that she had it in the first place, and that she lost it after. If she didn't have it, she would have either left a book that belonged to the library, (so, not many chances to find her, or even know she exists, you know), or possibly an item that could have her information, like a phone, or whatever she could have left, but, she could have remembered about the diary and take it.

If it would have happened, we wouldn't have talked, and we still wouldn't be, as I just did a few minutes ago on the phone.

And now that I think about it, It’s been a while since I haven’t seen y/n. 

Even though we always talk on the phone, it's not quite the same.

I’m always thinking about her, especially when I’m away on a case and the only thing that allows us to see the other is through a cell phone. 

I tried not to let her know I’m tired, I don’t want her to worry too much, she’s the type of person to freak out about the smallest thing, and I wouldn’t really like her to. 

She worries enough when I’m away, so I wouldn’t like y/n to have another problem to worry about until I get back.

I hate to let her know;  but if there was a word to describe the week I just spent; 

exhausting.

It’d definitely be that one, 100%.

Every single case is exhausting, especially when It’d last more than intended; when the profile has to be done again because of sudden changes, when leads turned out to be fake, or don’t make the case progress in any way, and a ton of reasons that if were to be enunciated, would be worth a encyclopedia long. 

We all know from the moment we’re announced of a case that we'll come back from it completely dead because of the non-existent sleep we would have had. 

One week earlier, I thought it’d be different from usual, and I turned out to be...completely wrong. I had woken up at 3am in a start, just an hour after I had gone to bed with y/n.

She had woken up when I happened to be in the middle of the call, and locked her eyes in mine when I had turned her way while on the phone.

Y/N already knew from the moment I received the call that it meant that I had to go, it had been a few months since we had been together, so she knew the song well after she happened to witness six or seven of the calls.

I knew she didn’t mind because I had to do my job, she has always been very understanding about my work. 

Of course, I think that the fact that I have to go away for god knows how long upsets her, but not in a hateful way.

I sometimes wonder if she actually really minds the fact that I would go; even though she always says that she doesn’t. 

Whenever I go on a case, I don’t even know when I’ll come back. I’m not coming back in three months, but not two days later. 

All we can do to let the other know we’re okay is to call, or send a message; when we happen to have spare time to do it in between breaks.

Well, speaking of calls, these are often calls I have to do when no one else I know is around. I haven’t told any of my colleagues that I’ve been dating her.

I still wonder to this day if it’s because they never mentioned it, saw it, because I didn’t want them to know, or even….both.

I guess it was okay that way, they didn’t know, and nothing changed. We’d still talk the same way as when I wasn’t with her, except for some details, which makes me come back to the ‘talk with her when no one else is around’ topic. 

As I am an idiot in love, I can’t help but smile whenever I talk to her, I just can’t help it. I always like to hear about her day, how she’s doing, talk about whenever we both have in mind, I just even appreciate hearing her. But, all that I’m doing when I’m with her isn’t something I can do when I’m around others.

They’d immediately want to know the reason of my behavior, which would certainly go up all the way to Garcia that would certainly harass me about it for weeks, probably with hundreds of mails and texts, as I have to use my computer for mail work, and my phone for cases, so...texting while no one is around is a much better solution.

I don’t think she minds either. She likes to hear about them, but she never mentions seeing them that often, I think she likes the whole ‘secret’ relationship stuff, she kind of sees it like a game in which you would have to go through levels, without being caught by the villains and eventually, lose the game, so, being discovered.

It wouldn’t be that bad if they’d find out, they’d just probably ask themselves why I wouldn’t have told it, or how they didn’t find out, but overall, I think they’d be happy.

But, I like it that way, when we’re together, we’re in our bubble, it’s just the two of us, no one else. 

We always try not to mention work, as it mainly is the reason we can’t see each other most of the time, which is...a bit more for me, as I’m often still on a case when she happens to not be at work.

I would like to say that the little time we get to spend together is always enough, but when we finally get time, and I get called, it isn't quite enough.

I always wish I could be there more often, I'm at work most of the time and I'm afraid it could somehow impact our relationship; even if again, it isn’t a bother at all to y/n.

One of my worries when we started dating was that she'd feel frustrated because of that; the fact that I'm not here as often as she'd like me to be, that I'm busy when she's not.

I sometimes have to call her to tell that I won’t be able to make it home after I originally told her that I would come.

At first, she didn’t know what I was doing, even when I’d call her. I didn’t even tell y/n at the library back then.

I just mentioned once that it was an office job, and I don’t think she really had a problem with it, she wouldn't force much on the subject.

And now that I think of it,, it wouldn’t have changed much about our relationship if I had exactly said what I was doing.

The way she had discovered it was really odd, but...not that bad.

I had come to her apartment after she was done with work, and I had shortly gone to the bathroom after entering.

 I had left my coat on the table, so she had decided to put it on a chair for me.

What happened next would probably seem stupid and cliché if I'd tell it to anyone, but my badge had slipped out from it and naturally, she picked up what just fell on the ground.

I had crossed the door of the bathroom to see her staring at it, with a confused and kind of surprised look.

It was a mix of these two emotions, I'd say.

I didn't exactly plan for her to find out like that, but I think that when I had previously mentioned an office job, she didn't quite expect that kind of office job.

Which stays understandable, as you don't necessarily think about them literally working at the FBI itself when an office job is mentioned.

And the thing is that, it isn't even a full office job, as I am literally...risking my life out on the field and have a chance to get injured, and uh…in the worst scenario, not make it alive.

So, I think that the fact that I didn't want her to know was to kind of, protect her so she wouldn't worry while I'm at work, asking herself if the last time she would ever see me would be when I had left for work in a hurry.

Yeah, I know, it's kind of morbid to think of it, but, I can't really ignore them at the same time.

They’re mostly the risks that are included, I was completely aware of that when I had entered, so...I can't really complain about anything. No one forced me, it really was a decision that I made alone.

But, it went well overall. 

We can say that she was surprised, that is a fact.

But she wasn't mad that I didn't tell her. She understood that I didn't want her to know because of the stuff that makes my job risky, which can be scary, but she was supportive. 

She asked me a bunch of questions after that, they all were various and different. I felt like I was a teacher answering questions of a kid, considering how energetic y/n was.

Eventually, the subject of the jet, that I'd travel from one state to another came, and that's when I felt like something lightened inside her.

She had never mentioned it back then, so that way, we both had a common point, a small secret that the other didn’t know.

She had begun talking about her passion of travelling, discovering places she wondered what could be made of, how it was, she always was curious to know more, she'd go wherever her mind would tell her to...which was funny, as the mind would often lead her to the same place, many times, strangely.

Y/N also had the habit of taking books from different places. I remember her having copies of the same book, but each were in a different language. 

She didn’t do it with all of her books, because if she did, she’d have to literally dedicate a whole room to store them.

She hasn't been able to travel much after she started working full time, with little vacation time. But if she didn’t have this full time job, she’d travel as much as possible. 

So, I had a small idea. 

As I'd often travel, I could possibly grab a souvenir from the state I'm in, and give it to her. I thought it could be fun, she also liked collecting objects from the places she'd go to, so, I thought she would probably like the idea.

I didn't say that I planned to do it the first time, I did want to surprise her, even if I was already doing it when I'd come home when she thought I wouldn’t.

It always was a surprise to see me coming back, neither of us knew when it'd be done, so I would rarely get to tell her when I could be back. 

But, the gifts I began doing were very special, it meant something to her, what she liked, and eventually, to me. 

She meant everything to me and if that was making her happy, it truly was all that mattered in that moment.

The first souvenir I had purchased when I happened to be in California, we had just wrapped up the case; when I had decided to wander around, not far from where the jet was.

I had already gone around quite a few times since the beginning of my career, so I knew where I was going.

That’s when my eyes laid on a shop I hadn't seen before. It must have opened recently; but it really seemed nice at first sight. It sold a bunch of souvenirs, some related to the state’s local traditions, or some cute stuff with the name of the state on it. 

As I quietly entered the small shop and walked a bit around, I noticed a small keychain of a bee next to a honeycomb.

Two details above the name of the state written in calligraphy could be seen; so after a bit of thinking, millions of questions whether it was nice or not, I just decided to take it.

I hadn't even realized that I had spent a whole hour in it stressing over what could be fine and what wasn’t.

It basically was a call from Morgan that made me realize that I had been there for almost an hour.

I did eventually make my way back to where the group was, I didn't even know they were actually there because they were waiting for me, for...a bit of time.

I had just told them some kind of excuse, and even if I think they didn’t quite believe it 100%, the subject had been quickly changed. I think they kind of forgot about it after.

I didn’t have many relatives in California, and they hadn’t seen the reason for my prolonged absence this time. 

It’s just that, even if it had been almost half a year, I still wasn’t quite ready, I still wanted everything to be the two of us, for a bit more. We didn’t have a deadline or anything, so we could take as much time as possible to decide about it.

I don’t think they’ll be angry, just really surprised that I hid the fact that I had a girlfriend from them for a while now. 

They just probably won’t have thought that the genius of the BAU would spend his free time with his girlfriend, and not with books and paperwork as they expect me to, and as I always did.

So, they'll know that I didn’t answer my phone because I had muted it when I was with her. 

They probably won’t believe it at all at first.

They'll probably think of a prank, but when it’s gonna hit, I think I have to get ready for a week of questions and conversations about the fact that the genius got a girlfriend.

I know it isn’t mean at all, they’ll just be surprised, and happy for me, but, every time I try to talk to them, thinking they chose to abandon the subject, they’ll immediately try to talk about it.

It’ll have to happen eventually -if they do find out- but I still want it to stay secret for now.

The fact that I also buy stuff for her can also be seen as a sort of top-secret mission, if -of course- the words that I’m using aren’t too exaggerated. 

I don’t usually buy souvenirs for myself, so if they see me doing it, I think they’ll try to think if it isn’t for someone else. 

But, are they going to think it’s for my mother, or directly for a possible girlfriend? 

I tend to stutter when I get nervous sometimes, and as it’ll be about y/n, I might not manage to stay serious.

I’m supposed to not let them know I have a girlfriend, even if I really want them to know.

I kind of feel bad, because that looks like I don’t want them to know because I don’t like her, but that’s the complete opposite.

I love her more than anything, and the fact that I don’t want her to be involved with my work is because I mostly want her to be safe.

There's been many cases where various members of the team, or even people working near us, had to witness their loved ones getting involved in a case, and I wouldn’t want that to happen to y/n at all.

I know that one day or another, we’ll tell them, and that when the day comes, I’ll have to make sure nothing happens by calling her every second to know if she’s okay.

I’ll be worried as hell for her, even if that doesn’t mean that she’ll immediately get targeted, I’m just a worried mess about that. 

I’m probably the only one thinking about that, constantly.

Does it make me sound crazy? Yes and no at the same time, if I ever were to answer that question in an honest way. 

I just tend to imagine scenarios that probably have no chance of ever happening when it comes to someone that I deeply care about, which is...basically the whole team, my mom, and her. 

So: literally everyone in my life right now.

Back to where I was, it’s better not to let anything slip out, even if I do feel like...it isn’t the thing I’d usually do.

It..isn’t quite something people would expect me to do. 

Maybe I’ll talk to her about it when I come back, it may be a good time, I guess.

Whether the choice would be, I'll still keep bringing her souvenirs as I always did, she likes them every time, and even displayed some a bit everywhere around her apartment.

This kind of became a tradition between us.

Y/N would often do the same by organiszing nights where I'd be the one deciding what we would do, which would be watching doctor who till 2AM most of the time.

I wonder if she doesn’t hate me after that.

I do hope we’ll get to it often.

I do miss that.

++

When was the last time I got a moment to breathe without having to worry about the work waiting for me outside?

A while ago, if I had to be honest with myself.

I don’t even feel like thinking about it, it’s really depressing.

It’s been a while now since the last time I had time to talk with y/n, because trust me, I’ve never been waiting that much for a break to get to call her than for something else.

I’m just waiting for just a minute to get to talk, but the odds aren’t going in my favor today apparently. It kind of makes me feel bad to just send a text, I know she’ll understand I’m busy with work and can’t call, but still, I prefer to call her over than texting words.

I tend to prefer to hear her voice and get her to talk if I ever hear worry in her voice, because I always know that she tends to not say everything in texts, I understand her on that one, a message and an actual conversation isn’t the same.

 You can’t really figure out the mood of the person in texts, it’s just commas, points, but otherwise, it’s up to you to guess whether they just typed like that or if something is up.

I just like to know if she’s okay, I wouldn’t want her to spend the day feeling down, and not talk about it because I’m either busy, or because she’s afraid it might add more stress than I already have because of my job. 

But I’d never refrain y/n from talking about what bothers her, on the contrary, I always want to know what’s in her thoughts, I’m often absent, so at least, I’d prefer to know she feels okay, because otherwise, I won’t stop worrying until I know.

I haven't forgotten about the souvenir tradition either. 

It's been a while since I've been doing that, and we both have begun liking it more and more each time, I get to talk to her about the place I got it from, and sometimes, I even end up rambling about the case.

She also tells me stuff about the place if she visited it, or if she didn't; places that make her think of the place the souvenir was from, it's always interesting to have these conversations, we both get to learn stuff.

When these kinds of conversations occur, we either continue the subject or change it, and don't even notice how much time we spend talking.

Our best record is 2:54AM. Let's hope we don't go further next time we have a chat; because we always end up regretting it the next morning. 

Considering the lack of sleep I have, and how late I go because of my work, sleeping late on my days off isn't helping at all.

It only makes it worse for when I'll actually get back to work, so, we'll try not to stay up that late and sleep to at least enjoy the sleep I usually don't have when on a case.

I’m always saying that, but it’s not that easy sometimes, we usually don’t think about the time we spend talking, so, the ‘going to bed early’ matter is still an unsolved problem for now.

Talking about it, I did get to sleep early today, we decided to continue the searches and I have to admit that I didn’t sleep like that for a while.

I can’t really say that I hope it arrives often because that would literally be like not doing much, because as we don’t sleep as much as we’d like to, we can totally stay in bed all day if no one comes to get us out.

It reminds me of when I was around 12, my mom would sometimes allow me to stay at home, and we would just sit in bed while she would talk to me about what she liked, anything that went through her mind. 

She does like to hear about my mom too, and actually slid the matter in the conversation quite a few times, more than I could ever count, little does she know my mom does the same, they both are happy to hear about the other, they look like two best friends sometimes. 

I do wonder if they’ll act like that, it won’t really surprise me if they actually do to be honest, they both like similar things, used to do same things before, and I think y/n would like to hear about some of my mom’s stories, or even just my mom talking, she always manages to keep the other person interested, I always feel like a kid when I talk with her.

I do guess some things never change.

They will both have a lot to tell, y/n traveled a lot when she was younger, and still remembers every trip she did, and noted everything down in not one notepad, but at least three of four of them. 

She writes what she did, where she went, what she liked the most, some of her favorite things like, stuff she purchased, activities, it really is a whole story, she could literally write one book for each trip at this point and if I’d tell her about it, I do think she would do it.

And sometimes, when she would read a book, or even when we would just go to the library together, she would often find something that reminded her of one of her travels. 

She mentioned not having an eidetic memory at all, but by moments, I wonder if she doesn’t have it without knowing it, considering all of the stuff she remembers.

Y/N always liked to do new stuff she hasn’t done, she likes to learn a lot, but only when it comes to non-educational purposes, she wasn’t really a good student.

Apparently to her, sitting all day in a chair with a teacher yelling at you, or either saying nothing but nonsense you can’t understand was absolutely ‘boring as hell’, as she said with her own words.

I do, and don’t agree with that at the same time, I don’t know. I’ve always had the habit of studying instead of doing what most people my age would do when I was young, but I did want to do something else after working more than my liking.

Guess it hasn’t changed much now, I pretty much work most of the time, and, unfortunately, I don’t get to rest whenever I want, only if the case happens to be over.

But, enough talking of the case, and all of the days of absence that comes with it. 

I already have to endure it, so might as well not plunge the knife deeper than it is, it’s been many years since it’s been occurring and it shouldn’t be more of a bother than it is as I’ve already made myself into the idea in the first week.

I actually wonder if it’s the same on her side, I know she doesn’t have the same sleep habits, but she doesn’t always go to sleep at the same time. It’s always because of various reasons like; she began remembering a trip and wrote about it, thought about a trip too and got lost in her thoughts.

I often find her daydreaming most of the time, it does remind me of myself with my books, I don’t pay much attention to what's happening around me.

If I take for example the moment we met, I don’t know if it really counts. I only saw her diary first, but I paid attention to the item that belonged to her, so, in a way, it counts. 

She’s also pretty much what keeps me sane when I’m working, she manages to send messages at the right time just when I need to. I have no idea how she does it, but if she could do it everyday, I literally would not mind at all.

I always like to hear whatever she talks about, a book, a story she already told a week ago, I know she likes to talk about them on repeat until she either forgets it or moves to another one.

She seriously could have been a teacher if she had chosen another career, her voice is really soothing, and she explains the words in a manner that makes the story more interesting that you’d thought. 

I often found myself asking her to tell another one when I had found the previous one too short for my liking, when it literally lasted over half an hour. 

She literally has the power of transforming me as a kid when she talks about stuff she did on a trip.

But, even after she told me all of that, I don’t really enjoy the kind of travelling I’m doing. It isn’t like a vacation, at all, it really is the exact opposite. I don’t really come here for the purpose of having fun. 

I do hope I’ll get to travel with her once, in the purpose of actually having fun instead of two hours of sleep, having a chance of -possibly- getting injured, and all of the good and funny risks of my job. 

And, while I’m talking about it, I do hope, if we decide not to go far, that I’m not going to actually have a case when I’m supposed to have a vacation.

This stays like, extra rare, but it can’t really be ruled out at the same time. So...let’s hope it doesn’t occur, I’d prefer not. 

If we travel, it’ll be to stay out of work, so if the reason that basically refrains us from travelling happens, I’m not sure either of us would be pleased with it.

I'm far enough away, so, let’s not add more and hope that scenario won’t occur once.

I’ve already stayed buried for way too long in my thoughts that I didn’t even notice Morgan standing besides me before I thought of turning my head in his direction. 

“Oh, sorry. Thought of something and got carried away...did you say something?”

“I know that I don’t usually talk about that with you, but I was just wondering, is there something going on? You always go away for calls, have something to do before we get back home, or after, I thought I’d check on you, just to know.”

Well shit. What the hell am I supposed to say now?

“No, it’s nothing, really. I just um...it’s just some stuff with...an old friend. It’s nothing bad, I’m fine.”

Ok, you’re definitely screwed right now, good luck to get out of this mess Spencer.

“Nothing, really? That’s kinda rare from you.” He commented, which made the two of us laugh, Derek always managed to lighten the situation with whatever he thought could do it, even if some words happened to be placed...at the wrong moment sometimes; but he’d never mean to harm, always to make things better as much as he could. 

This situation wasn’t a bad one, but I definitely think that he could sense that I wasn't telling…what he truly would take as the right answer.

It definitely wasn't bad, but it probably won't get as bad as it is, I've already put myself in a mess I have no idea how to avoid by not managing to find my words and stuttering.

That really was the right thing to do to avoid all suspicions.

"I'm just tired, that's it. I couldn't sleep much this week, so...yeah, I—" I said, as I was getting to thank whatever god made me get out of this mess by making someone call.

At this point, even if it was a number that called me to advertise whatever stuff they wanted people to buy, I'd still be thankful for it. 

I slightly got the phone out of my pocket, it wasn't an unknown number, just y/n; the one that just saved me from an interrogation. 

I swear that when I come back I'll cancel our doctor who marathon, cook her whatever she wants, give her a bath, massage her, because she really saved me from a conversation I couldn't get out of and didn't know how to either. 

Gosh what would I do without her? I'd be dead right now.

"Oh, it's uh, my friend, I have to answer. I uh...see you in a few minutes." I excused myself as I went into an empty room, checking a million times if I locked the door behind me.

"Gosh, y/n...you just saved me. Tell me whatever you want when I get back, I'll do it."

"Just breathe, it's ok. You sound like you just ran through the whole city." Y/N told me, as I heard like she was holding off laughter probably from how dramatic I was acting. 

And in a way, she was right, I wouldn't be mad if she laughed. "Wha- What happened?" She asked.

"Well uh, I was thinking of something and got lost in my thoughts, and all of a sudden Morgan comes to me, asking if everything was okay because he wanted to check in case, and like an idiot, I stuttered at the moment when I told that it was a friend, because I almost mentioned that it was my girlfriend."

"And you just did a whole theater play for that? They'll have to know at some point, and if that happened, it wouldn't have been death. Still, it wouldn't have been the best way, but not the worst one either."

"Yeah, I know y/n, but, I prefer them to know another day, a special one, not when a colleague asked me if I was fine when my whole team could know, and possibly Garcia, who won't stop for a whole week."

"You're being dramatic Dr. Reid."

"No- I'm not!"

"You are."

"N—"

"You. Are. I have the last word, no matter what. I don't know when and how you want them to know, but we can't keep hiding it till we're married and have two kids with a third on the way at some point. And they're not anyone, they're like your family, and if you like, respect and trust them, so do I."

"Yeah, you're right. But not now. I trust you too, don't go behind my back to the office either.”

"You just gave me a suggestion."

"And that wasn't a suggestion."

"That seemed like it."

"They won't let you in, so, do what you want."

"I'll show them pictures."

"They could be photo-shopped, anyone with good skill can make it seem like a real picture."

"I have videos."

"Same thing, it stays a file that can be edited with a software. How do you think they do the effects in movies and shows? With a software."

"You're no fun Reid."

"You're lying, you always laugh at my jokes."

"No, I'm not."

"I can even tell through a call that you're lying."

"You're a bad profiler."

"Then how do I solve crimes and can tell that you love me, Spencer Reid, the ultimate genius." I said, with a dramatic voice as if I was saying lines of a play.

"...I do love you."

"I already know it because I do too."

"Don’t avoid the subject, we’re still gonna have to tell them.”

“...really?” I asked, with a tiny voice.

“Yeah, really. I think he asked you because you were acting like nothing but suspicious, and if, on top of that, he saw you buying stuff, you’re not close to being dead. And also, if I remember correctly from what you said, Penelope is really chatty, so that might go up to her, and once she hears about it, you know. She might not have an eidetic memory, but I don’t think that she, or even anyone else will forget it.”

“I’m dead, I know. I’m still asking myself if he’s not the only one that knows. They might all know it but keep their mouths shut. I can’t go and ask them either, so it’s all a waiting, guessing game right now.”

“You should have told them from the beginning.”

“I have to remind you that you weren’t against it either. We’re both in it.”

“...true. You have a point genius.”

“So, what’s the plan then?”

“Tell them at some point, we’re not going to reveal it in ten years. I have no possibility of reaching out to them, except stealing your phone, which isn’t possible as you’re away, so the only way they’ll know is through you.”

“But, we’re not really forced to. There’s not a rule or anything that says you are obligated to state if you have a partner or not.”

“It’s not the same, they’re like your family, in a way, if you ignore DNA stuff and all, you’ve been working with them longer than we know each other, they’re not strangers, I think they’ll be happy to know you’re sharing your life with someone.”

“You have a point this time.”

“Mind you, I’ve had the point since the beginning of our chat, which I think…had been lasting way too long, by the way.”

“How many….” I questioned, as I took away the phone from my ear to see the time. “Oh, almost six minutes, that’s...a bit long for a chat I’m supposed to have with a friend.”

“Yeah, a bit too long. Oh, by the way, before you go, I’ll be at your apartment, I felt like it needed a small clean, it’s been a while since you’ve been away, and you’ve been staying a lot at my place, so might as well come back to a clean apartment.”

“You don’t have to, I’ll clean myself.”

“I've been there for the last three hours, I didn’t plan on asking for your permission. I just have to hope no one you know decides to come by.”

“Penelope? No, she’s always busy.”

“You told that last time, and she popped up out of nowhere because she had something to give you, and if she had a key, she would have seen a half naked girl in the middle of her friend’s apartment, how’s that?”

“I didn’t know she would actually come, she never did before.” I said, with a small voice, kind as if I was being grounded by my mother.

“Unless someone forgot to charge their phone, which was you, so that’s why she came.”

“It only happened once.”

“And it’ll happen again if you don’t charge your phone. Luckily you were there and you heard, because if you didn’t hear and as I said, she happened to have a key, what would have happened if she would have seen items that belong to me, and the owner of these when you’re supposed to have no partner in your life as they don’t know anything?”

“Um...they would have known.”

“That’s why we have to stop this small game soon. I sounded like a mother talking to her child, I’m...sorry about that. Um...I know you can’t, as you like...remember everything, but, do as your brain is a computer, delete that chat.”

She also sounds like a child too, we’re both kids to be honest.

“I can’t do that.”

“Um...what about I buy you books?”

“We can make a deal then.”

“I can’t believe that...we’re both kids.”

“Yeah, but I mean, that’s why we get along.” I commented.

“I can’t believe how I’m still handling you. We also look like an old married couple.”

“You do, I don’t.”

“I’m not so sure about that- Spencer it’s been almost ten minutes now, you should uh...go back.”

“Ten minutes...since when? Now I’m definitely dead.”

“I wish I could say yes but, you’re almost dead, if you manage to avoid suspicion after...of course.”

“Yeah, that’s an easy thing to say…?”

“I can’t talk to them and say ‘oh hi, I’m Spencer’s secret girlfriend, since half a year’, because apparently it’s not the right moment.” She said, ironically. 

“Okay, I get it...we’ll do it when I get back, I don’t know. We can’t wait another year at this point, it’s a bit too late and the suspicions raised themselves...a bit too much to be dissipated.”

“It’s been a while so, yeah, it’s time. We should have told them since we met at the library.”

“Yeah, maybe we should have..”

“But we can be proud of ourselves, especially you, if uh...of course, they don’t know. Because, I’m just saying, but...they could know, but choose to not say anything until they’ll realise that you know that they know you have a girlfriend. I’m...just saying.”

“So, there might be a chance that I’m already screwed and I didn’t know, or that they just have suspicions but don’t really know…? If you get it…?”

“Yep, and the worst part is that you can’t go and ask them, because if they actually don’t know, you’ll just be revealing what you thought they knew but actually don’t.”

“That whole story is an endless maze. I’m thinking we shouldn’t have waited that long.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have.”

“Yeah. I think I’m gonna go, I’ll uh...be back tomorrow towards the beginning, middle of the afternoon, we’re almost done, we have like...some papers left and other stuff.”

“Okay, don’t make me wait too long, I’ll be waiting at your place.”

“I’ll be back before you even know it.”

“Okay, love you.”

“Love you too.”

They’re not gonna believe the friend excuse anymore at this point

I stayed for more than ten minutes, no one stays that long with me. I don’t really know, the team’s always with me, so when we talk it’s case related or short texts in general, and it’s not really part of my habits to go away for that long. 

I guess we’ll see.

With a soft sigh, I unlocked the door before lowering the handle down, exiting the room to walk to where I originally was, already hoping to get some remarks.

“I was about to come to where you went to check if you weren’t dead.”

“It’s been a while since we talked, that’s all Derek. Why?”

“Nah, just asking.” He said, raising his two hands up above his head.

“Ok then..?” I almost panicked when I answered, but I think that my reaction was enough for him to see it as I was confused...I think.

Okay, I think they already know by now, awesome.

I even came to the point of wondering if they knew and were just pretending to not know all along. They could have stayed in silence, acting like they didn’t know.

It also was a bit my fault, I did let some details slip, like my behavior, how I checked my phone more often, my long absences, again, how I talk, avoiding suspicion became kind of difficult.

Especially a bit after we started dating; we got really closer, and talking often helped us fill the distance. I really felt bad for leaving her alone that often, so at least I’d feel less guilty by talking to her whenever I could.

It really changed fast, just a few days ago, I didn’t even plan on telling it at all, but, y/n did convince me to not do so, and now, it might not be a good idea to continue pretending. 

It’s kind of obvious that they know something is up, they’ve known me longer than her, so obviously, they know when something is different about me.

I just...was so focused on her, that I didn’t even think that they’d notice to be honest.

But, as she said, I don’t think that it’ll be...that bad. They’ll be understanding, and happy, that’s all. 

They’ve always been a bit shocked when they’d think I had a girlfriend; because I really wasn’t the guy to have one to them, I don’t really know how to explain as I’m not in their heads, but I saw it that way, but again, that wasn’t in a mean way, they were just surprised. 

Except this time, they won’t think that I don’t have a partner, they’ll definitely think I have one this time.

We didn’t really pay attention to the world around us, especially me, if I were to be really honest. 

I just fell so hard for her, I would always be talking to her, thinking about her, and only looking at her when she’d be with me.

I always hold her hand when we go out together, I don’t know why, I can’t say more than a few minutes without it, and also, it’s always funny to compare our hand sizes, it’s cute.

Also another thing, I can’t help but mimic the emotions on her face sometimes, without even realizing it, because when she smiles, I also happen to do so.

I just can’t help myself but think about things that make her so perfect in my eyes; she truly means a lot to me and I can’t seem to imagine what my life would be like if she didn’t happen to be in it.

I remember saying stuff like; “When you meet your soulmate, remember that the act of bringing you together was 500 years in the making. So always appreciate and be kind to each other.”, or even, “Maybe the events in our lives were set in motion a long time ago”; that may sound like cheesy sentences, or whatever means to anyone else; but I guess it’s just how I see things, I do mean it when I say these.

I’ve noticed she always likes to hear them, she wouldn’t see it as rambling or anything else, just a sentence like another one I’d casually say, she admitted quite a few times that my talking never bothered her in any way.

Even if most of it was rambling, and facts, stuff that anyone else would be bored of after one minute; but y/n never did, she would often be the one to ask me about it, she wanted to know stuff too, and get to brag about it to people she knew.

I really like these little things, the small details about each other, what we think, what we like, and what we know to do to make the other happy, including the small souvenirs I bring her when I get the occasion. 

This time, it’s a small pumpkin, it’s not halloween related at all, just a cute pin. I know we’re literally in January, but it’s our favorite holiday, and we happen to talk about it all year, no matter what month it is. 

We also like other holidays, but that one stays our favorite. We’ve always had a liking for it.

Since it’s almost February, it means that Valentine's Day is close, so...I could possibly do a small event, or a letter, or even organise some stuff we could do on dates.

There’s plenty of time to plan all of it, I’ll just keep it in the corner of my head and think about it again when the occasion comes.

++

No matter how many times it happens, I can’t help but always feel relaxed when I come back home after a case, it isn’t always fully happy as the thought of the families often haunt my mind, I can’t help but feel a bit guilty, the cases ends up getting resolved, but the families never move on, only me as I go back to the bureau, and get called for another.

It’s always hard to think about it, and we’ve at least found ourselves getting stuck on a case even after it got resolved; but at least, if that can be reassuring, in a way, the ones who had committed the crime won’t harm anyone else and make other people lose their loved ones, that’s what I try to tell myself when I can’t get the thought out of my mind.

It also helps to be with the people I'm closest to and appreciate, with the team, we've been through it more than we can recall, and it helps to talk about it between us, try to find a tiny ounce of light in the tragedy, and even when the case impacts us personally, we try to move on, because even if we don't know the victim most of the time, it's not good to suffer for too long, they wouldn't want that for their families, or anyone else that might have cared about them, we have to learn to move on, at our own pace and honor their lives. 

That's the best we can do for them, and even though we don't know them, we sometimes happen to think about the victims, it's hard not to get impacted by it, but when it happens, we have to try to not let it touch deeply and do our best to find the author of the crime, for them, and their loved ones, whom the pain will lessen with time for some, but will always stay deep inside their hearts. 

The aftermath of a case is always rough, but we don't have much choice to face it like we can, and get ready for the next one.

I'm really glad to have everyone in my life around me, they're the one who I talk to, confide in, laugh with, and spend the most of my time with, but that last is an exception sometimes.

When I'm not on a case and have no papers, I often happen to be with y/n, and find some kind of excuse to say to the team they believe...or not, it depends. 

When I happen to decline their offer, they either think that I'm going to spend the night watching whatever show I brag about, or read, but...when I do think that's the reasons they have in mind, I realize that I underestimated them too fast by thinking of a simple and silly reason when they literally began immediately thinking of the real stuff, which is in that case, me having a partner.

So, yeah, the reason they think about when I don't join them is because of a partner. Which they think is definitely real; because of my "successful" way of hiding it. 

I'm sure they already know it by now, I'm not sure of it, but at least I know that I can't really go back. They definitely know something is up and trying to hide it more won't lessen the suspicions, on the contrary.

They’ll be informed of it officially in a bit, I’m not sure when, I just want it to be special not just a; “Oh, here’s my girlfriend.”, I don’t really want it to happen this way.

I’m literally about to plan a whole meeting with her and the team, while I could just shorten it to something more simple.

I may be over dramatic over this…

I guess we have time though, I’m barely coming from a case, and I’d prefer to spend the next days with her, because if I would plan it, she doesn’t have to know at all, which means I’ll have to hide stuff, see her less, and that’s the last thing I would want to do after not seeing her for what felt weeks to me.

Again, yes, I may be a bit overdramatic;, I admit it, but even when I talk to her on the phone, text her or even buy stuff, I still want nothing more but to see her; nothing replaces the feelings I have when she’s close to me. 

I do like to hear her voice even when it’s through a phone, but I prefer over everything to just  have her close.

I wish it could have happened now, but we all know what returning from a case is, paperwork and all, we don’t immediately go home, as much as we all want to do it more than anything after the week we’ve had.

I’ll be in my car before I even think of it, I just have to do what I have to do, and it’ll be over, I would have said “as soon as possible”, but I doubt Hotch will accept reports done in two minutes, and upset him is the one thing no one wants to see, we’re all tired, so our patience eventually tends to be limited, which is understandable. 

I thought that I would have been able to think of going home as I previously told, but I soon found myself struggling to stay away and focused on the left work on my desk. If she had happened to work with me, even if I were to be tired, I’d ignore it because I would be busy staring at her every two seconds, and eventually, lose all focus.

And even though she wasn’t with me at work, I still happened to freeze for two minutes in the same spot when I thought of her.

I just can’t wait to see her again, I really missed her a lot.

I was so distracted on the way in that I almost drove to her place before remembering she said that she would be waiting at my apartment yesterday.

She's probably gonna be either in the bathroom taking a bath, as she always prefers my bathroom. Her apartment has a shower, and as she finds it too tiring to stand sometimes, she prefers to shower at my place, and I kind of understand her and agree with her on this point. 

When I come from work, I just want to lay down and stay up only if I need to, which tends to become rare once I'm in my bed, and basically nonexistent when y/n happens to lay besides me, and even if I dared to think of leaving without her, I think she wouldn't agree, we literally both can't stay away from each other, we're as magnets, in a way.

She could also be watching the same episodes of Doctor Who for god knows how many times. I would often find her still watching it at 2AM when I'd wake up at night.

I even had to pull her to bed myself, and tossed her over my shoulder once. 

I don't think she's sleeping now, she's literally a ball of energy, if I take the 'still watching tv at 2am' matter. If I didn't pull her to bed, I bet she would have kept watching it.

I would normally say that she's a child, but I'm also a child myself sometimes, so I can't make fun of her, which would literally be as I made fun of me; but it's okay, we often make fun of the other, so there's so harm in doing it, as it's basically how we talk generally.

Which includes her calling me 'genius', 'smart pants', '187', and, I know it isn't the subject, but, gosh, her smile when she laughs, it's honestly one of my favorite things about her. 

So, her making fun of me isn't that bad if it means that I get to see her laughing and all happy.

As I looked at the surroundings, I soon came to the realization that I happened to be close to the destination, just a block away I'd say. 

If there weren't other cars around me, and people, I would have sped as I was on a highway to get there faster.

Although the ride was less than a quarter of an hour (depending on traffic, it could maximum be twenty minutes), it still somehow felt longer…if I don't count the times I had to stop to let people cross the street. 

I also really blamed other people for being there at the moment as I was driving, that was a bit stupid, people weren't going to stop because I had to see my girlfriend (even if, I admit that I wouldn't have mind if they did stop, it could...be nice.), they absolutely don't care about it, as much as again, the inverse could have been cool, but absolutely unlikely to happen in this reality.

I sighed for a long minute when the familiar structures came to my field of view, logically meaning that I was really close to see her, I wish I could have sped the car, but as always, people.

I hope she doesn't mind the fact that I made her wait (and still am right now), but I'm pretty sure she won't mind, just "yell" at me about it, but nothing including hate. 

As I stopped the engine in front of the building, undoing my seatbelt and stepping out of the car before locking it after my exit, I excitedly made my way to the entry of the building, almost tripping on some of the steps considering how impatient I was.

Although I was really impatient, I wouldn't have quite appreciated the fact of breaking a leg, so I obviously slowed down and paid attention a bit more.

You could really compare it as what a kid feels like on the morning of Christmas waking up to see his present, except right now, what I was truly waiting for, was to see her when I'd open the door; but she wasn’t only a gift, she was my everything, my person.

I really tend to get emotional when I talk about her, I don’t know why. I remember almost crying when I thought she hurt herself badly one day, but she only fell down a step, it was nothing bad, but I really thought she had broken something, I hope she didn’t break a bone or anything else while I was gone; she often tends to be clumsy.

After getting lost in my thoughts (for the millionth time today), I took the keys out of my pocket and softly opened the door, closing it once I entered while trying not to make a lot of noise.

It quite surprised me to see my apartment this time.

Small lights were attached to the wall, above it, small polaroid pictures taped down, some hearts, probably cut down, in coloured paper I think.

The only lights were coming from the ones attached to the wall, so the apartment wasn’t quite visible, but still, I didn’t turn the light on in case she happened to be asleep, which happened to be what I expected, as I saw a distinct figure on a couch, a blanket wrapped around it. 

I sat down to her level, taking a moment to watch her for a bit before putting my hand on her head, as I gently stroked her hair.

The sight of her was so beautiful, and after being away for a week, it truly was the best thing to come home to. I could never get sick of it, that became my favorite thing to see after we met, and it’ll always stay that way, I don’t think it’ll ever change.

I could watch her for hours, and I wouldn’t even realize how much time would go by, But realizing it, I don’t know if that could be considered as psychopath behavior…

As long as there’s no bad intentions, I guess it isn’t.

Yeah, I think the lack of sleep is kicking in right now, I’m saying weird stuff. Y/N would probably say I’m crazy if she ever happened to hear me.

I also figured out that while she was asleep, I could possibly give her a little bit more sleep, while I take a shower, change myself and possibly cook some food? 

Without burning it...of course.

I wouldn’t like her to eat burned food, even if she won’t really mind, she’s not a good cook either, so at least we understand each other. But still, I’d like her to eat something not burned.

I’ll just see what I can do after, I already have things to do, and if I keep thinking I still won’t have done one thing before she wakes up.

Stroking her hair one more time, I raised myself up as I glanced at her one more time, smiling as I did so. I left the room, heading to the bathroom.

I’m not going to lie to myself, but I literally spend less time in the bathroom than usual.

All of my motions were sped up and without even realizing it, it probably was mainly because I was way too impatient to get out of the room to have y/n in sight again.

I honestly never did that with anyone else before, was I scared that she would suddenly disappear or something? She was literally asleep.

Yeah, I tend to get paranoid even when she’s in the next room, with absolutely no danger in sight, I just imagine stuff that could seem a bit ridiculous if heard by someone else.

I guess that’s why I don’t talk to anyone about it, but, I don’t think anyone would take it badly, I just -again- think people are going to react badly- when it’s perfectly normal, everyone worries about their loved ones, maybe not as bad as me, but- they worry.

But now, absolutely everything is fine, I don’t have to start worrying, I’m gonna walk out of the bathroom and she’s simply going to be there, exactly where she was when I left, probably asleep...or not.

She doesn’t have a light sleep at all, it’s a task to wake her up in the morning, and I don’t think she ever woke up when I accidentally dropped utensils in the kitchen one day. I just saw her slightly moving, but when I called her name, she didn’t even wake up. 

That happened to be quite surprising when I just saw her, sitting on the couch as I left the bathroom.

We looked at each other, and I just froze in place, kind of confused. 

She never wakes up first, I’m the one who usually wakes her up, so, I was quite confused when I just saw her awake, about to stand up.

“I didn’t hear you coming…” Y/N said, rubbing her eyes.

“That’s literally because I did everything not to wake you up. Did the uh...water wake you up?”

“I just woke up a few minutes ago, oh and I’m sorry, I was just tired after you know, cleaning, and that…” She explained, pointing at the decorations. “I can just take them off if you don’t like them, it’s-”

“What- no! I like what you did, that’s really nice.” I quickly reassured her, making my way towards the couch. “Why would you think I wouldn’t like it?”

“I just, you don’t decorate it often, so I thought I’d do that, I...I’m not sure if you’ll be home for valentine’s day as you were away often because of work, so...I did that, so you wouldn’t feel bad or anything. Is it too much?”

“Not at all. Don’t worry, I do get why you did that. I hope you don’t feel bad, I’m kind of worried that you feel upset when I’m away, I’m not here as much as I would like to be, you didn’t expect this when we started dating, I feel bad sometimes.”

“I don’t feel bad, you’re just doing your job, and hey, even if some cases don’t end well, you get to catch the ones who did it, so they won’t hurt anyone else, so why would I get upset?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“And, I know that even if you don’t say it, you’re worried for me, so don’t be. I’m completely fine, and if anything happens, you know that I’ll call you.”

“I know too, and you don’t lie on this point because you called me once when there was a spider in your shower.”

“...yeah, I did. And you laughed at me when I called.”

“That’s because I knew she wasn’t as big as you described. When I came, she didn’t even have the size of a coin, she was so small.”

“She wasn’t that small.”

“She kind of was. She wasn’t two millimeters tall, but not two centimeters.”

“I exaggerated a bit.” She admitted, slightly hitting me with her elbow when she saw a smile on my face. “It’s not funny!”

“It kind of is.”

“I swear that I’m gonna cook burned eggs for you and force you to eat them.”

“Burned eggs are like regular ones to me, neither of us know how to make them normal.”

“...true. So, in that case, what are we supposed to do right now?”

“I think we should do some pasta, it isn’t really difficult...if we follow the steps like it’s told.”

“Yeah, I just hope we won’t burn the apartment. I prefer to burn the pasta rather than set a fire.”

“Same thing.”

“Okay, let’s hope we don’t burn anything.”

“Oh, wait. I forgot.”

“What did you forget?” She asked, visibly confused.

“I forgot...that,” I said, pausing as I kissed her cheek which earned a small giggle from y/n. “And...that.” I continued, heading over to where my bag was.

"You didn't have to Spence, really."

"Yes, I had. You have to see how cute that is." I explained, walking back to her. "Look at that, it's adorable, a small pumpkin."

"Okay, it really is." She smiled, taking the small item. "It's from our favourite holiday. I miss buying pumpkins, I haven't done it since I was a kid."

"Yeah, it's been a while for me too. I wish we could do it, but I don't have much of an idea where they could be. We both live in buildings, and I doubt the landlords or the neighbors will appreciate this."

"They definitely won't. I guess we'll do it later, when we're married maybe, or…more simply, when the team will know."

"Oh, yeah...that."

"That, yeah."

"I do think they know by now."

"Probably, it's been five months, and you've been acting like nothing but a guy that's absolutely in love these past weeks."

"What can I say? I couldn't really hide it anymore."

"You could have been more discreet, you were literally surrounded by profilers, they definitely catched up."

"I should have asked you to teach me how to be clumsy. That way I would have broken a leg."

"Hey! I'm not doing it on purpose!"

"It looks like it! You almost broke your leg when you fell off a single step!" 

"I'm gonna push you up the stairs one day if that's what you want." 

"And how are you gonna do without me? You can't even cook."

"You can't either."

"I'll have Rossi teach me. He can basically teach anyone."

"Then why do you still suck? You visited him a lot from what you told me."

"I uh...didn't participate, I just watched."

"Then that explains it." 

"I can cook! I'm gonna show you."

"Okay, I'm watching." 

"Don't make fun of me!" I shouted, taking the pillow off the couch to throw it at her.

I shouldn't have done that, I literally started a war that lasted at least…twenty minutes, then we talked more, ten more minutes, then again, which led us to eat one hour later.

Eventually, we managed not to burn anything at all and ended the afternoon on the couch, talking about whatever came to mind.

"We should do something for the next few days. In case you get called, we should at least do something fun." She proposed, hesitating.

"Like what, I don't have many ideas…"

"Um well…what do we both like to do usually?"

"Let me think...coffee?"

"What about...we go on dates, except it's with coffee too."

"So, coffee dates?"

"Yeah. We could also add something to make it more...fun."

"A kind of...challenge?"

"Mhm."

"I think there’s a new place that opened recently? We could try it out."

"Maybe other ones too. Wait- I got an idea.

"Which is?"

"A mission to find the best cup of coffee in town. We both like coffee, and It’d be nice to discover what the other shops have."

"That could work, totally."

"Okay. Coffee dates and coffee missions it is."

"The title is kind of weird." I admitted

"Do you have anything else to propose?"

"Just dates, I guess."

"It's so basic." She argued.

"But it's easier though."

"Easier than telling you have a girlfriend?" Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Then if you bring up that, yeah, it's easier than that."

"I knew it."

"Of course you did.”

“That’s because I’m always right.” 

“Always? I’m not so sure about that.”

“Are you insinuating that I’m not smart enough Reid?”

“Maybe.” I teased.

“I’m really going to kill you, I didn’t forget what I said earlier.”

“You wouldn’t dare to.”

“Don’t be so sure about that.” She insisted.

“Okay, I apologize. You’re as smart as I am.”

“I prefer that answer.” Y/N approved, which sent the both of us into a fit of laughter, which seemed totally endless at first. 

It lasted about five minutes before we sort of calmed ourselves to come back to a calm state. We didn’t look much at each other, as we knew it would do nothing but make us laugh again for a duration we didn’t even know.

But, even if that meant that we would laugh for a few minutes, even if that meant that we’d both complain because our stomachs would hurt, it’ll have been worth it, I wouldn’t have regretted it.

These were the moments we both knew the other appreciated to spend, we both took a liking for these, and often tend to forget about everything else. 

It would just be the two of us; we’d forget about work, anxieties, just for a moment.

Work has always been a problem to me, I couldn’t see her as much as I’d like, having to interrupt an afternoon we thought would be calm to go to work, having to stay away more than I thought.

Although, even if that remains an inconvenience, it never made our relationship weaker, it stayed the way it was, from the moment we met each other.

Even back then when we barely knew anything else about each other at the library, it didn’t take us much time to get along as if we were friends for years and not one week.

We’ve always had a strong relationship, it never really changed.

Work would eventually get in the way, and it’ll be okay. We would learn to adapt, and just live with it, and it really worked out to be fine, and not as bad as I thought.

I think that I was afraid at the beginning, when we just started dating. Mostly because I thought she wouldn’t appreciate my schedule, the fact that I would be away for one week, and go back to work only after two days, I thought she’d get tired of it, and realize that it wasn’t the kind of relationship that suited her.

I really turned out to be wrong. Five months later, we’re still together, and sometimes it’s almost as if we’re not five states away from the other.

Let’s hope we’ll get to have -at least- a week, it would be nice. It’s been a while since we had more than three days without the sound of my phone meaning vacation time was over.

Plus, we get to do something we don’t usually do as often as we’d like to. We’ve already gone to coffee shops, but it’s been a month or so since; so I’m really excited about that new mission of ours. 

It’s another thing to add to the list of our numerous and diverses adventures I get to spend with her.

**

Let me know what you thought of this fic here! 

The next and last part is coming on April 2nd/3rd (just so that the tags don’t get clogged)

[littlemisslipbalm]

“Just Dandy!” Camp Counselor!Harry

AU: Harry and you are camp counselors, always at each other’s throats, but now, you’re at each other’s lips ;)

hehe what is this?! I saw some prompt a while back with writing your name out with prompts and mine was like alternate universe, best friend’s brother, and intoxication - so you’ll have all of that if you read this! I wanted this to be kind of fun, kind of silly, kind of ~campy~ - still it gives me strong soulmate and love vibes, idk i’m just incapable of writing casual life, like this has to be some epic love, still this is very lowkey, I’d say, -- anyway let me know what you think! This is definitely a 1 part only tho :) there is no gif that goes with thisss except if i found something from LWWY mv lmao but what i chose is cute

Word Count: 3.8k | Warnings: kissing and alchohol, and language?

-

How’s it going, Camper?” he said. 

You rolled your eyes, “Just dandy, Counselor.” 

You turned away from Harry and continued working, you were surprised he didn’t have his trail of fans right behind him for the first time all day. 

“Oh c’mon, Y/N, you know you can just call me Harry,” he said with a sickly sweet voice, laying on the charm. 

“Oh?! Harry! I didn’t realize it was you. Can you walk out and walk back in so I can swoon immediately at your presence?”

-

It was just a summer job, but somehow it had turned into something more. You and your best friend, Annie, began working at the camp once you became too old to attend yourselves, this being your second year as a counselor. You had to be 18 or older to be a counselor, you and Annie were 19.

This year you were both in charge of the oldest group of girls there, the 13-16 year olds, the ones closest to your age. The ones closest to all of the counselors' ages, meaning they had crushes on your male colleagues and weren’t afraid of going after what they wanted. Thankfully, most of your fellow counselors would shut down the young girls’ advances immediately. However, there was one camp counsellor who revelled in the attention and he was the one who received the most by far. Annie’s brother, Harry, was two years older than you, and he was the young camp goers’ greatest subject of affection and puppy love.

He was, admittedly, very attractive, his body chiseled and taut from working out, tattoos littering his arms and body variously. His hair was brown and flowy, flopping all around and into his face to give him the boyish charm that the girls’ - mostly the girls - fell for. His personality is what kept them around, he was cheeky and fun to be with. Extremely adventurous, too, always wanting to check out something he’d never seen before. Annie and I always had to remind him that he couldn’t just walk into the woods with a bunch of young teen girls. He would never do anything to hurt them, he simply didn’t see their advances as flirtation, he was oblivious and just thought they were just as interested in nature and exploration as he was. At least, that’s what he always said. You knew better, that he loved the ego boost he got from it.

-

You thought back to when it was your last year as a camp goer, Harry’s first year as a counselor. Every girl was constantly swarming you and Annie in hopes of hearing a little more about Harry and what he was like. Annie kept a tight lip, not really enjoying the attention that her brother was bringing her. Harry had been gone for just one year, when he was seventeen, too old to attend, but too young to be a counselor. Yet, within that one year he had transformed from just another guy attending the camp to a man with authority. He also had matured a bit, bulking up, getting tattoos, the likes. The girls around you were eating it up, all you could do was roll your eyes. Sure he was cute, but he was Harry.

On the first day of his camp counselling, you were assigned to his group for setting up the California Spot. The first day of camp was always a set up day, the campers helped the counselors put the place back together and then on the second to last day, everyone took it back down till the next year’s first day. The California Spot was the part of the camp by the river and small lake, the camp’s “beachiest” area, hence the California name. It wasn’t that hard of a set up so older campers were the ones who usually got assigned it. And new counselors usually got assigned it too, so they couldn’t mess it up, it made sense then that Harry was the counselor in charge. Everyone seemed to be happy to be there, except you, mostly because you and Annie hadn’t been put together, but also because Harry was in charge of you.

Harry walked up beside you as you were dusting off floaties in the back shed. “How’s it going, Camper?” he said. You rolled your eyes, “Just dandy, Counselor.” You turned away from Harry and continued working, you were surprised he didn’t have his trail of fans right behind him for the first time all day. “Oh c’mon, Y/N, you know you can just call me Harry,” he said with a sickly sweet voice, laying on the charm. “Oh?! Harry! I didn’t realize it was you. Can you walk out and walk back in so I can swoon immediately at your presence?” You gave him a pointed glare, clearly not amused at whatever he was trying to do. Get a rise out of you, maybe, just being his annoying self, probably. He chuckled, “Ouch.” He was about to speak again, but you cut him off before he could ever start, leaving his mouth agape. “Harry, I know you think you’re a big cool counselor now, but you’re always just going to be Annie’s kind of annoying older brother to me. So don’t come in here trying to get off on some power trip with me.” Now he was definitely taken aback. After a moment of staring at one another, both of your anger seeping out of you. He took a step closer to you and whispered loudly, “We may know each other outside of this, Y/N, but you can’t speak to me like that in front of other campers. I’ll let this go, but you cannot undermine my authority like that when others can hear you.” You were silent, unsure how you had gotten yourself in this situation. “And by the way, I was just trying to be funny with you, Y/N, take a joke,” he finished and walked off with a huff. You stood there, dumbfounded, watching him disappear out of the door and back to the makeshift beach. You honestly felt a little bad, you knew it was his first day, maybe you shouldn’t have been so harsh. Oh well.

For the rest of that summer, the two of you didn’t really talk. Only occasionally and it was always kind of awkward. The next summer you had off so you didn’t see Harry much at all, except for the part of the summer before and after the camp occurred and you were at Annie’s house. He and you got along a lot better during those small moments. Without the camp setting of him having authority over you, you enjoyed his presence more. He wasn’t bossy and he wasn’t surrounded by throngs of your peers. He was just Harry and you liked that.  Your first summer as a counselor was fine as well. Harry and you became more like friends that year. He was happy to help you and Annie understand counselor duties around the camp. You laughed when you and him were assigned the California Spot to set up. Thinking back to when you two had gotten into a fight that lasted almost a year.

Unlike the first time, you walked up to him at the edge of the lake, feeding a line out for safety. “How’s it going, Counselor?” you asked him, some play in your voice as you tapped his shoulder. He glanced behind him, at you, and smiled. He threw the rest of the line in the lake and stepped back to be beside you and look out at the lake. “Just dandy, Counselor,” he said, while he nudged you with his elbow and winked at you. You both laughed and he threw an arm around you and spun you around in his arms. It felt nice. Harry and you being friends was a good thing. For you and him, but also for Annie, she had hated the year when the two of you were at odds with each other.

-

Now it was your second year as a counselor. Harry was at Uni now so it was going to be the first time seeing him since last summer. You didn’t feel any excitement about the prospect, but you were definitely happy to see him. A similar amount of happiness as seeing any other counselor, you were sure of it.

Two campers, in your supervising group, raced up to, giggling all the way to your side. “Have you seen Counselor Harry yet, Y/N?!” they exclaimed, overly excited. You put your clipboard down by your side and lifted your sunglasses from your face. The girls were about your height and likely 15. “Um, no I haven’t, has he grown a third eye or something?” You looked at them with indifference and a hint of amusement at your own joke. They both rolled their eyes. “No!” The first girl, Elise, responded. Georgie continued, “He’s just gotten even hotter than he was last year!” “If that’s even possible!” Elise chimed in, talking over Georgie. You looked up to the sky as if you were praying to a god, asking yourself why you loved this job so much?

You offered the girls a tight lipped smile. Disregarding what they said about your colleague and friend, you shooed them off to go unpack. Then, you continued on your walk around the camp grounds. You stopped at the mail area to check to see if you already had mail from your eager parents, they would send you a letter a week while you were away, even though you had your phone on you as a counselor.

Seeing no mail, you turned on your heel and was about to step foot back outside when you were blocked. There wasn’t a lot of context for you to see what you had just bumped into, it was large, hard, and dark. You backed up and blinked. “What the f-” You looked up and it was Harry. He was wearing an all black ensemble, you being shorter than him, caused you to only see his shirt when you walked directly into him. You took in the rest of his appearance and realized he had cut his long hair since last summer, it was now short but slightly flowy, but pushed back as opposed to how it used to be - swept across the forehead.

“Didn’t see you there, m’sorry,” Harry said. You noticed his hands holding onto your waist, he had reached out instinctively, not wanting you to fall. “It’s alright, good to see you, Harry.” He seemed as though he was about to say something, but you cut him off. You had a habit of doing that. “I’d love to catch up, but I’ve got some stuff I have to take care of.” You were being vague on your excuse, but you were already walking away before Harry could call after you, “See you around then! ...I guess.” He definitely couldn’t deny that he was a little disappointed that you couldn’t spare a minute to talk to him.

-

You and Harry interacted seldom over the next few weeks. You were paired up as supervisors for various activities with the campers, but whenever you two talked it always seemed like one of you was itching to leave the conversation. Sometimes you would sit beside each other at counselor meetings and meal times. There you would talk a bit more, but still there was something off. Annie even asked you if you were mad at Harry. You replied that you weren’t, citing ‘we just haven’t had anything to talk about with each other, I guess’ as reasoning for the distance between you two.

It was the last Saturday before the camp ended, evening, when you heard a knock on the cabin, you were staying in, door. You weren’t in your counselor clothes anymore, instead an oversized old t-shirt and some sweatpants with your school’s logo. You assumed it’d be a camper needing assistance with something. To your surprise, it was none other than Harry. He also had changed from his counselor clothes for the day. Instead he wore dark sweatpants and a flannel, barely buttoned up. You thought he might catch a cold with how much of his skin was left exposed due to his button job.

“I bring libations!” He says happily and barges into your cabin. You had been lucky this year, while not being assigned Annie as your roommate was a bummer, you had been assigned another counselor whose boyfriend was a lead counselor, and got his own room, meaning she was almost never in yours. Tonight was like usual, she wasn’t there.

Harry continues into the room despite your figure still standing at the doorway, a look of complete and utter confusion on your face. Harry answers your question before you even have the chance to answer it. “It’s our last Saturday and I want to get sloshed with a friend, won’t you join me, Y/N?” He pulls out the handle he had somehow hidden on his trek over to your cabin.

“We’re not really supposed…” you began. Harry shushed you, saying, “Live a little!”

“It’s against the rules for us to…”

“Please!”

“We could lose our jobs if we…”

“For me?”

“This seems like coercion,” you huff, sitting on your roommate’s bed, seeing as Harry has taken residence on yours. You were thankful you’d had the ambition to make it today.

“It’s only coercion if you really didn’t want to do it, but I know you better, Y/N. You never followed the rules as a camper, why would you follow them now as a counselor.” He took a swig straight from the bottle before offering it up to you.

You grinned and leaned across the small space between you and Harry, grabbing the bottle happily.

You thought back to sneaking around the lake house when you were younger, with Annie and Harry, sometimes even just Harry. One of you always somehow got your hands on a bottle of some alcohol that was heinous, but did the job of getting you three (or two) off your asses.

Now you were of legal drinking age and that was definitely a plus when you were in your real life. As a counselor though, you felt like you needed to be alert and being drunk was most definitely the opposite of that. Still, Harry made a point, you liked having fun and the camp was ending soon. There were also plenty of other counselors the camper’s could go to if they needed anything for the next few hours. It wasn’t like you and Harry were the only people they could get help from. 

You threw back your neck, the bottle attached tightly to your lips. Happy to be finally letting go a little.

Truthfully, the second year as a counselor hadn’t been as fun as the first. The older kids were harder to deal with and it was slightly more draining dealing with them then the younger campers.

Your pull was big and Harry was quick to reach over and pull the handle down, stopping you from getting hammered immediately. “Easy there, this bottle’s a marathon, not a sprint.”

You rolled your eyes and stuck up the middle finger at him. “You’re an ass.” You both laughed.

As the alcohol began to pass between the two of you steadily, the conversation came much more easily than it had been for the past weeks.

Eventually, when the bottle reached the two-thirds gone mark, Harry and you were sitting on the ground facing each other, nice and close. He told you how his Uni experience was going, not as great as he’d hoped it to be, if he was being honest with himself, he said. You talked about how bored you were with life back home. He chuckled at that.

As you got further past the line of tipsy and into the territory of fully intoxicated, you couldn’t help but notice the sound of Harry’s voice. He was talking again, but you weren’t understanding what he was saying at all. All you were noticing was how his mouth moved around the words that came out of his mouth and how nice it all sounded.

He continued talking and you squinted your eyes at him. Then, without the knowledge of your brain, your hands were reaching out and cupping Harry’s face. He stopped talking at this contact and he looked at you curiously. Your mind was fuzzy and made no registration that what you were doing was slightly odd, especially with no warning to the receiver of your touch. You looked back at him, with a look of quiet interest all over your face.

“Keep talking,” you said. Harry nodded and began to ramble again, confused, but not against whatever you were doing. As he spoke, you ran your fingers around his dimple and the smile lines that appeared when he said things with “A” “C” “E” and other syllables that made his lips quirk up.

“Feels nice.” Then, Harry faltered in his thought process. His mind was numbing from the alcohol as well and the sensory overload he was beginning to have from your hands was enough to make him stop speaking again. He looked in your eyes as you focused on his mouth. You were sat up on your knees, practically leaning on him, while he was sat cross-legged, with his hands out behind him. When he stopped speaking this time, you didn’t tell him to start up again. Instead, your hands floated even closer to his lips.

You ran your hand over the entirety of his mouth first. Then, you took both your pointers and used them to manipulate Harry’s mouth into a smile. He bared his teeth for you. You giggled. Then, you brought his lips back to neutral and ran a finger around the outline of his lips. Then, your hand disappeared from his face and you sat back on your heels. Harry missed your touch immediately. While odd, he had liked the tingles behind his face that he had experienced from it.

“Why’d you stop?” he whined quietly.

“Because…” you trailed off.

“Because why?”

You sat silent. You repositioned yourself to laying down completely on the floor and looking up at the ceiling. You sighed and said, “I don’t know.. I forgot.”

Harry smiled at the response and shifted to lay beside you. “You’re drunk as shite, aren’t you?”  He reached his left arm across himself and bopped your nose, along with his tease.

“It’s not like you’re any better,” you grumbled and rolled onto your side to face Harry’s body.

When you were drunk you felt completely alive. Your entire body tingling yet foggy at the same time. You blinked hard, twice, taking in the man beside you. He was long in the position he was in. His silhouette was quite attractive at the moment, your bedside lamp illuminating half of his face in golden light, the other falling into darkness, beyond where the light could reach.  

“Because you’re too beautiful,” you whispered, finally remembering your reasoning from Harry’s earlier question. Harry moved his arm to rest it under his head. Giving him a slight vantage over you.  He wobbled slightly, as if his head might slip from his hand’s grasp. Yet he controlled it after a moment.

“Oh?” The slightest smirk graced his face. Your comment fed his ego, but his ego had mostly gone to bed since the two of you had begun drinking. Your intoxication caused his comment to get to you so much more than it would have sober, not that you would have been having this conversation sober. Either way, his simple ‘Oh?’ made you cover your face with your hands and laugh embarrassedly for a moment. Then you let your hands trail down your face a bit so your eyes were peaking at Harry and you were biting a finger in your mouth.

“So you think I’m pretty?” Harry said, completely intrigued with what you were saying. You took your hands away from your face and mirrored his position, leaning your head on your hand. You wobbled like Harry had, trying to maintain your balance. Only this time, Harry reached a hand out to steady you at your waist. Your shirt had shifted up, throughout your wiggling, so your skin was bare where his hand touched. The skin his hand met was lit on fire. The sparks being sent out and fizzling throughout your body. You closed your eyes at the sensation and hummed almost inaudibly. Harry licked his lips at the sound and decided that it was okay to leave his hand where it was.

“I asked you a question, Counselor,” he whispered. You blinked open your eyes at his words. For one moment, your stupor was gone and you saw everything rather clear. “Yeah, I think you’re quite possibly the prettiest person ever, Harry.” He was silent for a moment, shifting once again onto his elbow, his body now towering over you once again.

“Well that’s simply not true,” he said, finally, shaking his head slightly. You couldn’t help but laugh, “You? Humble?” Now that Harry was sitting more upright, you shifted so you were leaning on both of your elbows, much closer to the ground than Harry. His hand remained on your waist, causing him to hover above you. This unspoken shifting of places was weird, the meaning of it unclear to either of you.

“I wouldn’t go that far, but...I just know I’m not the prettiest person ever.” He looked away from you. “And why’s that, Counselor?” you whispered, staring straight at him, even if he was avoiding eye contact. Then, suddenly, he was looking back at you, his eyes dark and intense. Despite the intensity in his eyes, though, his voice was soft and sweet. Perhaps, even, darling.

“Because...you’re the prettiest person ever.”

As you opened your mouth to say something, Harry leaned down over you, lips meeting yours. His lips brushed softly against yours, but you wanted more. You reached a hand up behind his neck and pulled you closer. He met your passion with his own and pushed his lips more desperately against yours. As you pulled him closer, your ability to hold yourself up faltered. It sent you both tumbling to the ground, completely. You whined slightly, but weren’t fazed by the wooden floor. You continued to press your lips to Harry’s and he groaned appreciatively into you. After a few minutes of wet, hot kisses, Harry reluctantly pulled away. Your chest was heaving steadily and Harry couldn’t help but notice, but he shook the thought from his mind. He took one hand from the ground and let it roam down the side of your face. You smiled up at him.

“Now, that is what I call ‘just dandy’!” He said. You rolled your eyes, “Oh my god!” you moaned and shoved him off of you. You stood up and Harry followed quickly behind. Both of you had sobered up significantly during the kissing. You faced each other and Harry smiled. A smile crept onto your face, too, matching his perfectly.

“I hate you,” you said one last time, never really meaning it.

“Uh-huh,” Harry responded, taking you into his arms. He pressed a kiss on the top of your head. His lips softly brushing your hair.

“Hate you, too.”

Neither of you could be further from the truth with those words.

-

Tag list: @cronias13, @theresthingsthatwellneverknow, @harrys-cherry

Hopefully that actually works this time! Have a nice day 🤍!