#i swear i’ll post more this year xx

[formula1neverleft]

Charles Leclerc - Burning Red

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x female!reader

 Warning: swearing,  little bit of fluff, but mostly ANGST ( I apologize in advance </3, loosely based on Red by Taylor Swift, but obvi changed it up a bit to be from Charles’ pov. Charles takes Lando’s advice, which is just….dumb :)) ) Not proofread 

Enjoy xx 

Summary: in which he has to choose between his brother and her

Words: 5k

 Song recs: Red by Taylor Swift // I Love You So by The Walters // Nightcall by London Grammar // Hope Is a Heartache by Léon 

 Some posts that *inspired* me: Charles being a happy boi during the Dutch GP, Charles trying to hide his broken heart and focus on the race in Austin 

Zandvoort, Netherlands, September 2021 

 Despite trying numerous times, Charles can’t pinpoint the exact moment where it happened. Everytime he tries, his mind comes up with a plethora of blurry moments and sounds instead. Her laugh when laughing at her own silly jokes, her fingers brushing her hair behind her ear (which she does when she’s either concentrating really hard or is embarrassed about something), her eyes searching for his. He doesn’t understand that after so many years spent not looking at her as anything other than a friend, how the hell he managed to find himself in this predicament. The only explanation is that somewhere along the way, things changed. She changed, and maybe he did too, and he fell for her. He fell for her, and it was the biggest mistake he’s ever made. Those are two things he can be sure of. 

 The first time Arthur told Charles he had a crush on Y/N, he was still in middle school. The reason for this crush was nothing more than the fact that Y/N had helped Arthur with his math homework during lunch that day. So naturally, in Arthurs adolescent mind, they were now meant to get married one day. Charles remembers how he playfully punched his brother in the shoulder and spent the next few days teasing him about it and threatening him with telling Lorenzo or worse, Y/N herself. The second time Arthur confided in Charles, it wasn’t a crush anymore. No, it was love this time. He was in love with Y/N. By this point, Y/N and Arthur had become best friends, and she was over at their house all the time. So it made sense to Charles and pretty much everyone around them that they would eventually end up together. Charles would often push his brother to just bite the bullet and make the first move, but Arthur insisted that he was okay with being friends for now.  

 “Listen, bro, I think it’s actually better that I…wait” Arthur had explained 

 “Wait for what exactly? For hell to freeze over? You have been pining for her since the day you met her, I would argue that you’ve waited long enough” Charles retorted. 

 “When people get together too young it always messes everything up. Besides, I am kinda hoping that when she eventually goes on dates with other guys, she’ll realize that none of them even come close to me “, he raised his eyebrows while gesturing his hands to his own chest, “I just feel like we’re meant to be, she’ll realize sooner or later. And when she does, I’ll be right here” 

 Charles closes his eyes and rolls around in his hotel bed restlessly as he remembers the conversation between him and his brother, and a familiar feeling rears its head. Guilt, so intense and ominous he almost felt himself get physically sick as it spread through his body. It was a sensation he had become all too familiar with over the past few months, but today it was particularly overpowering. Maybe it was the weather, Charles thought, because it was pouring rain… just like it did that day. 

 Monte Carlo, Monaco, August 2021 

 // Loving her was red //  

 After his DNF in Hungary, the summer break had been more than welcome for Charles. He spent his days catching up with family and friends, gaming, of course some inescapable training to stay focused, and spent any extra time brushing up on his piano playing skills. That day, the weather had helped him escape the 5k run his trainer had planned, but no matter how grateful he was for this, being cooped up in his apartment for so long was making him uneasy. Just when he was debating changing out of his sweats and t-shirt and dragging himself to the gym, a knock on his door dragged him from his thoughts. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, because it was already 11pm and he didn’t make any plans with his mates to hang out tonight. He scurried to his door and was even more confused when he finally opened it. 

 “Y/N? What are you doing here?” 

 “Listen, to make a long story short, I lost my house keys and I’m home alone so nobody can let me in, and I doubt any locksmith is gonna answer the phone at this hour. Can I please crash here? I had nowhere else to go” she explained. It was then that Charles noticed she was shivering. 

 “Jesus, you’re soaked, you walked here from your house without a raincoat?!” 

 “I would love to stand here and question my wardrobe choices for hours…or you could invite me inside before I freeze to death in this hallway?” she replied jokingly. 

 “Yeah, sorry, please come in” 

 As she walked into his apartment, she curiously took in her surroundings. Charles realized she’d never been here before. He also realized that despite knowing each other for probably a decade now, they’ve never been anywhere together without Arthur also there. 

 “I’m really sorry for barging in like this, normally I would save this kind of annoying task for Arthur, but he’s already in Belgium so you were the only one i could think of” 

 “No, it’s okay, I wasn’t doing anything anyway, you can stay here for the night, no problem” 

 “Thanks, I appreciate it” she replied while crossing her arm over her chest. 

 “You’re freezing, come on, I’ll get you some clothes so you can change” Charles said as he strode towards his bedroom. Y/N followed suit and couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as she entered his room. 

 “Wow, really a Ferrari fan at heart, huh? You should get one of yourself up there as well” she gestured towards the numerous Ferrari posters and memorabilia that littered the space. He knew it was kind of ridiculous, but he couldn’t help but bring his love for the sport and his team in particular into his home. The team felt like a second family, so it only seemed right that they had a place here as well. 

 “Yes, I’m just waiting for the entire CL16 merch line to drop, that way I can buy it in bulk and make a shrine next to my bed” He said while searching through one the drawers in his closet. She laughed in response, so lively and sincere that he was taken aback by it. It wasn’t like he hadn’t understood Arthurs feelings for Y/N  before. She was funny, smart, pretty, and kind. But having her full and undivided attention for the first time ever, he suddenly saw what Arthur had tried to explain to him time and time again. She had a kind of energy about her that just radiated goodness and warmth. It was enticing, and Charles found himself wanting to make joke after joke if it meant she would keep laughing like that.  

 “Here, some sweats and a sweater should be good, we can match” he laughed shyly while tossing the clothes on the bed. 

 “That’s perfect, merci” she picked up the clothes and fumbled with them awkwardly, “euhm, Can I-...” 

 “Shit, sorry, yeah I’ll just uh-..let you get, you know..” Charles wanted to slap himself because of the ridiculous hand gestures he was making, but he opted for just scurrying to the living room and closing the bedroom door behind him. “Okay, that was awkward. Why did I make that awkward? I'm an idiot” he muttered to himself while retaking his place on the sofa. When Y/N emerged from his room in his clothes, Charles felt a strange feeling inside his chest. Like he was proud that she was wearing his clothes and not anyone else's. His brain quickly justified the feeling in his chest, he was just… competitive. With his competitors on track, sure, but with his brothers too, so this was probably just a consequence of that.  

 “Do you still play?” she asked as she gestured towards the grand piano in the corner of the living room. Charles loved that thing, especially playing it during a sunset, because it was planted right in front of a huge window that gave a fantastic view over the harbor. 

 “Yeah, I try to, but since I’m always traveling, not as much as I’d like” 

Y/N walked over to the piano, sat down and pressed a few keys before speaking up again. 

 “I used to play as a kid, but it's been so long, can you teach me?”  

 “Uhm, yeah, sure I can,” Charles replied somewhat nervously. He didn’t know why he was suddenly feeling so uneasy. It’s not like he was doing anything wrong, right? She was his friend before this, and they’re allowed to be friends…right? There’s no way Arthur could be upset about this, Charles convinced himself while taking his place on the narrow piano seat. As if his own brain was intent on proving him wrong, a question entered his mind, would Charles be upset if Arthur did this with the girl he’s been crushing on for about half of his life? Before he had time to mull the question over, he felt Y/Ns arm brush his own as she sat down next to him. As he started going over the basic principles, Charles made a point of using all the fancy sounding Italian terminology to explain what his hands were doing. Though this probably would suffice to impress any other girl, he could see Y/N trying to hold back the knowing grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. As her fingers started hesitantly pressing the keys, it didn’t take long for a faulty note to disrupt the melodic tune that Charles had come up with. 

 “Okay, I’m a lost cause I think” she laughed 

 “No, you’re doing great for a beginner” Charles retorted while giving her shoulder a playful nudge with his own, “here, I’ll help”. Charles captured one of Y/Ns hands in his own and guided them over the keys gracefully. After a while, he let go again and she finished the rest of the tune on her own faultlessly. 

 “Yes, great! I should’ve been your teacher all along, huh?” 

 “Oh my god! That was a great idea, makes it so much easier” she squealed, and then looked down with a knowing smile. Charles felt like he was missing a joke, and Y/N must have noticed his questioning expression. 

 “If you would have been my teacher, I never would have quit” she says sincerely, while turning her head so she could look him in the eyes, and Charles fails to find the words to give her an appropriate response. He suddenly has the urge to diffuse the tension that had been steadily building ever since he opened his front door. 

 “You want to, euh, watch a movie or something?”  

 It’s not even 10 minutes into the generic romcom when Charles realizes that this was a terrible idea. The contrast between them being so close when playing piano, to being several feet apart on the sofa didn’t feel right to Charles. He wanted to talk to her again, to make her laugh again, and maybe…touch her hand again. God, what was wrong with him? Why is he feeling like this suddenly? It’s not right, he’s probably just lonely and tired, Charles thought to himself. Because of his inner turmoil, he was now fidgeting and awkwardly peering at Y/N from the corner of his eye every few minutes. Luckily for him, Y/N didn’t seem to notice his weird behavior, and after about half an hour Charles noticed that her eyes were slowly fluttering shut as she slumped back into the sofa. 

 “Getting sleepy, aren’t we?” 

 “I’m…m’up, I swear” she replied quietly 

 “Okay, you’re blurring your words together, i think it’s time for bed, don’t you think? You can take my bed, I’ll just crash on the couch” 

 It took several seconds of complete silence for Charles to realize that she had somehow truly fallen asleep during their conversation. He watched her chest rise and fall rhythmically and he debated just leaving her there because she looked so peaceful and he didn’t want to ruin it. But ultimately, he decided against it. He likes to believe it's because she would probably wake up cold or that she would find him rude for letting her crash on the couch while he slept in his king size bed, but Charles knew that would be a lie. In actuality, he had already grown attached to the idea of seeing her sleeping in his bed. So, he gently picked her up from the couch and did his best not to wake her while carrying her to his bedroom. She stirred slightly but was clearly too exhausted to put up any sort of fight to his actions. When he laid her down on his bed and tucked her in, he felt content with the decision he’d made. There was no way he would be able to sleep for a few hours anyway, so he could watch some more tv while she slept soundly. Charles muttered a quiet “goodnight” and turned back toward the bedroom door, but before he could move, he felt a hand grab his wrist. 

 “Charles…please stay” Y/N said as she stared up at him with tired eyes. 

 “...what?” Charles felt his throat dry up as he looked at her, shocked. 

 “Can you please just…stay?” 

 He could tell from the tone of her voice that she didn’t even know the reasons why she was asking him this, just like Charles didn’t know why he obliged and got under the covers next to her. On any other day, having a pretty girl in his bed would be the most natural and logical thing that could happen to him, but now, his mind was racing at 100 miles an hour. He liked that they were close again, but the feeling that they were crossing some sort of invisible line was now impossible to ignore. Y/N moved closer to him and turned around so they were facing each other. 

 “Is this okay?” she asked. It was a question that could be interpreted in numerous ways. Was he ok with being in bed with her? With sleeping next to her? Yes. Was this normal for two friends? Debatable. Would Arthur be hurt if he saw them now? 

Charles couldn’t bring himself to answer the last question, so he chose to just listen to the feeling in his chest that was telling him this is exactly where he should be right now. Before long, Y/N was sleeping again, and Charles was left staring at her fondly and wondering what the hell was happening. 

 The next few weeks went by in a blur. After waking up pretty much entangled in each other's arms the next morning, followed by a somewhat awkward breakfast where neither of them wanted to acknowledge what exactly had taken place the night before, Y/N had convinced Charles that they simply needed to finish the movie. She stayed over another night, and another one, and…another one. Days turned into weeks, and Charles couldn’t remember the last time he had been so happy. Neither of them had brought up Arthur, and Charles wasn’t planning on it either.  Sure, she was Arthur's friend, but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t be good friends too right? I mean, it’s not like Arthur…owns her or anything. Charles repeatedly told himself that he wouldn’t let it go any further than this. They could just hang out, as friends, and occasionally sleep in the same bed and cuddle, you know, as…friends? 

 Yeah, that plan first fell through about a week before he had to leave for Belgium. He was giving her another piano lesson, and the intimacy of being so close to her for what felt like hours on end became too much for him to handle. Her smell, her laugh, her hands dancing over the keys, everything about her. Charles planted a gentle kiss on her shoulder, and she kept playing while trying to suppress a smile and the blush that crept up her beautiful face. He took that as his cue to continue, and started trailing his lips up the side of her neck until he reached her face. When he did, she finally stopped playing and turned slightly so they were face to face. Then, they kissed. Charles doesn’t remember who kissed who, it felt more like a mutual decision if anything. He can still feel the way her hands crept up his throat and tangled themselves in his hair. From that moment on, Charles was done for. He spent his remaining days in Monaco with Y/N, boat rides, more movies, ordering food together, getting her to have a go in his racing sim. Over the course of a few weeks, she had become one of the most important people in his life. If there had been even a small chance that Charles could stop this before someone got hurt, which was already doubtful, it completely vanished the night before he left for Belgium. Charles took Y/N to a small deserted beach that he considered one of Monaco's best kept secrets. He had planned a cute picnic during sunset, only to forget a blanket to sit on, which led to them almost crying from laughter because all of their food now had a considerable amount of sand in it. Despite this, it was everything he had wanted it to be. Just like on their first night together, it suddenly started pouring rain, forcing them to seek refuge in his car. That night, they made love for the first time in the backseat of his car. Charles decided to actively ignore the feeling of guilt that had been brewing in his stomach for days now. He pushed it away and locked it behind a door to open some other day, because today, all he wanted to focus on was her, and the way she made him feel. 

 “You make me so happy” Y/N had mumbled in the crook of his neck. If it was possible, Charles would live in this moment forever. He would stay in this car, hiding from the rain, and holding her in his arms for as long as humanly possible. But just like with all moments, good or bad, it comes to an end eventually, and it becomes nothing more than a memory.  

 Istanbul, Turkey, October 2021 

 // Losing her was blue // 

 He didn’t know how long he could keep this up. Charles felt like he was lying to everyone, including himself. He was lying to Arthur, who was completely in the dark about what had transpired in Monaco over the summer. He was lying to Y/N, who thought that she had to keep their relationship top secret only to avoid the press and social media disrupting their privacy. He had convinced her that keeping their feelings strictly between the two of them was kind of romantic in a way, like their little secret. But that sentiment was rapidly losing its appeal for Y/N, and Charles couldn’t blame her. It meant that they had to do the long distance thing, because if she showed up at the track people would undoubtedly start asking questions that Charles did not have an answer for.  

 A few days ago Arthur had facetimed him to catch up. It took him less than 10 minutes to mention Y/N, and when he did, Charles felt the color drain from his face. 

 “You know, I’ve been considering it, and I think you were right” Arthur said matter-of-factly. 

 “That's usually the case…right about what exactly?” 

 “Y/N. I’m gonna tell her how I feel next time I see her in person. I’m away from home so much that there is no use in waiting around for her to make the first move, so I should just go for it” 

 Charles couldn’t even muster a small sound of agreement from his side. His brain was screaming at him to just tell him the truth. They always say honesty is the best policy, but no matter how hard he tried, Charles couldn’t get the words out. Instead, he just gave a small nod and changed the subject. After that, Charles tried his best to keep himself as busy as possible with Sunday's race, because every minute he had alone with his thoughts was spent contemplating how he would get himself out of this situation. Seeing Arthur's face when talking about Y/N had completely ruined the idea that he could ever be happy for them if they told him the truth. He would end up hurt. So, the other option was telling Y/N, which meant she would get hurt. There was no way to resolve this without someone being emotionally afflicted, including himself.  Every time Charles thought he had made up his mind, he would get a text from Arthur or a picture from Y/N wishing him good luck, and it wasn’t making this any easier for him. He felt like he was going to explode if he didn’t confide in someone about his situation, so he found himself knocking on the hotel room door of the first person he could think of. 

 “Dude, you look like hell. Are you okay?” Lando said, standing in his doorway with a worried expression. 

 “Yeah, I uh,haven't really been sleeping well. Can I come in? I need some…advice” 

 Charles trusted Lando. They were good enough friends that Lando would have Charles best interest at heart, but not so close that he would have a reason to somehow insert himself in the situation. He could look at it from an outsider standpoint, because he didn’t know Arthur or Y/N, so he could form his opinion without all of the…feelings involved. Charles told him everything. Arthur's childhood crush, that rainy night in Monaco, the cuddling, and the car…thing after the picnic. He told her how she made him feel, how happy he was when she was around, but also how horrible he felt whenever he saw or heard from his brother. It felt good, like saying the words out loud had already lessened the weight on his shoulders. 

 “I just can’t get her out of my head. I don’t think I want to. All I want is to give her everything she’s ever wanted” Charles said while running his hand through his hair in frustration. 

 “Yeah, sounds like you love her mate” Lando replied nonchalantly. 

 “...Maybe I do” Deep down, Charles already knew long before tonight that he loved Y/N, but hearing the words from Lando’s mouth made it…real. 

 “Listen, I get that this is a shitty situation, but as your friend, I’m just gonna tell you what I would do. Okay, so maybe you love her, but it's only been a few months right? If you break it off now, the both of you will move on in like..a few months or something, and it will just be a…vacation love type thing, you know? Yeah, it's gonna suck, but is it really worse than having to tell your brother about this? He’s your family, and nothing is more important than family” Lando finishes his monologue with a consoling pat on Charles’ back. 

 As much as it pained him to admit it, Lando was right. Y/N was young, and soon enough, Charles would become a distant memory in his love life. The possibility of her dating other guys (or even worse, realizing that she does have romantic feelings for Arthur), made Charles' heart sink in a way that he had never experienced before. Arthur was his family, and he could never betray him like this. Even if Arthur somehow found it in himself to forgive him, it would never be the same as before. For the first time in months, Charles saw with unwavering clarity what he had to do. He had to break Y/N's heart, in such a way that she would never even entertain the idea of being romantically involved with him. She didn’t deserve it, but she also didn’t deserve being hidden away and lied to like he was doing now. So, instead, he would have to rip off the bandaid, and break both of their hearts in the proces. 

Monte Carlo, Monaco, October 2021 

 The Ferrari team almost had a heart attack when Charles said he wanted to make a ‘quick stop’ in Monaco before Austin, but after convincing them that it was a family emergency, they quickly let him leave without further protest. Usually, going home was one of his favorite things to do, but in this instance, he would rather be anywhere else. His body went on near auto-pilot when he dragged himself into a taxi and ascended the stairs leading to Y/N’s front door. When she opened the door, she did exactly what Charles had been dreading the entire journey here. She smiled, so wide and genuinely Charles almost forgot about his entire plan. He couldn’t back out now, he couldn’t be selfish. No, he had to think about Arthur, and keeping his family together. He had already lost too many people over the years, so no matter how much it was going to hurt, he had to follow through. 

 “What are you doing here?!” Y/n squealed in disbelief as she hugged him tightly. Charles gently hugged her back, but not in the way he would want to. He made a conscious effort to remember the smell of her shampoo now that her hair was so close to him, because this will probably be the last time he ever smells it. 

 “I uh, I came because I wanted to talk to you” he says as she lets him go. He can immediately see that she had picked up on his dejected tone and behavior in general, and she moved aside so he could enter the house. Once in the living room, Charles started talking before he even had the chance to sit down, as if he wanted to get ahead of himself before looking at her for too long made him change his mind. 

 “Charles, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

 “I-uh- I don’t know how to say this so I’m just gonna get it out. We shouldn’t do…this anymore. No, we..we can’t do this anymore” he forced the words out while looking down at his own feet. 

 “What? You’re joking. Please tell me you’re joking” 

 “I’m not joking, Y/N. This was…a mistake” 

 Y/N laughs, but it’s not the laugh that Charles loves so much. It’s not the one he dreams about, the one he would move mountains for if it meant he could hear it everyday of his life. It was bitter, and filled with disbelief. 

 “What are you talking about? A mistake? I’ve never been this happy in my entire life! And don’t you dare stand there and say that you didn’t feel the same, because I know that’s a lie. I know it’s a lie because I was there. I was there at the piano, on the beach, in the car..” she says with tears already clouding her eyes. Charles hadn’t  considered that he would have to see her cry. He had never seen her cry before, and once again he felt his conviction falter. He had to fight every fiber in his being to keep himself from taking her in his arms and do everything in his power to make her laugh again…but he couldn’t. 

 “You deserve better than me, Y/N. I’m never home and we can’t ever be a public couple. With the..press and the fans, you wouldn’t be able to live your life in peace anymore. It’s not fair to you” Charles was technically telling the truth. The exposure was one of the reasons why their relationship would be difficult, but it wasn’t the only reason. He decided to not tell her about Arthur, that way she could someday make up her own mind about her feelings for him without Charles clouding her judgment. 

 “You don’t mean that. Charles, fucking look at me, you don’t mean that” Y/N stepped forward and clasped her hands around Charles’ face, forcing him to look at her. Charles just weakly shook his head in response. 

 “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you, Y/N” 

She nodded and let go of him. The expression on her beautiful face quickly changed from determination to defeat as she stepped away from him once again. 

 “Yeah, well, how’s that working out for you?” 

 Charles didn’t have an answer, and as he looked at Y/N, the sparkle that had drawn him to her was seemingly fading away before his very eyes. It broke his heart that he was the culprit, but his own pain felt deserved. He had earned every punishment that came his way for keeping information from her and for hurting her in the proces. 

 “Don’t look at me like that. Don’t look at me like you feel fucking sorry for me, I don’t need your pity. You barge in here unannounced when I thought that you were on the other side of the world, only to abandon me without an explanation? And the only thing you can do is stand here and look at me like you just made me drop my ice cream in kindergarten or something?” 

 Charles didn’t know what to say. He really should have prepared for this moment more than he did. Choosing to not tell her about Arthur meant that he now seemed like a total dick, but maybe that was for the best. It would make it easier for her to let him go. 

 “You can’t just play with my feelings because you're unsure of yours” she added. She sounded so dejected that it made Charles want to cry too. He wanted to take back his words, to grab her by the arms and shake her while screaming that he is sure about his feelings. That he’s never been more sure about anything in his life. That he loves her. His hands squeezed into fists to stop himself from moving closer to her, because he has to see this through. All he had to do is make it out of that door without telling her the truth, and she would hate him. She would hate him, while he loved her. 

 “Y/N,...I-..I don’t know w-” 

 “You don’t know what to say? Well I do. Please, just, get out of my house” she said while she turned around and let herself drop down onto her sofa. Charles took the opportunity to run. He cast one last look behind him, and he could tell she was crying again. His feet carried him to the hallway, to the front door, and eventually down her driveway. Before he knew it, he was back at his apartment where he was supposed to catch a few hours of sleep before his flight, but Charles knew he wouldn’t be sleeping that night. He’d done what he came here to do, yet he had never felt more empty in his life. 

 He caught his flight the next day, and as he saw the distance being put between him and Monaco, between him and her, the empty feeling only got worse. He had arrived in Monaco a man, convinced that he was doing the right thing, but he left without a heart. It would stay in Monaco, in his apartment, on that piano seat, and it would never reside in his chest again. 

// Missing her was dark grey // 

                             // But loving her was red 

                              oh, red 

                              Burning red // 

[hereforhalstead]

Pizza and A Pack of Beers

*Gif not mine, credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader.

• Requested: Yessss by my bestie who takes up 80% of my requests and i absolutely love her for it lmao @halsteadlover​

Hiiii bestie so you know what I'm about to ask you soooo pleaseeeeee write about jealous Jay turning up at your place after Kim set you up on a date with someone from med like I KNOW FOR A FACT you'd write it PERFECTLY 😩😩😩😩😩 can't wait to read it

Love you lots don't hate me lol xx 💞

• Warnings: Swearing

• Summary: Kim sets you up on a date but it doesn’t go well and there’s only one person you wish would turn up at your door to comfort you but when he does you don’t expect him to tell you everything you’ve always wanted him to say.

• Words: 6089.

• A/N : thank you so much for 500 followers!! You have no idea how happy this platform makes me and how I don’t feel I deserve this at all but I appreciate each and every one of you for putting up with me! I’ know I promised some jealous jay which this is slightly but im so weak for soft Jay at the moment.. hope this lives up to your expectations bestie, if it doesn’t dont kill me and i apologise for the title, i couldn’t think of a good one lmao. Also, I have about 5 other requests on the go at the moment which I’ll be posting one at the weekend. I’m not ignoring them, I promise I’m working on them but I just want to make sure they’re right before they’re posted.

Hope you enjoy!

***

“Y/N?” Adam calls out from the other side of the room “you coming Molly’s? Kev’s buying” he remarks but the displeased look on Atwaters face tells a different story “Uh, no he is not”. You chuckle but shake your head, checking to see who’s around with a slight relief it was just the 3 of you as the others were in the lockeroom grabbing their stuff. 

“I can’t, enjoy though” you chime, shutting the drawers in your desk and tossing the key to Adam who looks back at you confused “Is this because Kev said he wasn’t buying?” he raises his brows to Atwater who holds his hands up in defence “Don’t look at me bro, you ain’t gonna get round me”.

You roll your eyes at the pair and groan “I have a date, alright?”you confess and their eyes widen at your comment “Like a date, date?” Adam probes “What other kind of dates are there?” you mock, grabbing your coat from the back of your chair before placing it over your arm.

 “With who?” Kevin interupts, reminding you how grateful you were it was just the 3 of you as god knows how much this unit loves a gossip. 

“Halstead?” Adam asks and you scoff “Yeah right, he wishes” you remark but they stand stern before you as you knit your brows in hesitancy “What? Kim set me up with some doctor from Med” you innocently question, Kevin runs his hand along his jawline as he smirks “You two confuse me, I swear you’re like obsessed with each other yet neither of you will do anything about it?”. 

You find yourself speechless at his answer as you never realized how much people had caught on. You and Jay had been partners since the beginning, Voight teaming you up to be ‘good cop, bad cop’ on a mission and years later here you were.

Surely the little added extras just came with how close you had to be in the job, right? Knowing one an other better than you know yourself, being able to reel off their coffee order without having to think twice, the pang of worry you feel when things start to go south were all just natural, surely?

You can’t say you hadn’t let your mind wander to the thought of you and Jay being more. The way you catch him looking at you sometimes as you bury yourself in paperwork, his late night calls to make sure you got home safe from a night out, offering you a place to stay if you’d worked too late and he didn’t want you to be alone.

You’d become so accustom to it at this point that you didn’t think twice about the little guestures but clearly others had. If there was something you’d learnt quickly in this job it was that word travels fast and something doesnt stay a secret for long, you only dread the conversations they’ve had about you and Jay behind your back and wonder if he’s thinking the same. 

You shrug Kevin’s comments off as they stand waiting for you to give your usual witty response “His loss” you scorn, earning an sharp intake of breath from the pair as Adam brings a fist to his mouth to laugh

 “Does he know about this little date you’ve got?” he asks but before you can respond, the man himself and Kim stroll into the room and you slightly swear under your breath that you hadn’t left sooner. 

“Everyone coming?” Kim asks and you brace yourself for how Kevin and Adam are going to land you in it but to your surprise, neither of them do. “Y/N said she’ll join us later” Adam speaks for you to which you nudge his arm after saying no such thing

 “You want me to tell Halstead you got a date?” he mumbles and you roll your eyes “Exactly” he sarcastically smiles before turning back to the others. 

“Why you not going now?” Jay asks and you stutter your words before Kevin interjects “She’s got female stuff to deal with man, leave it at that” he comments and you internally want to give him a punch to the shoulder at the thought he really couldn’t come up with anything better. 

“Everything okay?” Jay probes, slight hint of worry in his tone but you’re yet again spoken for by Adam “She’s all good man” he assures and Jay chuckles “She can’t speak for herself?”. You make your way in front of your two new apparent bodyguards and catch the look as Kim finally twigs onto why you’re not joining them in Molly’s

“Oh yeah, she’s just got other plans” she sends a wink in your direction and you laugh at the fact you still actually haven’t said a word considering you were the one being questioned.

“I’ll see you later” you comment, turning to head down the stairs of the district but not before Adam can get one more quip in as you leave “Don’t do anything I wouldn't do!” he calls out, clearly already forgetting the ‘female stuff’ reason they gave.

You can already see the glare Jay shoots him, he hates not being in the know about something and especially if it came to you and it was even worse if he was being lied to about it. Despite this, something deep down told you it was for the best he didn’t know about your date.

You can hear them all cackling at your expense behind you so you decided to have the last laugh at Adams clever comment “Doesn’t leave me with much does it Ruzek?” you hear them ‘ooo’ at your come back, followed by a “oh, come on” groan from Adam which confirms you’d won. 

**

You sat at the table, running your fingertip along the top of your wine glass as you listened to the man opposite groan about his neighbours and the dog that barks in the middle of the night. Struggling to remember the last time you opened your mouth to speak, let alone him trying to engage you in the conversation.

Your mind wandered over to the group at Molly’s, picturing how Adam would be ordering another round of shots and despite the moaning everyone would cheer as he goes to grab another tray.

There’d be some deep conversations going on about things that had gone wrong throughout the week, encouraged by a few drinks as the heart felt stories pour out.

Most importantly all you could think of was your partner sat there without you by his side. Your stupid smug face partner who would constantly piss you off to the brink of wanting to murder but, he always knew how to get back on your good side with the mischievous glint in his eye everytime. He was your partner and most importantly, he wasn’t the man sitting opposite you. 

At this point, thinking about what you needed on your next trip to the grocery store was what was keeping you sane and not falling asleep in your meal. Your favoritie meal wasn’t even appealing to you anymore, pushing the carbs around with your fork as you winced at the sound of the fork occasionally scraping the plate.

If someone paid you 100 bucks you couldn’t say what he was currently complaining about and you’re surprised how he hasn’t picked up on the fact your mind was a million miles away. 

“Everything okay with the meal?” you jolt out of your thoughts as the waiter approaches to clear your plates, looking down embarrassed at the pitiful attempt you’d made at finishing the dish.

“Lovely thank you but I’m just too full” you remark, taking the final sip of your drink and also handing the glass to the water “Just the bill please” you add to the surprise of your date, Brad who looked at you confused. 

“Wrapping this up so soon?” he mocks, raised brows to match his tone as he also finishes his drink.

“Just not feeling great” you lie, thinking it would be the easiest excuse to leave early but he wasn’t having it as he shrugged “Come back to mine and I’ll look after you”.

Well, if you didn’t feel ill before you did now, the smugness drawn across his face sends shivers down your spine and not in a good way. He’d spoken about nothing but himself all evening and now he expects you to go back to his place even though you’d just said you don’t feel well? 

“I’m fine thanks” you decline, grateful for the bill being placed between the pair of you as the waiter returns. “Will we be splitting it this evening?” he innocently asks, Brad confidently slamming his card onto the table before you can even reach your purse with a cocky remark “There’s more than enough on there to cover this, big man”. You offered a weak smile, containing the internal scoff you so badly wanted to let out but covered your mouth with your hand to stop yourself.

 The waiter looks down at you, subtle eye roll as you let out a sigh “Have a good evening” he offers, quick to turn and leave the pair of you sat in silence as you make the first move to leave.

Standing and pushing your chair under the table to which he soon follows, holding his arm out to allow you to walk in front of him. The hairs on the back of your neck stand as you feel his gaze piercing into your lower back, the instant regret of wearing such a skin tight dress loomed as you finally made it outside the restaurant.

“I’m gonna call a cab to take me home” you distract yourself by loading the app on your phone but he chuckles “Oh, so you’re really not coming back to mine?” he slurs, luckily not facing you as you’re unable to withhold the look of disgust at his continuous comments and clearly not getting the hint. 

You flinch as a hand presses against your back, feeling him breathing down on you and instantly wanting to heave from the smell of booze on his breath as he speaks “Come on pretty girl, I’ll make you feel better”. He drapes his jacket around your shoulders and despite how hard you try to shrug it off he keeps it firmly on your shoulders.

This wasn’t the feeling you were used too, normally it was your partners jackets being handed to you after a long night and he notices you shivering or simply a way to say ‘I told you so’ after he insisted you should bring a jacket but you shut him down with the endless ‘Jay, I’ll be fine’ comments but eventually giving in to be engulfed in his attire.

As much as you tried to not compare the two, it was like an angel and devil on each shoulder. One was reminding you of the constant digs or snarky comments he would make that drove you insane but there was the other that pushed the thoughts of what made him so great.

When he would stay late at the district because you wanted to wrap a case up and he didn’t want you to be alone or the time he would bring you a coffee in the morning after watching you knock back drinks at Molly’s the night before. He was a pain in the ass but my god, he was worth every annoyance.

Brad really wasn’t getting the hint, you bat his chest to get him off you as he stumbles back “Thanks for dinner” you mock, grateful the cab you’d ordered had just spun round the corner, securing your safety and ticket away from the dreadful man.

You quickly open the door and jump in, shutting the door behind you and locking it “You didn’t give me your number” he calls out on the other side of the window but you grimace a smile “If it’s meant to be, you’ll guess it”.

The cab driver clearly got the hint better than Brad did, slamming his foot onto the pedal as he drives away “Rough night?” he jokes to which you huff with your head leaning on the window “Like you wouldn’t believe”.

**

You’d thought about going to Molly’s to put a positive end to your night but even that didn’t appeal to you. You directed the cab driver to your apartment where you were now slouched on the sofa, silence only being interrupted by the gargles from your stomach and the regret of not finishing your meal earlier playing on your mind.

Feeling sorry for yourself after removing your make up and change into some comfier clothes, shoving them into the wash to get rid of any smell from Brad. Half tempted to burn them to destroy any evidence completely.

Aimlessly scrolling through your phone, laughing at the videos posted to social media of everyone in Molly’s downing drinks like there was no tomorrow as they raised a glass to anything they could think of as an excuse to get another.

Slightly regretting not going but the last thing you wanted was to be bombarded with questions as soon as you enter the door, questions you didn’t want to lie about to avoid hurting Kim’s feelings but also it was a group of detectives, they could tell a lie from a mile off.

Meanwhile, Adam was at the bar with Kim who was bragging about the man she had set you up with and how great the pair of you would be together. Jay listened intently, trying his best to pry his attention away but failing as he innocently drank his beer with the occasoinal nod or hum in agreement to Kim’s spiel.

He didn’t wait to hear it.

He didn’t want to hear how she thought this man was perfect for you. He didn’t want to hear she thought you’d be having such a great time. He didn’t want to hear it yet he couldnt tear himself away.

Suddenly Kim jumps from her seat, bounding towards the door as Brad enters. She was clearly expecting you to be there so couldn’t hide the dissapointment when he walked in alone, Jay was equally as confused but dare he say, relieved?

The thought of you walking in on another man’s arm would inrage him so was quite glad to see him bowl in by himself. Kim ushered him over to Jay and Adam at the bar to join them, shouting to Herrmann to get him a beer as he introduces himself to the pair. 

“Ah, you’re Will’s brother?” Brad comments, holding his hand out to offer but Jay keeps one hand wrapped around the bottle at his lips and the other resting on the bar, causing Brad to retract his hand back into his pocket “Yeah, that’s me” he responds with a dry tone, wanting Brad to get the hint he was the last person he’d want stood in front of him right now. 

“Yeah, she mentioned you actually” Brad comments, also taking a sip of his beer as Jay’s eyes light up at the thought of you talking about him, even during a date “Said how annoying you are” he chuckles at his own comment to which Adam and Kim join in the amusement but Jay was stern faced and not enjoying the digs in the slightest.

“How was it then?” Kim raises her voice in excitment to change the subject after noticing the glare Jay was currently burning into Brad’s side. “Man, she’s great” he gloats, leaning back on his heels as he smirks “Quite a mouth on her too”. Kim almost chokes on her drink at his comment, Jay suddenly you having a tight grip on the beer bottle as his fists clench.

“Couldn’t shut her up, she loved talking to me about everything. Kept going on about how much she was missing her little sister and her dog Lily” he shrugged but Jay scoffed.

 “She said that?” he asks, confidence laced in his voice as he took another sip of his beer before earning a nod from Brad “Interesting” he mumbles, flicking his eyes over to Kim and Adam who also had knitted brows in confusion.

“What did she order?” Jay continues to interrogate, clearly unsettling Brad as he harshly swallows “What’s with all the questions?” he hits back to which Jay shrugs casually “I’m a detective, can’t help myself sometimes”.

Kim clears her throat to break the tension as Jay and Brad continue staring at each other. Even with the disadvantage of Jay being sat on the stool and Brad towering over him, Jay still couldn’t stop himself thinking how easy it would be to tackle him to the ground if he dared to say something about you that would set him off.

“Some salad thing, barely touched it she was so invested in what I was saying. Think she just wanted to get me back to hers” he raises his brows to Adam who responds with a disgusted look, he wasn’t getting the right vibe from Brad and even worse he wasn’t getting the hint.

Jay let’s put a pitiful laugh which grabs Brads attention “Am I missing something here?” he questions, directing his voice to Adam but Jay stands to bring the attention back onto him.

“First of all, she doesn’t have a sister or a dog” he commands as he harshly places his now empty beer bottle on the bar and watches how Brad quickly looks down at the firm hand placed round the shockingly in tact bottle but then back up to Jay’s menacing glare.

“Second of all, stop bullshitting about how well it went when she was clearly would’ve thought you were as dull as dish water and would prefer watching paint dry” he hands some money across to Adam to pay for his round before excusing himself.

 “You don’t have to be a detective to work out she’s way too good for you” he spits out at Brad as he passes, nudging his shoulder as he passes and heads for the door. He could barely gather his thoughts, he didn’t know what he was doing or what he would say but he just needed to be with you. 

**

You tutted at the reality show, screaming the occasional curse word at a stupid answer or calling out if you thought of it before the contestants did. You usually hated reality shows, refusing to watch any of the popular yearly series that grace the screen but this was helping to distract you from your awful evening and how much you wished you’d just gone to Molly’s.

‘I’d rather be with them’ you thought to yourself before audially sighing when you realize you really should be saying ‘I’d rather be with him’. 

Thoughts of Jay being in Molly’s grow increasingly harder to ignore, you know how much female attention he gets and can only picture the way he’s enjoying himself without having to look over his shoulder and see you giving the girl a death glare. 

He was probably talking to the third or fourth girl of the night by now and not even through trying. He’d head to the bar to order a round and instantly be caught by a girl at his side, tossing her hair around with a cringy giggle as she tries it on with him.

Depending on his mood, he’d either entertain it to pass the time as he waits for the drink or in his gentlemanly way tell her he was here to enjoy time with his friends and wasn’t interested but of course you couldn’t possibly think of the second option right now.

In your head he was outside with some girl, pinning her against the wall as their alcohol soaked lips crash together while he whispers sweet nothings in her ear to earn that stupid little laugh like she hasn’t got exactly what she wanted. It made you feel sick. 

Wandering over to the kitchen to stare at the near empty fridge, reaching for another beige food item as you snack on the odd piece of junk food you’d collected throughout the week. Eating half a chocolate bar but throwing it away as it wasn’t helping the sick feeling and deciding on grabbing yourself a glass of water and heading to bed for a somewhat early night.

You huff as you pad across the room, hunched shoulders from feeling sorry for yourself but you were truly the one to blame. After a terrible date you should’ve gone to the bar to be with your friends, to be with him but no you came home to wallow in self pity, good one. 

A round of knocks from the front door echo throughout the apartment, checking the time to see 11.05pm flashing back at you from the TV monitor. You thought about asking who it was but deciding to not answer it as it would probably be some of your drunk neighbors asking if you had any lemonade as they’d run out or something stupid like that.

Normally, you’d atleast check who it was but you weren’t in the mood. What if it was Brad? He’d come to try his luck one more time? The thought made you feel even worse and if anything hurried you further away from the door.

“If you don’t answer your phone, you can atleast let me in”

The pit in your stomach grew as you heard the all too familiar voice, surely he hadn’t come all this way just to check up on you? That would be just you imagining something you wanted to happen and those things didn’t happen to you, not with him.

“Y/N. Open the door” you hear Jay’s voice boom, not out of anger but dare you say, concern? 

You take a quick glance in the mirror, cursing yourself for removing your make up and changing into some slobby comfy clothes. He knocks again but this time doesn’t stop, continuing to pound his fists into the door as he doesn’t take no for an answer.

You run your hands through your hair in some attempt to regain some form of decency before twisting the door handle and opening to see Jay stood in the hall, pizza box in one hand bottle and pack of beers in the other. His smile is infectious as he radiates happiness from the moment he see’s you, holding the items up with raised brows 

“Pizza’s getting cold and these are getting warm”

You roll your eyes before opening the door fully to let him into the apartment, feeling the instant relief of comfort from his aftershave as he closely passes “You didn’t unhook the latch, do you have it on normally?” you slowly shut the door, turning to him in confusion as he makes himself at home by grabbing the bottle opener and handing you an open bottle of beer. 

“Didn’t realise I’d just let my dad in?” you joke but he flashes a stern look before turning back to the pizza “Just saying”. 

You make your way back over to the sofa, letting him get organised before he finally joins you. He places the pizza box between the pair of you and for a split second you take that as a hint he doesn’t want to get too close to you, otherwise he’d sit beside you and place the box on the table in front but no, he was keeping his distance. 

Each grabbing a slice of pizza, you turn your attention back to the screen but feel his gaze still on you “You hate these things? I told you to watch Love Island and you nearly didn’t speak to me for a week” he throws his hand up in gest as you chuckle “It’s a game show, it’s different”. 

He leans to grab a beer and the room falls silent , each waiting for the other to speak but neither of you sure what to say. The inner battle in Jay’s head of whether to ask about your date sends the cogs in his brain turning, so fast it’s a surprise you don’t hear them. 

On one hand he wants to hear about how horrible it was, how you hated every second and wish you hadn’t gone but on the other what if you loved it? What if you’d gone home to wait for Brad to come over later? What if you’d already texted him to come and that’s why you weren’t asnwering your phone when he tried to call earlier? 

“Why are you here?” your timid voice breaks the silence, also just as nervous to speak as Jay. You fully expected to be told some story about how he was craving warm pizza and your apartment was closer than his to eat it whilst it was hot. Or how he needed a place to stay for a few hours before heading into work the next morning so you were just a convenience but neither of those things were his reponse.

“I was worried about you”

You almost choke on your sip of beer, placing it back on the table as you finish your pizza slice “You were worried about me?” you double check you heard correctly and you weren’t just having one of those outer body experiences where you’re hearing what you wish he would say. 

“Brad came to Molly’s” he smirks and your heart drops “Shit” you mumble, running your hand across your forhead as you chuckle “Did he say what a terrible date I am?” you look at Jay through your fingers as he shakes his head, trying to surpress a grin but failing “Just the opposite actually”.

You sit confused, waiting for Jay to ellaborate on his story as he throws a pizza crust back into the box and rubbing his hands on his jeans to dust off the crumbs “Was raving about you. In fact, think he’s quite fond of you”.

You throw your head back and groan “Don’t tell me that, if you’re gonna sit and say how great he is you can leave” you point to the door but Jay stays seated with the signature smile spreading on his face “I’m not going anywhere”.

***

It had been a few hours since Jay turned up at your door, he’d convinced you to turn to his favourite late night game show which you were now watching. After finishing the pizza, he took the box into the kitchen and took you by surprise as he sat down right beside you. You froze, instantly feeling like a shy school girl again after the boy you like accidentally touched your hand, but this wasn’t accidental. It was far from it.

He swung his arm round the back of the sofa and wrapped it around your shoulders to pull you into him, allowing yourself to lean your head on his shoulder as he placed his on top of yours. You stared at the screen feeling riged, scared to even breathe too heavy as you were so close he would feel anything and everything.

“It’s Mount Rushmore, idiot” he called out, removing his head from yours to point at the TV. “Is he for real? How thick can people be?” he argued with himself as you watched on, who knew someone yelling at a TV game show could give you such loving butterflies in your stomach?

‘Top 5 places a guy will take a girl on a date’

The next question flashes up on the screen and you pat Jay on the thigh, an innocent guesture that you didn’t think much of until after you’d done it. Feeling him flick his eyes down to your hand that was still resting on his leg before returning his attention back to the screen “This ones on you Halstead”. 

He sighs as the first answer is revealed, “Well the movies is boring” he scoffs “worst date ever, you just sit at a screen and don’t talk. What’s the point? Can do that at home” you chuckle at his groaning which earns a hum of confusion from Jay.

“You go next” he switches the question onto you but you shake your head “This is from a guys point of view, don’t bring this onto me” you return your head on his shoulder and slightly nestle into his neck.

Your skin feels like its burning as his hand drops from the back of the sofa to your waist and pulls you closer to him. You expect him to make a joke about it or a sarcastic comment but he doesn’t, it’s almost as if he doesn’t even realise he’s done it and that it was more of a natrual thing for him to do. 

The answers continue to be revealed, each getting more stereotypical each time and earning a dig from Jay after every failed attempt of the contestants guessing “Do these people just watch films and get the ideas from there?” he moans “No originality these days”.

“Okay Mr Originality, what’s your idea of a perfect date then?” you ask, still keeping your head nestled into him as you feel his chest vibrate in a soft laugh “You really wanna know?” he asks to which you nod “I wanna know what the bachelor Jay Halstead does to impress the ladies”. 

He takes a final sip of his beer before setting it down on the table, an inaudible sigh escaping your lips as you feel him slightly lift his grasp that had settled on your hips. You stay slouched into the sofa, hoping he will return to his position to which you feel your heat skip as leans back to join you.

“So” he begins, kicking his feet up on the table and once again slinging his arm around you. You allow your head to fall back into the crook of his neck with a content hum, hearing a light chuckle which tells you he heard your almost silent noise. 

“First of all, it wouldn’t be the movies or the theatre. That’s just stupid and especially if its a first date, you can’t even get to know the person, I don’t understand. Second of all I’d” you tap lightly against his chest to stop him in his rant.

“Are we gonna be continuing with this number scheme? Feels like i’m in school” you joke, feeling Jay sink his head onto yours and dig his fingertips into your skin to make you jolt “Fine, I’ll start again”. 

“I’d turn up at the door, maybe flowers or maybe some beers. Sometimes I’d book a table at their favourite restaurant but I wouldn’t just ask them which one. I would’ve found out sneakily through conversation or asking their friends or collegues so they’re surprised when we get there at how well I pay attention to these things.” 

You instantly regret asking, why did you have to ask him about his ‘Jay Halstead’ moves when the thought of him on a date with someone else makes you feel physically sick? You can’t stand your mind entertaining the thought of another girl giving him attention at a bar whilst he waits for drinks, let alone him describing in depth the extra miles he’d go to when he’s with a girl he likes. 

You continue listening to his story, getting lost in his words as he seems to let them fall from his lips so casually as he describes the date. 

“I’d maybe even pick them up from work, surprise them with a weekend away if we’ve been together a while to try and get some time together” he pauses before taking a deep breath and continuing on.

“Even something so simple as not being able to enjoy a night at Molly’s if she isn’t there so turning up at her apartment with a nearly cold pizza and 4 pack of beer to scream answers at TV presenter that can’t hear us until she falls asleep with her head on my shoulder.

I’d cover her with a blanket, not wanting to carry her to bed incase she got the wrong idea. I’d set up a little place for myself on the chair next to her, watching as she smiles in her sleep and wondering if she’s thinking of me and if she knows just how crazy she makes me”

His voice trails off, almost as if he was speaking without thinking and now second guessing everything he’s just said. He was clearly speaking about you.

The amount of time he’d wish he could book a table at your favourite Italian restaurant that he see’s you looking at the menu for all the time but can never justify the price.

Overhearing you and Kim talking about a cabin by the lake you saw on social media, craving the idea of him whisking you away after work for an impromptu weekend where he could have you all to himself and not have to share you with anyone. He wanted all those things, but he could only see them happening with you. 

“Sounds an awful lot like you’ve got someone in mind for these dates?” you tease “She’s a luckily girl if shes got Jay Halstead thinking of her like that” you remark, unsure of whether to acknowledge everyhing he has just spilled out or to let it pass by, put it down to him having a few drinks and clearly getting more tired as you feel him pull you into him more and the weight of him leaning on you growing stronger. 

“Yeah she is, too bad I have to watch her go on dates with other guys and hear him rave about it at a bar when all I can think about if how it should be me”.

Another silence falls between you, it had gone too far for it to be considered a ‘drunken comment’ at this point he was just describing you and you both knew it. 

“You should tell her how you feel” you lift your hand to innocently play with the buttons on his shirt, nothing sinster or sexual about it but you found comfort in the extra form of touch.

You yawn into his side, draping your arm across his chest as you bring your leg to rest onto his. You feel him drop a kiss to the top of your head as he places his other hand on your thigh to hook it round him, further closing the gap between the pair of you as you feel him harshly swallow “I think I just did”. 

***

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[gubler-me-up]

Not That Kind of Tie

Request(s): Pls write me some smutty Hotch if that’s okay w you 🥺

heyy baby, could you write a smut one shot, with aaron hotchner, where he is a dom and the reader is a sub with a lot of degradation and him calling the reader names and just being mean?

if your not comfortable with it, that’s completely fine!! i love your writing and i hope you have a wonderful day xx

A/N: Thank you for the requests, anons! I know I said I would post this on the weekend but I’ve never written a Hotch fic so it was hard to make a concept. Had to take several breaks to ask myself if I was even writing this properly??? Hopefully it’s good and you like it! Idk if I’ll write another Hotch fic tho i dont think is for me unfortunately 🤟🏾😔 but this was a good change of character to write for. I hope you enjoy and happy reading!

Couple: Dom!Hotch/Sub!reader

Category: Smut (NSFW 18+)

Content warning: Penetrative sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, degradation, fingering, spanking, swearing, male ejaculation (in mouth), slight blowjob, slight bondage

Word count: 3k

——————–

You knocked on Hotch’s office door to give him the files you stayed behind to finish up. You had slacked off a bit on your paperwork for Hotch and didn’t want to leave him waiting any longer. You had no idea why he had given you so much paperwork to do but you weren’t upset about it. He liked your work and must have trusted you enough to work diligently on them. Besides, you weren’t mad about spending a few extra hours with Hotch.

“Come in,” Hotch said.

You opened the door. You greeted Hotch with a gentle smile before you walked in. He only peaked up to see who it was before he looked back down to carry on with his work. Typical behaviour for him.

You slowly approached his desk and dropped the files on it, deeply hoping he would look up at you. Something about him simultaneously ignoring you but favouring you enough to keep you around longer than the rest made you curious. You wanted to look into his eyes to see if the answers laid there.

He didn’t look up again. He diligently worked through his own paperwork, not giving you the attention your curiosity craved. However, your curiosity would just have to wait.

You pivoted around to leave his office. You walked towards the door faster than you walked towards his desk. You doubted your speed would cause him to look up. If your slow, eye-catching walk up to his desk didn’t pique his interest, you doubted anything would.

“Y/N.”

You turned around surprised to hear him utter your name. He rarely called you by your first name. It sounded monotone, as usual, but there was something in it that sparked a fire in you. It didn’t sound as if he needed you for any reason in particular. It seemed he just called you to call your name. You turned around to flash a smile his way.

“Yes, sir?” You asked.

“Close the door and take a seat,” he said.

You would have questioned him further but he immediately looked back down at his paperwork to continue filling it out. You didn’t mind his demands since any time in his presence was a good time to you. You were happy to be so close to him in his office even if it was just to hear him talk to you for a few seconds.

You closed the door as he instructed and made your way over to the chair in front of his desk. As soon as you did he looked up at you. There was no-out-of-the-ordinary expression on his face. Then again he was the master of hiding any visible emotions.

“Y/N, I want to talk to you about your work,” he said.

You looked at him worried. It didn’t seem as if he was upset about your work. Then again even when he was upset he sounded calm. However, after working with him for five years you knew him well enough to know he would have addressed any concerns he had earlier. He would never push off talking to you about your work for so long.

“I don’t think that’s what you want to talk about,” you said.

Hotch broke his usual calm, neutral demeanour when you made your bold statement. He raised his eyebrows in surprise at what you had said. You looked at him with a smirk as you shrugged your shoulders.

“I’ve known you for far too long to know you wouldn’t want to talk to me about my paperwork if there was something wrong with it,” you said.

“I don’t want to criticize your work. Your paperwork is always perfect,” he said.

A smile appeared on your face but you quickly pressed your lips together to refrain it. He had praised you for your work before which was always music to your ears. His words had such a way with you. His words could wrap around you like a nice bow or like his hands around your neck. His large, strong hands probably capable of bringing you to your knees.

“Y/N?” He asked.

You blinked twice as you snapped out of your inappropriate thoughts. You were pretty sure the fact you two were the only ones left in the bureau was getting to you. You smiled at him to show him you were all there. With his level of profiling skills, you doubted he believed your mind was on track with the conversation at hand.

“Yes, sir,” you said.

“As I was saying, your paperwork is perfect but sometimes I feel as if your mind wanders other places leaving you to do your paperwork past the end of the day,” he said.

“I’m not distracted. I like staying behind to do my paperwork late,” you said.

“You stay as late as me some nights,” he said.

That was a true fact he stated. You would stay behind as late as he would on some nights to do your paperwork. You both would leave at the same time which meant you got to witness Hotch after hours more than anyone else on the team did. It always felt so intimate between you two whenever you were in the elevator leaving the office.

Every time you two would stand next to each other and talk about whatever came to mind. When your hands brushed against each other, you could feel yourself holding back from holding it. He would never move away from you either. He would stand with high confidence next to you as he talked with fire in his voice. It was hard resisting a man like him.

One time your resistance was at an all-time low. You had to have him. You needed him to indulge in you in depths he never knew you had. He gazed at you a second too long in the elevator once and you leaned towards him. He didn’t move or flinch in the slightest.

He let your lips land on his as you embraced him in a desperate kiss. He grabbed your ass and squeezed it as he indulged in your kiss. It ended as soon as the elevator doors opened but you were hooked. The feeling of his lips, his tongue, his hands. You craved it again.

“Is that an issue? It’s just a preference of mine to get my paperwork out during after-work hours. You know, get to let my hair down and loosen up,” you said.

“I can tell,” he said.

His eyes gazed down at your halfway unbuttoned blouse before they looked back up at you. You hadn’t forgotten you had unbuttoned your blouse. You had gotten hot while working so you unbuttoned it. You were going to button it up before going into his office but you decided to leave it as it was, hoping he’d noticed. You were glad he finally did.

“Are you going to say this goes against dress code?”

“You’re not on the clock, so it doesn’t. Anyway, please don’t make it a habit to stay late so frequently to complete paperwork,” he said.

“I understand, sir. I won’t distract you any further,” you said.

“Distract me?” He asked.

You smirked. “Yeah, your eyes seemed unfocused for a second.”

He stared at you for a second before he shook his head with a small smirk on his face. He looked down at his case file and closed it. You watched as he shuffled all his files together to put them in a pile. You guessed it was time for him to leave the office for the night. However, you weren’t quite ready to go.

“Sorry for inappropriately looking at you. It was unprofessional of me,” he said as he stood up.

“No, it’s okay,” you said as you shot up from your seat.

He raised an eyebrow at your eager ejection from your seat. To say you were excited to be in an elevator again with him was an understatement.

You were curious what would happen if you went just a little further this time. Would he deny you or entice you?

You wanted to know what could happen before you two entered the elevator. You leaned over his desk to get close enough to his tie. You watched him watch you grab it out of where it was tucked behind his suit jacket. He didn’t move or flinch at your touch. He let you carry on.

You looked down at his tie and caressed your thumb on it. Quality silk for a quality man. A flood of thoughts passed by your mind you just had to voice aloud. You looked up at him as you bit your lip.

“Would you use this to tie my hands together?” You asked.

His face almost broke when you said that. He had to press his lips together to hold his smirk back. You could already see past his stone-cold demeanour.

“It’s not that kind of tie,” he said.

You let go of his tie to lean back. You placed your hands out in front of him with your wrists touching. He looked at them long as if you had presented the greatest temptation to him. He then looked back up at you to see the sensuality in your eyes.

“It can be,” you said.

“Y/N-“

“Don’t tell me you’re against punishing me for going against the dress code,” you said.

You said all the words you knew would tempt him to his core. His alpha male personality mixed with his sex drive wouldn’t dare give up the opportunity to punish you for breaking a rule.

“Are you begging?” He asked.

“You could say so. Would you take me more seriously if I begged on my knees?” You asked.

He didn’t answer you. He just stuck his index finger up and twirled it. You understood your cue and turned around. You sat on the edge of his desk with your hands behind you.

No words were exchanged between you two. Just the feeling of his tie wrapping around your wrists and your heart pounding against your chest. You felt the last pull of his tie on your wrists as he tightened it.

“Turn around,” he demanded.

You turned back around to look him directly in his eyes. You could see the full control on his face. His eyes pierced through your core. You enjoyed the way his look could even make you submit. You would have let him fuck you in the elevator but his office would do.

Hotch shoved his thumb in your mouth. He cupped your chin and pulled you close to him. He leaned in close to examine your desperate face. You smirked around his thumb.

“I never knew you’d submit to being a whore so easily. I would have done this sooner if I knew,” he said.

He removed his thumb from your mouth before grabbing you by your face. He pulled you towards him but your face was the only part of you that could reach that far. Your hips hit his desk hard as the top of you was slightly bent forward.

He placed a quick, aggressive kiss on your lips before he pulled away to look at you. You breathed heavily as you stared at him. If his kiss could knock the wind out of you, you were positive you were going to be breathless after what he had planned for you.

He let go of your face to make his way behind you. His hand caressed down your back. It curved over your ass and slipped under your skirt. You yelped as soon as you felt his fingers dig into your skin. He squeezed it even harder when he heard you yelp.

“I thought you were begging to be a whore,” he said as he lifted your skirt.

“I am,” you said.

He spanked your ass. “That’s not begging, whore.”

“Please treat me like a whore,” you begged.

He spanked your ass again. “Beg to be fucked like a whore.”

“Fuck me like a whore,” you begged.

He spanked your ass again. “Again.”

“Fuck me like the whore I am,” you begged.

He spanked your ass one last time before he moved your underwear to the side. You bit your bottom lip in excitement. The area of your ass where he had spanked you stung immensely but it was a little taste of how he’d treat you.

You craved everything he had to offer you. The caress of his hand. The hair pulling. The fucking. You wanted to experience it all. And you would get exactly what you wished for.

He grabbed a bundle of your hair in his hand and pulled you halfway up. His other hand was up to no good between your legs. You moaned aloud as you felt him rapidly flicking your clit.

Your legs started to shake the more he flicked. He then slapped your pussy with a brass harshness. You yelped at the feeling but it wasn’t in a bad way. It sent a shock through you that you had never felt before.

“Why the fuck are you shaking?” He asked.

“Because you’re-“

He cut you off by shoving two fingers in you. He pumped in and out of you with speed as he indulged in the sound of you shrieking. He placed his lips against your ear.

“I don’t want a whore like you to answer. I just need you to take whatever I give you. Understood?” He said.

“Yes,” you shrieked.

“Yes fucking who?” He asked.

“Yes, sir,” you shrieked.

He pulled his fingers out of you. You heard him fumble around with his belt and soon his pants zipper. You gasped when you felt his hard dick hit your ass as it popped out of his underwear.

You couldn’t see it but you knew you were about to take a lot of dick. Your heart raced immensely at the thought of him repeatedly pounding into you. You bit your bottom lip just fantasizing about it.

“Your whore pussy better be able to take my whole cock,” he hissed in your ear.

You felt yourself throbbing down below at his words. You were more than ready to take him whole. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Yes, sir,” you said.

He did just what he said and shoved his whole cock into you. You screamed as he pounded into you over and over again, giving you no breaks. He shoved you down onto his desk to get you into a 90-degree angle. You definitely felt how deep he could go in the position you were in.

“That’s right, fucking take it like a disgusting whore,” he said.

You did as he asked. You let him rearrange your guts with no questions asked. You knew from the moment he kissed you and grabbed your ass in the elevator a few days back he wanted to do this to you.

The way he rammed his dick into you made you think the desk would tumble over. The force he had was remarkable. You couldn’t imagine getting fucked better than what he was giving you.

“Does your disgusting mouth want my cum?” He asked.

“Of course, sir,” you moaned.

He pulled out of you and immediately grabbed your arm. He yanked you off the desk to stand you upright. He pulled you down to the ground. You didn’t hesitate to go on your knees for him.

You looked at his dick and saw it glistening with your juices that coated it. You licked your lips as you looked up at him with excitement in your eyes. You opened your mouth to show him just how eager you were for him to cum in your mouth.

He grabbed your hair to hold your head in place. He used his other hand to stroke his dick to shoot his cum in your mouth. His dominant look sent chills down your spine. You don’t think you could ever look at him again without craving that look.

“You better not waste a fucking drop, whore,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” you said.

He then stuck his dick into your mouth and you felt his warm cum drip down your throat. You made sure not a single drop went to waste by giving his dick a slight suck. He looked at you pleased that you followed his instructions, even did a little more for him.

“That’s how I treat desperate whores,” he said.

You took your mouth off his dick. You smirked up at him. You could just imagine yourself being his whore day in and day out. Now that you got a taste, you wanted more.

“Then let me be your desperate whore more often,” you said.

He smirked as he let go of your hair. He pulled up his pants and underwear to fix himself up. He then turned his attention to you. He pulled you up by your arm and turned you around.

You could feel him untying your hands to set you free. You sighed to yourself because you wanted more of him. You could only hope the feeling was mutual.

You turned back around to see him shining his tie around his neck to tie it. You smirked as you stopped his hands from tying it. He looked at you with a questionable look in his eyes but his smile still remained.

“I guess it is that kind of tie,” you chuckled.

He smirked. “Only for you.”

“Doe this mean I can be your whore frequently?” You asked.

“Of course,” he said.

“Can we start in the elevator?” You asked.

He chuckled before leaning in to give you a kiss that you desperately wanted to feel again. You felt his hands wrap around you as he embraced you deeper into the kiss. As much as you loved experiencing his dominant side, experiencing the softer side of Hotch was the best reward you could ever crave.

—–

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @shadyladyperfection @slutforthegubes @pinkdiamond1016 @spencerreidsthings @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @slutforsr @bxtchboy69 @fallinallinmendes @haihappen5 @mgg-theprettiestboy @siltuz-png @ptrs-prkrs @agentadhd @fanofalltheficsx @alexmarie29 @closetedreidstan @mac99martin @dinsprettygirl @multixfandomwriter @reidbuck @corishirogane3 @thegoddamncrazycatlady @pastelbabygirl19 @shadybagelsludgecolor @bootycrackraisinjuice @vintagebeauty1496 @laneybobeczko-g @littlewierdalien @cynbx @calm-and-doctor @muffin-cup @jessalyn-jpeg @princesssmooshie @solitarypeachh @spensual​ @gubler-me-swallow-me

[oh-for-fic-sake]

Tik Tok Leggings

Masterlist

Summary: Time to test these Tik tok leggings.

Warnings: swearing, Fluff, Cheeky Henry, Suggestive Themes, Plus sized reader

A/N: Just wanted to do something different thinking of maybe having a mini TikTok onshot series but unsure yet. Either way I hope you enjoy and happy Easter to those who celebrate  and those who don't? Have a brilliant Sunday xx

Taglist: will be in comment/reblogs

You eyed the package wearily... just how the fuck were you meant to pull this off? Slowly but surely the confidence  and 'fuck it' attitude was waning. They looked small.... very small.

You huffed a sigh looking at yourself in the mirror eyeing your form. You swear you'd gained some more weight, just a few pounds maybe? But you felt huge. Slowly you unravelled the leggings, it had been a good idea at the time but now you wasn't so sure. They were expensive and even thought you bought them as a little prank you did hope they would boost you confidence or at least be comfy enough to wear around the house.

Being a larger girl it was hard finding comfy clothes and you had to be comfy now that your boys were running around the house like headless chickens. You thought the terrible twos with trainers were bad? Your four year olds had scooters!

You grit your teeth and decided to try the leggings on gearing up for an all put war with the waist band but was pleasantly surprized. The fabric was firm and tummy controlling without feeling you feeling caught by a bloody boa constrictor! A comfy tight not spandex tight. You casually wondered about seeing if the company did bras, this shit would stop the girls from trying to knock you out on the stairs!

You pulled the material setting the... elasticated seam in your ass crack and winced... Okay that's a little strange... but not unpleasant and almost thong. You spun around eyeing yourself in to mirror. You didn't look to bad, if you said so yourself. Sure you wasn't magically strim and fit, you were blessed with a nice thick ass... but unfortunately had the thick hips and large thighs to go with it. You'd never be petite or dainty, but then again henry was huge behemoth of a man so you didn't need to be. As he said on many occasions he wanted a woman as thick as him... and you definitely fit that bill. His thighs were only slightly bigger then yours.

You turned around a few more times. Fuck okay hello there~ you grinned. You may not be the perfect sized woman but fuck if your ass wasn't glorious in these leggings~ this just might work.

You grinned and pulled on one of Henry's tshirts, the grey marines one it was snug and would ride up a little over your tummy showing off your bubble but that you felt was your best feature. And then padded downstairs, henry. Was in the large garden trying to teach the boys how to play rugby... Wanting to start them young.

You pottered about the kitchen chopping up the salad for tonight. Contrary to what people thought you were not large because you ate to much or did little exercise, you had always been bigger and admittedly since having the boys you had gained a little more weight but not ridiculously, you wasn't dangerously over weight.

You hummed looking out the patio door seeing henry jumping for joy as his boys and Kal played 'rugby' darting across the garden to the tiny rugby post at the end. Moving to Jersey to raise the kids was a brilliant idea, you had a huge country house with the land to go with it. Flat and immaculate that spread around the house in nearly four acres the lawn was mostly to the back and side and cornered off with tall hedge rows then beyond it a cornered off veggie plot and greenhouse and a work in progress chicken coop. Soon there will be a decent sized pond and some ducks... Henry didn't know yet, but if he was allowed to have a stables built four god knows how many horses you were allowed your ducks god dammit.

You grinned watching as henry ran around both the boys with his phone out cheering them on as they tor across the garden wrestling each other for the ball. You had panicked when you were told twin boys but you should have known henry would be able to handle it. It was perfect, days like this when he was home and strived to make his sons lives as magical and fun as he could, everyday was a holiday when dad was home.

You shook your head seeing the boys both lay on the floor in the shade completely tuckered out from the mornings fun. Henry can into the kitchen and you held your breath quickly bending over the counter a tad more then normal hoping to get a favourable reaction from your husband. But you couldn't help the tinge of doubt  what if he didn't like them? Or thought you looked bigger then you were?

"Hey sweetheart are the boys fruit shoots in the fri-oh sweet baby Jesus" he coughed cutting himself off  and took a half step back as he came in the kitchen. You giggled and turned to him then nodded your head to the fridge.

"Yeah their in there love" you said smirking and blushing as you saw him eyeing your ass tilting his head slowly down trying to get a better look at your ass making you bite your lip.

"Err yeah yeah... I... hold that thought" he said snapping out of it holding a finger up at you and looked to his phone.

"You just stay right were you are- no nope over bend over again babe... fuck me how did I get such a sexy little mama~" he growled one hand swiping over his screen. You flushed and wriggled our hips a little as you leant forward feeling on top of the world as he openly gawked at your ass. For a second you thought he was taking a photo and made to move wanting to snap up right but he napped his fingers to you pointing for you to get back down and brought the phone to his ear.

"Henry what are you?-" you tried standing once more but he crossed the kitchen pressing himself up against your ass and rocked slowly making you mewl as his bulge pressed against your ass half hard already. Henry huge hand pressed you down on the counter before him and winked then he spoke as who ever was on the phone answered.

"Hey mum, hi can you come get the boys?" He asked and you gasped at him shaking your head at him laughing. He wasn't palming the kids off to their grandparents because he wanted a midday fuck! Not that Marie-Ann would mind, she loved hosting the kids and frequently showed up out of the blue and took them out for the day. She was adamant that both you and henry still had alone time.

"No, no everything's all right I just- somethings come up~" he smirked and you laughed loud shaking your head at him, he was a little bugger! He wriggled his brows at you and nodded then flushed stuttering for a few comments.

"I.. No no of course not mum... muuuum stop- well yeah... yes I know you were young once-oh shit no I didn't mean of course your still young! Your in your prime! Okay yes, yes I promise to try my hardest... yes okay, see you in ten okay love you bye... bye mum I will. Yes I will mum bye" he muttered slowly moving through being embarrassed, shy and strangely confident before hanging up.

"Soo the boys are going out?" You giggled finding the way he reacted ridiculously cute. It wasn't what you expected, maybe a kiss on the cheek and a slap on the ass. But not him shipping the kids off for the day.

"And staying over night" Henry muttered moving both hands to your ass and squeezed and rolled the cheeks about making you squeak and try rising on your tip toes but he just growled following pressing a kiss to your neck.

"And what have we agreed to for this mighty generous gift? What have you promised?" You said arching back into him with a teasing tone knowing Marie would make henry pay for the 'young once' comment.

"Oh you know nothing too big just another grandchild, which wont be hard with these in your closet" he chuckled pinging the fabric that clung to your ass like a second skin. You flushed gasping out at him batting him away slowly. But it was a hard fought battle, Henry won easily sliding the cutting board back then let you spin to face him. He quickly hoisted you up onto the counter top behind you and kissed your lips moaning into you before pulling back and pointed at you.

"Right you stay- right here. Don't you move a muscle Mrs Cavill" he said seriously and backed away from you still pointing making you laugh and kick your feet biting your lip before nodding. Henry backed up to the back door and called out to the boys.

"Boys come on! Your going to grandmas for a sleep over! Go pack a bag, jammies, tooth brush and clothes for tomorrow! Come on mush hop it or cop it!" he called you smiled hearing two high pitch excited voices squealing at the thought of grandma. She spoilt them rotten. They dashed into the house quickly running past the both of you giggle as henry tried playfully nudging them on the bottoms with his foot when they ran through the kitchen to dart up the stairs and pack an overnight bag. Henry slunk out of the kitchen following the boys but kept glancing back at you.

"Remember right there babe, been too long since we fucked in here~" he growled making you flush remembering the last time you'd made love in here. It'd been when you were pregnant, the day you moved in before you redecorated you'd had Chinese take out and then made love in every room in the house.

"I'll be right here love I promise, now... You might want to sort yourself out before answering the door to your mother~" you teased pointing to the large lump in the front of his shorts making him grunt and cup himself trying to reposition himself and left the kitchen to help the boys pack.

You can safely say, these leggings were a success. You were definitely leaving a five star review... You did however regret not filming his reaction for tiktok. Honestly you didn't even have the app your sister in law had shown you and you thought it'd be something fun to try with Henry. You may just get more than you bargained for though, not that you minded... You just hoped you had a girl this time, it was about time to try and even things out a bit.

[roonilwazlibimagines]

s.b Holidate - Ch.2 New Years Eve

Pairing: Sirius Black x Female Reader Word Count: 6.3k Synopsis: Her and Sirius have a complicated relationship and things get even more complicated when they agree to start a fake relationship to get their parents off their back      Warnings: Includes some swearing and drinking alcohol/being drunk A/N: I hope everyone has a healthy, safe, and successful new year! Also, if you’re liking the series please let me know if you’d prefer weekly updates or if I post them when the events occur? 

Masterlist | Holidate Masterlist

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

I was dizzy when we arrived home and I feared for a moment I had been spliced because my whole body was aching. It was dark and the house elves were turning the lights on. 

“Sirius Black? Really?” My mother was already moving around the house in a flurry, giving her coat to the house elf and getting a glass of water. “Might as well have just shown up with a muggle born.” I was speechless. The champagne had gone to my head and I was sure I was going to fall over so I pulled out a chair from the dining table and sat on it. 

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled. 

“You should have at least told me before we showed up, I think I deserved at least that.” She was angry and I was certain that this was no longer a good idea. For a moment I considered telling her it was fake and sending an owl to both Sirius - to tell him this was over - and Tiberius - to tell him to start wedding preparations. “Unbelievable.” She was cursing under her breath and she drank the glass of water in one gulp. She was red in the face and I truly felt bad that I had caused this. 

“Maybe I’ll have a good influence on him.” She grunted in response as if that was unlikely. 

“I have a headache, I don’t want to talk about this any more.” She was still swearing under her breath as she made her way up to her room. I stayed seated. I played with the end of my sleeves as I replayed everything that had happened in the last couple of hours. I was so quick to say yes, to get out of this awful situation. I should have told him to let me think about it. I should've set better rules. I should’ve said no.

I spent the whole week between Christmas and New Years Eve stressing about the situation. What if Sirius decided he didn’t want to do this anymore? I wouldn’t put it past him to humiliate me in front of everyone, it’s something he’d enjoy. I was sitting at the desk in my room, a few mornings after Christmas, staring at the wall and trying to process everything when I saw an unfamiliar owl at my window. 

My name was written in the most beautiful script I had ever seen. A small wave of jealousy washed over me as I opened the letter and realised it was neater than mine. 

My parents are ecstatic about our new relationship, I hope your parents feel the same. Can’t wait to get drunk with you on New Year's Eve.  Yours sincerely, Sirius xx

My hands were gripping the small piece of parchment so tight the edges were creasing. I stared at it in confusion before I put it on my bedside table. I couldn’t imagine why he had sent this to me. I imagined him sitting down to write it, he probably only sent it because he knew my parents weren’t ecstatic about it and wanted to rub it in. 

I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he did truly live up to his name of disappointment so I didn’t bother responding and telling him that my parents' reaction was quite the opposite. I would see him in a few days anyway. He could wait. 

~~~

It was late in the afternoon and I was wearing a gold shimmery dress with long sleeves that rested just above my knee. It was cold outside but it was warm inside so I wasn’t shivering just yet. My shoes were taller than Christmas and I feared that they would cause a nuisance once I started drinking. There was jazz music playing softly in the background and the house was decorated in black and gold. There were balloons everywhere and fireworks flashing a colourful ‘Happy New Year’ that were charmed to show up on the walls every few seconds. 

"You never replied to my letter." I could hear him tsk and shake his head and I rolled my eyes. I went to turn to him to say something witty back but my mouth stayed open when I saw what he was wearing.

"I thought we agreed you wouldn't wear that stupid jacket anymore."

"We never agreed to anything. You just called me ridiculous, and oh what was it," he pretended to think about, "embarrassing.” His pants were bunched up at his ankles and he was wearing an untucked dress shirt under that god awful jacket. 

“Because it is. You seriously need to work on your style.” He had some stubble along his chin and his hair looked wild as if he hadn’t brushed it since Christmas. Which I wouldn’t be surprised about if that were the case. He had his usual hint of mischievousness in his eye and I sighed. 

“I have excellent style thank you very much.” I didn’t respond and he must have felt the need to prevent a silence because he continued. “And don’t think I’m giving it to you again, that was a one time thing, to really sell the idea that we were dating.”

A server walked past holding a tray of champagne glasses and Sirius took two from them, handing one over to me. 

"So, were your parents just as ecstatic as mine?" We were both walking over to one of the lounges in the corner and I crossed my legs as I sat down and took a sip of the bubbly drink. 

I let out a sigh. "No," I frowned, "I told you, you're getting the better deal out of this."

He gave me a mix of a frown and a grimace as he took a sip of his champagne.

"Well, if it isn't my two favourite people." I rolled my eyes at the new voice. Sirius and I were sitting comfortably apart from each other on the same lounge, we weren't touching, but there was no room for a third individual between us. Regulus Black did not care and put himself right between Sirius and I, scrunching my dress and putting an arm around us both. 

"Regulus." I knew Sirius and Regulus didn't have the greatest relationship, but they were only ever friendly in public. 

"What do you want?" I think Sirius liked that neither of us sounded too impressed that he was here. I didn’t need someone to be watching Sirius and I’s every move. It was still all so new and I didn’t really know how to act like I liked him. 

"I just wanted to congratulate you on going public with your relationship." I finished what was left in the champagne glass in one sip. "I was going to come up at Christmas but you looked like you were going to be sick," he turned to face me, "and my suit was far too expensive to be ruined." I knew both of them would disagree, but the Black brothers were very similar. Both extremely vain.

After an awkward silence, Sirius cleared his throat and gave him a look as if to ask what he was still doing here. I liked Regulus. Just like Sirius, we grew up together. The only difference was that I was a year older than him, meaning we weren't forced to get along when we were children and Regulus was forced to get along with others. But we spoke often during Hogwarts, the children from this society were all close so we were in the same friend group and we were much more friendly than I had ever been with Sirius.  

"I just find it so odd that you two are together." Sirius and I began glaring at him as he continued. "I mean, I don't think I've ever seen you voluntarily speak to the other unless it was to annoy them." Sirius and I didn't know what to say and so we remained silent, but that did not deter Regulus. "But I mean, who knows what went on when I wasn't around, I couldn't always keep my eyes on you during Hogwarts." 

"It's none of your business, Regulus." Sirius' voice was low and I was glad that his snappy tone wasn't directed at me for once. 

"Oh, I know," he laughed, "but I do love getting myself involved." I laughed at that and Sirius shot me a look, confused that I was no longer on his side. 

"I just find it interesting that you two get together as soon as word gets out that Nott is to marry you.” He brought his hands away from our shoulders and poked me on the side. I didn’t know what to say and apparently neither did Sirius so we both sat there in terror. “Don’t you think it’s weird?”

“No,” I mumbled, wishing I had more champagne. I was scared Regulus was going to question it again but he wasn’t a mean person and instead, when he realised we weren’t going to answer, he sighed and said, "I’m just dying to know what you guys bonded over."

I was frightened that Sirius was going to say the real answer and I almost started tearing up when he wouldn't make eye contact with me. 

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I breathed a sigh of relief. Of course, Sirius wouldn't tell him the real reason otherwise Regulus would tell his mother and this whole thing would be finished before we even really got started. 

"I would," he confirmed. "But surely you haven't forgiven him for second year?" I scowled at the memory and felt my whole face heat up knowing that Regulus remembered. If he did then who else? 

"Second year?" Somehow, even though I didn't want anyone to remember, I was sad that Sirius had forgotten. 

"Oh," Regulus said in mock surprise, "you don't remember?" He gave me a look as if questioning why Sirius had no idea what he was talking about but I turned away. I could feel Sirius' stare on me but I didn't say anything. "Don't you remember, dear brother?" I could see Sirius' confused stare from the corner of my eye as he shook his head. "One of you and your idiotic friends brilliant pranks?" He asked, trying to jog Sirius' memory. "Something involving water, dung bombs and red hair dye?" I couldn't help it and turned to look over at Sirius who suddenly had an air of realisation. 

"Oh." He shot me a guilty look and when I didn’t say anything he shrunk in the lounge. 

"She was very angry," Regulus continued, not getting the hint, "I think that was the only time I've ever seen her cry." He gave me a dramatic pout and I rolled my eyes at him. So maybe I had cried on my way to the Slytherin Common room but at least one of the Black brothers had the decency to make sure I was okay. 

"Well," he sighed and put his hands on his knees, "I've done my bit." He stood up. "Can't wait to see you guys kiss when the clock strikes twelve." He stood up and made kissy faces at us before walking away. 

My mouth was left open in shock and when I turned to Sirius he looked the same way. 

"It upset you that much?" There was no malice in his voice, but I didn't want to talk about it so I happily changed the subject

"Did you not hear what he just said?" Somehow his face turned even more confused and when he didn't reply I continued. "He wants to see us kiss!" I exclaimed. "When the clock strikes twelve!" Sirius' face relaxed and I gave him an exasperated look at his lack of a reaction. "I feel like you're not hearing me right." I went to repeat what I had said but he cut me off. 

"Trust me, I am." He turned his body so he was facing me. "But I thought you realised that we would probably have to kiss to make this believable."

“Why would I want to kiss you?” I should have mentioned this in our rules. 

“Why did you agree to fake date me?” He raised an eyebrow at me and I huffed not really knowing the answer myself. “Surely you knew this would happen.”

"Well I didn’t." I seethed and motioned for the server with the champagne to come over to us. I got two glasses and Sirius put his hand out as if I was offering it to him but I finished them both in two sips. He stared at me with a mix of amusement and concern, and I suddenly felt sick but I didn't want to tell him that. 

"Is it really that bad having to kiss me?" He made a kissy face at me and I gently shoved his head away. 

"I just don't want to kiss you in front of everyone."

"That makes me feel better," he said sarcastically. 

"Well if you want me to make you feel better then I'll let you know that I don't want to kiss anyone in front of everyone." I sat up a bit straighter, holding the two empty glasses in one hand. 

"Not a fan of PDA?" He leaned back in the lounge and folded his arms as if this was a normal conversation for him. 

"I guess not," I frowned, "and it just makes everything worse that it is with you." He scoffed and I was glad that we were back to our usual banter. The conversation was getting just a bit too serious and I didn’t need him knowing the real reason. 

"Well if you really don't want to we don't have to." His words were nice but he was all grumbly and I got the feeling that he thought I was being annoying. 

"What? And have everyone find out we're in a fake relationship?" I hissed at him and he scoffed. 

"I'm pretty sure people aren't going to naturally assume we're in a fake relationship if we don't kiss on New Years Eve." He had a point but he didn’t need to know that. 

"Regulus will."

"Regulus is probably already too drunk to remember the conversation we just had." He had a point but I wasn't going to tell him. I didn't know what to say and I didn't know what to do about the situation so I stood up and turned to him. 

"I swear if you wear that leather jacket the next time we're seen together I will rip it to shreds and burn it." I was sure I looked like a mad woman. I was pointing my finger at him and I could feel a heat spreading all over my body. The champagne was getting to me and I wobbled a bit as I walked away. I heard Sirius yell out, "I don't know what my immaculate style has to do with this," but I didn’t react. 

Great. Now everyone would probably think we were fighting after only going out for a week. If Regulus heard him yell out like that we were done. Why was Regulus questioning us like that? But like Sirius said, it's a bold assumption to make that we were in a fake relationship. It would make much more sense for everyone to think we had relationship issues. I would think the same if Sirius was with someone else. I suddenly felt queasy and decided to mingle around before Sirius would undoubtedly find me again. 

I handed the two empty glasses to a server and found another two. 

~~~

"Are you drunk?" He found me a few hours later. I was talking to my friends and as I was walking back to the bathroom I could hear his voice, trying to catch up with me. It was only ten, I still had another two hours to get so drunk I wouldn't even remember having to kiss Sirius Black. 

"No." I turned around too fast to look at him and grabbed at his stupid jacket to hold myself up as I tripped over my heels. 

"Lovely," he murmured, holding onto my arm so I wouldn't fall. 

"It's just the shoes," I whispered to him. 

"Uh-huh," he agreed, but he didn't sound like he believed me. "Why are you so drunk?" He held onto my arm and we started walking over to a few seats by the window. I couldn’t help but notice that he was still taller than me despite the extra length on my shoes. He helped me sit up on the chair so I wouldn't fall and when I turned to him I realised that it was a struggle trying to keep my eyes open. 

"Because we're celebrating." My voice was a little too high and I told myself that next time I would make it deeper. He raised an eyebrow at me and I wasn't sure why I continued. "Because I don't want to remember kissing you." He frowned but when he saw me staring he went back to a neutral expression. 

"Am I really that bad, princess?" I could tell that he was trying to be funny but it just wasn't in his voice. 

"Why do you call me princess?" I could feel my lips form the words and I suddenly felt embarrassed that I was acting like this. Sure, I drank champagne at almost all of these events, but only ever enough to make me confident to keep the conversation going with all the guests. I never got this drunk. It was all Sirius' fault and I was suddenly mad at him. Before he got a chance to respond, I told him that. "This is all your fault." I went to put my head in my hands but there was nothing to fall into and Sirius reached out to grab me before I fell face-first off the chair. 

"What's my fault?" 

"This." I motioned to myself. "I'm not like you. I don't get trashed at parties, it's not respectable." He laughed at that and I frowned at him. This was not a laughing matter. When he was confident I was able to hold myself up, he removed his hands from my shoulders. 

"Trust me," he found my eyes, "you still look as elegant as you always do." I smiled a bit at that. "Just don't talk to anyone or let them smell your breath." I went back to frowning and he let out a chuckle. "Well, you don't have to worry anyway because we're not kissing." I widened my eyes at him. 

"Why?" 

"Because I'm not kissing you when you're this drunk." Oh no. Then everyone would know we weren’t dating. 

"I'll sober up by then, I promise."

"So you do want to kiss me?" I blinked up at him. He was so cocky and it infuriated me. Just because every girl at Hogwarts threw themselves on him didn’t mean I was going to. It would do him good to face rejection. 

"No," I groaned, "your brother is nosy and too smart for his own good, I don't want him to find out." 

"He won't," he reached out to grab my hands and a shiver went through my body at the feeling of his warm hands on my cold ones, "he's already passed out over there, don't worry about him." I followed his gaze and saw Regulus with his shirt untucked and his tie loose around his neck as his limbs fell haphazardly along one of the lounges. "At least you don't look like that." I giggled at that and he dropped my hands. I was sad at the lack of warmth and held them together in my lap. 

"I think we need to add some more rules." I sat up straighter

"Sure," he shrugged. 

"I don't want to kiss you."

"Okay." 

We stayed in silence for a moment before I continued. 

"I don't want to stand up anymore," I mumbled and let my head rest on his shoulder. The leather felt odd on my hair and so I pushed myself up so it wouldn't frizz. Sirius was halfway through putting his arm around my shoulder and so when I sat up straight it was resting awkwardly along my back. 

“Is that another rule?”

“No,” I rolled my eyes, “it’s just my shoes are too tall.”

“Your shoes are ridiculously tall.” He removed his arm from me. 

“But don’t they look so nice on me?” I straightened my leg and Sirius hummed. 

“I don’t know, I’ve seen you in better.” He had a teasing look on his face and I put my leg back down. 

“Whatever,” I rolled my eyes. “I think they look fine, but they do make my feet hurt and I don’t want to stand in them anymore.”

"We'll stay here then," he shrugged. A waiter came past with a tray full of champagne and Sirius and I both went to grab one. I went to bring it to my mouth but Sirius took it off me. 

"I think you've had enough tonight." 

"I think I know what's best for me." I went to take it back but Sirius held it just out of my reach. 

"You don't want to end up like that, do you?" He nodded at Regulus and I huffed. 

"I don't want you to end up like that either." I challenged. “If you do that reflects badly on me.”

"Are you saying you handle your alcohol better than me, princess?" He smirked when I didn't respond. I realised I probably wasn't in a state to fight that and I didn't want to sound like an idiot. “I think just us sitting together reflects badly on you.” He had a point and we both knew it so I didn’t say anything. He brought the glass to his lips and finished both of them in two sips, keeping eye contact with me the whole time. 

Sirius and I stayed in our position for the rest of the night. 

Our conversations flowed and ebbed. If it wasn’t for the alcohol and the fact that I didn’t want anyone to see me like this I didn’t think I would still be sitting with him. And my feet really did hurt from my shoes. Usually I could last the whole night in them, but these ones were just a tad too high. 

“Are you hungry?” It was eleven now and Sirius had gotten me a glass of water in that time and I was happily sipping that, feeling a lot less queasy than what I did an hour ago. 

I shook my head.

A waiter walked past carrying some dessert and Sirius went to grab one. 

“So you don’t want any chocolate?” My ears perked at that and I sat up straighter in my chair, looking at the decadent desserts the waiter was carrying. Sirius grabbed a chocolate one and a vanilla one and he passed the chocolate one to me. 

“I always want chocolate.” I bit into it and closed my eyes. When I opened them I noticed he was watching me and I gave him a look as if he was weird for watching me. He was. 

“You still like chocolate?” I finished chewing and nodded. 

“Still my favourite food.”

I was suddenly ten years old, just before Sirius and I went to Hogwarts and our relationship took a completely different turn. I couldn’t remember a time Sirius and I hadn’t annoyed the other, but at this stage we were still what some would call friends, even if it was entirely forced from our parents. 

“They’re not for us to eat,” I had told him sternly. “They’re for later tonight.” We were at my house. There were a few guests over for morning tea and a few children were present, but Sirius and I were inside while the others played outside. It was a summer day, bright and sunny and I was very hot in the dress my mother had made me wear, but I didn’t complain. 

“How will they know if two are missing?”

“They’ll know.” I raised my eyebrows at him and he only smirked at me. “Sirius, don’t.” I exclaimed as his hands went up to reach two of the chocolate cakes sitting on my kitchen bench. 

“Fine, I’ll only take one for me.” I frowned at him and watched him bring the cake closer to him. 

“You’re going to get in trouble.” He took a bite and groaned. 

“It tastes so good.” I squinted my eyes at him, we were having a staring contest as he ate the cake. “You’d love it.” I knew I would. I really wanted one too. But they were for the adults and I didn’t want to make my mother upset. She had been so stressed about today. 

“Well if you’re going to get in trouble for taking one for yourself, then you might as well get in trouble for taking one for me as well.” I tried to reason. 

“Who says I’m going to take the blame for you?” I frowned and watched him finish the small cake. “If you want one, you should get one.” My heart was beating fast and I folded my arms across my chest. I never disobeyed my parents. “They’ll never know, it’s just one chocolate cake, there’s plenty more.” He did have a point. He started laughing when I didn’t move. “Are you always going to be this scared? It’s just a chocolate cake.”

I reached out to grab one and when I turned to face him he was smiling like a lunatic. 

“But don’t tell them,” I stressed and he laughed. 

“I wouldn’t dare.” I took a bite. 

“It is really good.” He grinned at me and I finished eating the cake. Sirius had always been a bad influence on me. I always wanted to prove him wrong. 

We did get in trouble for it, later on when they were having dessert. For some reason my mother knew it was Sirius and I. 

“There were two missing!” she screeched, “do you know how embarrassing it is to be two chocolate cakes short?” I was near tears. My mother barely ever yelled at me, I always listened to her and I didn’t like this tone of voice. 

We were standing in the kitchen, it wasn’t as sunny anymore and I couldn’t meet my mother’s eye. 

“It was my fault.” I turned to look at Sirius. “I took them both.” My mother scoffed. 

“I should have known. My daughter would never do such a thing.” But I had. “I’ll be telling your mother.” Her voice was stern but at least she wasn’t yelling anymore.

She turned and walked back to the dining room and I turned to Sirius. 

“You didn’t have to do that.” He shrugged. 

“Don’t get used to it.”

Later that night when everyone had left my mother continued to rant.

“That Sirius Black,” she huffed, “he is a bad influence, maybe you shouldn’t be spending so much time with him.” I didn’t say anything. “I just know he’s going to get himself in trouble one day.” As if she knew the house he would get sorted in almost a year later. 

“This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” I hummed and he agreed.

He grabbed a new chocolate dessert from a waiter walking past. 

“I told you,” I said, taking it from him, “you’re a bad influence on me.”

“You say that like it's a bad thing.” He gave me a cocky smirk and I focused my attention on the dessert. 

We stayed there, Sirius getting anything chocolate that walked past from the servers while I drank my water and continued to sober up.  

We were watching everyone around us, dancing and drinking. I noticed his mother dancing with his father and I suddenly remembered something. 

“Your mother calls everyone darling.”

“What?” He furrowed his eyebrows at me and I giggled. 

“She calls everyone darling and you call everyone darling. It’s funny.” He looked like I had no idea what I was talking about and I realised he probably had never made the connection. “You say you don’t like them but you can definitely tell you’re their son.” I was going to say how similar he was to Regulus as well but he spoke before I could. 

“Don’t say that.” He snapped and I frowned. 

“Gosh, sorry.” I rolled my eyes at him. “You’re so dramatic.” He huffed. 

“I’m nothing like them.” He sounded offended and I thought it was weird. 

He wasn’t really like them. But they were his family. He looked like them, he acted like them (even if there were different beliefs guiding his actions), and he spoke like them. 

“Whatever you say.” I said as if I didn’t believe him. He was going to fight me about it when Regulus Black appeared in front of us. 

"Oh wow," Sirius said, "I can't believe you're still alive." I happened to look over at the projection on the wall in front of us that had a countdown to midnight and realised there were only ten minutes left. 

"Please, it's going to take more than alcohol poisoning to stop me from seeing the two lovebirds kiss." His hair was dishevelled and his clothes were creased. I was sure when Walburga saw him he would receive an earful. 

I tensed at his words and I think Sirius did as well. He made a kissy face at us as he walked away. 

"So I guess you do get to kiss me, princess." I was glad that he was trying to make a joke of the situation but I still wasn’t happy at the sudden change. "Don't worry, apparently the only person watching us will be Regulus."

"I still don't want to kiss you." I mumbled, but I wasn't sure he heard. 

“No one will even be watching us, they won’t even care.”

“Regulus will be watching us,” I fought, “and besides, people care about what I do, especially when I’m dating someone so beneath me,” I said, sitting straighter in my chair. 

“Please princess, the world doesn't revolve around you.” 

“It does, actually.” I smiled sarcastically at him and he rolled his eyes. 

“Everyone’s too drunk to care.” I couldn’t think of anything to say so I didn’t. He was probably right anyway. 

Five minutes left. I had drunk all of my water and Sirius was taking it off me to give to one of the servers. 

"It's going to be fine." He told me after a moment of silence. He sounded so certain and I wasn't sure why. 

"If you say so."

"Do you trust me?" I glanced over at him and he was looking at me, trying to find my eyes. 

"Why?" My voice was weary but he looked so certain I felt inclined to trust him. 

"Just close your eyes, okay?" I squinted at him before doing so. He chuckled and I opened them back up. "Not now." I felt like an idiot and I could feel my whole body heat up. "At midnight," he continued, "trust me, you'll know when." He was still giggling about me closing my eyes so I huffed and turned the other way.

"Whatever."

There were two minutes to midnight and I was sure in the last ten seconds I had made eye contact with Regulus about fifteen times. 

"Why does your brother want us to kiss so badly anyways?"

"Are you seriously asking me to understand the ways of my brother?" There was a hint of distaste in his voice and so I let the conversation drop. I didn’t want a reaction similar to the one when I had made the connection between him and his mother. 

One more minute and I would be kissing Sirius Black. I didn't want to kiss Sirius Black. I didn't want my first kiss to be Sirius Black. I couldn't tell Sirius Black this, of course, and I was growing more nervous as only two digits remained on the projector. 

I knew Sirius had kissed lots of people before. I had watched him kiss lots of people before and I had turned away in an attempt to hide my face just in case he saw me see them kiss. It was always awkward and made me feel sick watching them. I wasn’t a big fan of public displays of affection and everything Sirius did annoyed me anyway. This would probably just be another kiss to him, but to me it was important and that was being completely disregarded. 

I knew first kisses weren’t always special, but I had gone so long without having it that I guess a part of me wanted it to be special. At least with someone I genuinely liked and wasn’t dating just to get out of an arranged marriage. 

"It'll be fine," he murmured and I wasn't sure who he was trying to convince. 

Suddenly everyone was shouting out, "Ten! Nine! Eight!" and I turned to Sirius who was moving his chair closer to mine. 

"Five! Four! Three!" We weren't joining in and I wasn't sure if it was just my mind, but I swore I could feel Regulus' eyes on us. 

"Two! One!" All of a sudden Sirius' hands were on my face and instinctively I closed my eyes. 

But his lips never touched mine. 

“Happy New Years!” I could hear the confetti cannons fire and the fireworks pop, but I could no longer hear the beat of my heart. It had stopped. 

I could feel his lips hover over mine. I could feel the small puffs of air leaving his mouth. But our lips weren’t touching. His forehead was touching mine so gently, and that, with his hands on my cheeks were the only forms of contact. I wasn't sure what was happening, I didn't want to bring my mouth closer to his, but despite my lack of experience I was certain that a kiss involved two lips touching. We were so close. Then I remembered he told me to keep my eyes closed and realised that with his hand on my cheeks and our faces so close together, no one could tell that we weren't actually kissing. It happened so fast and before I knew it he was pulling away. 

I stared at him dumbfounded. He was looking around the crowd and from the smug face he made, I knew he had found Regulus. 

"Thank you," I mumbled. I was sure I could still feel his lips, hovering over mine and I tried to shake myself out of it. 

"Well, I wasn't going to kiss you when you were so against it." He shook his head but he wouldn't look at me. 

"That was actually really kind." He nodded at me, still not meeting my eyes. "Do you think he believed it?"

"Well he just opened a new bottle of firewhiskey so I think we're good." I laughed at him and for a moment I wanted to put my hand in his but then I remembered that we weren't dating and so I didn't.

I had gone around to wish everyone a Happy New Year and I didn’t speak to Sirius until it was well past midnight. We were outside and it was dark, but the lights outside the house provided enough illumination for me to see Sirius Black avoiding my eyes. 

"Well," he said, "I guess I'll see you on Valentine's day." It was snowing slightly and I was shivering out in the cold. 

"Unless I get a boyfriend before then." I meant to say it like a joke but for some reason I was being awkward about it. It was the cold, it was getting to my head. 

"What?" He finally made eye contact with me. 

"Well, this is just so I don't have to marry Nott, right? We won't be doing this forever and don't think that when we break up they won't send me off to whoever is free and eligible." He bit his lip and nodded. Surely he knew all of this. 

"Well if you find Mr Right let me know." He sounded just a bit too sarcastic for my liking. I would've said something just as sarcastic back but he was already walking away. 

I wanted to yell out to him and tell him that he was being weird, but that would've drawn too much attention to us so I didn't. I found my parents and we apparated back home.

As I was getting ready for bed I couldn't stop my hands from wandering over to my face. I was sure that he had bumped my head when he put his forehead against mine. I could still feel his hands on my cheeks. He had rough fingertips and they felt calloused but I couldn't imagine why. No one at that party had calloused hands except maybe the workers. His touch was soft, though. If I wasn't so tense about it it would have felt natural, but it felt like everything had been intensified. It must've been because of the alcohol. 

I let my fingertips fall on my lips. I wondered what his lips would feel like on mine. I wondered what any lips would feel like on mine. 

I felt a bit disheartened. I think the alcohol was still interfering with my emotions, even if I had calmed down from its effects. 

It was because Sirius had left in such a huff. Who does he even think he is? Of course I would be trying to find a new boyfriend. It would do him well to try to find a suitable girlfriend as well. I was going to have a comfortable and respectable life and I wasn't going to find that by being complacent in a fake relationship with Sirius Black. I couldn’t believe this was how I was starting my new year. 

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Tag list: @silverose365 @sweetlyspice​

[mae-gi-writes]

Yūgen | Sunwoo (The Boyz)

Yugen (n.) a profound, mysterious sense of the beauty of the universe that triggers a deep, emotional response. 

Requested by anon! In which Sunwoo, the ace of the volleyball team, is curious about what you’re drawing all the time. Until one day, he stumbles upon a drawing of himself made from yours truly. 

Genre: fluff, volleyball player! Sunwoo and art student reader, shy love, softness, and inspired by haikyuu because I have been obssessed with the anime lately TT__TT  A/N: It feels like it’s been ages since I’ve posted here! Slowly but surely, I’m going through my inbox and replying to your requests. Thank you for your patience, stay safe loves, ily all xx 

-----

Sunwoo wasn't artistically inclined.

But that never stopped him from admiring those that were. He was always so curious as to how just a flick of fingers managed to create a shadow, or how just one glance at a subject made it through onto paper without so much as an effort to remember the details. It was like it was automatically recorded into one's brain, hands already registered to mimic the curves and the folds and the shadows that turned into nothing short of a miraculous piece. So when he caught sight of someone drawing, it always piqued his interest. He stumbled upon you one late afternoon after his volleyball practice, with sweat dotting his forehead and his training bag slung casually over his shoulder. He was about to direct his way to the parking lot upon exiting the gymnasium, only to spot a lone figure huddled upon the bleachers and curled into a ball that caused Sunwoo to frown. Slowly sidling up to the stranger in question and peeking over the railing to catch a glimpse of your face, his eyes are instantly driven to the sketchpad in your hands.

You didn't notice him though, so absorbed in your own world with earphones blocking out reality that a tsunami could've gone unnoticed. So Sunwoo took advantage to climb over onto the opposite bleacher and, after ensuring that your back wouldn't turn to greet him, leaned over the separation to catch sight of a lone figure cartwheeling freely over the page. Woah. You were talented alright. There was nothing else to describe the fluidity of movement you caught with your pencil. It made Sunwoo's breath catch in his throat. He had the sudden urge to know exactly what kind of face hid behind the visual mastery manifesting before his very eyes. After all, there must be other things for them to see rather than the boring literal reality that most people settled for. What kind of imageries were they creating in their heads? What beautiful stories were they crafting? Worlds they got lost in? You moved then, causing Sunwoo to jolt back and scurry away with his heart beating out of his chest, deciding that it was enough spying for the day. After that day, he made sure to seek you out every time after practice although he noticed you never strayed too long in the same place, always moving about like a shadow lingering in the corner, invisible yet omniscient. Sometimes you would find a quiet spot in a patch of sunlight by the tennis courts. Sometimes you'd be found on the bleachers, alert eyes observing every pass, every move, every twist of a body like  camera taking everything in. Sunwoo never approached you. Not that he didn't want to, but he found it awkward to just come up to you and present himself as the guy who'd been stalking your drawings. So he admired you from afar instead, relished in the passion of your dark coffee coloured eyes and in the attentive focus dipping your eyebrows in a soft frown, lips paeted slightly in concentration. "Do you know her?" He'd asked one of his friends from the volleyball team once, during their lunch break as he saw you line up at the cafeteria. Changmin took a peek at your face before he shook his head, "she might be in one of my electives." "Which one?" "I think it's art." Sunwoo forced his face to remain in a mask of calmness as he grabbed a steak sandwich, no fries, "do you know her name?" "Nah. I don't think she's ever spoken in class," Changmin's eyebrows quirk up then, "why'd you ask?" "No reason." Changmin's pointed look defined anything but that.  Although he did have the decency to drop the subject as soon as the rest of the volleyball team joined the table. Sunwoo got his answer a few days later when he practically toppled over you and your drawing crayons. It was his mistake. He'd been leaning too far out from the top of the basketball bleachers, struggling to get even the smidgest glimpse of what amazing piece of art hiding under your jacket sleeve, only for his foot to slip. Down he went with a curse, crashing straight into your body and quickly scrabbling to wrap his arms around your head, a pathetic attempt to cushion your fall as you fell into a heap in front of the bleachers. "You--you okay?" He huffed out, breathless and heart beating like a time bomb. Pulling his arms away slowly, gently, he finally met your gaze straight on and --oh my, your eyes were not coffee coloured at all.  But more of a honey-brown, wide open and framed by soft lashes. Currently dilated in panic. "I'm fine! What--What about you? Oh gosh, I'm so sorry--" "No it was my fault," he made a grab for your sketchbook and scattered pens only for his orbs to register the face messily etched onto the paper. His breath caught. For a minute, he could do nothing but stare at the replica of his face made in charcoal. Those were his eyes, his slightly crooked nose. The scowl he wore during his soccer matches. That was him. The resemblance was akin to that of perfection. That was before your hands snatched away the sketchbook before you quickly slammed it closed, cheeks blazing red, "that's-- I swear I"m not a creep, I-- I just do that for practice--" "It's amazing." Your head-- which had been bowed this entire time for fear that anger would be his response -- shot up in surprise, "what?" "It's amazing," Sunwoo repeated. He wouldn't mind repeating it forever, he realized, if that meant he got to see that aforable blush of yours. He reached out with his hand, "can I look at it again?" So you allowed him after some slight hesitation, and if he noticed, he didn't comment. Fingers brushing against yours slightly, he handled the sketchbook with utmost care as he flipped through the pages with child-like awe. He'd seen your drawings, sure, but mere glimpses here and there, a sneak peek, always accompanied with the fear of being found. But now, he could take his time and actually relish in the soft tracings of your crayon, admire the gentle shadings that made up the tip of his nose. You had managed to capture that frown -- the one he used whenever he concentrated -- to perfection and for a minute he swore he'd fallen in love with himself. "You're really good," he murmured, though that definitely banalized the array of praises popping through his head, "you should keep doing them. I mean it." "So, you're not--" you paused, "mad?" "Well I think you'd have more reason to be mad if you knew I was stalking you from before." "What?" Oh Sunwoo, you idiot. Your eyes had tripled their size and you were looking at him like he'd just grown a second head. He lifted his hands as defence, "that sounded so much better in my head. I swear I'm not that creepy, or a stalker, I just--well you're always drawing and I got curious but I can't really come over and tell you to show me so I had to hide and peek and--" You burst out laughing in his face and despite the fact that he was the cause, he couldn't help joining in with a small chuckle, a grin spreading across his features at how alive you looked at this very moment. "You can ask me next time," your grin settled into a soft smile, "I don't bite." "Your words, not mine," he said, tone lighter and teasing. He helped you gather your belongings and as the pair of you started towards the school gates, he asked for your name. "Y/N," you answered, "and you?" "Sunwoo," he noticed the sky was darkening into purple, a sign that twilight was approaching. Usually, he'd be in a hurry to catch the last bus of the evening to avoid the pain of traffic after six. But it was like his body was slowing down on its own to join your pace, as if he was automatically tuning in to the rhythm of your steps. He found he didn't mind. "So why athletes? Any special reason why you like drawing them?" He asked as you reached the gates. "I just like watching the way they move. It's ...graceful," a hand went to rub the back of your neck, "and they come in handy for figure practice." "I mean, we're not that graceful when you're on the pitch ready to get blown away," he chuckled, "but thanks. At least we know we don't play like animals." "Oh god no. The volleyball team's pretty good. The rugby team on the other hand..." you sigh before you shake your head, "that team is nearly impossible to draw." His shoulders shook as he laughed, "well I don't think they aim for graceful. They look like a pack of wild dogs. Even I don't understand how they play." You had reached the said bus stop by then before you spotted your mother's car along the sidewalk, "oh, my mom's here," you turn to him, "where do you live? Maybe we can drop you--" Meeting your mom? On the first day of meeting you? Sunwoo's hands flew up, shaking them wildly in response, "oh no no, that's not necessary. I'll see you tomorrow!" Thank god for the bus that pulled up at the right time so that he didn't have to linger longer than he needed to. But he didn't miss the small wave of your hand as you watched him go, the smile on your face warming his heart even when it was one of the coldest winter days of the year. From that day onwards, Sunwoo made it a must to make his presence known whenever you were deep in your sketches, always observing, sometimes silently keeping you company and sometimes getting so wrapped up in conversation that your pens would lay forgotten by your bag as you bantered back and forth about subjects that would've made people throw you looks of concern. It became routine to have Sunwoo's head pop up from behind the bleachers or to see him walk up the path to your special hiding spot, right where your gaze would meet the tennis court. You sketched him more and more, folding your drawings into your bag so that he wouldn't see although the urge to catch his face on paper was a growing addiction you couldn't ignore. Even your friends had noticed his lingering presence, proceeding to prod you with questions reflecting their curiosity. "He's from the vòlleyball team isn't he?" Yeji asked one time during lunch, upon noticing the way the said young man's stare lingered over the back of your head before turning away just as quickly, "do you know him?" "We've spoken once or twice." "How do you know him?" Your other friend, Saeron, nudged you with a wriggle of her brows. You brushed her teasing away, "we bumped into each other and then he saw my drawings." "Oh right, you do sketch athletes," Yeji leaned forward, mouth full of bread, "did you sketch him?" "I did, actually." "Oh awkward," Saeron giggled, "he's handsome though, can't deny that. You gotta introduce us sometime." You mumbled out an agreement even though you sat with them just for the sake of having people around. It wasn't that you didn't appreciate them. You did. But they seemed to speak a language you couldn't quite grasp. You would rather sit in your own silence, enjoy your own company if that made sense. Maybe that was why it was so surprising, that you allowed Sunwoo to linger as long as he wanted to. There was something authentic about the way he reacted to your words, an unguarded expression that made you comfortable enough to speak up without fear of judgment. Spending time with Sunwoo was listening to water trickle down the river. Smooth and free. Peaceful. But Sunwoo seldom knew of your high regards, was not aware of the tiny sketch of his figure in mid-spike that was hidden in the pocket of your school skirt so that you could take a peek whenever you felt out of place or nervous. It calmed you down to admire his composure, even if his expression was a mere mimic that could not replace reality. "Do you have any material in particular that you like to use?" Sunwoo asked one cloudy afternoon, breaking the silence while huddling a little closer to peek at your newest sketch of Lee Juyeon; a basketball star player known for his quick reflexes and adept playing style. Not only was his skill on par with that of a Nationals team, but his looks had garnered him quite a fanbase from the get-go. Sunwoo would've liked to say that he wasn't jealous of the way your thumb gently applied shade to Juyeon's lower lip. But the spike in the middle of his chest proved him otherwise. "I like charcoal the most, it's the easiest to work with," pausing to admire your work, your eyes glanced over at him, "do you draw?" He scoffed, "like a five year old." "Wanna try?" "No way. I'll ruin it. I'm okay with admiring it from afar." You hummed an unknown tune as you pulled back your sketchbook, "how is practice?" "Alright. Could be better. We won a practice match last week so we're kind of taking it easy." "That's good though isn't it?" Your gaze met his. His eyes were various gradients of warm maroon and you wished-- at this very moment -- to paint his features into memory. That was when you realized how close you were. You shuffled slightly back and didn't notice the frown Sunwoo threw you in response, "it is. And I'm happy we get to rest. The team deserves it." "You're pursuing it in College?" Your eyes tried not to linger too much over his lips, "volleyball, I mean." "Depends," he smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes, "if we make it to the Nationals." "You will." "Someone's confident," he chuckled. "Well I'm no pro but even I can tell you're talented, Sunwoo," you peeked at him from behind your fringe, glad that you could blame the cold for your red cheeks when just the intensity and closeness of his entity made you want to squirm, "so if there's anyone who can do it, it's you." It was impossible to keep eye contact after such a confession. You lowered your gaze, glad for your sketchbook that acted as a distraction. It was at that very moment that the paper tucked so neatly in your pocket slipped out, causing Sunwoo to quickly make a grab for it. You made a noise of protest before trying to snatch it back, but the boy only chuckled before unfolding the creased page so that there he was, depicted in all his glory. "Is that--" his voice was hoarse and you took this as your chance to steal it from his grasp, reddened cheeks burning and fingers shaking as you folded it back to its tiny square shape, "is that me?" "Y--yes." "You--you keep that with you?" "I--I do," you lifted your chin up defiantly, though you felt your limbs trembling. His eyes, they pierced your own, piecing together a coherence that caused your stomach to fill with butterflies. When he spoke next, his words were a mere murmur. "Why?" "I--I don't know," eyes darting towards the ground, you mumbled, "I just like watching you...play." A pause. Then, Sunwoo shifted a little bit closer. "You like watching me play? Or do you like," he cocked his head, "watching me?" If you were red before then you were probably the colour of a fire engine truck by now. Averting your eyes and turning your head away were instinctive responses due to the blood rushing through your face. "Stop flirting with me," came your mumble. Laughing softly in response, he scooted himself a little closer, so close that his shoulder brushed your back. He leaned over, head tilted to catch your expression. "Cute," his lips broke out in a crooked grin and you swore you felt your heart explode. Flustered, you shoved him away out of instinct but he wasn't having any of that. His hand grabbed your wrists and with a yelp, you were dragged even closer to his chest. "You like looking at me that much huh?" His tone was teasing while his eyes glimmered with playful mischief, "why is that,Y/N?" "You ask as if you don't know," you mumbled out through jumbled words and you were glad he actually understood you. But instead of laughing some more, his features softened into a smile instead as he proceeded to gaze down at you with an expression you couldn't quite place. It was in your normal behaviour to admire people. Not the other way around. And at this very moment, you felt way out of your comfort zone. "I don't know." Your orbs flew up to his in surprise and what you found in those coffee-coloured pupils made your breath stutter, heat coiling through your abdomen. "It...it calms me down," your whisper was barely louder than a breath but by the way Sunwoo's smile widens to reach his eyes, you could tell he heard you just fine. "I like watching you too," he replied. A strand of your hair caught in the wind and he raised his hand to curl it around the back of your ear, his touch ghosting with sparks wherever flesh bumped into flesh. You felt warm. He didn't pull away. Didn't bother hiding the slight dust of pink in his cheeks either, as he slowly allowed his palm to cradle the side of your face. Gently. As if he feared you might run away, recoil back. But you didn't. Even with your breaths going staccato, even if your heart felt like a wild animal. You calmed yourself down with the knowledge that he seemed just as nervous as you were and suddenly, out of a stroke of boldness, your hand went up to hold on to his, pressing it close to your cheek. His breath hitched. You shivered. The wind blew against your figures, a gentle reminder that the day was coming to an end. You weren't exactly sure what changed that day. There were no verbal agreements, nothing that suggested your relationship had changed. Yet, the subtle touches of his hand against your back, your shoulders, moving your hair from one shoulder to another, complemented by his gentle doe-eyed stare that made your toes curl, these changes were small, but significant. And you couldn't find it in your heart to say that you disliked it. What are we? The words lingered at the tip of your tongue, as bitter as the aftertaste of coffee as you stole small glances in his direction. You were sitting comfortably under a tree that overlooked the tennis court where Sunwoo had decided to join you. He'd fallen asleep halfway through your beginning sketch and was now leaning against the tree trunk, face relaxed and body leaned towards yours, close enough that you could admire his face. Countless hours you had spent tracing Sunwoo's features on paper. Countless times you had imagined tracing his lips with your thumb, wondered whether they were as soft as they looked. Maybe it was just curiosity or maybe you had let him walk into your heart so easily that you hadn't realized it yourself. But if there was one thing you could swear your heart upon it would be that you could no longer imagine every day without Sunwoo's presence at your side. As if on instinct, your fingers took a life of their own as they reached up to push a few strands away from his face. They gently carved a path down his cheek, landing at the corner of his jaw. Dangerously close to his open mouth. There was no denying it. Sunwoo was beautiful. Handsome. Had those features on par to that of a model's. You were so focused on edging your way to touch his lower lip that you didn't realize you had been staring, until you glanced up to see his brown orbs fixated on yours. You froze. Shit. "Like what you see?" He murmured. Then, before you could scramble back and probably run with your tail between your legs, his own hand grasped your own and he pushed himself off the trunk before his head angled towards yours, finding your lips. Soft. Sunwoo's lips were soft. You panicked. Not used to the closeness. The fire that sparked between your lids. But his other hand went to clasp your jaw, holding you close as he kissed your next protest away and unconsciously brushing his thumb against your cheek. Shivering in his touch, there was no running away from the way his mouth molded against yours so snugly, and you didn’t want to. You found yourself addicted to the sweet pressure of his upper lip meeting your lower ones and soon enough -- without realizing -- you melted into his touch. 

Sunwoo made a noise that sounded like a soft grunt, his other hand lacing around your waist to pull you closer so that you tumbled halfway into his lap. With embarrassment suddenly flooding through you, you let out a squeak that he answered with a chuckle of his own before distracting you once more with a series of kisses that left you gasping.

Your hands, initially balled into fists in your lap, went to rest against his chest and you didn’t realize that you were gripping onto his school shirt until you parted for air. Only were you aware of your compromising position, of the hard ridges of the young man’s thighs, of the firmness of his chest against your palms, of the way he seemed to be so much bigger than you even though he was a lean athlete, meant to be light and as speedy as the wind. 

Breaths coming out ragged, you tried to slow the beating of your heart. Though it seemed to be quite the challenge, given how lovingly, how intense, Sunwoo seemed to be in making love to your neck, nibbling on your pulse point and causing a soft whimper to fall from your lips. 

A whistle blew in the distance.

The soccer team. They’d be crawling up the hill any minute now.

“Sunwoo,” you breathed out, eyes hazy with mixed feelings of desire and embarrassment. You feebly tried pushing against his chest, to no avail. He merely groaned, head tilting upwards to catch your mouth into another kiss. 

“Sunwoo,” you groaned against his lips. But he held on for dear life, one hand clasping the back of your neck, tangled into your locks. The other around your waist, pressing you as close as he could possibly get you to be. 

“Just one more,” he mumbled in-between kisses, hooded eyes fluttering closed and head slanting to kiss you a little deeper, a little harder.

Your body was on fire. You weren’t used to this intimacy, nor all of the affection he was raining down upon you. 

But it felt good. It felt amazing. Eye-opening.

He finally relented after what seemed like an eternity and you quickly made a move to scramble out of his lap. Though he wasn’t having any of that, grip made of iron as he held on. You looked up to snap at him to let go before everyone saw but was faced with his pout instead, which was enough to bring down your defences. 

“Please,” his pout deepened and your heart practically vaulted through your chest. Cute. Cute. Cute. Stop. Burying his face into your neck, he whispered, “I just wanna hold you.” 

So he did. And thank god the team had decided to take a different route so that you would avoid their imploring, questioning gazes. Though Sunwoo admitted that he’d already known they would go up from the other side of the gymnasium, considering they did that every other week to train their stamina in the process. 

That earned him a light smack on the side of his head, making him whine, “What did I do to deserve this Y/N?” 

“You knew!” You wanted to throw him a glare, but it was impossible when you were busy fighting the grin spreading across your face. 

He grinned back at you, that crooked smile that always resulted in a burst of butterflies roaring through your abdomen. Just like now. 

“So, since you have a drawing of me that you keep staring at every day--” his words died into laughter when you tried smacking his arm, proceeding to cage your wrist with his hand before kissing your knuckles. You squirmed as he continued, “does that mean I can get a picture of you?”

You let out a noise of protest, “that depends,” you mumbled, unconsciously finding refuge in his neck.

Chuckling, Sunwoo grasped your chin lightly to pull you back so that his brown orbs gazed right into yours with a gentleness that had you weak at the knees, “on what?” 

“On what I get in return.” 

“What if I say I’ll take you on a date?” he said wickedly. 

You couldn’t help your smile. 

“I guess that could work.” 

[honeypiehotchner]

Unconventional (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part five

Alright besties...this is one of two chapters that is being posted today and this one ends on a somewhat cliffhanger/weird spot, so I’m actually so glad it worked out this way where I can post the next one in an hour or so xx.

Warnings: like nothing this chapter besides a tiny smidge of angst/anxious thoughts

Previous chapter || Fic Masterlist || Hotch Masterlist

Aaron needs to get back to the office to finish his meetings for the day, and you have a class to get to, so you depart after one more kiss -- that Aaron stops before it can get too heated.

You can’t help it. He looks like that and he’s just decided that he’ll show you what romance is like. If attendance wasn’t a large percentage of your grade for this class, you would’ve told him to cancel his meetings and go home with you.

But, alas, you need this class to graduate. So you head to the doors of the building, popping an AirPod in your left ear to get a few songs in before class starts.

You’re stopped by a familiar face, though, and he has a dangerous smirk on his lips.

“What, Derek?” You ask tiredly, knowing he’s got some antics up his sleeve. He always does.

“What do you mean, what?” He replies, holding his hands up. “I can’t say hi to a friend?”

“No,” you deadpan. “Because it’s never just saying hi with you. Spit it out.”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, admitting defeat. He nods his head back toward the parking lot. “Who dropped you off?”

You raise an eyebrow, tugging the door to the building open. “Does it matter?”

“Uh, yeah,” he says, following behind you. You’re pretty sure he doesn’t have a class in here, though. “Because if I saw correctly, it was a man.”

“And?”

“And?” He grins. “And you’re the girl who won’t let anyone set her up. You got a secret boyfriend? Have you been hiding him from us all this time?”

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about,” you laugh it off, but a small dose of panic has gone straight to your spine. Of course, it’s just your luck that Derek Fucking Loudmouth Morgan would see you rolling up to class with Aaron Hotchner in the driver’s seat.

Oh shit. Did he see you kiss Aaron? Twice?

You’re mortified now. Screw panic. You’re straight up mortified.

You’ll never hear the end of it from any of them if it comes out that you’re dating a man 20 years your senior. Not to mention, it’s not even dating. It’s closer to a sugar daddy relationship-- No, he’s not paying you, so more like an escort service?

Neither sounds like something your friends won’t tease you relentlessly for.

“Alright, I’ll quit,” Derek shrugs. “But hey, if that is your boyfriend,” he pauses, holding up his fist for you to bump.

You stare at it tiredly.

“Come on,” he pleads. “Just once?”

Lazily, you bump your knuckles against his, just barely. “Happy?”

He grins again, and you swear five separate girls turn their heads. “Very. You coming out later?”

“Later?”

He waves. “Meg’ll let you know. I gotta go. See you later, lover!”

You roll your eyes and head into class, stealing your favorite seat by the window.

The classroom faces the parking lot, so when you look up, you see Aaron’s car still sitting in the parking space. With furrowed eyebrows, you send a text.

Hey, what are you still doing here?

Aaron: I was waiting for you to text me. You need a ride home, don’t you?

Oh. You’re an idiot. You completely forgot your car is still back at your apartment.

I’m so stupid, wow. You don’t need to wait. I can get Megan to pick me up

Aaron: I don’t mind waiting

You sigh. There’s no winning here.

Are you sure? I always get coffee after class

Aaron: Then we’ll get coffee together

He’s going to make this whole thing so easy for you, isn’t he?

It’s a date ;)

Aaron: Of course

+++

Class drags on and seems thirty minutes longer than usual. But it’s not, really. You think it only feels this way because Aaron is waiting for you.

You wonder for a moment if this really is what being romanced is like. You trust him and you’re sure this is true, but it just seems strange.

These second thoughts are definitely coming from Morgan catching you in the hall earlier, though. If he’s already caught you, how long until he tells Megan? How long can you keep it from her?

And what happens if she finds out and you weren’t the one to tell her? She’s going to find out eventually, so what’s the point in sneaking around? Why do you even need to sneak around? She’s your best friend, for crying out loud. She won’t shun you.

If Aaron was twenty years younger, that is. But he’s not.

You just know you’ll get a lecture from her when you tell her about this.

Aaron is in the same parking space as before. You’re the first one out of class when it ends, and you keep your head down, just in case Derek is lurking around here somewhere.

Thankfully, you make it to Aaron’s car without any obstacles.

“How was class?” He asks when you’re in the passenger seat.

“It was great. Ready to get coffee?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Yes. What’s wrong?”

You shake your head. “One of my friends -- well, he’s kind of a friend, but not really, I don’t know him that well -- but he saw you drop me off.”

Aaron doesn’t blink. “Okay.”

You give him a wide-eyed stare. “Do you not care?”

“Not entirely. It sounds like he didn’t know who I was.”

“He didn’t.”

“Okay,” Aaron nods. “Problem solved.”

You don’t think so. “Not really. What am I supposed to do if someone finds out?”

Aaron says nothing, only puts the car in reverse and backs out of the space. As he’s straightening out the wheel to drive out of the parking lot, he says, “This is why I told you to think this through.” He pauses. “And you still can. If tomorrow you wake up and decide this isn’t what you want, let me know. No hard feelings.”

“It is what I want,” you argue. “It is,” you repeat when he gives you a disbelieving look. “I never do anything spontaneous. It’s my turn to be reckless.”

“Reckless?” He chuckles. “Just how much trouble are you planning on getting into?”

You shrug, biting back a smirk. “Depends.”

“On?”

“How far this goes.”

He takes a deep breath, turning onto the main road. “I still want you to think about this,” he finally says. “We can talk about...how far you’re willing to go later. For now, where do you want coffee from?”

You suppose it would be a good idea to think about it a little more. But you doubt you’ll be changing your mind. “Where do you normally get coffee?”

“Starbucks.”

“Seriously?” You ask. “You’re rich. And you go to Starbucks.”

“Is there something wrong with Starbucks?”

“No, just… Never mind. Starbucks is fine.”

He rests his hand on the gearshift and switches lanes, heading to the nearest Starbucks.

+++

You have Aaron drop you off at the university library. He needs to finish his meeting and you need to do some writing -- which you know you won’t do. What you’ll really end up doing is getting lost in the stacks and thinking about Aaron’s offer.

That’s exactly what you’re doing now.

Spencer wasn’t at the front desk when you walked in, so you didn’t slow down one bit on your way to the very back of the library.

There are a couple nooks back here that you’ve studied in before, but they’re normally empty like they are now. It’s eerily quiet back here, which you know isn’t for everyone.

It’s perfect for days like this when you desperately need to think.

What are the pros? He’s rich, so he’d be paying for everything. This “relationship” between the two of you would cost no money -- and when you have student debt, something free is the biggest pro.

What else? He’s kind. If he was an asshole, you might say no. One thing about you is that you have a very low tolerance for bullshit. But he’s a true, old-fashioned gentleman. Opening your door, pulling out your chair, telling you you’re beautiful in ways that aren’t generic. He’s caring. He’s onboard for this relationship, but he’s told you to think about it, to make sure you’re absolutely okay with it.

He seems like the best person to get real-life romance experience from. He won’t get crazily attached to you like someone here would. He’s upfront. He suggested this. He’s honest, transparent -- for the most part.

He’s attractive. And not just in the physical sense. Everything about him so far has been the brightest green light for you. Everything you want in a man, you’ve found in Aaron Hotchner.

What are the cons? He’s twenty years older than you.

He has a reputation. He’s well-known. If you’re seen with him, your face will be everywhere.

But he seems like he’s very conscious of this. He’s taken precautions. He probably has the best PR team out there to handle things like this.

What else are cons? That you might fall in love with him? You think that’s almost inevitable, but you couldn’t care less. You’d be fine having your heart broken by him.

It’s obvious that the pros are outweighing the cons here by a landslide. You can’t say no.

You meant what you said earlier. You’re never spontaneous. You’re never reckless. You’re always the one telling other people not to be reckless. To think things through, because that’s what you’ve always done.

But you’re tired.

It’s your turn to be reckless.

Next chapter

[oikawaplssteponme]

locked lips

pairing: Pro Hero! Izuku Midoriya x fem! reader

ratings/warnings: NSFW 18+ MINORS DNI [please im literally begging you], swearing, legal consumption of alcohol, slight praise, fingering, use of the name ‘baby’, deku being a little bit of a cocky jerk, unprotected intercourse, make-up sex

genre: ex’s to lovers, smut, aged up characters, fluff/angst (?)

word count: ~2.2k words

synopsis: You broke up with him on impulse. That doesn’t mean you stopped loving him. Now you’re back at his place, at a party you planned, with him looking just so desirable. What else were you to do?

a/n: hi hi! alright friends, this being my first nsfw post i cannot stress enough how important it is that minors don’t interact. if i catch any minors interacting with this post, ill delete this post and block them, which i obviously don’t want to have to do. just please respect these rules :)) anyway, reblogs are greatly appreciated and enjoy xx

You scrolled through your phone, mindlessly. You tried your best not to double tap on any of the pictures on your screen. The last thing you needed was for him to know you were stalking his page.

“You should start getting ready,” said Uraraka. You looked over at her, cocking a brow.

“Uh I'm not going?” you huffed. Uraraka sat down beside you.

“Don’t be like that Y/N. You still have to go tonight, regardless of Deku.”

“The party is at Deku’s house. I’d look like a total idiot showing my face there after we broke up.”

You sat up and crossed your arms. Ochaco sighed. She grabbed your shoulders.

“Y/N, you are gonna go to the party and make Deku regret his entire life. Anyway, I’m bringing you as my plus one, so you have to come!”

You sighed. “Fine, but I’m staying with you the whole night.”

Ochaco smiled and gave you a quick hug. She got up and began scanning through her closet again.

You had been staying with Uraraka since you and Izuku had broken up. It was a blow out fight. You yelled at him for caring about work more than you. He shouted at you for not being understanding of his career. The words you meant mixed with the words you didn’t, and chaos erupted between you and him. So, you packed a bag and left. You didn’t want to, but you were done.

While you and Deku were still together, you helped him plan an event for him and his fellow Pro Heroes, as an opportunity for them all to get together. Now, you would be attending that same event. Only, not with him.

“Who would’ve thought there’d be a day where I’d have too many clothes to choose from,” laughed Ochaco. You smiled.

“You should wear that pink dress Iida bought you for your birthday. I don’t think you’ve worn it out yet.”

“You think? It’s not too much…”

“Of course not! You’ll look hot,” you teased. Ochaco smiled.

“Alright alright I’ll wear it. But then you have to wear this!” She pulled out a bag from her closet and handed it to you.

“Please don’t tell me you bought me something…”

“I had to! All your clothes are still at his place...and I wanted to make sure you felt good tonight.”

You gave Ochaco a nudge and pulled out the tissue paper. You felt the soft material in between your fingertips, pulling it out from the bag.

“Uraraka...”

“No need to thank me. You’ve been through hell and back these last few weeks, the least I could do is get you a pretty dress.”

You jumped towards your friend, engulfing her in a hug.

“Thank you.”

“Hey now, let’s get ready! The limousine will be here in just a few hours!”

~

You sat in the back of the limo with Ochaco as you were on your way to Deku’s party. You looked like a million bucks. A little part of you hoped someone would take notice.

The estate where Izuku lived was gated off. Once you were let inside, you could see the beaming lights from the top of the hill. You felt your stomach clench, nerves building inside of you. You wanted to see him, but you also didn’t want to see him doing better without you. You haven’t even been apart that long. A month maybe? Certainly not long enough for him to be over you, because you certainly weren’t over him.

“Oh wow, Deku went all out!” cheered Ochaco. You looked to see the endless decorations and glamor that surrounded you.

“Yeah, these were my ideas,” you mumbled. Ochaco placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t stress about it. Let’s just have fun, okay?”

You exited the vehicle and began to make your way inside. Champagne fountains and blasting music greeting you. His house was just as extraordinary as you remembered it. Nothing less than perfect for the No. 1 Hero.

“Uravity! Y/N!”

You turned to see your friend Iida, plus others from your old days at UA.

“You two are looking stunning tonight!” smiled Kirishima.

“Why thank you, it’s all thanks to this one,” you chuckled, giving Ochaco a nudge.

“I honestly didn’t expect to see you here tonight Y/N,” said Shoto. You shrugged.

“Well, I was invited after all. So Mr. Number One Hero can deal with it,” you huffed.

“Sounds like you could use a drink.”

Kaminari handed you a glass of champagne, which you took happily. You clinked glasses with your friends before dousing the beverage down.

“It’s gonna be a long night,” you mumbled to yourself.

You found yourself on the living room couch of Izuku’s large complex. You watched as Pro Heroes danced mindlessly with far too many drinks in their systems. You chuckled. At least they’re having fun.

You hadn’t seen Izuku all night, which was strange considering this was his party. You looked over to the glass staircase, knowing more than well that his bedroom was upstairs. You knew the layout like the back of your hand, after all, you lived here for a year.

You knew all your stuff had to be upstairs. You only had time to pack a small bag the day you left. Surely he wasn’t awful enough to throw your things away. You got up from the couch and quietly made your way up the stairs, hoping no one saw you sneak away from the action of the party.

His bedroom was at the end of the hallway. The doors were closed. You placed your shaky hand on the doorknob and turned it slowly. It was unlocked.

You stepped inside. The smell of his cologne filled your senses, causing memories to flood in as well. His room was neat, as if no one had been sleeping in it. You turned to the closet. All your clothing should be on the right side.

“Sneaking around?”

You jumped, removing your hand from the closet handle. You turned around slowly.

“Just wanted to make sure you didn’t burn my shit,” you huffed. Izuku chuckled. He took a few steps towards you, opening the closet.

“Don’t paint me as a villain Y/N. All your things are safe and sound.”

Your side of the closet was just as you left it. Exactly how you left it. You looked back to Izuku.

“Perfect. Then I’ll be taking it with me when I leave-”

“I’m surprised you came at all. I figured you’d want to be as far away from here as possible.”

“I didn’t come for you, I came for Ochaco.”

“Oh right.”

Deku took a step back, placing his hands in his pockets. That devilish smile stared you down, causing your face to burn. You could see the outline of his muscles through his white button down.

“You look incredible by the way. New dress?” he smirked. You rolled your eyes.

“Well since all my clothes were here, yes.”

“Well serves you right for leaving out of nowhere.”

Your eyes widened and you clenched your fists.

“I didn’t leave out of nowhere, I left because you cared more about your job than me!”

“That’s not true-”

“To hell it is! I was tired of being second to everything so I left!”

Izuku took a deep breath and stepped closer to you. He placed his hand under your chin, having you look at him.

“I didn’t want to break up.”

Your breathing got heavier without you even realizing it. You also didn’t realize that Midoriya had you pressed against the closet door.

“I-I didn’t want to either…” you whispered. Izuku smiled.

“Then tell me baby, why did we?”

“B-Because I didn’t know what else to do…”

Izuku brushed his thumb against your cheek, then took a step back.

“Look, I’m sorry. The last thing I wanted was to make you feel under-appreciated...but-”

Izuku moved closer to you again, pinning your arms to your sides and pressing his torso against you all in a swift motion.

“-I can think of a better way to prove it to you.”

You tried to catch your breath. All you wanted was him at this exact moment. Was that a good thing? Of course not. Did you care? Of course not.

“Then prove it to me.”

Izuku wasted little time in moving you onto his California-king. He pinned you down onto the mattress and instantly kissed you. You felt the rush of butterflies swarm your stomach. You hated how much you had missed this.

Deku let go of your wrists and you began to unbutton his shirt. With little patience, he helped you from out of your dress. He dived back down, locking lips with you once more. You dragged your nails down his back, listening as soft groans escaped his lips. He moved down to kiss and suck on your neck.

“Fuck~” was all you were able to get out. Izuku’s hands grazed your burning body, feeling the skin that he had been craving since the day you left. He snaked his hand to your back, unbuckling your bra easily.

“I’ve still got it…” he teased. He threw the bra to the floor and gave you little time to breathe before kissing you again. You ran your fingers through his fluffy hair, pulling him impossibly closer.

“Izuku...please…”

His puppy dog eyes stared back at you.

“What is it?”

You panted heavily, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I need you.”

A smirk creeped onto his face. Izuku kissed your cheek.

“I promised I was gonna prove it to you, wasn’t I?”

Izuku sat up, unbuckling his belt. He slid off his pants and boxers. You caught a glimpse of him, causing your body to feel on fire. Midoriya placed his head in between your legs. He teasingly kissed your inner thighs, keeping his hands glued onto them. The anticipation was practically killing you.

“Izuku-”

“Patience baby...I’m in no rush…”

He moved up to your underwear, biting onto one of the strings and pulling it down. They were practically soaked already. Same with your bra, he tossed them to the floor.

He continued to kiss and nip at your thighs, inching impossibly closer to you. You couldn’t take it anymore.

You grabbed Izuku up and kissed him feverishly.

“So eager baby~”

“Please just fuck me,” you whispered. Izuku chuckled. He licked his lips.

“As you wish.”

Izuku spread your legs apart, dipping one of his fingers inside of you with ease. You arched your back, letting out a moan, and gripping onto his arm tightly.

“That’s it baby~”

Midoriya slipped another finger in, stretching you out even more. You clenched around him as he added more pressure.

He removed his fingers and better adjusted himself above you. He held his cock in his hand before slowly pushing it inside of you.

You didn’t remember him ever feeling this good.

Izuku began to thrust into you, slow at first before building in speed. You could feel yourself clenching around him, sweat forming on your skin. Midoriya groaned with each movement as he pushed even deeper. He kissed you as he fucked you, though you were such a mess you could barely keep up.

He knew exactly how to get you worked up.

“Oh god...I’m c-close,” you mumbled.

“Not yet…”

Midoriya moved his hand down, taking his thumb and rubbing your needy clit. You gripped onto him even harder, digging your nails into his skin as he pushed you over the edge.

“Oh fuck-fuck-”

“Fuck baby, I-I love you-I’m sorry-” he stuttered out.

“I-I love you t-too. Fuck Izuku- I’m gonna cum-”

“Cum with me baby-”

Izuku went even harder as he reached his climax, following you. You let out a pleasure filled scream as you let go. Izuku laid on top of you, catching his breath as your body shook below him.

He looked up at you, brushing his hair back.

“I love you,” he repeated, in case you didn’t believe him the first time. You smiled.

“I love you too.”

~

You had forgotten all about the party that was occurring below you. As you got redressed to head back down to meet Ochaco, you felt Izuku grab your hand.

“What is it?” you asked him. Midoriya took your other hand as he stood before you.

“I really am sorry. I don’t want you to leave again,” he explained. You sighed. You ran your fingers through his hair, kissing his cheek.

“It’s okay, I won’t.”

You walked downstairs with Izuku, his hand interlocked with yours. You watched as Ochaco’s jaw dropped at the sight of you.

“Oh so that’s where you were for the last hour and a half?” she huffed. You chuckled nervously.

“Yeah sorry…”

“Well the limo is here to take us back home, or are you staying here?” she asked. You looked up at Midoriya.

“I’m staying.”

Soon the Midoriya residence was quiet, just you and him remained. You curled up with him on the couch, his arms holding you tightly as he kissed your head.

“You wanna know why I didn’t get rid of any of your things?” he said. You laughed.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because I knew you’d be back.”

•

reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

[thefallennightmare]

Time-Ten

Pairings: 1940'S Bucky Barnes x Reader/ Present Bucky Barnes x Reader.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, some smut in places maybe

Summary: Before the war, Bucky and Reader had the picture perfect life together. When she lost him, she thought that she would never find that kind of love again. However, someone from a different time returns to give her that love once more. Will she follow them through the unknown or come to terms that her once in a lifetime love is truly gone?

A/N: Incase no one saw my last memo post, I had to change the months/year of this story to line up with the correct time line. Anyway, enjoy the new update!

TAGS: @overthinkinggotmedrinking @igothroughphasesalot @veralyonn @shannonleanna182 @white-wolf-buckaroo @whatawildone @jessyballet @sebby-staan @multiyfandomgirl40 @andeys-obsessions @spid3rgwen @slut-for-buck @spideyyypeter @voguekristen @justmeandmyfuckeduplife @kenziekugler22 @hoodedbirdie @ginger-swag-rapunzel @bluemoon-icecream @crazylittlereader2474 @browneyedgirl365 @amyvandijk

October 12, 1943

Doll,

I know it’s been a few months since you’ve heard from me but I’m finally settled. Everything over here is good, no need to worry. I can hear your voice right now, ‘are you making friends? Are they nice to you?’ Yes to both, sweetheart.

How have you been? Steve taking care of ya? I’ll have to kick his ass if he’s not. How’s my ma and Rebecca? Tell them I miss them and they’ll be getting their letters soon.

I miss you so much, doll. All I can think of is you and how much I miss the way your hair smells and the way you smile at me even though I’m being a yuck. I can’t wait until I can see you again. I don’t want to promise when that will be because we both know that it may not happen.

I love you so much, Y/N. I can’t wait till I receive your letter.

Xx,

Bucky.

I squeezed the letter hard against my chest, trying hard to hold back the tears. For the first time in months, I had finally heard from Bucky. Weeks of worry and wonder if he’s alive or worse. Thankfully it wasn’t the latter.

Sitting at my kitchen table, I furiously wrote my own letter, letting Bucky know everything that was going on back home. His mom and sister were doing good, all of us trying to get used to the new normal of Bucky being gone. I didn’t bother mentioning anything about work, not wanting to waste time talking about something that didn’t matter.

I also didn’t mention anything about what Steve went through.

It wasn’t my business to tell Bucky that. It was something those two old friends needed to talk about.

However, it was also because I hadn’t seen Steve in months, since the night before his procedure. Not because I hadn’t wanted to, but because he went M.I.A without warning. I had called his landline multiple times with no avail. Worry etched deep within, wondering what had happened to my best friend. I couldn’t help but think of the worst, that the procedure had gone wrong and no one knew about me, which is why I hadn’t got the news.

With a sigh, I placed the letter into the envelope, not before spraying it with some of my favorite perfume. As I stood, my eyes landed on the picture that I had placed on the fridge door not even five minutes before. It was a picture of Bucky, one of his platoon members had taken. He was leaning slightly, hands at his side, and he looked so dreamy.

The morning sun had finally settled in its place in the sky so I quickly made my way towards the mailbox, hoping the mail man would get the letter today. I wanted Bucky to get this letter as soon as he could.

My front door swung open with force, excited to get this letter in the mailbox, but my feet came to a very sudden halt at the large presence in the doorway.

He was two feet taller, more heavier in muscle, but those blue eyes remained the same; no matter what procedure he went through, those would always be the same.

“Steve?” I breathed.

He was dressed in a dark green uniform, hands dug deep into his pockets, but the smile on his face was bright.

“Hey Y/N.”

My hands shook, something unknown flowing through my veins.

“Where have you been?” I stumbled slightly over my words.

Steve sighed. “I know I disappeared for a while and I can’t apologize enough for it. But I’m here now so if you let me, I can explain everything.”

Without a second thought, I nodded. “Walk with me to the mailbox.”

In our short walk, Steve explained that even though the procedure was a success, obviously, that didn’t mean it had a good ending. Our overseas enemy, Hydra, had sent a spy over and killed Dr. Erskine to steal a vial of the serum that Steve was injected with. The army was unsure what they wanted with it but they also didn’t want to wait to find out.

But Steve had no part of it, his general had other ideas.

“Wait,” I shook my head. “He sent you on a musical tour to sell what?”

We were back in my apartment, sitting together on my couch.

Steve sighed. “Bonds for the war.”

“I can’t believe it. You’re this super soldier that can lift me with ease now but you're dancing on stage punching Hitler?” I asked.

“Rub it in,” He jokingly grumbled.

“So where are you heading to now?” I questioned.

Steve leaned back into the couch. “I’ve got a few days off before the tour starts back up again; this time overseas. Figured I could spend time with you. If you’re not too busy for me.”

I patted his thigh. “I will never be too busy for you, Stevie.”

Neither of us knew that after this week, both of our lives would drastically change, for the worse.

[onceupon]

London Boy

summary: Y/n finds herself all the way across the pond, trying to escape OBX. But much to her surprise, a certain someone might get in the way.

pairing: Rafe x reader (just an intro in this part, we’ll get there dw)

warnings: swearing, drinking, some mentions of anxiety?

word count: 3.2k

a/n: if you’re a sucker for a slow burn like me, buckle up and enjoy the ride. I plan on this being multiple parts and this is also my first time posting so please be gentle with me lol :’-) (not canon Rafe)

You huffed as you dragged your extra large and definitely overweight luggage down to the pickup area at Heathrow airport. You had just landed in London where you’d be going to school until the holidays.  You had decided to apply for, and actually got accepted into, your high school’s British exchange program. Every year Kildare Academy gave the option for 15 seniors to study for half the school year at Westheath Academy in London, a private boarding school, while 15 kids from their school came to yours. Normally, you wouldn’t have dreamed of leaving your friends and family for that long, not to mention missing out on half of senior year at home. But ever since the drama that erupted during the summer after your junior year that ended with you being shunned by your “friend group” (where they really ever your friends to begin with?), you practically jumped at the opportunity to get as far away from the Outer Banks as possible, albeit for a little while.

You didn’t know at all what to expect at Westheath, you had skipped the predeparture orientation at Kildare a few weeks ago, but you didn’t care - didn’t care who was going or what Westheath was like, all that mattered was that for the next few months you could finally breath. It was the clean slate you desperately needed, a chance to finally be around people and places you hadn’t known since birth. Sure there were going to be 14 other kids from Kildare there as well, but you had zero intentions of sticking with your OBX peers over the next few months. You weren’t going to let your small town suffocate you for a second longer if you could help it.

You double checked the license plate on your phone screen as the Uber you ordered pulled up.

“Y/N?” the driver called out from the front-right window (god that was going to take some getting used to.)

“Yep!” you smiled, huffing as you tried to pick up your luggage and step off the curb. Thankfully the uber driver was quick to your rescue, effortlessly lifting your suitcase into the trunk of the car. Leave it to you to overpack without even thinking to leave room for all of the clothes and souvenirs you were certain to accumulate - oh well, an excuse for a new suitcase you supposed.

Not in the mood for small talk, you were relieved that the Uber driver silently read your mind, playing a pop station as you both respectfully ignored each other’s presence. You anxiously tapped your thumb on your phone, eyes flicking between the screen where you watched your route progress and the view out your window of townhomes, pubs, and countless strangers passing by.

You hadn’t felt anxious about leaving for London the entire first half of junior year, so why was your stomach and head simultaneously churning now? You were so excited to experience a version of life that was the opposite of everything you were trying to get away from - a version of life that involved British accents, buzzing city life, and endless possibilities. But it was all of a sudden dawning on you how unfamiliar it all was. As much as you hated to admit it to yourself, no matter how far you ran, you would never be able to fully separate yourself from OBX. That damned small beach-town would always be a part of you, an inextricable thread in the fabric of your life.

The Uber pulled up to a halt in front of your destination. You hesitantly glanced out your window as you double checked the silver number on the building. Yep, 25 Brampton Rd - you were here. The Uber driver graciously lifted your suitcase out of the trunk for you and as he pulled away you let out a long breath - your fresh start was waiting behind the doors in front of you.

You rang the doorbell to the lobby, the security here no joke. You were soon buzzed into the building and you shakily pulled your suitcase in behind you, desperately trying to calm your nerves to no avail.

“Hi,” you croaked out as you approached the man seated at the front desk. “I’m- uhh here to check in to my apartment- uh I mean flat… I think… I’m with the Kildare Academy exchange,” you rambled, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Despite your best efforts, your anxiety was taking over.

The man gave you a sympathetic smile. “Name please?”

“Y/n L/n,” you replied, pulling your lips into a sheepish straight-lined smile as you mindlessly tapped your fingers on the handle of your suit case.

“L/n, L/n, L/n,” the man quietly muttered under his breath as his pen traced over a list of names. “Ahh here you are. Alright Miss L/n, here is a fob, this lets you into the building, now this key lets you into your flat, you’ll be on the second floor - apartment 2C, and this key is for your individual room,” he began to fire off at you as he rounded the desk and came to grab your suitcase, beginning to walk as you hastily followed suit. “This packet will tell you everything you need to know about our building here - wifi, laundry, trash days,” he shoved some papers in your hand as you both entered the elevator, him pressing the button for the second floor.

You emerged on to your floor and a few steps later you two were at the door of your new home, which the man quickly unlocked gesturing for you to step inside. “And this, Miss L/n, is your flat for the next few months with us here at Westheath. Your room is the second right down the hall there and I believe you’re the first here. Two of your flatmates who are yet to check in are from Kildare, such as yourself, and the other two are students of our own here at Westheath. You know I’m surprised how early you are, classes don’t start until next week! But nevertheless I’ll let you get settled,” you stood staring blankly at your new surroundings, more or less registering the words this man was firing off at you.

“I’m Richard by the way, if you ever need anything you know where to find me,” the man extended his hand toward you.

“Thank you,” you smiled, accepting his handshake.

“Welcome to Westheath,” he smiled back and just as quickly was turning on his heel and back out the door before you could get in another word, leaving you in your new flat by yourself.

You slowly walked through the empty place, meandering through the kitchen and living area, down the hall, peaking into the bathroom, and then finding your way to your room. It certainly wasn’t the type of living arrangement you were used to back home - your family lived on Figure 8 in the Outer Banks meaning you had grown up surrounded by mansions and luxuries. This place was small, simple, and yet it was cozy and well… perfect. It was the exact opposite of your Figure 8 life and that alone was enough to make you love it. You smiled, content, as you sank on to your empty bed, taking in your new room. You had a nice sized desk, a decent shelf, and a wardrobe. Simple and sufficient. You could get used to this. The room was starkly barren, but since school wasn’t set to start for another week and no one was here yet you made a mental note to go on a little mission to find some plants and decorations to bring the white box that was your room a bit more to life.

——-

Three days had passed and still your other flat mates had yet to show. You were starting to wonder if they ever would or if you’d end up living in this flat all by yourself. Your room was now decorated, you had found some cute posters in a shop you had wandered into, some plants in another, and string lights in a third. You had acquainted yourself with the grocery store around the corner and the drug store down the street and you’d even gone on the tube all by yourself.

Being on your own these last few days had been decidedly therapeutic, leaving you unable to contain a cheesy grin every time it hit you that you were actually here, in London, far far away from OBX. But you couldn’t help feeling a little lonely, with a passing hello to Richard every time you left and returned to the building being your main source of human interaction these last few days.

You laid on your bed as you debated the decision you were about to make - you would’ve never dared to use Tinder back home. You knew virtually everyone on the island and would’ve been absolutely mortified to match with anybody there. But hey - you were in London baby! This was a fresh start and nothing was off limits. You sighed and gave in, downloading the app and quickly making a profile. You must’ve rearranged the order of your pictures at least a dozen times before you finally decided it was good enough. You started to swipe, an endless supply of British boys at your finger tips. You couldn’t suppress a chuckle at how funny the whole concept was, your inbox already flooding with cheesy pick up lines from your matches. You spent the next hour going back and forth with these boys, silly, meaningless, flirty conversations - god it was so much easier being a flirt through a screen, you would be positively flushed in the face in person, unless you were drunk of course (your drunk self was a dangerously confident flirt for sure).

Liam: are you free tonight? Down to grab a drink and chat?

Oh wow. Straight to the point wasn’t he. You knew the point of the app was to eventually get off it and meet up with someone, but now that you were met with the opportunity, your stomach was flipping upside down. Fuck it, what do you have to lose?

Y/n: yeah that sounds great, I’m in Hammersmith if you wanted to go somewhere there?

Liam: perfect so am I (: 8pm at The Ladle. See you there xx

Pure adrenaline coursed through your body as you started doing your hair and makeup, throwing clothes all around your small room to find the perfect outfit that was cute but simultaneously made it seem like you weren’t trying too hard. You threw your wallet and keys in your purse, chugged the glass of wine you had been casually sipping on by yourself, and quickly headed out the door before you could overthink it and change your mind.

——

You nervously approached the bar that Google Maps had directed to you, not sure what you were getting yourself into, but you had already walked all the way here so you’d be damned if you didn’t see it through.

“Y/n?” a voice called out to you. God, hearing your name in that accent sent shivers down your spine.

“Yeah that’s me, Liam?” you questioned back, staring up at the fluffy browned-hair boy approaching you.

“That’s me,” he winked, extending his arm out to you which you nervously grabbed, as he led you into The Ladle, spotting an empty table for the two of you.

“So Y/n, what are you doing here in London. Something tells me you’re not from here?”the boy across from you smiled as you two got settled in your seats.

“Hmmm I wonder what could’ve ever given it away,” you replied with a sarcastic smile, American accent in full force. “But I’m here for school, on an exchange at Westheath Academy.”

“Oh shit, that means we’ll see each other around. I’m finishing up my last year actually. And somehow you’re the first American I’ve had the pleasure of being on a date with,” he smiled with a devilish grin that felt like it was burning into you, you hoping the flush on your cheeks wasn’t too obvious with the dim lighting.

“Lucky me,” you smiled back, faking a sly confidence as best you could despite the fact that you were all nerves on the inside. Dating was not something you were familiar with, having maybe gone on two back home, if those even counted.

“First round on me, what are you drinking tonight Y/n?”

“Umm a vodka cran is fine,” you replied to which you were immediately met with a scoff.

“No way babe, you’re in a pub in England now. Should’ve figured as much coming from an American like you,” he chuckled with a shake of his head, his fluffy hair bouncing with it. “I’m getting you a pint,” he asserted, walking over to the bar and giving you a moment to breath and collect yourself. You hated beer but weren’t about to put up a fight, at this point you would down just about any alcohol in order to get some more liquid courage in your system.

He quickly returned, placing the tall glass of golden-colored liquid in front of you.

“Cheers, to new school mates,” he winked extending his glass up to yours.

“To new school mates,” you smiled back, bringing your glass to clink with his, taking a long swig and trying not to grimace at the taste of the liquid going down your throat.

——

The night passed by quickly, you and Liam going through three rounds of drinks as you both laughed and bantered with one another, your nerves all but dissipated by the alcohol now coursing through your bloodstream. Heck, the beer was even starting to taste… good? God you barely recognized yourself anymore, but in the best possible way. One by one you were letting the closely guarded walls you had built up over the years in OBX fall, and you were feeling better than ever before - you felt free.

You and Liam stumbled back arms linked to the building you found out you were both living in, Liam on the fourth floor. You rummaged for the fob in your purse and you both got on the elevator, Liam instinctively pressing both your floor numbers. The elevator dinged opening to your floor, Liam turning to you with a cheeky smile.

“See you around, Y/n,” he winked. Why did you find that so attractive, or maybe it’s just because you were slightly drunk.

“Goodnight Liam,” you smirked back, blowing him a kiss as you walked out the elevator, the doors closing behind you.

You couldn’t help but smile like an idiot as you unlocked your flat and stumbled into your room, immediately collapsing on your bed. London. It was definitely going to be an adventure.

——

You were woken up the next day by the sun peaking through your window. You yawned and let out a big stretch, still giddy from last night’s date. It’s not like you thought you had just met your soulmate or something, you both kept the evening light, mainly joking and flirting as you downed drinks. But god you couldn’t remember the last time you had that much fun or ended a night feeling so confident and carefree. You were embracing every ounce of the euphoria you were getting from your new life.

You slipped out of bed and made your way to the kitchen, still rubbing the morning crust out of your eyes. Just as you got a pot of coffee going, you heard the distinct sound of a key turning, startling you as you realized it was coming from outside of your flat’s door. You cursed at the fact that you were about to meet a new flatmate while in your flannel pajamas and messy bun hanging halfway off your head, but mainly you were excited to finally have some company.

“Dude it’s no Figure 8 living but fuck it I’ll live anywhere to not have my parents breathing down my neck these next few months,” you heard a voice say, now in the hallway of your flat.

You immediately freeze. That was a male voice, definitely a male. Of course it makes sense now that you think of it, everyone in the flat gets their own room so what does it matter if the flat is co-ed. The thought just hadn’t crossed your mind, you automatically assumed you’d be living with all girls.

“Yeah man, anywhere that’s 1,000 miles away from Ward sounds like the perfect place to me,” another male voice laughed in return. Ward? Ward Cameron? That couldn’t possibly be who the voice was referring to because that would mean you were living with- and before you could even finish your thought you were standing jaw slightly parted staring at Rafe Cameron and Topper Thornton  in front of you. Two of the most popular guys at school.

You weren’t really friends but your families knew each other so you inevitably saw one another at kook events every now and then. You couldn’t help but feel intimidated by them. You always told yourself you didn’t care about boys like Rafe and Topper or about fitting in with their crowd, yet you always became nervous in their presence.  They were cool. They partied a lot, were athletes, and had girls tripping over them, which you couldn’t fault considering anyone with eyes could tell they were attractive, but you’d never have the confidence to be so bold with guys like that. Unless you were drunk of course. And unless you were the new confident and carefree version of yourself that you had been on your date last night with Liam.

“Yo Y/n, no fucking way, I didn’t know we’d get to live with girl,” Topper smiled at you with a teasing grin.

You were suddenly acutely aware of how disheveled you look and how you weren’t wearing a bra under your thin pajama top.

“Uh hey w-what are you guys doing here,” you managed to choke out. That confident girl from last night had disappeared as quickly as she had arrived, leaving you now feeling winded in front of the two boys from your hometown. Why were you getting so flustered?

“Just on a little exchange program from Kildare, maybe you’ve heard of it,” teased Rafe sarcastically, a smile tugging at his lips, holding back a laugh at how caught off guard you looked.

“Yeah no yeah of course,” you stuttered, “I guess I just wasn’t expecting you two to want to sign up for it.”

That’s when you realized the obvious. Every year there was always a number of spots reserved on the exchange for athletes, and Rafe and Topper were two of Kildare’s star soccer players.

“What and get to miss an opportunity to play at Westheath and go to Premier League games all semester? No shot,” laughed Topper.

“Maybe you should’ve gone to orientation after all, roomie,” joked Rafe as he picked up his bag following Topper down the hall to their rooms. Rafe Cameron noticed I didn’t go to orientation?

You let your face fall in your hands with a groan only audible to you. You quickly picked up your head and shook yourself off, pouring yourself a cup of coffee as you tried to ground yourself from your frazzled state. Looks like escaping OBX was going to be harder than you thought.

---

Part 2

[inactiive]

what about the reader having an innocence kink and she’s abt to give Ron his first handjob 👁👁

soft touches -- r.w.

ron weasley x reader

summary: ron becomes your first person that you give a handjob to. 

warnings: hanjobs, swearing, making out, innocence kink, message me if i need to add anything else!

author’s note: i’m sorry that it took me this long to post this :( i hope you enjoy it babe xx also soft ron because i’m sad 

ron cupped your cheek as he stared intently into your eyes. he admired every detail of your face. everytime he looked at you his heart rate began to increase. you had just came back from a date to hogsmede together and you didn’t plan on parting ways anytime soon. spending time together during the weekends became a tradition. it was something you looked forward to. you and ron had been together for almost a year and it was your last year at hogwarts together. although you planned on moving in together after you graduated, you wanted to make the most of having to sneak around the castle at night. 

ron pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “why don’t you stay with me in my dorm tonight?”

your cheeks became tinted with red and you looked away from him. although you had been together for half a year, you’ve never done anything more than kiss. ron didn’t have a problem with it and never pressured you into doing anything you didn’t want to. in fact, it was never mentioned again after you admitted you’ve never done anything intimate. in his eyes, you seemed so fragile and perfect that he didn’t want to do anything to corrupt you. the other part of him though, longed for the day his angel became not so pure anymore. 

he rubbed your cheekbone with his thumb. “i know what you’re thinking, sweetheart. i meant to just sleep.” ron grinned as you looked up at him wide eyed. “besides, after tonight i don’t think i can be without you.” 

you nodded and he took your hand to lead you up into his dorm room. harry and the rest of his dorm mates were nowhere to be found. not that it was important to ron anyways. you both carefully discarded your shoes and he gently pulled you into his side. you felt his eyes on you and you looked back at him. after a few seconds, ron’s lips met yours and your eyes fluttered shut. something about kissing ron was so addictive. you loved the way his arms draped over your frail body and how gentle he was with you. 

ron felt the exact same way. occasionally, his eyes would peak open at you, just to make sure this wasn’t a product of his imagination. feeling bold, for once in your life, you climbed on top of ron and your hips aligned perfectly with his. once he felt your cotton shorts on his body, he knew he was done for. sure, other girls had made him hard before, but this was different.

it was different because it was you. 

unfortunately, his cock refused to listen to him and the pain in his boxers were becoming more prominent. you felt him under you and guilt washed through your body. you wanted to help him, you really did. but, you just didn’t know how. 

you pulled away from a breath of air. “ron, i can help you with that- only if you want me to.” you spoke quietly and in that moment, ron felt himself harden even more. 

“if that’s alright with you, love. i don’t- i don’t want to pressure you into anything.” 

“it’s alright, ron. you can just..” you voiced trailed off. “..teach me.” after you finished your sentence, ron quickly stripped down to his boxers. when you saw the imprint of his cock you looked away. he cupped your face with his hand. “are you sure you want to do this?”

“yes ron.” you forced your arm to palm his erection through his boxers, emitting a groan from his lips. you redacted your hand instantly, but he grabbed onto your wrist and moved it to its previous place. just the soft touch of your hand made him a mess. he couldn’t imagine what it would feel like it the thin cloth of his underwear wasn’t separating his length from your hand. after a few seconds, he slowly dragged his boxers down to his thighs. 

your eyes slightly widened at how big he was, but you didn’t want to embarrass yourself even more. reluctantly, your hand found its way to his tip and his hips bucked up into your hand. ron grabbed onto your wrist once again and curled your fingers around him. he slowly moved your hand up and down. once your became more confident, he let go. he was mumbling under his breath about how he loved you and how perfect you were. 

his eyes were closed while his mouth was slightly agape. once your pace increased, you noticed how his cheeks became more flushed and his muscles seemed to tighten. everything about him was so ethereal. 

“oh fuck, baby just like that.” your heart swelled at his praise. “you’re doing so well for me, angel. i’m almost there.” 

not really understanding what he meant, you continued to jerk him off at a quick pace. he started to pant more and more while he also released grunts that flew straight into your core. you felt his cock swell even more and after one last pump, his back arched. “fuck, oh- shit i’m cumming.” he watched as white liquid seeped out of him and it made you panic. you didn’t know what was going on and honestly you preferred if it didn’t get all over your jumper.

once his breath returned to a normal pace, he looked up at you through his eye lids and kissed you with so much force that you almost fell backwards.

he couldn’t express how in love with you he was in that moment. 

blurb taglist: @anchoeritic @anxietymonster @ch0kemedracomalfoy @hufflepuff-cutie  @kyleed24 @valwritesx @georgeswh0re @Slutherin-7 @cherrysicarus @Axvac3 please fill this form out if you want to be added to my taglist

— if your username is crossed out it means i couldn’t tag you bc it said no blogs found. please message me and i’ll fix it asap! :(

[byorder-fanfic]

Red Eyed Anger

Summary: There are two things your brothers hate the most: the cavalry, and the idea of you, their youngest sister, dating. When they decide to piss you off at Tommy’s wedding, you think it’s a good idea to hit two birds with one stone. Or, more likely, give John an aneurysm.

Word count: 2234

Warnings: Swearing, overprotective brothers and mentions of drugs

Authors Note: This is my first Peaky Blinders x reader imagine, so I hope you enjoy. Thanks for all the support and kind comments from my first post, it really gave me the confidence to carry on! xx

When Finn had grabbed your wrist and told you Tommy wanted to see you, this wasn't exactly what you expected. Walking into his needlessly large kitchen, you dodged a few busy waiters hurrying around (and maybe grabbing a snack off one of the plates), as you perched on the side. Looking around, the family was all there. Well, nearly. It was all the men and boys, in their dark suits that made your dark green dress stand out more. It was long sleeved and baggy, just as all your clothes were, lest you wanted to give Arthur a heart attack. Tommy was looking as disgruntled as always as he lit a cigarette, eyebrows furrowed as he watched Arthur and Michael clamber down the stairs, saying something about needing a map. It was true, you thought, as you compared the mansion you were sat in to the little house in Watery Lane.

"Tom, why the hell have you invited me to your boys club?" You snapped, only to be ignored, as usual.

"Alright boys, you're all here," he muttered as he raised his arms to look at you all. You tried to ignore the 'boys' comment, but you still felt yourself glaring at him as he started his speech. "Today it's my fucking wedding day."

"And you said there'd be no uniforms," John pointed out with a snarl. Upstairs, the red uniforms overwhelmed every corridor and floor.

"Nevertheless John, despite the bad blood, I'll have none of it on my carpet." Everyone shared disappointed glances. "Now, for Grace's sake, those bastard's out there are her family, and if any of you fuckers do anything to embarrass her, your kin, your cousins, your horses, your fucking kids, do anything to-"

He was almost shouting, you didn't hear Isaiah suddenly piping in, until Tommy suddenly turned to him to yell "What?"

"What about snow?" You raised your eyebrows over your brother's shoulder, causing Isaiah to return a little smirk, as John grabbed him in headlock.

"No cocaine," he pointed his finger in front of Isaiah. "No sports," directed at John. "No races, no fucking sucking the petrol out of their cars." He grabbed onto Finn's face, and this time you couldn't hide a laugh. Then Tommy turned to you, his blue eyes unusually angry. "As always Y/N, no drinking, smoking, and no dancing with any man not in this room."

Your mouth dropped in offence, as you looked round to your other brothers, all looking at you with teasing grins.

"Tom, this is a party! I thought I could have fun!" You tried your best to look angry at him too, only to get John snorting out a laugh.

"C'mon, Y/N, you're just a kid, have fun with Katie and my lot," he suggested with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Yeah, I'm sure Charlie's got some orange juice you can have," Arthur joined in with a gruff laugh. In a second, your fists were clenched as you moved up to hit them, only to have Tommy's grip on your shoulder, pushing you down.

"I'm the same age as Finn, you promised you'd let me have a bit of freedom!" 

"Well, we lied," Tommy said simply as he turned over to your Uncle Charlie, who was watching this with an interested cock of his eyebrows. "And, you, Charlie, stop spinning fucking yards about me, hey?" He turned around, letting out another huff of smoke.

"I'm just trying to sell you to them, Tom," Charlie protested as he too raised a cigarette in his hand. 

"And for the love of God, no fighting," Tommy was yelling again. You wondered if Grace could hear this. "NO FUCKING FIGHTING!"

You rolled your eyes as you quickly walked out, trying to ignore your Uncle's sympathetic pat on the shoulder as you marched past, a fury in your eyes and fists curled.

"I'm not a child, Esme," you groaned as you slumped next to your sister-in-law. She was giving a grin, evidently being told what Tommy's meeting was all about. "When will they start to treat me like Finn?"

"When you don't have tits," she said with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Fucking sexists," you said under your breath, yet Isaiah still heard. He was by your side, eyes glazing over the woman on the dancefloor, yet commanded by Finn to play bodyguard. His laugh shook the cavalry shoulders standing behind you to jump suddenly, as they surveyed the three of you with curious eyes. You recognised one of them from the ceremony. He was younger than the two men, about your age, but still donned the same robin-red uniform. He was handsome, you thought, and had been giving you less than discreet looks as you stood opposite in the pews. Now, it was your turn to give him a grin. Luckily, neither Isaiah or Esme noticed your sudden change of attention. 

"I'm going to get some air," you said, and they both nodded as they watched you go, green dress standing out in the sea of red. As you'd hoped, there were a pair of footsteps behind you as you made it into one of the many corridors of Arrow House. 

"Miss Shelby," his accent was distinctly Irish and brought another smile on your face as you spun on your heels to turn to the cavalry soldier. 

"It's Y/N," you held out your hand, which he quickly took in his own, bringing himself closer to you. "And you are?"

"Conor Burgess." He let go of your hand, but he was still very close to you, his breath fanning on your skin.

"You're related to Grace?" Despite yourself, you took a step closer, your chest brushing against his.

"She's my dad's cousin."

You brought your hands up to smooth down the edges of the bright uniform he donned. Red, like the bad blood between them and your brothers. Red, like the anger you felt at them. Red, like the lipstick on your smile as an idea came to mind.

"You're a little young to be a soldier," you whispered, fingers brushing the golden button at his throat.

"It's a family thing," Conor had an exhausted sigh. "I kinda have to be."

"I know what that's like," you nodded as you thought of the ways your brothers had bent over backwards to keep you the child you no longer were. Shaking off the sadness, you gave him another mischievous grin. "How about we go disappoint both our families, Conor?"

"Sounds good to me, Y/N." He let you take your hand and drag him up the stairs.

There were a lot of guest bedrooms in Arrow House, so surely it was a good idea to hide in one. If anyone noticed you’d gone, they’d need a map to find you. When you took off Conor's scarlet uniform coat, removing all responsibilities of a soldier, you'd made it explicitly clear that that was the only piece of clothing being removed tonight. He'd agreed to it, eagerly, as he discarded the jacket with very little thought. In his undershirt, he sat next to you on the end of the bed, looking at each other awkwardly.

"Y'know, I've been watching you all day," he whispered as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. The action made your face burn up, as you became all too conscious of the feeling of his knee against yours. 

"I've noticed," you tried to keep your confidence, despite a bashfulness at the thought of what was coming next. 

"You are the prettiest girl in the room, Y/N," he kept a hand against your neck, the other one on your hand. Conor held an intense look as he forced you to keep eye contact. "Can I kiss you?"

You didn't answer, just dove in to press your lips against his. It wasn't a smart idea, you realised a little too late, as you had no clue what to do next. Luckily, Conor did. He held onto your neck, keeping you close as he kissed you softly. It wasn't like the ways you'd seen Esme and John make out, or as disgusting as it looked when you saw Isaiah or Finn snogging girls in the Garrison. It was a nice, warm feeling that exhilarated you, although the sensation of his tongue in your mouth wasn't one you were used to. Suddenly, you grabbed onto his shoulders as you shifted yourself to sit on his lap, knees by his hips. In a second, he readjusted his grip to hold onto your own hips. You pulled away when you ran out of air, uncomfortably aware of the saliva at the corner of your lip. With a chuckle, Conor reached up to brush it away with his thumb, beaming up at you without a hint of disgust. His hands stayed on your hips, your dress was still on and he seemed contented by that. A softness in your heart suddenly formed for this boy you knew next to nothing about.

"That was nice," you whispered. 

"Your first time?" He asked with a smile that assured you he knew the answer.

"My brothers always told me boys only wanted one thing from me." You bit your lip as you looked into the empathetic look in his eyes. "But you're...different."

"Good different?"

"Very good different." You leaned down to place a chaste kiss on his lips. "Maybe we should do this again some time?"

His eyes lit up.

"I'd like that," he ascertained, but the sudden reminder of his accent made you frown.

"When are you going back to Galway?"

"I've got some soldier training in London, which I can probably extend to a year."

This time, it was your eyes that widened. A year? To go from a first kiss to get at your brothers, to a year with the kind, reluctant cavalry boy you were currently straddling. 

"Well then, I guess I'm going to be going up to see my sister a lot more." You smiled into another kiss. This time, he turned you to lie down on the bed as he rested on top, kissing you softly. As you heard the music blaring downstairs, you tried not to think how pissed your brothers will be. 

Right now though, all you could think of was Conor, and the kiss on your lips and his warmth over your body. It made the music and the sound of approaching footsteps all blur into nothing. That was, until you heard Arthur's hoarse scream.

"GET OFF MY SISTER!"

With wide eyes and blushing faces, the two of you jumped up to look at your three eldest brothers, all donning similar wrathful faces, none more angry than John. His face was redder than the scarlet jacket in his hand, which he immediately threw into Conor's chest. Fumbling with the buttons, he immediately shrugged the damned thing back on, looking at each of your brothers with fear evident. The two of you shuffled to sitting down, looking at each other like naughty schoolchildren.

"What the hell, Y/N?" John was disappointed, it was obvious, but you couldn't care less.

"Nice to meet you Mr Shelby, I'm Con-" He didn't get a chance to finish his unusually cheerful introduction as Arthur thrusted a finger forward.

"Shut it, you," he said with his usually gruff tone.

"What happened to no fighting?" You said, far too snarky for the situation.

"What happened to no boys?" Tommy snapped back, looking at you with pursed lips and an anger contained by icy blue eyes.

"Wasn't a rule," you said sweetly, as you began to mock his voice: "No drinking, smoking, and no dancing with any man not in this room, and NO FUCKING FIGHTING!"

Your giggle was met with three deadpan expressions. They weren't so easily amused, apparently.

"No boys is always a rule," Arthur seethed.

"And he's fucking cavalry," John immediately added on with as much venom as he could muster. You rolled your eyes, certain that even if he wasn't cavalry, your brother wouldn't be too happy about you sneaking off with a boy.

"Really?" You feigned innocence. "Couldn't tell- didn't have his coat on."

With a huff, John made a move forward, only for you to jump up to stand in front of him.

"No. Fucking. Fighting." You stressed each syllable, looking him down, confidence fuelled by rage. You weren't a baby, you weren't going to let your brothers rule your life.

"She didn't break any rules," Tommy conceded with a sigh, forcing the other two Shelby brothers to look at him with flabbergasted anger. But Tommy wasn't looking at them, just the red-faced boy you stood in front of, protectively. "Now, who the hell are you?"

"Conor Burgess," he said weakly. That seemed to please Tommy, as he perked up significantly, popping a new cigarette into his lips.

"Good, so I assume you're going back to Ireland with the rest of Grace's family next week, huh?" His eagerness relaxed the other two. Momentarily, of course.

With a smirk, you fell back onto the bed, giving a wink behind you. Conor was watching this all with wide eyes and the barest shadow of a smile.

"Actually, Conor's sticking around for a year." You shone your sunniest smile. "Cavalry training."

Like that, all hope and peace from your brother's eyes drained out of them like a light flickering off. You bit back a laugh, not fully trusting the still-raging look in Tommy's eye, nor Arthur's clenched fist.

"Fuckin' cavalry," John spat out under his breath.

Part 2 here

[wevegottogetaway]

El Patrón

I’m so excited to finally be posting this piece. I’ve been working on it for the past few days and it’s been consuming my mind. If you like angst, smut, art student Harry, and great plot twists, this story is for you, so buckle up, cause you’ve got 13700 and then some waiting for you! And on that note, I don’t thing I have many words left in my brain... so, hope you enjoy xx

TW: smut, fool language

After her first day back to classes, Y/n is not surprised to see Harry Styles’ lanky frame standing behind the bar of Bottom’s Up. She hoped that he would bugger off to work some place else but alas, all her summer prayers were unanswered. For yet another semester, she would have to endure bartending by his sides, trying with all her might not to jab a corkscrew at his throat every time he opened his gob. Granted, she could have switched jobs herself, but the pay is too good to turn down and the bar sits literally right around the corner from her place; a match made in heaven if you ask her. Besides, she’s been mastering the art of tuning out the insufferable green-eyed prick for two years now, so what’s one more? Of course, knowing it is likely to be the last - having just kicked off the final year of her psychology major - makes the news easier to stomach. And with any luck, the fool did some sort of soul-searching over the break and came back a changed man.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to grace us with her delightful presence again. Knew you couldn’t stand to live without me, y/l/n." Harry greets her with a smirk as he looks up from his phone. 

Well, some much for change, but luck has never been on y/n’s side anyway; she knew it was wishful thinking to entertain the idea of a pleasant or even tolerable Harry. "Shut it, Styles. I’m not in the mood for your bullshit," she quips back and goes straight to the employee’s locker room to dispose of her stuff and swap her top for one bearing the bar’s logo. Once done, she takes a brief look in the tattered mirror still hanging by the door to readjust her ponytail, before joining her co-worker behind the counter. The bar is rather quiet for now, clock having not chimes 6pm yet, but y/n expects the place to be soon crawling with students drinking the classes’ return off their mind. 

The next few minutes are spent in unexpected peaceful silence, y/n prepping for the upcoming rush while Harry idly sits by, not lifting a single finger to help her out. Admittedly, he’s completed all his pre-shift duties during the last hour, but y/n doesn’t think it warrants the smug look painted on his face as he watches her battle a jar of olives with an old opener and  a concentrated frown. So peaceful silence was a bit of a stretch, maybe.

Then to make matters worse he decides to taunt her, "I see you’ve grown zero muscle strength over the break. Too busy vegetating on the beach?" 

The surge of anger triggered by the provocation is enough impetus for her to crack the can open, but it doesn’t stop her from turning to face him, "I see you’ve grown zero neuron in that thick head of yours. Too busy making people miserable instead?" she counters with flaring nostrils and a look of disdain hardening her features.

"Ah, still got a feisty mouth on you. ‘Was worried you might turn soft on us." Harry sasses back, but y/n doesn’t bother telling him off this time. No matter how strong her comeback, he’ll just brush it off with that smile of his that irritates her to no end. That’s the thing with Harry, the bastard has the thickest skin of all, he’s downright unattainable. And believe it or not, bad-mouthing doesn’t come naturally to y/n, he just seems to draw it out of her, perhaps as the trigger of some kind of survival instinct. Time and time again she’s tried to come up with a quip that would leave him speechless, tail between his legs, but he always has a wittier reply to throw back at her. For so long they’ve been playing this debilitating game of ping pong and she has yet to claim a point to his countless wins. 

It’d been the case since their first meeting on that dreadful Friday two years ago. Y/n was about to embark on her second year at uni and decided to get a job so she could afford her own place instead of the dreary dorms she’d gotten used to. Bottom’s Up had seemed to be the perfect choice, a 2 minutes walk from the sweet little apartment she’d just visited a few days prior. She’d been excited for her first shift that night, air still warm from the Indian summer sun drawing a plethora of eager students to come enjoy their last day of freedom. Her happy jitters had quickly dissolved once she’d made her way in the staff-only area located behind the bar though. There, she’d walked in on a very frustrated Harry vociferating at a lost-looking colleague, "how many times do you have to fuck up before doing your bloody job, Steve? Stop sitting on your lazy ass, or I swear I’ll-" 

She’d come to this Steve guy’s defense then, furious at the tall curly hair jerk for bullying his way around, "stop it, you asshole. You can’t talk to people like trash, who do you think you are?" Granted, she didn’t know it at the time, but the lost look on Steve's face was in fact pretty standard for the amount of weed in his system; nor did she know that the lad could actually win the Olympics of lazy asses hands down, should such a discipline be appended. It was too late to call off the hostilities though. War had been declared, and aside maybe from that one time he had graciously accepted to cover for her when she’d had a trip to Brighton planned for one of her classes, no truce had ever been reached. Besides, she’s sure it was more so because he was low on cash rather than to fulfill the hidden desire to help her out for once in his life.

Now, as she finishes wiping her work surface with a wet cloth, y/n wishes more than ever to be teleported in a parallel universe where she doesn’t have to work with the bane of her existence, much less see his annoyingly handsome face four times a week. (Also, exams would only be optional in this alternate reality of hers, but that’s another fantasy for another day.) Mainly, she’s just glad she doesn’t see him around campus ever, the art building standing all the way across from the psychology department. At least she’s Harry-free the moment she steps out of the bar; she’d probably have a nervous breakdown if she had to put up with his antics outside of work.

                                                       ***

A month in the new semester, the novelty of it all has finally worn off to make way for routines to settle in. Y/n’s weeks now consist in a well-practiced cycle of sleep, study, eat, work and occasionally go out with her best friend Mia. Her shifts at Bottom’s Up still prove to be challenging because of the company she’s forced to keep but things seem to have calmed down at the bar too. Students are now less inclined to party the week away, mainly indulging during the second half of the week, but more importantly, Harry appears to be less of a smug bastard and more of a sulky sod. For some reason, the lad has been stuck in a sullen mood, constant frown wrinkling his forehead. He has reverted to distant one-word answers as though he is saving a dictionary worth of words for whatever conundrum is going on in his brain. Y/n doesn’t mind though, and almost welcomes the transition if it means less digs taken at her expense.

Now y/n finds herself on her way to the campus library for a much needed paper-writing cramming session (the assignment is due the following day and she barely has two thirds of the work completed). After a quick stop by the coffee shop down the block, she finally strides in the lobby of the library, ready to dive nose first into the riveting matters of cognitive psychology. She’s already so focused mulling over concepts’ definition in her mind, that it takes her a minute to realize something is going on.

It’s nothing major really, no big fire rushing around the premises or fist-fight breaking the crowd into a frenzy. No, just everyone seemingly hushing and gasping, bewildered expressions etched upon their faces as they keep pointing towards the nearby study room. Truthfully, y/n might have been completely oblivious to it, it she weren’t a psychology major; but reading people’s feelings and interactions is kind of her thing, so she does notice the bubbly energy infiltrating the usually quiet space. What could possibly have them so intrigued, she wonders as more students come out of the room with the same looks of wonder.

Her confusion is finally quelled when she steps into the study room in question and her eyes fall on what has everyone so engaged. On the wall to her right, between two sets of shelves brimming with decades-old books, hangs a life size canvas of audacious shapes and bold colors. Not one seems to have been left out, the painting seemingly transporting the viewer in a psychedelic albeit appealing trance. It’s full of contrasts, an embodiment of serenity and boldness at the same time, and y/n can’t stop ogling the masterpiece for the life of her. The amount of passion is so obviously overwhelming, yet she can feel all of the artist’s emotions underneath each of the brushstrokes.  

After another minute of wondrous observation, her thoughts are interrupted by a foreign voice. "El Patrón? I wonder who that could be," the stranger wonders aloud, and her eyes immediately drift off to the bottom right of the painting to catch the small but unmistakable signature: black cursive letter spelling the two words withholding the real artist’s identity. The mystery only adds up to the appeal of the work and y/n already feels a bubbling feeling in the pit of her stomach at the idea of ever finding out what beautiful soul is responsible for such mind-bending work. She hopes this won’t be last she sees of it. 

                                                       ***

It’s Friday night and unfortunately for y/n, she’s stuck at work with her least favorite person in the world. It’s all the more unfortunate that Harry seems to be back to his usual annoying self, his thoughts finally free from whatever trouble had plagued them, and eager to fall back into nuisance mode. Less unfortunate for y/n and much to Harry’s discontent, Mia decided to stop by and keep her company. Though she feels slightly sorry for her having the act as her buffer for the night, y/n figures she’s more than making up for it with every free cocktail she keeps sliding towards her friend. Their conversation is scattered at best since patrons keep interrupting them for a fresh pint of ale, but as the night slowly dies down they manage to talk longer than 20 seconds.

The manager of the bar has long clocked off and gone home, as per usual on Friday nights, leaving both her and Harry the pleasure to indulge in a few drinks of their own. They don’t do it every week and always keep it low-key of course; Mia’s tonight presence mostly accounting for y/n’s partaking while Harry just likes a nice glass of tequila when the week-end comes around and there’s nobody to tell him off about it. One thing they never do though, is drink together, like two friends celebrating yet another week they survived at uni. Come to think of it, the only thing they do share is a job position and their never-ending bickering. Cheers to that, y/n takes another sip of her gin martini in sarcasm. 

She’s brought back to reality by Mia as the tipsy brunette lets out a loud gasp before she inquires in a slightly high-pitched voice, "y/n! totally forgot to tell you, went by the library today and you’ll never guess what was there!" 

"Oh my god, you saw the painting too, didn’t you" y/n answers, excited at the idea of discussing the whole thing with her best friend. Truth be told, the majestic work of art hasn’t left her mind since she’d first seen it a few days before. 

"Yes" Mia squeals in confirmation, "I mean, it’s kinda impossible to miss. I wonder how they got it there without anyone seeing."

Y/n has wondered the same thing and she came to one conclusion, "they probably sneaked in last Sunday after the library closed, it’s the only time the building is empty," Mia humming in agreement. The campus library is opened 24/7 all days except on Sundays, so realistically speaking it is the only window of time that would allow for such an experiment. Whether said experiment required an actual break-in or was conducted in full legality remains a mystery but that is just bygones in y/n’s eyes. She’s much to mesmerized by the work to give a damn about how it got there in the first place. 

"Oi y/l/n! What are you two fawning over this time" Harry chirps in the conversation, uninvited as always, and y/n hates how condescending he just sounded.

"Not that you could ever understand something with substance, if your lack thereof is any indication, but it’s none of your damn business," y/n spats out dismissively but Mia’s Margarita-induced brain seems to have forgotten all about their concerted hatred for piss-taking bartenders.

"Harry, you’re an art major aren’t you? D’you know who’s behind that beautiful painting at the library?" 

Y/n tilts her head back in a sigh at her friend’s behavior before turning to watch the puzzled look on Harry’s face. He seems to silently gauge the both of them; for what, y/n doesn’t know, and then his whole expression switched to a blasé look. He shrugs in disinterest, "who cares? ’s just one more Banksy wannabe who’s trying at it too hard ‘f you ask me." 

Y/n takes it as a personal offense, her admiration for the painting outweighing any instinct she has of avoiding the brazen man taking a sip of his tequila on rocks across from her, "of course you’d say something like that. You’re just jealous you’ll never compete with his talent."

Harry raises a brow at her accusation, "and how would you know since you’ve never seen any of my work?" 

It’s a valid point, but not enough to rebut her. "Doesn’t take a genius to know a shallow mind like yours could never create something as deep and transcending. That would require actual emotions from you Harry and we both know the only emotion you’re capable of spreading is irritation." 

For once she’s confident she’s gonna have the last word, but in true Harry fashion he just gives her a bored look as if to say ‘is that all?’ towel thrown over his shoulder, "right, and here I thought talking to people like trash was a bad thing. You should really take a page out of your own book, y/n, wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re as big of a jerk as I am." Then he turns back to face the room full of customers, and tends to one disheveled looking guy slurring out an order. 

Y/n barely registers the friendly "alright Joe, but ’s the last one," Harry rasps out to the guy, her ears are still ringing from the last words he’d said to her. More specifically, the little truth they held despite how much he deserved the backlash, and y/n absolutely loathes the way her throat seems to be closing in on itself. She’s afraid she’s turning like him, bitter words at the ready and always trying to outdo his own taunting spiels. Before anxiety can settle in her bones though, she swallows back the knot tightening in her airways and goes back to serving customers and conversing with her friend.

                                                        ***

The next time it happens, she expects it even less. A couple weeks have passed since her gruesome interaction with Harry at the bar, and along with her doubts, all thoughts about art have seemed to vanish from her busy mind. She’s had a few tests occupying all her free time and now that they’ve been done and over with, all she can think about is calling Mia up to plan their next night out; she needs a few drinks that she didn’t make for once. 

She’s about to take her phone out of her pocket to send her best friend a text, when she enters the lecture hall of her Monday experimental method and research design class. The déjà-vu feeling that creeps up her spine stops her from completing the action, and y/n frowns at how her fellow students seem to be all entranced in deep conversation, exchanging baffled looks with one another. Even the sleeping kid that sits at the back seems to be more alert than during their last fire evacuation procedure test. 

It’s then y/n turns around to see what is hanging at the front of the room, covering the large board. This time, the colors were carefully handpicked by the artists, flashes of pink and yellow dancing along to a frenzied rhythm of salsa as their union creates powerful jets of oranges across the canvas. It vaguely reminds her of the pendant she wears on a daily basis, rose gold laurels wrapped around a delicate sunflower, an orange topaz incrusted in its center. The painting is of abstract nature much like the last one, but the movements of the brush still bring her mind back to the jewel presently nestled between her collarbones. How odd.

The piece is slightly smaller than the last but no less impressive, catching the attention of even the least artistic eye. The sensibility of the artist is so distinct, intentions clearer and more in touch than most people with their own. For a second, y/n thinks she’s glad the pieces have only been ones of unadulterated happiness and colorful bliss so far, because god knows how heart-wrenching the outcome would be if all this uncorrupted honesty was used to fill canvas with pain.

As the professor enters the room, everybody settles back on their seat, and wait for the chap’s reaction. "Well, that sure is something. It seems we have a bit of a mystery painter on our hands, don’t we; and a talented one at that," y/n’s professor smiles at the class as he pulls a computer out of his satchel and places it at top of the front desk. His words make her look back at the artwork, this time settling on the small signature reading El Patrón on its corner. And it’s all it takes for Y/n’s obsession with the anonymous artist to be back in full force.

                                                       ***

That night she can’t stop raving about the painting as she starts closing the bar after a long and tiresome shift. She’s got a shoulder pressing her phone to her ear, Mia on the line, while she absentmindedly sweeps the floor. Normally the exertion of the job would have her stifling yawns and her bones aching but tonight her voice is perky as ever as she recollects the pinnacle of her day, "you shoulda been there Mia, it was gorgeous. And same as last time, like you’d be minding your business, doing your thing and then boom, it’s there. Damn, this guy is a genius."

As she comes back around the counter, Harry makes sure she notices the roll of his eyes. He’s been wiping and tidying the bar space after making sure everything is stocked up for the next day, all the while listening to her drone about El Patrón and his stroke of genius, praise after praise falling from her lips. She completely brushes off the patronizing gesture and that’s perhaps what irritates him the most. She’s barely acknowledging him or his stunts with all her attention placed on the mystery painter and well, Harry quite likes riling her up. Doesn’t do it out of spite, but merely because he likes the way it ignites a fire in her that he’s seldom seen in people. But now, all her fire is directed elsewhere and he doesn’t know what to think of it.

                                                         ***

Over the next month, the rumors around El Patrón spread like wildfire as more and more of his works are found scattered around campus. Much to y/n’s delight, she always seems to fall upon them as though they’ve been placed specifically on her path. It didn’t start as obvious though; the first following pieces hung in common areas around campus such as the lunch hall or the student center but as time went by they tended to follow her whereabouts somehow. Y/n knows she’s probably fabulating but when she’d stumble across two absolutely stunning pieces in the lobby of her gym and at the entrance of the psychology building, she couldn’t help but feel deeply attached to them. And the possibility that this mystery artist might have the same attachment to her, only fuels her obsession further, sending her reeling with all but one nerve-wracking question: who is this guy?

And it’s not like she’s the only one pondering over their identity either. Hell, the genius has literally everyone on campus under their spell, trying to uncover the enigma of the year. Everyone seems to be determined to find clues, easter eggs hidden within the paintings that could lead them closer to the truth. El Patrón has effectively turned the whole uni into a large-scale game of Cluedo, people speculating left and right and swapping theories about who it can or cannot be, what year they are probably in, or whether they have an accomplice. Nobody has ever executed such a tour de force in the history of campus, and it has everyone one edge, y/n included, desperate to be in the loop.

The fact that each painting is more beautiful than the last and always seems to connect with her in personal ways doesn’t help her daydreaming either. Take the one she found at the gym for example, for a few second she’d sworn she was looking at a familiar piece of the English South Coast, dark hues of blue fighting dots of white, reminiscent of the way foam always seems to top even the most raging waves as they crash along shores. She’d only had to close her eyes to feel the wind blowing her hair in a thousand directions and the sand engulfing her feet, making its way between her toes and every crevice of her skin. She was still in the middle of her gym when she reopened them though, her sport bag straddling her shoulder as she kept gaping at the painting in adoration.

Her suspicious keeps nagging at her head, the desire to unveil the identity of her beloved artist getting stronger by the day. The feeling is almost unbearable when she spots yet another work of his across from Bottom’s Up. The coincidences keep piling up and the more she mulls it over, the more she’s convinced this mystery guy is talking to her. Damn, is it possible to have a crush on someone because of their work? After months of this cryptic scavenger hunt, she’d dying to know if all her theories are right and the fact that she has no way to find out, is positively killer her.

That’s why when she stumbles across a flyer for a midterm exhibition gala hosted by the art department as she waits in line at her favorite coffee shop, she doesn’t think twice before jotting down all the info. In a week time, most of the uni’s art students would be gathered up in one place to present their term’s work. The chances are too high for y/n to pass up the opportunity, her guts telling her he’ll be there. It makes sense doesn’t it? Surely, this El Patrón ought to be an art student if not a teacher. How else would they have access to all the campus amenities most of the paintings were found in? 

As she goes to pick up her coffee from the counter, y/n walks with a newfound spring in her steps; she really can’t wait for this gala to happen.

                                                       ***

Y/n stands at the entrance of the art building, a black floor-length long-sleeves open-back dress hugging her curves in all the right places. Her heart speeds up at the nervous jitters crawling underneath her skin, and the million question swarming her frantic mind. What if he actually doesn’t know her and doesn’t give a damn about her thoughts on his work? What if it’s actually a woman and she’s been hiding a man’s pen-name to consolidate her deceit? Is she about to make the biggest fool out of herself by coming to this exhibition? She doesn’t know anyone here, nor has she ever been to this kind of event before but she’s decided this guessing game has run its course. Maybe this all thing has nothing to do with her and that’s okay. All she really wants is to have a chance to tell this exquisite mind how remarkable their work is; the rest be damned.

Y/n slowly makes her way inside, and after a quick stop at the coat room to dispose of the unnecessary garment, she is finally greeted by a room full of dressed-up people roaming  and chatting around, champagne flutes in hands. How cliche, she thinks with humor, before picking up a glass of the bubbly beverage. It’ll help sooth the nerves, she reasons as she starts walking around the place to observe each of the displays. Despite not having had a glimpse of her number-one painter yet, she finds herself having a good time. Most of the work offered to her is engaging in one way or another; some pieces quite provocative is their depiction, others straight out pushing the limits of 2D, with structures coming out of the canvas as though they were about to grip at the viewer. 

Turning at a corner, she comes across his art before she sees him, having almost forgotten art was supposedly his thing too, and she realizes she actually knew someone here apart from the mysterious painter. She takes a brief look at his tall frame, the baby blue suit over his crisp white shirt fitting him perfectly. A black tie is completing the look, and it makes y/n waver for a second. She’s never seen him dressed in anything other than jeans and the bar’s t-shirt every employee is supposed to wear on call. Granted, even that he can make work better than anyone else she can think of, but that suit is something else altogether. 

Her eyes shifts back to his work, not wanting to waste too much time on his appearance; she is here on a mission after all. She can’t deny his painting is good as much as she wants too. It’s made of a perfectly executed optic illusion that has her pause for longer than she intended to. The colors are picked wisely only adding to the entrancing design, tempting the viewer to reach out to the painting to convince themselves that this is fact a pretty subterfuge and no reality; the frontier between both worlds much too hard to distinguish. Just like for the rest of the exhibition, a single plaque hangs underneath the canvas, introducing the title of the piece above the name of its artist: Fine Line by Harry Styles. Damn, the bastard had to be talented…

"Is it as depthless as you thought it would be?" A hoarse voice interrupts her inner thoughts. She knows it’s his at the first word and already she regrets ever thinking positive things about him.

"Funny, I would have shared a compliment but you just had to go and open your stupid mouth," she bites back as she fully turns around to face him. She can feel is eyes shamelessly scanning her body, sending her nerves on overdrive. She wants this exchange to be as curt as possible, she’s got important matters to tend to.

"Here for you mysterious bloke, I presume?" he inquires in a taunting voice.

"What’s it to you, anyway?" y/n dodges the question with another, hoping it’ll steer the conversation toward its end.

She’s answered by rosy pouting lips, a hand on his heart in faux vexation, "ouch, was just hopin’ you’d come to see me, and now you’ve just crushed my dreams, love."

The pet-name is not lost on her and Y/n has had enough. In own gulp she downs the rest of her champagne and forces the glass to his chest for him to hold as she makes her way past him, "just leave me alone and go be a pain in someone else’s ass, Harry." She doesn’t wait to see if he’s following her as she marches across the room in long and purposeful strides. 

Something in the corner of her eyes catches her attention right then. Halting abruptly, almost making someone walk right into her, she turns her head to the side and that’s when she finally sees it. A whole part of the wall has been dedicated to his work, a shrine of his most outstanding pieces randomly hung against the white surface. Y/n recognizes each and every one of them, but then her eyes take in the extra work added for the exhibition: next to each of the pieces are displayed a bunch of photos capturing the students’ expressions as they first discovered the paintings. Dozens of faces lighting up in amazement, widening eyes and finger pointing at the unexpected intrusions; some show confusion and puzzlement while others simply behold laughter and animated conversation.

In the center of the wall, a video is projected. It’s a compilation of those same moments but this time captured on tape. The sound was removed, but as y/n takes in the faces of her fellow students she can almost hear the sound of their laughters; she’d been there for most of it after all. She thinks the idea is amazing, El Patrón has managed to make the viewer a permanent part of the art. The paintings are marvelous of course, full of emotions and passion, but the mysterious artist has gone one step further by also displaying how those emotions had reflected back on the audience. It is an ode to art, to the power of sharing, and proves art is limitless; not owned by museums, not bound between walls and certainly not restricted for trained-eyes only. Because art isn’t all about beauty, it speaks for the need for sharing that human have but often forget, and this is a perfect reminder of it.

The next tape playing has her eyes doubling over the video, a small gasp escaping her lips as she takes in her own figure. It was taken the day she found the painting at the gym and unlike all the other videos she’s alone. No group of students by her side elbowing her in disbelief, or sharing a puzzle look with her. Just her doe eyes gleaming at the painting, lips slightly parted in pure wonder, as she studies every inch of the canvas. And the feeling that this might mean just as much to him as it does to her comes back crashing on her. She’s not paranoid; this artist his using her as some kind of inspiration, she’s sure of it. Random cannot be this accurate, it would defy any laws of statistics. 

After the slideshow finally moves on to the next video, y/n looks around in the hopes of finding the man that has wormed his way into her heart. She’s imagined it a thousand times over during the past week. A young man would be discretely standing on the side, watching the evening pan out and waiting for her to find his work. Then they would make eye contact and he’d make his way over to greet her and share more of his beautiful mind with her. That’s the happily ever after she’s hoped for since that first painting in the library, but alas everyone around her seems to be engrossed in conversation about this and that. 

"I thought he would be there too," the unexpected voice makes her jump. She recognizes the student from that first day, she’d also be intrigued by the mysterious man.

"I know, all of his work is here, he has to somewhere around," y/n tries to convince herself. She hasn’t given up yet, she won’t let herself unless she goes home tonight empty-handed. Only after that will she stop searching, she promises herself. If he doesn’t show up tonight, then that’s because he doesn’t want to be found.

The girl next to her has the same disappointed tone when she explains, "you’d think so, but I’ve been asking everyone around and nobody has a clue still."

Before y/n can come up with her own rationalizations, someone starts speaking in a microphone, asking for everyone’s attention. It’s a man in his early fifties making a speech about the whole reason behind the exhibition so y/n pegs him as the head of the art department. "Thank you all for coming tonight, it is always a pleasure to see so many of you supporting our young talents. As you may know, tonight’s exhibition signs off our students’ final work for the semester, and will also see one of them receive a one-time collaboration with a renown art gallery in the city. Now, before the judges finish deliberating, let me tell you a bit about the topic of this exhibition which, by the way, serves as the main criteria for this contest. Our artists were asked to work around audience engagement and crowd reaction. The task was to produce art that would prompt an active response from the viewer and go beyond a passive experience. I hope this info helps this event take all its sense, I’ll let you all meander for a couple more minutes before we announce the winner. Thank you for your presence." 

Since she has a couple more of minutes, y/n decides to take advantage of the fresh insight she was just given about the artwork and goes around the exhibition one more time. The whole thing does take on a new meaning, now that she knows what was going one in the students’ mind as they first got their assignment. But what has her in awe really, is El Patrón’s coup de maître in all of this, because unlike any other applicant here tonight, he’s had the strongest reactions from the public for months now and had even documented it. So really, in a way he’s already won, no bias to blame. The amount of work and planning behind such a tour de force surely has exceeded everyone’s expectations and secured the number-one position for the still-to-be-revealed artist. In the pocket, as they say.

"Alright everyone, without further ado we are going to announce the lucky talent selected by the judges tonight," the head of department speaks up again. "On behalf of the whole department, I would like to salute each and every one of the students that presented their work tonight. Skills are certainly not scarce among you all, and as always it gives me great pleasure to see you all grow into yourselves alongside your craft. As you know, there can only be one of you coming up to this stage tonight and I must say, this semester has proved to be full of surprises. Never in my 26 years working here have I ever seen something of the sort, so ladies, gentleman, I have no idea who is about to join me now, but please give a warm round of applause for El Patrón!" 

The room explodes in loud cheers as people clap their hands in honor of the mysterious artist. Y/n probably the loudest amongst them all, is still craning her neck in every possible directions trying to catch sight of anyone moving towards the stage. The standing ovation quickly fades into silence as everyone realizes nobody is coming to claim their prize. The usual hushing following any of El Patrón’s stunts is once again spreading across the room to match people’s incredulity at the situation. It was one thing to keep their identity a secret, as it was clearly a crucial condition for the plan to work, but now that it is all over and done, prize ready for the taking, it doesn’t make much sense.

"Mister El Patrón? I think you more than deserve to drop your mask and receive your prize," the host reiterates in hopes that the much awaited artist comes out of his lair, but he’s met with the same result. Perhaps he’s not here after all, or perhaps y/n was right to think he might not want to be found, but regardless a strong feeling of disappointment takes over a body. He won’t be coming, she knows. No matter how many times the host calls for him, he won’t be coming. 

She lets out a long sign in frustration then, she really thought tonight was the tonight. But now that the evening is coming to its end, tears pearl at the corner of her eyes and she just wants to go home and forget all about El Patrón. Aren’t artists supposed to be dark and twisted anyway? Maybe she just dodges a bullet, she tries to make herself feel better, but no amount of sarcasm can save her from the painful pinch at her heart. As she comes to term with the fact she won’t get any more answers by staying (and possible ever), she decides it’s her cue to go. 

On her way to the exit, her eyes fall upon Harry’s slightly hunched figure. He seems deep in his thoughts, eyes fixed towards the floor though he’s not looking at anything in particular. For some unknown reason, y/n is not irked by his presence like she usually is. He’s just lost a great career opportunity so his preoccupied disposition is understandable. Feeling as though she needs to end the night on a different note - whether positive is yet to be determined - she approaches him slowly as not to startle him. "Your painting is really good. I’m sorry you didn’t win, but you should still be proud," she softly tells him to cheer him up. At least, one of them might get to go home in higher spirits. 

He looks up at her then, curls bouncing on top of his head, as he aligns his two glistening emeralds to her own gems. He seems quite surprised to hear her voice, probably rightfully so since he can count on one hand (scratch that, one finger) the number of times she’s actively sought him out for conversation. She can tell he’s debating whether to say something or not, as they keep their eyes locked. It’s probably the longest and only civil exchange they’ve ever had, and somehow it manages to soothe some of her sorrows. 

Y/n likes this reflective side of him, she realizes. Not that she wishes him any torments (at least not tonight) but his quietness makes him look vulnerable in that beautifully human way for once. That’s twice he’s proven her wrong about the assumptions she had on him, tonight: first his talent, now his character; she doesn’t know what to make of it. Silently, she accepts the timid smile and light nod he offers her in gratitude, before making her way to out at last.

                                                       ***

Two days after the night of the exhibition, y/n still has a hard time to let her grievance go. Her mood has yet to upgrade from crappy at best, and the fact that all the artwork has been removed from their previous spots is not helping much. Of course she knew they had been put down for the big night, but her heart still missed a beat when she went to the gym only to find the walls of the lobby bare of any craft that would liven up their otherwise dull and colorless structure. Just like her state of mind, she’d joked. And y/n is not one to throw pity parties, especially to herself; but then again, she’d never fallen under the charms of a faceless virtuoso because his art brought to life parts of her that she’d believed otherwise dormant, only to be metaphorically stood up at the end of the process. So really, what does she know anymore?

Now that she’s back at work, she revels in the constant effort she has to provide. The ever-growing list of task to complete gives her mind reprieve and focus, but she still hasn’t budged from her unusually distant and withdrawn self. Even harry’s own standoffishness hasn’t caught her attention; a week ago, his awkward demeanor would have flashed red flags all over her radar. An unfiltered narcissistic prick he could be, but y/n has never known him to be anything even resembling reserve; apart maybe from that one fate-less night not even 72 hours ago when she found him on the outskirts of the attention even though she knew full well that he is more of center kind of guy.

As they’re about to start closing, the awkwardness becomes more palpable by the second. They’ve skirted around it during the whole shift, the steady solicitation of customers enough to ignore the growing tension; but as the last of the patrons finally make their way out of the bar, an eery silence settles in their wake, making them both want to crawl out of their skin. Even the heavy-served drinks they’ve indulged in, despite the absence of their respective motives, hasn’t help assuage the strain between them. Instead, they start their usual routine in overrated silence, y/n in charge of the floor while he tends to the bar. Then before long, Harry bursts the uncomfortable bubble they’ve locked themselves in, voice void of its usual teasing tone, "so, what’s got you so grumpy?" he inquires.

"Please don’t start, Harry. I really can’t be bothered tonight," y/n sighs in response, failing to recognize the note of concern in his question and thinking she wouldn’t survive another bickering session. It hasn’t been the lad’s intention though, so her false accusation has his thick skin itching against his will. To be honest, Harry’s never taken much offense from any of their past squabbles no matter how hard she’d come at him, but this one he can’t brush off. Not when for once, he’s trying to be decent, dropping the attitude he knows rubs her the wrong way and she responds by telling him to get lost.

"Fuck sake, I wasn’t tryin’ to start anythin’" he berates her for lashing out unjustifiably, "you need to take a chill pill." The hostile reaction as her pausing mid-swipe in the middle of the room. He was always so unbothered by everything she said, she hasn’t expected him to be so hard on the defensive (or even know what a defensive is in the first place). 

Still, she doesn’t appreciate the same chastising tactic he’s used on her countless times, especially because given his serious temper, she knows he means it for real now. "Oh I’m sorry Harry, I didn’t know what sympathy actually sounds like coming from your mouth," she quips back in sarcasm. 

The response makes him livid, "you tell me I’m a jerk every chance you got, but you sure know how to be a bitch, y/n" he spats before finishing wiping the counter. As his hand reaches the end of the surface, he finds his half-empty glass of tequila, most of the ice completely melted through the amber liquor by now. He takes one long sip in a vain attempt to calm his nerves but the alcohol merely tingles the back of his palate and warms its way down his stomach. His mind is still burden with frustrations he doesn’t know how to alleviate; the end of term, the exhibition, his career’s future, and y/n’s stubborn nature all wreaking havoc in his tired brain.

"Shut the fuck up, Harry. I didn’t ask for your attention," y/n retorts, trying not to expose how bruised her heart is. While he’d mocked her plenty during the past two years, he’d never resorted to calling her names, unlike her; so the insult does more damage than she’s willing to admit, even coming from Harry. And to think she’d thought of him as a half decent being not three days ago…

"Right, I forgot only anonymous bastards are worthy enough of your attention," he replies before checking the shelves behind the bar to make sure they’re stocked enough for the next shift. "And even when they turn out to be cowards, you still choose them over the people that are actually around you. You need to open your eyes and wake up, it’s pathetic."

Y/n has almost finished cleaning her area but at this point, she’s ready to call it quits and run as fast as she can, away from him. "Go fuck yourself, you don’t know anything you’re talking about," she manages to croak past her swelling throat and quivering lips. The man in front of her is breaking her heart even though he’s never had it in his calloused hands, and y/n doesn’t know why. 

"Fuck this, ’m done," he quite literally throws in the towel, leaving it in a bowl on the counter before making his way back to his drink. In a swift movement, he grabs the bottle of tequila to pour himself a new one. "You keep blindly mopin’ about your precious painter, I don’t care, you’re probably right anyway," he says before chugging the bitter spirit in one go and slamming the bottle of tequila down on the counter in a loud bang that has y/n jump in fear. "I don’t anything about bloody anything," is all Harry says as he locks eyes with hers, before making his out of the bar, not bothering to put the bottle back to its rightful place.

Y/n is still trembling from the exchange, and it takes her a hot minute before she can finish what she was doing. As she resumes wiping the floor with shaky hands, she tries to even her breath out. Why had he been so hurtful? What could have possibly impelled him to utter such malicious words? The questions are still reeling in her mind as she twists water out of the mop  for the last time. Once the floor is spotless and all the tables are no longer sticky with spilled alcohol, chairs stacked up onto them upside-down, she makes her way back behind the bar, checking that Harry didn’t leave any of his duties unattended before his theatrical exit. She spots the bottle of tequila sitting lonely on the counter but just as she goes to reach for it, she freezes. 

It’s a cold shower pouring over her body all at once then, dots finally connected as her eyes read over the label of the fat bottle she’s seen him take out of the stack countless times before. Everything that happened for the last few months falls into place and suddenly there is no mystery left to be solved. ‘You’re probably right, I don’t know anything about bloody anything’ Harry’s final words keep playing on a maddening loop in her head. 

Y/n takes in the small bee design printed under what is unmistakably the last piece of the puzzle she’s been craving to complete: one word that has her stomach churning in a myriad of emotions she can’t possibly untangle. Anger, relief, surprise, fear, curiosity, warmth and more, are all rushing through her in one colossal wave, because printed on that bottle in black capital letters is the brand of Harry’s favorite drink: Patrón.

                                                       ***

The next day, y/n navigates through her classes purely on autopilot mode. She doesn’t quite remember picking the floral blouse nor the light-shade pair of jeans she’s wearing, and barely recalls the brief conversation she had with an old lady during her bus commute to campus. One thing she sure as hell hasn’t paid one iota of attention to, is the behavioral psychology class she’s just got out of. Two hours she spent pacing up and down every twist and turn of her mind only to come out more lost than she’d started. Add to that the fact she’s running on 4 hours of sleep, she’s quite simply a recipe for disaster. Fortunately for y/n, she isn’t due at work tonight, having called sick this morning, because sleep-deprivation aside, she still has no idea how she’s supposed to face Harry.

The revelation of the night prior is still something she has trouble wrapping her mind around, as it goes against every constructed opinion she’s made about her life. Harry is Patrón, she’s pretty sure. Harry, the allegedly conceited asshole she’s been bickering with since their first minute spent together, is the mind-blowing painter that had taken residence in y/n’s heart since the first time she set eyes on his art. The two characters have yet to fully merge into one in her mind, despite the fact it makes perfect sense to her. 

The Brighton painting, the one inspiring her necklace, it was all true. And with that revelation comes two intimidating truths y/n is kind of scared to delve into: one, all this time she’s been right to think she is the muse behind this all scheme; two, if Harry is the mystery painter, that makes her Harry’s muse more specifically. And that’s the part of the equation she struggles the most with, because up until last night she was pretty positive that the twat despised her (the night in itself being prime evidence of that) but now she doesn’t know what to think.

It’s like there are two versions of Harry battling in her brain, splitting her heart in halves; the one that made her miserable at work for years and made her cry last night, and the one she’d gotten a glimpse of at the night of the exhibition. The one that hid a fully blossomed bouquet of emotions behind teasing banter to protect a diamond-rough talent that had the power to touch just about anyone’s sensibility. The one that had her wrapped around his finger in awe with that beautiful mind of his. The question is, can she or will she see this Harry the next time she’s facing him or will all their bad-blood history come crashing down on her instead? Y/n doesn’t think she’s ever fit more the definition of having mixed feelings about something.

On her way home, she makes sure she doesn’t fall asleep against the bus window, despite yawning every thirty-seconds. It feels like the trip is taking forever, she almost lets out a cry of relief when the automated voice finally announces her upcoming stop. Once she’s thanked the driver and stepped out of the bus, she’s met with a gust of brisk air, instantly blowing her hair all over her face. She draws the lapels of her coat tighter around her shivering body and starts making her way towards her apartment building. 

It doesn’t take her long to complete the walking distance to her place and tread her way up the stairs, but the sight greeting her in the hallway of her floor almost sends her down on her ass. Because right across from her door, is Harry hanging yet another one of his chefs-d’oeuvre. He’s dressed casually in his usual jeans and t-shirt ensemble, with a thick grey hoodie covering his broad upper-half in a feeble attempt to combat to cold weather raging outside. As he reaches in the back pocket of his jeans to retrieve a sharpie - no doubt to apply his trademark signature - the movements of her feet on the laminated floor catch his attention. Spinning around in a jolt of surprise, he realizes too late that he’s been caught red-handed. There was no going back this time, but he doesn’t necessarily see it as a bad thing.

There is a short moment where they are both just standing in front of each other a few feet apart, as their eyes bounce back in silent conversation, before y/n softly breaths out, "so it is you." The weight of her words has him swallow in nervousness, "of course it’s me," he replies in a gentle tone. A smile pulls at his lips when he realizes she’s not running for the hills or bursting out in a furious rant. 

"I just…how? why? I mean, you gotta help me understand Harry, cause I’m pretty fucking lost over here," she blurts out with wide doe-eyes begging him for answers. Her obvious jitters earn her a soft chuckle., and for a hot minute all he can bring himself to do is study her snuggled figure and the way she keeps fiddling with her keys. It’s so endearing to him, if they were at his place, he would have offered to make some tea. The thought has him hesitantly looking at the door across from them, "can we maybe talk inside?" he inquires, beckoning his head towards her place. "I know I haven’t given you much reasons to let me in, but I promise I’ll explain everythin’," he feels the need to convince her, " after that, you can kick me out if you still want."

The last bit has her smile timidly, "yeah, let’s go inside. I wanna hear what you have to say," y/n admits as she steps to the door and unlocks it. She’s intrigued by how gentle and well-mannered the man following her to the living room seems to be, light years away from the rowdy lad she’s come to know. 

For a second, y/n is worries about the state she’s left the apartment before she rushed to classes this morning, but her apprehensions quickly go away once she takes in the sight of her rather tidied living space. A velvety throw blanket is covering the couch in a makeshift comforter from the way she spent the night on the couch, and apart from a few class notes scattered across the coffee table, everything seems to be where it’s supposed to be. 

They both discard their top layers on the armchair adjacent to the couch, Harry slipping his hoodie off above his head in one swift gesture, while y/n simply lets the sleeves of her coat slide down her arms. He brushes his hair back into submission with one swoop of his hand, before sitting down on the couch and directing his attention back at her. She decides to leave some distance between them, taking the other end of the sofa and the move desperately makes him wonder what thoughts are running through her head. The only way to uncover them  however, is if he starts talking first; and so he does.

"So uhm," he starts clumsily, clearing his throat, "remember the first day we met, you walked in on me telling some stoner guy off," he watches closely as y/n nods. "It was our first ever conversation and we fought through the whole thing. I was pretty pissed when it happened, not gonna lie, but once I got home and slept it off, I thought it was really cool how you’d stand up for that random guy." The admission has her eyebrows raising but he keeps going, "and okay maybe, just maybe, I found it a lil hot, the way you tried to put me back in my place." 

He stops to make sure he hasn’t offended her, "tried to?" she challenges instead, Harry laughing at her objection. 

"Right, maybe you did. My poin’ is, no-one really calls me out on my bullshit, so it was kinda refreshing that you did. But then the next day, you were still mad at me, an’ we bickered that time too. It felt like you’d already made up your mind about me. So in a way, all I had left was doin’ this thing where I push your buttons and rile you up. Know it doesn’t make sense, but it was the only way you’d interact with me so I kept doin’ it, because being jerk-Harry was better than having nothin’." 

He pauses for a minute and waits as y/n swallows all the information. All this time he’s been teasing her just to have some sort of connection, no matter how perverse, while she thought he just hated her guts. When she shares this thought with him, he shakes his head with a smile, "never hated you. If I ‘ad, I wouldn’t have bothered talking t’you."

Suddenly, her chest feels lighter, as though all this months of anguish had evaporated from her mind, now that she knew their rocky relationship was the result of miscommunication, "sound logic, Styles," she replies in good humor. Then she remembers the El Patrón’s fiasco so she urges him to go on.

"My final. Right. Well as you know, we were given the assignment at the beginning of the semester, and I came up with the idea of creating this alter ego that would plant his work around campus. I thought by taking people’s by surprise I was guaranteed strong genuine reactions. People are always more opened when they don’t expect it. Like if I had just brought my paintings on the night of the exhibition, the same people wouldn’t have reacted that way, probably because they’d know they’d be observed so they would have adjusted their behavior accordingly." They both know he’s getting slightly off trail, but watching y/n so enthralled with his words makes it hard for him to stop. Fact is, for month she’s dreamed of meeting and picking at the brain of this mysterious painter, and now that he’s sitting on her couch, walking her through his thought process, she finally feels like she is. 

"Anyway," he resumes the storytelling, "I started with that painting in the library and it worked so perfectly, I knew if I followed the plan I would have somethin’ really good. But then you just had to go on an’ rave about the paintings without knowing they were mine, and it was killin’ me inside. Because I knew if there was a real chance I could change your mind about me, I’d do anythin’. But no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t tell you. Couldn’t jeopardize my final… so I tried to tell you through the art. I started painting stuff that made me think of you and placed the pieces in locations I knew you’d pass through. It was the only way I could tell you."

Harry’s confession had Y/n’s heart beating so hard in her chest, she can almost feel it thumping through her ears. Her next question is on the edge of her lips, but she takes her time tracing each of Harry’s graceful features until his eyes catch hers, "tell me what, Harry?" she asks barely above a whisper. 

His response comes in three bashful steps: first his lips curve into a shy grin that has him look down with rosy cheeks; then his hand inches its way along the soft fabric of the couch to gently hold her fingers, thumb grazing over her knuckles; and as he looks up from their joined hands to connect their gaze once more, he finally spells it, loud and clear, "tell you that I like you, y/n." 

The sentiment sends her own emotions reeling in a tornado of passion. This is it, this is what she’s been half-knowingly wishing for, and now that she knows the truth in full, she’s ready to embrace it. Her eyes twinkle in bliss, a growing smile illuminating her face as she squeezes his hand in a silent invitation to slide closer to her. Harry is much happy to oblige, and once he’s sitting directly next to her, knees grazing her own, he cups her face with one of his bear-paw hands. A few strands of hair are caught in the cuddling gesture, but none of them care. Harry just keeps smiling at her, waiting for her next move, and his beam grows two sizes wide when she mirrors his affection. "I like this side of you," she whispers fondly, as her thumb draws slow circles across the skin of his cheeks.

Harry closes his eyes at her words, "this is the real me, I promise," he reassures in an almost pleading tone, vulnerability seeping through. And y/n feels like she’s lying down on cloud nine really, because dropping his fortress of pretentiousness is all she’s ever want from him. With a hushed ‘okay’, she finally brings her mouth to taste the rose-tinted flesh of his. It starts off chaste and slow, lips dovetailed in perfect symbioses like they are made to cohabit, but quickly the kiss heats up to a full on make out session. "Show me, then", y/n mutters out when they part for a breather.

Harry slowly nods his head, before helping her straddle his lap and y/n immediately brings both her hands to his neck once she settles her hips against his. The friction already had them deeply inhale, trying not to work themselves up too fast, but Harry doesn’t think he’ll have much self-control when it comes to y/n. Already he can feel his cock fattening up inside his brief, the tingling sensation making him roll his hips up into hers. Their lips are back in a sensual duel, tongues tentatively taking their turn to lick their way inside the other’s mouth. Every now and then, he teases her bottom lip with a graze of his teeth, and the move as her tugging the root of his hair at the back of his head every single time without a fail.

He loves discovering all the quirks and tells of her body, thinks he could spend hours on hand learning every single one of her curves and memorizing each of her special spots. The smell of her fragrance infiltrates his nostrils as he dips his head to her neck to plant open-month kisses along her skin. Head angled towards the ceiling to make room for his ministrations, y/n can’t do much but let her hands scout any expanse of skin accessible to her. She starts at his shoulder, squeezing the flesh to feel out the strong muscle laying underneath, before making her way down his tone arms, then to his hands currently holding onto to her waist. She gives them an affectionate pinch at the same time she presses down onto him with a deep moan, and Harry retaliates with a buck of his own. 

As he starts kissing down the exposed skin of her cleavage, y/n finally drops her head to place a tender kiss to his hairline. One of her hand is back at his neck, holding him firmly to her chest as he licks at the valley of her breasts down her sternum. The other worms its way underneath his shirt from the neckline, nails grazing down his back in soft enough pressure not to leave any marks.

Harry’s descent is obstructed by the soft material of her blouse, so he takes the garment off of her in one swoop, and places his hands back on her newly exposed body, rubbing up and own the skin. As his mouth goes back to the supple flesh of her breasts, y/n increases the pace of her hips grinding on his cock. The sensations seem to be not enough and too much at the same time for her; the heavy material still covering their most sensitive parts in the way of her pleasure, while Harry’s work has her going into overdrive under his velveteen mouth and calloused fingers. She starts kissing her way up from his shoulder to the edge of his jaw, and Harry revels in the sound of her moans tickling his ear. 

Done with the excess of fabric between them two, y/n grips at the top of his shirt and pulls it upwards, leaving him shirtless. "Fuck, I didn’t know you have so many tattoos," she babbles against his lips, while her hands smooth over the ink. 

"Plenty you don’t know about me, love," Harry chirps as he bask in the praise and the feeling of her skin of his. 

He then circles one arm around her waist to bring them chest to chest, and the contact has y/n once again intensify the friction between their crotches. "Wanna find out," she murmurs against his neck while she grinds on his clothed member, "Harry, please take me to bed."

He jolts at the quick bite she delivers to his neck, the impish gesture her way of saying ‘now’ but before she can make her way out of his lap to bring him to her room, he presses her back down with both hands on her waist. "Nuh uh, y’not goin’ anywhere. Want you to come once, b’fore I take you to bed, pet," he says, smoothing his hands over her ass to guide her rocking motions. The term of endearment sounds so innocent yet dirty all at once, it sends a chill down her spine. Nobody had called her that before.

"Can’t," she shakes her head, "can’t feel you through the jeans."  

"Alright then, stand up," he calmly asserts and she doesn’t hesitate to comply, standing in between his spread legs, in her flimsy bra and jeans. "Take ‘em off then, ’s what you want no?" he sends her a tantalizing look and bites at his lips as he watches her peel the pants off her legs. He can’t help the light squeeze he gives himself through his own jeans, as y/n stands in front of him awaiting his next instructions. "Come sit on my thigh now, think should be enough to make this pretty pussy tingle in all the right places, no?" 

Y/n’s insides are already twisting in a knot as she settles back on his lap and lets the rough material of his jeans against the softness of her cotton panties spread a prickling sensation through her pelvis area. Quickly, she resumes undulating her hips, gripping back at Harry’s neck to pull him in a languid kiss, pleasure vibrating against their lips. It is not long before her pace picks up, and her eyes shut at the intensity of her bliss. "That’s it, pet. Already makin’ a mess of me. You’re doin’ so well," he coaxes her with his words. 

As promised, y/n feels the lips of her sensitivity start to throb at her impending release, the sensation making her clamp her thighs tighter around his meaty limb. As her knee now presses against his bulge, Harry cries his sudden pleasure out in her mouth, and that’s all it takes for her to let her orgasm consume her. She unravels on top of him, one of her hands shooting to cup at her pussy in an attempt to quell the overwhelming throb. Harry draws soothing caresses down her back as he look at the sticky mess she’s left in her panties, damp patch matching the one tainting the material of his jeans. "All ruined, just as they should be," he smirks at the sight before giving her a sweet kiss. 

Flushed skin and blown pupils, she slowly regains her breath, "take off your pants and take me to bed now?" she requests.

"You’re quite demanding for someone who’s just gotten off," he keeps taunting her. After all, winding her up has always been one of his favorite thing to do, and dare he say in the past two years, he’s gotten quite good at pushing her buttons. Now he’s got new ones to figure out and play with, the thoughts has him pulsing in his jeans. 

Y/n doesn’t relent in her advances, she’s never been one to bow at his mockery, "thought you like how bossy I could be. Something about the way I put you in your place, if my memory serves right." 

"Anytime, anywhere, you’re the boss of me, love. But this," he cups at her cunt, adding pressure on her clit, "this is mine to have. Understood?" 

Y/n’s about to combust from all the desire firing up every one of her nerve-endings. His words might be the strongest aphrodisiac she’s ever experienced, she can’t wait to see what more tricks in has up his sleeves. "Now get up and show me the way to your room, pet," he softly commands before leaving a peck on her cheek. 

They both get up from the couch, and y/n guides them both down the hallway to her room, her hand wrapped in his tightly. Once they’re standing by the bed, Harry is surprised to face a patient y/n, biting her lips and awaiting his next directive. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on in his life, "undress me, love" he murmurs against her skin after kissing her forehead. 

His jeans are quickly discarded but before his boxer briefs follow suit, y/n can’t help but tease him in reprisal, "looks like I’m not the only one who made a mess in their panties." 

He lets out a boisterous laugh while she smears open mouth kisses along his stretching jaw, "mmm, I’d rather make a mess somewhere else," his innuendo causing her to gasp while he works the strap of her bra.  Once she’s gotten rid of his last piece of clothing, his cock springs up, free of it’s confines, dollop of pre-come already pearling at his tip, and sticking to the skin of his stomach. 

With a gentle grip at her hair, he has y/n’s head tilted backward, to let his mouth make its way towards her already pebbled nipples. Since she can’t look down, y/n blindly reaches out to wrap her hand around Harry’s thick shaft and starts massaging him in languid strokes. "Your hand feels so fuckin’ good around me, pet, I wanna fuck you so badly," he hisses around her nipple, before kissing his way back up to her lips. 

He starts backing her towards the bed in small steps, but she brings a hand to his chest at the feeling of the edge of the mattress brushing against the back of her knee, "wait, wait, wanna taste you first," she insists and Harry doesn’t think he could ever say no to that face, no matter how much he wants to just sink home inside of her in this moment. 

"Fuck, you’re killin’ me, love," he pinches at her waist and lays his forehead against hers, "you want my cock in your pretty mouth, before I drive it home in your cunt, is that it?" She nods, eyes turning into two lustful fireballs. "Okay, love, but y’ can’t keep it on your tongue fo’ too long, cause I really need to fuck you, alright?"

Y/n hastens to lower herself when he bids her "right then, on your knees and open wide fo’ me," and her brows furrow in confusion as she watches him stray from her spot. Picking up a plush cushion from her bed, he places it on the ground for her to knee upon, "there love, want you to be comfortable," he runs his fingers through her hair, and her heart grows three sizes bigger at how tender he can be in amidst his filthy ways. 

Sensually, y/n brings her lips around the crown of his cock, her tongue teasing its way across the salty skin. Once she’s licked up all the previous mess, she starts working her way down his cock, hand stroking at the base. After bopping up and down a few time, she removes her month from his swelling cock, and lets a string of spit fall down onto its head and make its way to his balls. "S’right, pet. Get me wet," Harry rasps in appreciation. Now that she’s got him properly slicked, she goes back to pumping his hardening cock and takes him into her warm inviting mouth, determined to have him all the way inside. She feels her throat expands to accommodate his thickness, and the pressure makes Harry tighten his hold in her hair, "fuck, that’s it, love. Take me good." 

Muscles already tensing up in preparation for his climax, when y/n’s hand finds his full and swollen balls to roll them together like dice, he is quick to calm her zeal, "Christ pet, you gotta stop before I can’t help myself," but his tone hardens when she defies his demand, "come on now, s’enough." 

Once she pulls off, the sight of her flushed face and puffy lips induces an animalistic groan to come out from his chest, as he thumbs through the wetness coating her chin. Taking the hand resting on his hip to guide her up, he captures her lips in a searing kiss, the taste of his arousal blending in their mouths. 

His hands come down to knead at the flash of her ass, before he scoops her up and on the bed with a quick flex of his biceps. "Harry, please," she whines in impatience, hands gripping at his sides to pull him down against her. His rock hard cock slides against her clothed pussy, pins and needles cruising along their skin and only fueling their eagerness. 

"Need me in your belly, pet?" Harry keeps working her up, as he slides her soiled panties down her legs, "need me to fuck you so good, you forget I was ever a jerk?" 

She’s putty in his hold, legs wrapping around his waist to feel the pressure of his member on her bare lips , "yes, yes, I wan’ it," she pleads.

Harry would love to tease her further, have her writhing and proper begging underneath him, but at this point it would be self-torture to even consider. Instead he pumps at his shaft to give himself some relief, their sex so close his knuckles graze at her clit every time his fist comes at the top. "You ready?" Harry utters softly while spreading and skimming her cleft with the head of his cock. It has y/n gripping at his hair, a series of delirious ‘yes’ tumbling form her mouth, so he doesn’t wait a second more to push his tip past her threshold and begins his descent in her warmth. "Fuck, t’feels so good. So wet, and tight, and warm," he thinks out loud once he’s stuffer her full, balls pressing against her ass.

Y/n whimpers against his lips, urging him to start moving to quell the building pressure coiling in her belly. A slow roll of his hips finally gives her reprieve causing her to moan in gratitude. She’s already so close, it baffles her how this man could have her coming apart at the seams without doing much. His thrusts starts gaining zeal then, betraying his own yearning to take the final leap. "So tight, love. Can feel you squeezin’ me, are you close already? Is my girl gonna cum fo’ me again?" he grunts in her ear while he pounds into her dripping cunt. Y/n doesn’t offer a response, too caught up in a daze of bliss, but her clenching muscles is all the answer he needs to start nudging his thumb at her clit. A several flicks across the sensitive bud later, her orgasm is pulsing through every bone and fiber of her body, walls hugging Harry’s cock so tight, it has to pause his hammering. 

Waiting for her to catch her breath, he peppers delicate kisses along her cheek, "was that good, love? Think you can give me another, uhm?" he asks when she’s regained some of her senses. The pressure at his groin is growing more and more the longer his cock remains unmoving entombed within her vice, and the luscious agony must be written all over his face, "yes, Harry, wanna be good for you" y/n cups his jaw tenderly. 

He nods at her approval, "good girl," delivers a sweet earnest kiss to her pouty lips as he pulls out and spins her around to lay on her stomach. His hand brushes the hair off her skin so he can sew a string of kisses at her shoulder blades and neck. Painfully red, his cock is propped between her buttcheeks, "can I take you like that?" he punctuates his inquiry by rolling his hips backward, tip lingering at her soaked entrance. Y/n clutches the sheets firmly, as she murmurs a faint ‘please’, back arching at the thrills consuming her mind. 

Harry plunges in her wet core in one smooth swing, hand digging at her hip to keep her steady as the other one interlaces with hers to lay on the mattress above her head. Unforgiving lunges have y/n cinch around him, face buried in the sheets and muffling salacious wails of pleasure, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to steer from his end for much longer. He slows his cadence to steady and firm strokes, slipping a hand around her waist to polish her swell. 

A million tremors spark off the onset of Y/n’s climax as she shudders in a firework of ecstasy. Harry  doesn’t relent until he’s worked her through completion and can no longer stop the coil in his loins from snapping. His release fills her in several spurts of wet warmth before he flops down next to her, positively fucked out.

They both lay unmoving in comfortable bliss for a few minutes, before y/n plops her head on his chest and an arm around his torso, her leg sneaking in between his. "Well, here goes two years of sexual tension," Harry says jokingly, fingers drawing abstracts design on the skin of her back. It might just be his favorite canvas to paint on from now, he muses before chastising himself at the onslaught of filthy thoughts tagging along. A playful slap on his abdomen takes his mind out of the gutter, "don’t ruin the moment," y/n says in fake admonition before placing a tender kiss on the spot she just abused. 

"M’sorry, love. M’just really chuffed to be in your bed finally," the last word reminding her that while she’s struggled to come to term with her feelings for him, ransacking her mind for a possible change of heart, he’d only seen her in but one light. The revelation still has her floored and giddy, "can I ask you something?" she asks as there was still one question pacing back and forth the pathways of her mind. Harry hums in acquiescence, "anythin’ love, by brain is yours."  

She feels his hand cradling her skull followed by a small peck to her forehead, and she smiles at the gesture, "why did you stay away that night at the exhibition when you got the prize? Why not coming forward?" It’s been bugging her brain since it happened. Although she didn’t have much insight on anything at the time, most of the pieces of the puzzle fell in place after the big reveal; but this, she still can’t make sense of.

Harry lets out a long breath, organizing his thoughts, "two reasons," he starts off tiredly. "One, I kinda like having this secret business going on, and like, as long as nobody knows, I am in control of how and when it happens, you know? And the moment I let go of that, I can’t go back." He searches her face for any hint of confusion but she’s just patiently listening. "Two, when we bumped into each other at the gala, I got convinced you’d never see me differently regardless of how good a painter I was; and that had become a big part of who El Patrón was." 

It’s the first time she hears his alter ego’s name from his mouth and with how flowingly natural it sounded coming out of his lips, y/n suspects that it’d been a conscious decision on his part. She recalls their interaction that night, the way they fell in their usual ways of ping-ponging vindictive words until one of them has enough and leaves the premises (usually y/n). A lump starts forming in her throat at the recollection of all the other fights they’ve had and how they’d all been pointless wastes of time and energy, now that she knows she is meant to be in his arms. She wishes things could have been different but the warmth of his body around her overweighs her regrets. They’re here now, looking bright toward the future, and it’s all that matters.

"I’ll keep your secret if you want, be the Lilly to your Hannah Montana," she tells him lightly before they both laugh at the silly reference. 

Happiness and glee has Harry tightening his hold around her shoulder, "nah, I don’t wanna play double-agents anymore. I wanna be the guy who gets the girl." He dips his head to catch her lips between his own, reveling in their newfound intimacy. Turning her face against his chest, Y/n impresses her bashful smile on his swallow-tattooed skin, before she lays a trail of pecks tickling the area underneath his armpits, "well, you got me now."

➪ Masterlist

[bakugohoex]

Do you still take request? Can i request an matsukawa x reader angst where matsunn and the reader are in a relationship and one day reader wanted to surprise matsun by visiting him at practice and then she caught him talking badly about her like how annoying and clingy she is and that kind of stuff and then oikawa's like "matsun look behind you" and then issei just realized hes caught. Its up to you whether or not its a happy or sad ending sorry if this is kinda long hehe

“our relationship ended as soon as you called me a ‘clingy bitch’”

pairing: issei matsukawa x female reader x toru oikawa (separate)

cw: angst, kissing and swearing

word count: 1400+

a/n: i mischaraterised matsukawa so much as i know he’s baby, personally i don’t simp for him so i made it lead to oikawa but he’s nice in the anime, in this however he a dickhead

summary: in which you walk into the gym to find matsukawa chatting shit about you to oikawa, as matsukawa tries to win you back you find comfort in the most unlikely of people

↞ back to haikyu!! masterlist

“She’s just so fucking boring, all she does is talk and talk about her life.” Matsukawa was complaining about you again, he had done this multiple times to the members of his team and now it was Oikawa’s turn to listen.

 Iwaizumi had heard himself this morning about Matsukawa complaining, something about how you had tried to call him to tell him about your birthday plans next week but he had hung up once you started talking. Iwaizumi had reeled this back to Oikawa as both of them were pissed. You were too nice and too selfless to have Matsukawa make you feel as if your birthday wasn’t special.

 Oikawa knew it wasn’t right for Matsukawa to talk about you like this, you’d known them both since you were all first years and the third years felt sorry for you with how much Matsukawa had been treating you.

 The way you’d come help with practice with the brightest smile and he’d say one thing about how your skirt looked tighter which would make you insecure. Even after Matsukawa had said that Kindaichi had tried to comfort you saying that he was joking. You gave a soft smile as you no longer were joyous at all.

 You’d even gone as far as coming to matches to support them, the whole team had heard him scowl at you, the way he grabbed your arm leaving a bruise with how he called you an embarrassment. It hurt, you knew it and Oikawa knew it and that was the last thing he wanted for you.

 He spotted you nearing the corner of the building, he admired the way you had a hop in your step, you had told him in the morning about how you hoped you passed your maths final and it seemed you did a lot better than pass with the grin that rested on your face. Oikawa and Matsukawa were audible, and he hadn’t noticed you standing right behind him.

 “She’s just a cling bitch.” He scowls rubbing his forehead, “she’s always there and really I don’t even know why anybody would like her.”

 The words stung, Oikawa looked at your teary eyes face, the mascara and eyeliner clumping down, “Y/n”. Oikawa barges pass Matsukawa who sees the tears fall down your cheek, he doesn’t speak. Just watches as Oikawa hugs you, the way his arm wraps around your smaller frame but still bring you comfort.

 “Y/n I did…” He gets interrupted as Oikawa lets go of you but still keeping a hand on your lower back.

 “You know you meant all of that, we’ve all had to hear the shitty things you’ve said about her. I never even understood why she’d date you.” Oikawa mutters as the tears continue to fall, Oikawa brings a finger up to wipe them away as he shakes his head at the situation.

 “Y/n lets go back to mine okay?” Oikawa asks softly, you nod not wanting to be around Matsukawa anymore. You never thought that accepting his date months before would lead you to feeling so numb and worthless. His anger boiled at the way Oikawa was touching you, comforting you, he hated how even his team who had arrived looked sympathetic to you rather than him.

 What about the pain he was feeling? He was the one who had to date a fucking bitch who only cared about herself. You were the one who called him late last night to talk about your birthday as if that was more important than the volleyball matches. He watched Iwaizumi walk up to you and Oikawa as Oikawa explained, Iwaizumi nodded letting the two of you leave.

 “Y/n don’t listen to anything he says, you’re nothing like that.” Oikawa makes you come closer to him, he had always had a crush on you but as soon as Matsukawa asked you out, his feelings had simmered down.

 “I’m worthless aren’t I, I’m clingy an…and I’m annoying an.. and I’ve gained weight, I’m selfish aren’t I.” Mascara filled tears fill your eyes as you can barely get your words out.

 “Y/n listen to me, he is a fucking idiot, you’re perfect okay, your face your body your personality everything about you is perfect.” Oikawa’s hands reach for yours as you grab them to feel some sort of comfort.

 “Does he really hate me that much?” Oikawas hands went to your face to wipe away the tears as he shakes his head.

 “I don’t know what’s going on with him, let’s get you to mine, we can get you cleaned up and we can watch anything you want.” Oikawa smiles, he wasn’t good at comforting, but he was trying at least. You nod, your hands still in each other’s before you heard shouting from the gym.

 “What the fuck is that now?” Oikawa questions quietly, he wanted to take you far away from Matsukawa but also wanted to make sure Iwaizumi was fine as well.

 He saw as Iwaizumi came out with Matsukawa, his grip tightly around the boys wrist. “Y/n, please wait, let me explain.” His pleading made you even more angry, he didn’t love you, fuck he didn’t even care about you, he loved that he could tell people he was dating you, the way he bathed in the way people would stare at you up and down and all he had to do was hold your hand or kiss your lips and everybody would see that you were taken. He loved his ability to make everybody love and adore your relationship as if it was perfect.

 It wasn’t, the nights you had spent crying alone as he ends the calls and facetimes, the way he’d leave you on read, or leave you alone when you’d hang out or cancel just as you arrived to where your date was supposed to be. You stayed out of fear that he’d make everybody hate you but watching at the whole team were on your side empowered you, you didn’t need him. And as your eyes reached the enclosed hand of Oikawa’s.

 You realised who was truly always there for you, the way Oikawa would give you his jacket when the team had late practices, the way he’d come up to you after matches to make sure you were okay, every morning how he’d wait near the tree which was passed both your houses to walk to school together. He’d buy you food when you had spent it all on anime and manga merch, he’d comfort you when he saw you were insecure.

 You knew who you truly had loved, ever since that day when you met little Oikawa fresh out of middle school who had dreams of reaching the top. Who wanted to become a professional and go to nationals. The dreams he had and all you could see was yourself by his side, you loved the setter and had settled for somebody who was never even in the same league.

 “Y/n, please we can get over this, I ne…

 You interrupt him finally gaining confidence, “our relationship ended as soon as you called me a ‘clingy bitch.’”

 You had done it, you had stuck up for yourself, his eyes fell into anger as he watched you smile at Oikawa and lead the way out of school. Oikawa shrugged as he saw the glare he was getting. “Toru.”

 “Yeah.” He speaks almost scared of your confidence he felt like he was about to get eaten alive.

 “It’s always been you.” It clicks as he smiles, the way you look at him, the way you both bring out each other’s best. But even more the way you were both still in sight of the whole team.

 “How about I make you mine then?” He smirks as he brings his face closer to yours, you smile as you close the gap closing your eyes.

He moved along with your mouth, his hands on your waist bringing you closer to him, as your own went to his hair. The kiss was something more, it was hungry and long awaited, and it brought something else, a newfound relationship, were you weren’t useless, and he treated you like a princess.

 “I’m going to kill him.” You both hear in the distance as Iwaizumi grabs the boy and drags him back into the gym.

 You and Oikawa were left kissing under the hues of orange and yellow, it was a picture-perfect scene, and it was all you both ever wanted.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alaina-rose13

[notmanagingmymischief]

𝙱𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚎 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝙷𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 | 𝙰𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚆𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛

I literally can’t believe i just forgot to post this on here I-

i wrote this forever and a half ago and have yet to write the second part so bare with me

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warnings: swearing (like one word)

word count: 1.8K

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taglist: @pearplate, @sapphicsarahpaulson, @rainbow-hedgehog, @sarahp-stan, @dreamer-queen, @lostlastsforever756, @lilypadscoven, @waverlysdump, @ninaahs, @legendsofwholock, @msvenablezcane​, @angelxsarahp, @winters-witch-bitch, @fand0m-obsess3d-g33k, @paulawand​, @thebijesus​, @sassicaismysupreme, @goodeday2u, @its-soph-xx​, @winters-witch-bitch​, @mildolynwaltzedintomyheart​

if you want to be added to the taglist, just message/ask me and I’ll be sure to do so!

--

enjoy xx

Billie Dean Howard was a force to be reckoned with. She was a woman of many talents, and one of those many included being absolute lady killer. The first time you saw the charming medium was at an after-party that you had managed to be dragged to by one of your friends after an award show. Neither of you had won anything, of course, but you were still invited, and while you were the one who decided it was a better idea to just go home, your friend had other ideas.

"C'monnnnn Y/n!" she drawled your name, holding your hands to her chest and giving you puppy dog eyes. "Emma, please. I really think we should ju--" "Oh please, you always say that you need to go home, you never come with me to any parties. Live a little! Or are you just afraid?" The girls words were teasing, but you, being a petty bitch, decided you would go, just to spite her. "Fine! Just this once, and only because it's Saturday." You still shook your head in annoyance, immediately questioning on whether that was a good idea or not.

--

"Come dance with us, Y/n!" your best friend's words were slightly slurred and her face was split in a huge grin, but you just gave her a tight-lipped smile and an apologetic nod to the guy she was hanging on, though he seemed to be just as intoxicated, and called out "No thanks, go ahead Emma. Have fun!" And that was all it took for the half-drunk actress to stumble away. You chuckled and shook your head at her antics before turning back to the bar and finishing your second gin-and-tonic of the night. You were probably one of the few sober people there, but you were not willing to get drunk tonight. Even if tomorrow was Saturday, you were not in the mood for a hangover.

So you slid the cup down the bar and nodded to the tender before standing up and weaving through bodies to try and get to a quieter place. It took a decent amount of wriggling and pushing and frantic apologies or 'excuse me''s, but you finally managed to make it all the way through the sea of performers and other various stars and out into a mostly empty hall of the fancy hotel that the party was held at this year. With a sigh you glided through the hall until you were in a completely silent and empty part of the building. Finally alone, you leaned against the wall, making sure not to mess up your expensive outfit.

because i’m literally in love with this suit i needed you to lay your eyes upon it and weep tears of awe

You were more than excited when your designer picked this one out for you, and it was an immediate yes. So as you relaxed against the wall you made sure not to wrinkle it because you still planned on returning to the party. Closing your eyes, you leaned back and let out a heavy breath, fiddling with the large buttons that held your blazer in place. You considered leaving all together, but you didn't want to abandon Emma, so you reserved yourself to staying out here for a little while longer. So, taking your phone out from your purse, you checked out Instagram, seeing hundreds of posts about tonight's award shows, people fangirling over various celebrities that they thought looked good, and at one point you came across a strangely familiar one.

The caption read "OMG DID YOU GUYS SEE BILLIE DEAN HOWARD TONIGHT?! SHE WAS SO HOT I CAN'T EVEN WITH THIS WOMAN JKGJHRGJFHL-" and you frowned slightly, recognizing the name from the nominations list, and the woman's face looked familiar, but you weren't sure from where. Shrugging, you liked the post and clicked on the hashtag for her name, scrolling through pictures of her, and realized that she was the medium that had her own show, which is why she was nominated. You hummed, smiling when you saw pictures from tonight, her outfit accentuating her curves and bringing out her eyes.

i’m upset i want them both so bad

Casually, you paused on a short video clip that featured the medium glancing over at the camera, smirking, and winking, before the thing cut off. You definitely didn't blush. Shaking your head, you quickly exited the the page and returned to your home page, however it seemed like now that you'd liked multiple posts about this Billie Dean Howard, much for of your recommended included the woman. Which you weren't complaining about, she was an attractive woman. You ended up zoning out and losing track of time, not paying attention to much of what was going on around you; there was really no need to really, no one was in the hall with you anyway.

That is until you suddenly heard a smooth voice enter your ears; "And what would a beautiful woman like you be doing out here all alone?" Your head shot up to look at the owner of said voice and were sure that if you weren't up against a wall you would have stumbled back. In all her glory stood the exact woman you'd just been admiring, right in front of you, her seemingly permanent smirk on her lips and a twinkle of curious mirth in her eyes. You cleared your throat and stumbled for a response, finally settling for "Too loud in there. I wanted to get away for a while.” The medium hummed and took a step forward, her heels clicking softly against the floor.

You swallowed and glanced between her and the other wall, a blush already forming on your neck at the much too close proximity of the slowly advancing medium. When she was within arms reach, she held her hand out as she said "Billie Dean Howard. And you are?" You nodded and smiled, grasping her hand and attempting to ignore the shock that shot through your body at the contact while you responded "Y/n l/n. Nice to meet you Ms. Howard." The woman rolled her eyes and held your hand a moment too long, squeezing it gently before finally letting it go and allowing you to pull back.

"Oh please. Just call me Billie, darling," she mumbled, and you blushed a bit deeper, nodding and letting out a shaky "Billie. Alright." Billie hummed in satisfaction and studied you for a moment longer, tongue coming out to wet her bottom lip, and your eyes unwillingly followed the movement, making the woman smirk just a but wider. Finally she spoke up again; "So what are you in for?" You chuckled and muttered "You make it sound like we're in prison. But I'm an actress. I didn't even want to come, really, but my friend practically dragged me, so here I am." You shrugged and rolled your eyes, crossing your arms loosely.

Billie nodded and smiled; "Ah. Who's your friend?" "Emma Callore. We acted in the same movie and became really close friends after that. Now she won't leave me alone." Billie chuckled at that and nodded once again, still staying only a few feet away from you. Glancing away nervously, you mumbled "S-So why are you out here?" "Oh, no reason." "Well that's not fair. At least I had an excuse." Billie smirked and hummed, taking yet another step towards you and making you, somehow, flush even brighter, which was definitely noticeable by now. "You're a feisty one, aren't you?" You shrugged, trying to act nonchalant about this whole thing and not like you were panicking inside.

"I've been known to bite." You only realized the double meaning of the statement when Billie raised an eyebrow curiously and gave you a decidedly suggestive look. You quickly backtracked; "N-Not like that, I just meant th--" "No need to apologize, dear. I don't mind the idea." And if the wink that she sent you didn't almost made you pass out on the spot, then the way she reached out and grasped your chin between her fingers and pulled you slightly towards her definitely did. Your throat went suddenly very dry as you found yourself unable to break your gaze from her dark hazel eyes. Absently, you licked your lips, and noticed the way the medium's eyes darted down and subconsciously mirrored the action, eyes returning to yours quick enough that you barely noticed them move in the first place.

Her fingers turned your chin a tad to the right and took a step forward, and you almost lost your mind when she leaned in, brushing her nose against your neck as she brought her lips to your ear and whispered "You know...I bet you taste expensive." before gliding her tongue up the lobe and nipping it gently. You could feel the smirk that tugged at her lips against your skin when you shivered and tipped your head slightly to the side without thought, and you barely contained a whimper when she pulled the shell of your ear between her lips, sucking lightly on the cartilage.

Quietly, her voice deeper and rougher, Billie murmured "Trust me, I've been known to bite just as hard," as she dragged her mouth down to your neck before grazing her perfect teeth over the sensitive flesh there and nipping once again. This time you couldn't bite back the whimper that escaped your throat and the blonde chuckled, and you could feel the vibrations from her chest where she had previously pressed herself against you, holding you against the wall just a bit more. "Billie," you breathed, and the medium hummed as she continued to ghost her lips against your skin. Your hands tightened and loosened repeatedly at your sides, wanting to grasp onto something; your body, Billie's body, the wall, something, but unable to get up the courage to move.

Finally the woman pulled away and, as soon as she had appeared, she had disappeared, leaving you a breathless, flushed mess in the once again empty hallway. You clutched your hand to your chest, trying to regain some semblance of sanity. You needed to get back to the party before Billie came back. Not that you didn't really want to see her again, but you weren't sure your body could handle anymore of her teasing tonight. So you drifted back down the hall, making sure to ignore the fact that Billie had most likely also returned to the party and it was totally possible that by doing this you were only opening yourself up to more of her advances. Emma was all that was on your mind, finding her and hopefully convincing her to leave with you finally.

You weren't sure if you were glad you'd allowed yourself to be brought here or not.

[mae-gi-writes]

Once Again (PT.3) | Iwaizumi Hajime (Haikyu!)

ONCE AGAIN | PART THREE

Summary

Iwaizumi’s broken marriage results in his five-year-old son trying to match him up with his primary school teacher, whom he thinks will make a wonderful replacement for a mother. 

Genre: fluff, angst, f! Reader x dad! Iwaizumi

A/N: A little Iwa and Hoisuke sketch to accompany this chappie ❤ Thank you for all the love and support. My inbox has boomed since I last posted and I’m so grateful that it is being appreciated by y’all :,) <3 

ON TO PART THREE! Let me know what you guys think of this part :) xx

PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART 

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"Miss Y/N! You came!"

Hoisuke has a beam on his face the moment you step into the Iwaizumi household. That slightly calms your jittery nerves as you remove your shoes and step in, balancing the container of cookies in your hand.

"Hi Hoisuke," you greet back with a smile, "I brought your favourite cookies."

"Really?!"

"Really," you hand him the container with a grin, relishing as he oohs and aahs as he gets a whiff of the said baked treats. He beams up at you, "thanks miss Y/N. You're so cool."

"Not as cool as you are," you ruffle his hair and he giggles, before grabbing onto your hand and tugging you inside, "come, Daddy's warming up the pizza."

To be honest, part of you had combusted when you'd read over Iwaizumi's message repeatedly to make sure you weren't reading it wrong. The other part of you was screaming that this was definitely out of bounds and plus, could you consider this to be a sort of date?

No, of course not. Definitely not. He'd invited you over as a friend. And because Hoisuke liked you.

When you put it like that, it stung a little.

As Hoisuke drags you into the living space, you spot Iwaizumi grabbing for beers in the fridge and he nods at you, "hey."

"Hi," you reply, feeling a bit shy.

"The pizzas just got here," he says, chin jerking towards the pizza boxes already set upon the coffee table, surrounded by four plates, "a friend of mine is joining. I hope you don't mind."

"Oh no, not at all."

"Uncle Tooru! He's the best volleyball setter ever!" Hoisuke adds with a clap of his hands, eyes sparkling with excitement, "do you play volleyball miss Y/N?"

"Nope," you singsong, "I can't even catch a ball."

"But you always tell us to do well in PE."

"Do what I tell you and not--"

"Not what you do," Hoisuke sings along and you can't help but laugh before ruffling his hair fondly, "at least I know you're listening in class!"

"I always listen to you, miss Y/N."

"Unlike his father," Iwaizumi points out while walking over to the pair of you and handing you a beer can, "whom he never listens to."

"But you don't listen to me, daddy."

"Wha--yeah I do."

"Noooo uncle Tooru had to beg you to invite miss Y/N over when I told you a hundred times!"

You burst out into a fit of laughter just as Iwaizumi hollers out, "wha--No! That's--"

"Uncle Tooru said that you should man up and invite her otherwise he'll do it himself," his son chatters on, oblivious to the redness rising in his father's ears, "what does man up mean, miss Y/N?"

"Okay that's enough babbling," Iwaizumi's hand shoots out to press down onto Hoisuke's head. He nudges it towards the couch, "bring miss Y/N to the living room. Scoot."

"But--"

"Now." His father scowls. His son scowls back and you try to shove down the round of laughter bubbling up your throat, for they look like the spitting image of each other and they probably don't even know it.

You reach out, tugging Hoisuke by the shoulder, "come on then. What movie are we watching?"

It makes you slightly giddy on the inside to hear such words fall from Hoisuke's mouth. If there's one thing you've learnt from being around children is that they never lie. That, coupled with the way Iwaizumi's face has reddened a deep shade of tomato, is enough to cause a small tingling in your chest.

Since Oikawa is goig to be late, the three of you decide on watching Harry Potter -- Hoisuke's current obsession at the moment -- while munching on too-greasy pizza and washing it down with beer, coke for the minors. It's been a while since you've watched the series, thus finding yourself cheering and hollering along with Hoisuke which feels like you're seeing it for the first time all over again.

Multiple times, Hoisuke would turn and beam up at you, sometimes hugging your right arm and burying his face into your shoulder during action-packed scenes. You'd be lying to say you don't enjoy his warmth sticking to your side, sniffing the soft baby scent of his hair that still clings to him. The smell of childhood filled with innocence and maybe out of impulse, you pull him a little closer.

You're so immersed in the moment to notice the pair of coffee-coloured eyes are gazing at you with growing tenderness.

"Hellooo! Cool and Handsome Uncle Tooru is here!"

You jump at the sudden intruder's voice booming through the apartment, followed by Iwaizumi's scoff upon meeting your eyes. Hoisuke bounds up without delay, rushing to the door while crying out, "uncle Tooru!"

"Hi my beautiful boy!" Oikawa does not hesitate to sweep him up into his arms, kissing his cheek in affection and causing the child to giggle, "how's my favourite person doing? Has iwa-chan been treating you well?"

Hoisuke nods jovially, giggling some more when Oikawa pinches his cheek, "alright alright. You look dashing--oh, Iwa-chan! And this must be the famous Miss Y/N you've both been telling me about?"

You pink at his words but it doesn't faze Hoisuke in the least, "yeah! Isn't she pretty? She's the best teacher ever and her cookies are amazing!"

"H--Hi," you nod at Oikawa shyly, quickly avoiding his gaze to stop yourself from combusting with embarrassment. You've forgotten how beautiful this man actually is even though his reputation preceded him.

"Ahh it's nice to meet you Y/N," he flashes you a sweet smile, causing you to flush right down to your toes while you manage to stutter, "n--nice to meet you too, Oikawa-san."

"I see why Hoisuke and Iwa-chan like you," Oikawa turns to wink at Iwaizumi, "I approve!"

"Shut up Shittykawa," Iwaizumi scowls.

Oikawa gasps mockingly while covering Hoisuke's ears, "Iwa-chan! Not in front of the child and the lady!"

"I said fuck off--"

Oikawa's quick to slap his shoulder, hollering, "no swearing either! Oh gosh, excuse him Y/N. He gets very flamboyant whenever I'm around. If ever he does swear at you, it's just a matter of showing his affection."

You let out a laugh, spurred on by how red Iwaizumi's ears are, "I'll keep that in mind. I didn't know Hoisuke's dad was such a potty mouth," you say, narrowing your eyes playfully at the said man who scowls in return.

"Only when Oikawa's around," he states, crossing his arms over his chest with an expression that mimics his son's sulking.

"What's a potty mouth?" Hoisuke asks as he and Oikawa take their respective seats, the latter swiping a slice of pizza out of Iwaizumi's plate, who growls and kicks at his shin in turn.

The handsome man groans while you turn to Hoisuke, "potty mouth means someone who swears a lot."

"Like daddy?"

"Uhm--" you stutter, his response causing Oikawa to burst out laughing, "yes! What a bright little mind! Totally like your Uncle Tooru!"

Before Iwaizumi can bash Oikawa's head in, you hurriedly resume the movie with the excuse that the best part hasn't come up yet. That simmers down the atmosphere a little, all eyes now captivated by Harry Potter and his friends fighting against the ogre. Hoisuke gasps, nails digging into your arm as he latches on for dear life, all actions not going unnoticed by the pair of men.

"I like her," Oikawa mouths out to Iwaizumi, whose scowl deepens tenfold.

As per what the rumours stated, Oikawa is fun and easy-going to hang out with, a complete stark contrast to his best friend. You understand why people tend to gravitate towards him the more the evening wears on. It’s not just the fact that he puts you at ease and is naturally adept at making conversation, but it’s in the genuine spark of interest in his eyes, a look that says that he’s listening to you even if that might be faked on his part. It’s that expression stating that he cares, that makes you realize why Oikawa Tooru had been such a hotshot back in your high school days. 

So why do your eyes still manage to find their way to the brooding figure on the other side of the couch, who is filled with nothing but spiteful comments and sarcastic responses? 

Oikawa's little 'pssst' snaps your attention back to the present to find the sais man pointing at Hoisuke while mouthing "he's asleep." Indeed, your eyes travel down to Hoisuke's tiny figure slumped against your side and your mouth curves up in an affectionate smile.

You're about to shift him into your arms but Oikawa beats you to it, deftly slipping the boy into his arms and glancing between you and Iwaizumi with that same knowing smile that sets you on edge, "I'll tuck him to bed. Iwa-chan, buy me snacks would you?"

"Hell no--" Iwaizumi starts protesting only for Oikawa to walk out of the room, whistling softly without waiting for an answer. You sigh silently, pressing your lips together and glancing at Iwaizumi from the corner of your eye.

He averts his gaze, but not quickly enough, grunting softly, " wanna go?"

"To the convenience store?"

He nods, already moving to grab his jacket by the door as you scramble to join him while trying not to act so desperate to spend just a little more time with him.

The evening is colder than you'd expect, a mixture of wind and rain that makes him curse slightly while you hurriedly open up your umbrella the moment you step into the street. He nods, mutters a 'thanks' and guides you down the pavement where you jostle your way through evening strollers.

Quite surprised by the amount of movement on the street, you catch yourself asking, "is your neighbourhood always that busy?"

"I think there's a fancy fair around the corner," Iwaizumi sidesteps a man as he speaks, his shoulder brushing yours and sending warmth all the way down to your toes, "give me that."

Without warning, his hand engulfs yours holding the umbrella up and jumping at the contact, you quickly retract your hand, "thanks," you murmur, glad that the dark conceals the red splotches dotting your cheeks.

Your mind races to find something --anything -- to get you out of this awkward predicament. You'd die if he finds out how fast your heart is beating, "so uhm--Oikawa-san seems nice. You still keep in touch with him frequently then?"

"More like I can't get rid of his annoying ass," Iwaizumi mutters.

You chuckle, causing his eyebrow to quirk up, "what's so funny?"

"I'm just wondering whether Hoisuke will turn out like you when he grows up," you can't help but grin up at him, "you have a talent for dissing people."

"Only the ones worthy of my attention."

"Am I not worthy of your attention?" You tease.

He scowls down at you, "you're Hoisuke's teacher, that complicates things."

"In what way?" A passerby suddenly nudges against you and you stumble slightly, only to feel Iwaizumi's arm clasp your shoulder to steady you.

He's warm, your mind chants. And he smells good. Like citrus.

He, on the other hand, doesn't seem to notice your flustered countenance, "watch it," he barks out. Then, he turns back to answer your question, "how do I know you won't make Hoisuke fail his grade if I upset you too much?"

"Woah there mister. I didn't know I was that low on your list."

"That's not what I meant," he growls. A few weeks before might have caused you to fear his temper. But things are different now and you've come to know that it's just in Iwaizumi's nature to be so rough around the edges.

So you just bump your shoulders against him, flash him an understanding grin, and say, "I get it, hothead. No need to get riled up."

"What'd you call me?!"

Bursting into fits of laughter at how easily triggered he gets, you reach up to ruffle his hair, "down, boy--"

And that's when it hits you -- you are touching Iwaizumi's hair. Iwaizumi.

Oh fuck.

Your hand drops like wildfire, body instantly cowering away with a furious blush, "I'm so sorry," you squeak out, "that was not appropriate I know--"

Someone else bumps into your back which knocks you straight into the said man's chest. His hands find your waist on instinct as he steadies you both and for a minute, the world stops moving. Nothing matters, apart from the fact that your face is pressed against his torso, his scent overwhelming your nostrils with bliss, his warmth making you melt ever so slightly.

"Asshole," you hear his dim hiss like an echo in the back of your head. Dazed, your eyes stay glued to his shirt in hopes that he won't notice your embarrassment, "s--sorry about that," you squeak out.

Only then do you feel his gaze slide down to your face. He asks gruffly, "you okay?"

"Fine."

Dear god. Someone kill you now.

"Come on," and before you can protest, you feel his warm hand wrap around your own as he tugs you along, ensuring that you are tucked into his side while he weaves through the throng of people.

You're glad he can't see your face, nor the way your pulse is racing underneath your skin.

And the more you gaze at the strength of his shoulders, the more you are hit by a crumbling realization:

That you might be falling for Iwaizumi Hajime, and that might be the worst decision you’ve made yet.

----

He tells you about his married life when you sit outside the convenience store that evening, about how young and inexperienced he was, and how it had ended on pretty bad terms.

The fact that he even opens up about the topic surprises you, but nevertheless, you want to hope that it's his way of showing that your relationship isn't just tied by Hoosuke.

“Why...” you hesitate slightly, tentative, unsure whether one word will cause him to clam up, “why did it not work out? With you and Hoisuke's mother?” 

It is to be expected that you are met with his silence. It’s stoic and filled with warning, and you quickly scramble for an out, “I’m sorry, that was inconsiderate of me,” you bow your head and bite your lip. 

“She wanted more.” 

His words catch you by surprise. You blink, before looking up at him. He doesn’t look away.

It takes a moment. Then, he murmurs: 

“She wanted more...of everything. Things I couldn’t give her.” 

It stuns you, that he’s so outright. Your mouth opens, but you don’t have anything to say, and you don’t realize that you’re holding your breath until he continues thickly, “she was never satisfied with what I gave her. Always complained that I wasn't enough of a man to sustain a family," he pauses, "I think she was envious. She worked in a big corporation as a financial auditor, and her friends -- well, they all live pretty decent lives. So when we always had our arms full with cleaning up after Hoisuke, they went to get cocktails and eat sushi. I guess she felt like she was missing out somewhere along the line."

It's not the things he says, it's more about the way he says it, voice so thick with emotion that you can hear the tears about to fall from his lips. Your own chest aches with sympathy and your fingers ache to reach out to just hold him.

But you're not that close. You know it's not within your boundaries.

Iwaizumi chuckles before your mind can form a coherent answer, "sorry. Didn't mean for it to get depressive."

You turn to look at him, gaze at the way the streetlight dances over his side profile and down his jawline, "You don't have to say sorry, Iwaizumi-san," pausing and unsure whether you should go on, you decide it's worth the risk, "and while I don't blame her priorities, well, ...was money really such an issue that she left you and Hoisuke behind?"

He shrugs half-hearted, "not my place to say. I was labelled the cheap bastard that wasn't worth shit when she decided to sleep with her ex."

Disgust coils in your stomach, but you decide on letting the anger simmer silently in the pit of your stomach. You don't realize, however, that your fist is clenched so hard into your lap until the warmth of Iwaizumi's fingers flutter over your own.

You look up in surprise only to find his dark orbs searching your face, "hey," he murmurs out quietly, voice surprisingly soft, " s' okay."

You flush against the chilly night air, "sorry," you mumble, "I just-- I know how it feels like. Not to feel like you're enough."

He doesn't respond, only watches you intently. You continue, "my boyfriend cheated on me back in college. I didn't know about it, until six months later."

Iwaizumi sucks in a breath and his fingers tense over yours. Your throat feels scratchy, "so I know the feeling."

"Asshole," is what slips out of his mouth. You chuckle half-heartedly, though with the way he isn't pulling away from your hand makes you feel warm and giddy on the inside.

You'd like to think that this little bit of time spent together has brought you closer, if only to share your woes. But one thing's for sure, you think to yourself as you slowly walk back to Iwaizumi's flat now that the crowd has thinned out, Is that you both have Hoisuke's best interests at heart.

And that is your top priority that you should not forget. Even if you can feel your breath tug in your chest every time your eyes linger a little too long upon each other's.

----

Ha, who the hell were you kidding?

It’s almost impossible to put the certain dark-eyed, dark-haired scowling face of a man out of your mind as the next week comes by. It’s even harder when Hoisuke is more than intent on spending time at your desk in-between classes, chatting on about what he and his father were up to throughout the week. And though you restrain yourself from asking too many questions burning at the back of your tongue, you can’t help but be drawn to the small snippets of Iwaizumi’s life as presented by his son. Even if it’s presented by his son.

So why do you find yourself back in his apartment the very next week with flour all over your clothes ans currently coaching Hoisuke to make figures with his clumsy five-year-old hands?

"This is hard miss Y/N," Hoisuke pouts, arms dropping to his sides, "can't you do it?"

"But that would be no fun," you nudge him playfully as you work on your own little cat figure, "all you need is patience, practice and love."

Glancing at the clock above Hoisuke's head to see that it's already past six in the evening, you wonder where Iwaizumi and Oikawa have disappeared off to. They hadn't told you anything, only that they were picking up some groceries. You guessed it was merely the thought of baking that made them so reticent.

"Don't worry miss Y/N. Daddy's coming back soon," Hoisuke says, as if knowing exactly the thoughts occupying your mind.

"Where did your daddy go anyway?" You decide to play along and ask casually as you move behind Hoisuke to help him mold tiny fingers.

"He and uncle Tooru said that they wanted you to taste the food from the sushi place they love," he then adds casually, almost like an afterthought, "daddy said you looked tired."

He said what now? Your eyebrows shoot up in curiosity.

The sound of the door opening grabs your attention, revealing a dishevelled Oikawa in the doorway with grocery bags hanging from his arms, "we're back with food!"

"Uncle Tooru! Look at the cookie I'm making!" Hoisuke doesn't hesitate to tug onto Oikawa's shirt and drag him to the kitchen counter to marvel at the little misshaped man. Dusting your hands onto your apron and turning to help Iwaizumi, your step falters upon noticing the undecipherable expression shadowing his features.

"Iwaizumi-san?" You blink.

It's gone in a flash, replaced by his usual scowl, "sorry we're late," he murmurs as you help him with the takeaways. You try not to think too much into the way he'd been staring, but your own heart skips a beat at the possibility that maybe--

Stop. You mentally slap yourself. Stop it right there.

Similarly, Iwaizumi is having the exact same mental debate.

Don't get him wrong. There isn't anything he loves about the fact that you've just created havoc in his kitchen. Had he insinuated it when he'd asked about your famous cookie recipe? Maybe. But shit man, call him old and cranky but the amount of cleaning up after the mess in his kitchen is something he isn't looking forward to.

But that small nugget of stress instantly melts away the moment he lays eyes on you and Hoisuke, together. Hoisuke is giggling, you are holding onto his hands, maneuvering them so as to make a semblance of a human limb. You're both dusted with flour, pink in your cheeks, and Iwaizumi swears his heart is going to drop out of his chest.

"Daddy daddy! Wanna see the man me and miss Y/N made?"

"That miss Y/N and I made," you corrected out of impulse, grinning as the child repeated what you saie with no less conviction, and Iwaizumi forced himself to move towards his son with nonchalance, "let me see."

Now that he thinks about it, he shouldn't be inviting you over so casually like it's a weekly thing. And maybe you don't even want to be there. Maybe you're just doing him a favour because you pity him. That's enough to make him sick in his stomach.

But this thought dissipates the more the evening wears on and the more he catches your soft eyes, the motherly affection you radiate towards his child, the gentle giggles falling from your mouth.

Iwaizumi wants it. He wants it so bad his heart aches.

And Oikawa seems to know exactly what he's thinking. Or maybe he's too obvious.

"This is so good," you groan in satisfaction while digging into the takeout sushi. Oikawa doesn't hesitate to pipe up, "right? Iwa-chan literally dragged my butt out of town for th-- fuck!"

He howls, clutching his leg where Iwaizumi had kicked at it in growing irritation and when you look at him in confusion, he feels his face grow red, "don't listen to him."

"Uncle Tooru, you're a bad man. You said the F word," Hoisuke chimes in, "it's okay though, daddy. You don't have to be embarrassed."

The redness of a fire engine can't compare to the flush riding the back of his neck. He wishes for the ground to swallow him at this very inetant, though his lips do quirk up in a smile seeing you burst out laughing before ruffling Hoisuke's hair.

"I see the way you look at her," Oikawa tells him a few nights later upon meeting up at the gym where they both train a few nights a week. It is also one of the few times where Hoisuke stays at his mother's place.

Iwaizumi grunts in response. He turns his head away to focus on his pushups, but if his best friend can deduce from his face alone, then that's an obvious way of showing his embarrassment when he is past the point of denial.

"She likes you too you know," Oikawa casually throws in, wiping the sweat from his face as he straddles a rowing machine, "she's like an open book."

"You don't know that," Iwaizumi hisses as he bends his arms, lift them with another grunt.

"Oh yes I do. And if you're smart you'd do something about it before someone else comes in to swoop her away."

As annoying as he is, Oikawa has a point. The nagging thought eats away at his subconscious mind the more Iwaizumi turns his feelings over in his hands. Despite this, he invites you out with him and his best friend one Saturday night and is mildly surprised that you accept so quickly.

"How have we never met if you went to Aoba Johsai?" Oikawa asks while munching on a french fry. As per his request for greasy comfort food, they'd ended up dragging you to one of their local eateries that make the best burgers in town, "would've noticed a cutie like you."

You can't help but roll your eyes, grinning, "simple, I didn't have any talent. I sang like I was deaf and had two left feet. And don't get me started on sports."

"You could've been a cheerleader," Oikawa smirks evilly, causing you to swat him and reply, "unless I wanted to come out of high school with two broken legs, which I did not."

"Good thing anyway, Iwa-chan hated those cheerleaders with a passion," Oikawa nudges him, "whenever I'd get bombarded with them he'd just scowl and they would scurry off like ants. They were scared shitless!"

"As if you didn't like watching those cheerleaders," you throw Iwaizumi a smug, pointed look with raised eyebrows, to which is scowl deepened. But you're used to it at this point, it doesn't even make you flinch.

"They were annoying and whiny. Why would I like them?" He muttered into his strawberry milkshake. A surprising revelation, considering his bitter, rough countenance.

"Cause they were hot."

"Cause they had long legs."

You and Oikawa blink at each other before you burst out laughing. Iwaizumi merely rolls his eyes, "idiots," but his mouth says otherwise, tugging up in amusement.

"Do you have a girlfriend, Oikawa-san?" You ask aa you munch on your burger.

"Bah, girlfriends don't agree with me."

"He's too much of a playboy to get himself a girlfriend," Iwaizumi mutters loud enough to reach your ears and you snort at the dagger-eyed stare Oikawa throws him, "I can't just give that," he motions towards his figure, "hot bod to anyone, Iwa-chan!"

"Mine's hotter than yours."

"Shut up! Why are you always so mean to me? You know I've been working my ass off for those back muscles!"

Your snort causes your milkshake to spurt from your nose and as Oikawa yelps and scoots furthest away from you, Iwaizumi doesn't hesitate to thrust a bunch of clean napkins in your face, chuckling deeply as he eyes you with the same fond amusement he's been denying himself of in the last few weeks.

Is it selfish? To want more of you than he can have? To feel the naked throb of his fingers that ache to reach out and just tuck your hair behind your ears?

Of course it is. If he does that, he'll cross a line he isn't quite certain he's ready for yet.

Daddy, do you really really like Miss Y/N? Hoisuke's voice is as clear as water that same evening, after he's tucked his son in, after all lights have dimmed in his flat and he sprawls atop his bed with heavy eyelids and a content stomach.

Yes, he thinks to himself as his eyes slowly slip shut, I think I do.

Fuck.

-----

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