#id hold her hair when she throws up after drinking too much and also go buy some hangover drinks medicine and coconut water for her

[getinthefuckingcarkitten]

hangovery

[kaunis-sielu]

Frozen: Grown Up Time

You didn’t realize he’d get quite so hyped. But after the last final game of the regular season Thor was buzzing.

“Let’s go out!” He tells you pulling you to him. “We need to celebrate!” You can’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm and he grins down at you.

“Okay, since you scored the winning goal let’s go out.”

“You, are my favorite ever.” He says and you can’t help but laugh again,

“We can’t go anywhere too fancy otherwise I’m going to have to go change. Honestly, I probably should just go change.” You tell him glancing down at your work clothes of black jeans and an Asgard jacket.

“I think you look great.” He flirts and you roll your eyes at him.

“Can you please give me a half hour to change and get ready?”

“I suppose.” Thor teases and you grin up at him. Being with him is so easy.

“How fancy should I get?”

“Something to go dancing in.”

“Sounds good.” You give him a quick kiss on the cheek before disappearing down the hallway. It doesn’t seem that people have caught onto the fact that you and Thor are dating, which is good because you don’t think Sif even knows and with how much time you spend with her daughter she probably should. You haven’t quite figured out how to bring that topic up yet, understandably Thor doesn’t like to talk about Sif. His mom usually does the hand off with Sif, it’s been Thor a couple times and he’s always agitated when he’s done.

You put on a black sparkly dress that falls to your mid thigh and has a v-neck and short sleeves. It’s one of Cat’s dresses that she gave you when you were living with her and Steve. It clings to you like a sparkly second skin on the inside and has a little give on the outside and makes you feel hot as hell. You grab your black clutch and throw chapstick, your ID, card and phone inside then tug on a pair of strappy heels. You touch up your make up and pull a brush through your hair again. There’s a knock on your door and you hurry to it, Thor is back in his suit and looking like a snack. When he sees you he lets out a low whistle and you laugh.

“Right back at you.” You tell him locking your door, he holds out a hand for you and you take it.

“My mom is going to keep Astrid, I’m hoping you’ll come stay the night?”

“Oh, should I get some stuff together?”

“Well, you have a toothbrush at my place, I can give you a shirt to sleep in, you still have those leggings at my place.” When you look at him in confusion he reminds you, “when Astrid spilled the spaghetti on you.”

“Oh right. So really I don’t need anything.” You tell him and he hums softly pushing the elevator button. Thor presses a soft kiss to the back of your hand as you wait for the elevator. When it opens you see Yelena and Loki, one on either side looking awkward.

"You guys good?” You ask in amusement and Yelena nods at you.

“Will you be home tonight?” She asks and you shake your head,

“No.” You tell her and she nods, before glancing over at Loki then disappearing down the hall. “You should accidentally make too much of that turkey biscuit stew and bring some over.” You tell Loki and he smirks down at you,

“I think you’re right Moxie.” He says as he turns the opposite way down the hall and you and Thor get onto the elevator.

When you get to the club he takes you in a side door. It’s a bar that some of the former players own called the Blue Line. A lot of the Asgard players like to come here, which also brings a lot of women who want to date hockey players. Thankfully, Thor has access to the VIP area so you walk in and head right there where Volstagg is clearly already several drinks deep.

“Here he is! The game winner!” He yells and there are cheers. Thor laughs and pulls you along with him as his teammates swarm him. You let go of his hand and wave him off before joining Darcy on the couch.

“Wanna drink?” She asks and you shake your head, you have a feeling Thor might get drunk so you need to make sure one of you can drive home.

“This is his night.” You tell her looking over at Thor. His blue eyed gaze meets yours and you grin at him.

Several hours later you’re watching the chaos that’s the Asgard hockey team. Fandral is making out with some girl in a corner, Darcy is flirting heavily with Ian and Hogan is swaying just standing. Thor has been tamer than you’d thought he’d be, he joins you on the couch and slides you flush against him. His hand is warm against the outside of your thigh and you lean into him.

“Are you having fun Kattunge?”

“I am. The music here is fantastic.”

“We built the playlist. The team did.”

“Excuse me?” A female voice says and when you look up you’re surprised to see a woman standing there staring down at you. “Thor? You’re my absolute favorite hockey player. I was wondering if I could buy you a drink? Maybe dance a little?”

“I’m good.” Why she would think he’s interested in untangling from you is beyond you but she’s gotta shoot her shot you suppose.

“Come on. Just one drink.”

“No.” He says before kissing you softly, “Kattunge? You ready to go?”

“Yea, we can go.” You agree, you don’t love the fact that he’s used you to dismiss her but you also don’t like that she’s clearly trying to get him to cheat on you. He stands, your hand in his and without a second glance at the woman he stalks away from her.

“The absolute nerve.” He growls and to your surprise he’s actually furious. “The way she treated you.” He leads you to one of the older guys, one that owns the club,

“Erikssen. I want the woman in the red dress, blonde hair banned from the VIP section.” He yells over the music and you gape up at him.

“What happened?”

“She disrespected Moxie and I won’t have that.” Hogunn looks over, fury on his face.

“Moxie you okay?” He asks and you nod.

“Consider it done.” Erikssen says with a short nod at you. Thor gives your hand a squeeze then brings you out back to where his car is.

“Do you want me to drive?” You ask softly, you’re completely sober so it’s probably safer.

“I only had two drinks.”

“But I had none.” You argue and he nods in concession.

When you get back to his house you pull into the garage and when you get into the house you pull his mouth to yours.

“Thank you for having my back.” You murmur, “it wasn’t necessary but is appreciated.”

“I told you, you’re mine to protect.” He says curling one of his hands around the back of your neck, “Even if that’s just from puck bunnies.” You drag his mouth back down to yours and he scoops you up off your feet then carries you to his room.

In the morning you wake to silence. You’ve spent the night a couple of times when Astrid is home and she’s not exactly quiet in the morning. Thor is asleep next to you but when you go to slip out of bed his hand shoots out for yours and he catches your arm.

“Where goin’?” He murmurs his eyes still closed.

“Bathroom. I thought we could do a morning bath? Then some brunch.”

“Yea, nice.” He agrees in his sleepy way. For a man who has a young child Thor is really not a morning person. You laugh and he kisses your hand softly before he lets you go. You head for the bathroom and after using it get the tub started. You should’ve made him do this last night to ease his muscles but you’d been too busy appreciating them to bother. You put in a little epsom salt and some lavender oil then climb into the bath. You pull your hair up into a messy bun and wait for him to join you.

Sure enough a couple minutes later Thor comes stumbling into the bathroom.

“Are you okay?”

“Just a little tight Kattunge.”

“I knew we should’ve taken care of your muscles last night.” You tell him as he gestures you forward in the tub, “which muscles?”

“Calves.” He says climbing into the tub behind you and you gently work the muscles in his calves. Thor groans lowly and it makes your stomach flip. God he’s just so hot.

“Come ‘ere.” He wraps an arm around your waist and slides you back into him. Thor kisses you soundly, you’re so lost in him that you don’t hear the door open. You do hear the,

“Oops.” The female voice says and you press yourself into Thor who laughs.

“Hello mother.” Oh god. You’re going to absolutely die of embarrassment.

“Sorry, I just wanted to let you know Astrid and I are here and going to make some breakfast. I didn’t realize you had company.” She says like you’re not ass naked in her son’s lap. “Good morning Moxie.”

“Daddy!” Oh fuck.

“Oh god.” You groan into Thor’s shoulder and he laughs, a hand sliding along your spine.

“It smells good in here.” She says from far too close.

“I’m sure if you ask after breakfast Moxie will draw you up a nice bath too. She’s sleeping now.” He lies, mostly you think to save you from having to move.

“Okay!”

“Let’s go Kanin.” Frigga says before closing the door.

“You’re clear Kattunge.” Thor’s voice is full of amusement and you want to melt into the water and stay here forever.

“That’s it. I have to go into witness protection.” You grumble into his shoulder and Thor laughs.

🏒🏒🏒

This is a series of one shots. If you have any suggestions or ideas for Thor and Moxie please let me know.

Tag list:

@foxyjwls007 @andahugaroundtheneck @also-fangirlinsweden @pagina16ps @princesssterek @valsworldofcreativity @dumblani @inkedaztec @loving-life-my-way @animegirlgeeky @shinycupcakebaker @eralen @sophham @gh0stgurl @wonderlandfandomkingdom @killcomet @abschaffer2 @sass-masterkittenmama

[seiyasabi]

Fixation

(This is a Yandere Yelena x Fem Reader story ;)) This takes place in a Modern AU outside of the anime, and I won’t justify my reasoning lmao 

TW: Coercion, !Drugging!, Manipulation, !Noncon!, !Dubcon!, Daddy kink (ehehe), spanking, she’s a straight up Dom w her tall ass, kinda a meanie, degradation!, handcuffs!, use of sex toys!, Overstim!, size kink!, dumbification?, unwanted filming!, etc.. 

Proceed with caution! Sorry if this is too self indulgent lmao, when women (lesbians) talk to me, I become the biggest idiot to ever exist :)) ) 

Today wasn’t the best day to wear a skirt. 

Begrudgingly smoothing down the lilac fabric of your skirt, you huff indignantly. All you wanted to do was look cute for your crush, Marco, but it seems that that was too much to ask for. 

Your white sweater, at least, keeps you somewhat warm from the harsh wind. It’s tucked into the waistband of your high waisted skirt, and your thigh high socks push the fat of your cute thighs out slightly. The sound of your white sneakers against the pavement is drowned out by your classmates’ loud voices, and you’re seemingly unaware of a certain black-eyed glare. 

Seeing your classroom come into view, you hurry inside, sliding into your lab assigned seat. Eyeing the dark haired male of your dreams, you can’t help but sigh pathetically at the fact that he hasn’t noticed you. Up until recently, the two of you were great friends-always hanging out and texting one another. But, the moment the both of you picked up this class, everything changed. 

Hearing the seat next to you slide open, you glance up at your seatmate. Smiling up at the tall woman, you greet her kindly, “Hi, Lena! How’re you today?” 

The Russian exchange student smirks down at you, as she plops onto the seat, “Good, now that you’re here.” 

Laughing at her gruff words, you wave her off, “You always say that,” Zipping open your backpack, you pull out your class notes, “What’re you going to do this weekend?”

Her smirk widens, dark eyes gleaming, “Why? Asking me on a date?” You laugh once more, completely oblivious to her hopeful tone. 

“You’re so funny, Lena,” Pulling out your pack of multicoloured pens, you start to set up for your class, “I just heard you speaking with Annie about ‘something big’ the other day, so I became curious.” 

Not one to acknowledge boundaries, the blonde woman starts to play with your (hair/sweater), “I’m throwing a party, one you should come to,” Her tone leaves no room to negotiate, but you don’t really notice. Nodding, you smile up at her. 

“Sounds fun! When is it and who’s going?” Her hand trails down to your thigh, fiddling with your sock. Brushing off your mild alarm at her ministrations, you justify her actions through your cultural differences. 

“Tonight at eight. Annie and her friends should be there, same with Marco and a few others,” She name dropped the kind man on purpose, knowing your misguided infatuation with him. If only you knew how much of a pussy he is. All she did was threaten him once, and suddenly he stayed clear of you. It made her life easier, sure, but it annoyed her that he dropped you like a gutted fish. You’re too good for that. 

Pulling out your phone, you pull up your calendar, showcasing that you have no plans this evening, “Okay, I can go!” 

Her smirk grows wider than before, “Great,” Yelena’s accent seemingly grows thicker, her r rolling more harshly than before. 

With that, class begins without a hitch; Yelena’s hand still glued to your perfect thigh. 

-

Stepping out of your car, you readjust your new outfit. Keeping the thigh highs from earlier, you changed your lilac skirt for a black, body con one, along with a cropped, black long sleeve shirt that accentuates your cleavage. 

Slamming your car door shut, you lock it with your key, before heading towards Yelena’s luxurious flat. You can hear low music and voices from her open top floor balcony, multiple shadows moving inside her home. 

With a fast beating heart, you can’t help but hope that Marco will speak with you tonight. With that hope deep in your chest, you step inside the fancy building’s lobby. Approaching the front desk, you go to show them your ID, but are met with brightly smiling faces. 

“Go on up to the tenth floor, (Your Name)! Yelena already told us that you’re coming!” Surprise overcomes your form. Why do they know you by appearance alone? You’ve never even been here before. 

“Oh, okay! Thank you,” Deciding to ignore the weird situation at hand, you head towards the lift. Pressing the button, you wait a few moments, before stepping into the open lift doors. The sleek metal walls reflect your appearance back at you, whilst you press the pristine ‘10’ button. With a small beep, the lift begins to move, practically flying at top speed to the top floor. 

Once at the tenth floor, the doors fly open, showing what looks to be a living room. You can’t help but gawk at the large flat displayed before you. Your classmate must be quite wealthy to afford a place like this. 

You awkwardly make your way inside, and are immediately greeted by the party’s host, “Hey, (Your Name), welcome!” You’re side hugged by a buff arm, practically slammed into Yelena’s torso. 

“Hey, thanks for having me!” You pat her back in an attempt to have her let you go, but instead, it seems to spur her on. She drags you towards a large L-shaped couch, which is filled by Annie, Reiner, and Bertholdt. A handful of others sit at her dining room table and kitchen counter, the open concept allowing everyone to see and speak to each other comfortably. 

Reiner glances up from the story he’s telling Historia and Ymir, a grin painting his handsome features, “Whoa, that’s a new look for you, (Your Name)!” 

Multiple eyes are suddenly glued to your now self conscious form, an uneasy smile on your face, “Hello, everyone.”

“Don’t get me wrong, you look great! It’s just really different from your normal, cute clothes,” People nod and agree with the large man, causing you to break out in a nervous sweat. 

“Well, I hope I don’t look too bad,” You joke halfheartedly, “I just wanted to try something new.” 

Yelena takes your appearance in, practically salivating. Whilst she does enjoy your usual clothing, this look fits you quite well. 

“You look very nice,” Bertholdt reassures soothingly, patting the spot by him, “You can sit next to me, if you’d like.”

The short haired woman glued to your side reacts immediately, “No, the girl needs a drink,” Annie shoots her a knowing look, which she nods to in response. You’re practically ragdolled to the kitchen bar, as the conversation starts up once more. Once at the marble countertop, the large woman releases you in favour of pouring you a cup of spiked punch, “This is very good. Made it myself.” 

You give her a bright smile, accepting the red solo cup, “Cool! I’m sure it’s delicious!” Bringing the cup to your (lipstick/chapstick/lipgloss) coated lips, you take a small sip. A burst of fruity goodness explodes on your tastebuds, making your eyes widen in surprise. You can’t taste a drop of alcohol in it, “Wow! This is really good!” 

A proud grin overtakes her lips, as she nods her thanks, “Of course it is. I knew you were coming, after all,” You laugh in response, and take another sip of the red liquid. 

“I see! Well, you have a very nice home!” The tall woman leans against the counter, holding herself up with an arm that goes behind your form. 

“Thank you. It’s very spacious. I find myself lonely at times,” Her large, black eyes stare down at you, trying to send you a message through them alone. 

“Oh, well, have you tried getting a roommate? Maybe the flat won’t be so empty,” She nods at your words. 

“Yes, that’s a good idea. Would you be my roommate?” You laugh, thinking that she’s joking. Not bothering to look up, as you take another swig of your drink, you don’t see the somewhat hurt look on her face. 

“That would be something! Not only are we seatmates, but we’re also roommates,” You giggle some more, taking more sips of your delicious drink, “But, your flat is a lot nicer than mine. I may take up on your offer.”

Looking up, you see her grin at you approvingly, “Yes, that would be nice,” What you don’t know is that her lease is almost up, making it so she has paperwork she needs to fill out. Paperwork that would look great with your co-sign on it. 

-

Three drinks in, and you’re feeling a bit woozy. Typically, you’re not a lightweight, but it seems that you are tonight. 

Leaning your upper body onto Yelena’s strong form, you laugh hysterically at something Reiner says, “Oh my God, you’re hilarious-” You cut yourself off with a snort, causing the entire room to laugh at your cute giggling. 

The short haired woman you’re currently using as a pillow holds you tenderly, a pleased smile on her face. The stuff Annie gave her works very well. 

“Man, if you weren’t Yelena’s girl, I would’ve cuffed you a semester ago!” Reiner roars wholeheartedly, slapping the leather couch below him. 

In your cloudy mind, you barely understand the words he just said, “Haha, wha-?” 

Pushing your head into her breasts, Yelena shushes you, “My poor baby is such a lightweight,” She and the others chuckle at that understatement, “I think it’s time to turn in for the night.”

Her civil way of kicking everyone out was enough, as everyone trickles out of her luxurious flat. Once the last person leaves, Yelena stands to her feet, scooping you up in her buff arms. She goes to her lift, pressing the lock input, she types in the lock code, not allowing anyone in or out of her home. Your high mind can barely comprehend what’s going on around you. 

She hums an unknown tune, as she goes up her steps to her master bedroom. Kicking open the door, she flips on her bedroom light with her elbow, before shutting the door with her foot. Sauntering to her California King sized bed, she lays your drugged out form on her light grey coloured sheets. 

“-Lena, wha-” Your head lulls to the side as you giggle uncontrollably, “-Are- are we dating?” She hums in response, starting to pull down your skirt. 

“Yes, my Darling Girl,” She smooches your forehead, “We’ve been together since I moved here,” Pulling your skirt’s fabric down and off of your legs, she tosses it on the floor, exposing your pink panties. 

“Bu-but, I like Marco,” You weakly attempt to push her grabby hands away from you, “I-I wan’ Marco!” 

The feelings of disgust, envy, and fury overwhelm her all at once. How dare you! She’s always treated you so well, that spineless fucker doesn’t deserve anything from you! He especially doesn’t deserve your wonderful heart! 

She says nothing, grabbing your blouse, and chucking it off of you. Your breasts jiggle at her ministrations, your bra just barely containing your tits. Seeing your almost bare, perfect body makes her pussy tingle, but her anger outweighs her arousal. 

Settling on the bed, she grasps your boneless body, and pulls you over her knees. You’re still muttering and questioning the validity of your relationship, all whilst saying that horrible boy’s name, causing her to cup the fat of your ass and squeeze harshly. 

“Baby, you know better than to say those horrible things. I love you very much, and it hurts to hear you say that.” 

Your breasts, arms, and head rest over her left knee, as you try to look up at her stern face, “But-”

“No buts, you know what happens when you act like a brat,” She slaps your ass experimentally, earning a pained yelp. A small smirk covers her lips, and she hits your ass as hard as she can. 

“‘M sorry! ‘M sorry! I didn’t mean it!” Your pleading is cute, so cute. 

“I know you didn’t, Princess. But I have to remind you of your place,” She slams her hand down once more, jolting your entire body. A shrill cry leaves your lips, as you try to move off of her lap, but seemingly can’t find the strength to do so. 

After five more smacks, the blonde pulls you onto her lap in a straddling position. One of her arms wraps around your top half, pushing your crying face into her neck. The other is wrapped around your waist, hand smoothing over your bruising ass, and playing with the hem of your panties. 

“Don’t cry, Princess. You know I had to set you straight,” She coos, “Your stupid, little brain is far too gone to understand at the moment, but you will once you sober up. So, for now, let your Daddy make you feel good.” 

You mutter nonsensical words in between your sobs, but the large woman isn’t put off. After she’s done with you, you’ll never think of that freckled fuck ever again. At least, you won’t unless you want him dead. 

Wrestling your pliant body to the mattress once more, she leaves you on the bed by yourself, before rolling onto the left side. Opening the top drawer of her nightstand, she pulls out a pair of handcuffs, a battery powered hitachi wand, duct tape, and a small bottle of lube. Setting them on the bed by your writhing form, she quickly makes her way back to you. 

“Shh, it’s alright, Princess. I’m right here,” Yelena reaches under you, fiddling with your bra’s hooks until it pops open, allowing her to slide your useless arms out of the garment. Tossing it aside, she sucks in a deep breath, enjoying the view of your plush chest. Experimentally, she pinches your right nipple, relishing the small moan you let out at the feeling. Gripping the handcuffs next to you, she feeds your dainty wrists through the opening, popping the pink, plush cuffs on tightly. Happy with the result, she continues her endeavour. 

Moving farther down your body, she leaves your socks on, loving how your thigh fat squishes up a bit. Grabbing the hem of your cute, pink panties, she pushes them off of you, exposing your pretty cunny. It separates from you with a small string of slick, filling Yel with a sense of satisfaction. You’re her perfect pain slut, aren’t you? 

Pushing on your pliant legs open, she smiles happily down at you, dark eyes blown wide open, “Awe, is your slutty pussy wet for me?” 

You shake your head rapidly, disorienting yourself more than before, “Nu-no! It’s not!” She clicks her tongue teasingly, her smile growing wider than before. 

“Don’t lie to me, Princess. Now I have to punish you once more,” Forcing your legs open, she holds them down with her own, straddling your waist. Her large form easily overpowers you, as she grabs the blue hitachi wand, and flips it on to the highest setting. Pushing it against your clit with a swift motion, your entire body jolts at the sudden stimulation. A loud whine leaves your lips, as you try to buck it off of your sensitive cunny. 

“Puh-please! Take it off! It’s too much!” Yelena snickers in delight, ignoring your pleading. Grabbing the duct tape from beside you, she rips off a few long strips, before smacking them onto your skin and the vibrator, effectively keeping it attached to you. 

Your moans and whimpers continue to grow louder and louder, as you try your best not to cum. You bite your lips in the hopes of stifling yourself, but it does little to help. If anything, it just spurs the large woman on. 

“Go on, cum for me, cum for Daddy,” You shake your head, a few keens falling from your mouth, as she watches in awe at the way your cunny leaks and clenches around nothing. 

Your toes curl in ecstasy as you cum, a loud whine escaping you. A gush of your orgasm flows from you, wetting the blonde woman and the mattress below. Two long, slender fingers prod at your slick pussy, forcing themselves inside your sensitive walls. 

“Good Girl, You’re so Good for me,” They Start to move in a ‘come hither’ motion, hitting your g-spot repeatedly with how long her fingers are.  

“Too much! Too much!” You cry, as she quickly brings you over the edge once more. 

More slick sprays from your cunny, as overstimulation begins to set in. Yelena captures your lips with hers, thrusting her tongue into your mouth. The kiss is wet and hot, as she grips at your plush chest. 

“No, no it’s not, Baby. It’s not enough,” Fumbling with her fly, she releases the strap she’s been wearing all night. In all honesty, she’s surprised that you hadn’t noticed the bulge or felt it underneath your ass earlier. It’s a good ten inches in length, and around 5.5 inches of girth. 

It is pretty intimidating for most, but due to your fucked out stupor, it should feel amazing for you. Grabbing the lube, she squeezes a small amount onto the silicone cock, smoothing it over the toy in sync with her fingers pumping inside of you. 

Deeming the toy and your cunny ready, she makes the next move. Sliding off of your numb legs, she stands to her feet, towering over you in all of her glory. Hefting you up and off of the mattress, she quickly punched your back against her pristine, white wall. Forcing your arms around the back of her head, she continues to kiss your drooly mouth vigorously. 

Wrapping your legs around her slender waist, her large leg muscles and arms work to hold you up. Guiding your dripping cunny over the tip of her strap, she slowly sinks you onto it. 

A keen of both surprise and pleasure rips out of your throat, as you grip onto her short, blonde locks. Giggling, she bucks her hips into yours sharply, causing you to orgasm on the spot. The vibrator and her strap on feels like heaven. 

Throwing your head back in bliss, you feel your arousal drip onto her dress pants, creating even more wet spots than before. Separating from your lips, she grins down at you. 

“Look at you, dirty Girl,” She spanks your ass harshly with one hand, as she continues a hardcore pace. The tip of the silicone cock batters against your cervix, causing you to cry out in both pleasure and pain, “You love it when Daddy ruins your pussy, don’t you?” 

Too fucked out to think properly, you nod your head vigorously, “Uh-huh! Uh-huh! I love Daddy’s cock!” She kisses your cheek tenderly, not stopping her thrusts for even a moment. Moving her lips down your vulnerable neck, she starts to suck the tender skin, leaving dark love marks on your pretty skin. 

“Mmm, good Princess! Since you’re such a good girl, I think you deserve a treat. Do you want a treat? Does your dumb little mind even understand what I’m saying?” You nod once again, eyes teary and pleading. 

“Yes! Yes! I want a treat, please, Daddy!” Smirking against your skin, she reaches into her pocket from around your thigh. 

“Since you asked so nicely-“ She presses the injector lever, shooting a large load of fake cum into your gummy, needy pussy. You cum almost immediately, this clearly being the biggest orgasm of the night, as you practically convulse and squirt a geyser of cum all over the place, “I think you deserve Daddy’s cum inside you.” 

You practically sob at the overstimulation and the feeling of being so full, “Thank you! Thank you, Daddy!” You kiss her of your own volition, surprising the large woman. Her heart warms, loving how you’ve become so submissive. 

Cradling you’re form to her muscular body, she saunters back towards the bed, pushing any other objects off and into the night side table. 

Placing you on the now dry sheets, she quickly flicks off the vibrator still taped to your clit, before placing it on the table beside her. Plucking off the duct tape, she then takes off your handcuffs, effectively freeing you. Instead of moving away from the woman, you lay there tiredly, no longer processing the situation. 

Sighing in content, Yelena grabs a hand towel from the drawer she keeps her sex toys in, and wrestles it under your hips. Smiling, she removes the strap from inside of you, enjoying the sight of the fake cum flooding out of you. 

Laying next to you, she pulls your head into her chest, curling around you as if she were a safety blanket. 

“You did well, Princess,” You don’t say anything, snuggling into her warmth, “Go to sleep, tomorrow we’ll announce our official status, okay?” 

An slurred ‘Okie’ is heard, before you slip into unconsciousness. Cupping your face in appreciation, her dark eyes glance in the direction of a small green light coming from her video camera. 

Now you’ll have to date her; after all, you wouldn’t want your sex tape to get out, would you? 

[mercurygguk]

what a man gotta do? | kth

genre; established relationship au, fluff

pairing; kim taehyung x female reader

summary; what a man gotta do when his girlfriend is insanely adorable when she’s drunk and doesn’t take no for an answer?

word count; 2,488

warnings; mentions of alcohol, a tiny bit of swearing, just soft tae and oc being a cute ass couple that i really adore

a/n; saw a text quote on tumblr, my brain popped an idea. this is it. also, i know nothing about gaming, so if anything i’ve written doesn’t make sense, just ignore it lol. please love it a lot and enjoy!! ps. please tell me what you think, thanks x

There is something so oddly pleasing about having the entire apartment to oneself on a Friday evening. Taehyung has been looking forward to this evening for a week and it is finally here. An entire evening for himself with his gaming console, his friends in his headphones and a big bowl of popcorn beside him. It’s quiet in the apartment as he sets up his gaming spot, fluffing the pillows and setting them up nicely on the couch so he can sit comfortably for the next many hours of nonstop gaming with his bestest friends.

The reason for his night alone is because his girlfriend’s (you) best friend just got promoted to a higher rank in the law firm she works at. She then went on to invite all her friends out for drinks which, of course, included you. Taehyung had fought to keep in his excitement when you had told him of your plans a week ago. You had eyed him down then, noticing the small exciting smile forming on his lips as he listened to your words carefully as if he actually cared. He was just overly excited to finally be able to have a gaming night without interruptions. And it’s not that he wants to sound ungrateful or like he enjoyed that you weren’t at home. He loved spending his Friday nights cuddled up with you, hell, that was his favorite Friday nights. But he’s only a boy, really. And a boy has needs. Gaming needs.

So he walks to the kitchen with a pep in his step as the microwave finishes with a loud ping! He pours the popcorn into a bowl and heads back to the couch where his gaming spot has been set up to perfection, everything in place and ready for him to have a relaxing night of games. He sits back in the mountain of pillows, sighing in content as he places the popcorn beside him before grabbing his headset. He sets it atop of his head, checking the sound and mic. Seconds later there’s an incoming call from his group of friends. 

He picks up with a grin on his face. “Hey guys!”

Seokjin gasps from the other end. “What the hell? Got a night off from the wife?”

Taehyung scoffs and rolls his eyes playfully, a small smile on his lips. “She’s out for drinks,” he explains, “best friend got promoted.”

“Em got promoted?” Jimin then asks, just now hearing about the news of his long-time crush.

A smirk appears on Taehyung’s face. “Yeah, like a week ago. She didn’t tell you?”

Jimin falls silent at his question. Taehyung wants to tell his best friend to get out of his misery and just ask the girl out. He’s a hundred percent sure she’d say yes within a heartbeat. In fact, when Em is here visiting you and Taehyung, she talks about Jimin more often than she’d ever admit.

“Just ask her out already!” Seokjin groans annoyed, causing Jimin to tell him to ‘fuck off’. Taehyung grins, having missed gaming and talking with his friends like this. He saw them a few days ago in person which was nice too, but gaming with them is just so different and fun. It’s been a long time since he has had the opportunity to game for an entire night with Seokjin and Jimin.

“Well,” Taehyung captures the attention of his two best friends, “shall we get started?”

And that’s how the next three hours pass. There’s bickering, arguing because Seokjin didn’t manage to cover for Taehyung which caused Taehyung to get killed. “Come on, hyung! You were supposed to cover for me!”

Seokjin sighs deeply on the other end, calming his temper. “You think I’m a mind reader? How was I supposed to know you’d-”

Taehyung’s phone starts vibrating in his pocket. He pulls the phone from his pocket to look at the caller-id. Your photo flashes across his screen, the wide smile on your face on a snowy day in December. A photo Taehyung snapped one day before Christmas, a day you had dragged him outside and into the snow. The first snow in Seoul in years and you had been so happy that you couldn’t stop smiling, so Taehyung saw it fit to snap a photo of you with his vintage camera which he had brought along.

“Hyung, one second,” he cuts off Seokjin’s rambling, removing his headset to answer your call.

“Hey babe,” Taehyung greets who he thinks is you. He stills, confused as Em greets him back in a rather serious, tired-sounding tone. “Oh, hey Em, did something happen?”

Em sighs deeply. “____ is drunk off her ass. Can you come get her?”

Drunk of her ass? You haven’t been drunk off your ass in months, which is why you being drunk so drunk right now doesn’t come as a shock to him. It’s been a while since you went out drinking like you’ve done tonight, so your body has gotten used to not fighting alcohol. Taehyung runs a hand through his dark black hair, removing it from his eyes.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll come by. Where you at?”

With the information from Em, he hangs up and grabs his headset to put it back on. “Hey, guys, I gotta go.”

Jimin sounds like an unsatisfied child as he whines. Taehyung can imagine the pout. “What? Why?”

“Em just called,” he tells his best friend, “____ is drunk as hell. I have to go get her.”

Jimin mutters an ‘oh’ and so does Seokjin. They tell each other goodbye before Taehyung is shutting off his gaming console and heading for the front door. He grabs a coat from the closet in the hallway, throwing it over the white t-shirt and the green unbuttoned flannel he’s wearing. He jumps into a pair of boots and grabs his keys before heading out of the apartment. 

“Shit,” he swears under his breath as he steps outside, into the cold air of January. He takes long strides towards his car, getting in and turning the key in the ignition. The heat is immediately turned on before he pulls out of the parking lot, heading in the direction of the bar Em told him you’re at. “One night,” he mumbles lowly to himself as he slowly drives around the parking lot behind the bar to find an empty spot, “one freaking night.”

The bar is filled with people, some drunk and some just barely tipsy. The aura in there is happy, void of any worries these people might have on regular days. Taehyung skims the darkness of the bar, trying his best to spot you in the crowd. Soon enough his eyes zoom in on Em who’s waving at him. He glances to her right side, spotting you sitting there with your head resting on Em’s shoulder. You look like you’re passed out and Taehyung immediately finds himself worrying a bit more than he originally had. You never pass out, you just always end up being a slur who laughs a bit too much at anything you find funny in the moment.

“Hey,” Em greets Taehyung. He nods at her in a greeting as he stops in front of them, immediately squatting down to be at your level. He reaches out, brushing your hair out of your face. You look at him, eyes blank and unfocused as you take him in. Thank god, you’re not passed out, just closing your eyes for a few seconds for a short nap.

“Hi baby,” Taehyung coos, thumb brushing across your cheek. You smile sheepishly, a very soft and drunken smile. Your boyfriend has to stifle a laugh as you almost fall over as you sit up. He catches your shoulder with his warm palm, steadying you as he tries to catch your eyes with his own. “Wanna go home?”

You nod, not muttering a simple word other than a low hum as he helps you to your feet. You’re leaning against his chest, cuddling into the warmth of him as he talks to Em for a moment.

“Thanks for calling,” he tells her. 

Em nods with a grin and pats your shoulder as if to say goodbye. “Get her to bed,” she smirks, “she’ll have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

Taehyung chuckles and nods in agreement. He bids Em and your other friends goodbye before leaving the bar with you cuddled up against his chest. You’re stumbling alongside him, finding it rather difficult to stand on your own two feet.

“Baby,” Taehyung softly calls, “could you use your legs for a second? You’re way heavier when you’re not cooperating, you know?”

You mumble in response, nuzzling your body even closer to him. “I wuv y-you,” you hum, smiling with your eyes closed as you hug him tightly. The man holding you up can’t help but laugh at you, his heart swelling twice it’s size as you drunkenly confess how you feel for him. Even though he already knew that. Good thing it’s love confessions and not some other kind of confession that slips from your drunk mind.

Taehyung struggles to get you into the passenger seat but he manages. He helps you take a sip of the water bottle Em had gotten for you at the bar. Your head falls back against the headrest of the seat, eyes still closed and lips moving on in another round of mumbles and humming. Taehyung buckles you up before moving to his own seat behind the wheel. He glances at you as he ignites the car. You’re really a sight to see right now. Completely unfazed as you sit in a weird position in the passenger seat, your head lulling from side to side because you have absolutely no control over it at the moment.

“God, you’re drunk,” Taehyung sighs deeply, “let’s get you home.”

If Taehyung thought getting you in the passenger seat was hard, then he had another thing coming. Getting you out of the passenger, however, is a completely different ordeal and then getting you inside the apartment building and into the elevator was probably more exercise than Taehyung has ever done in one day. Ugh, he really hates going to the gym.

The front door is soon unlocked and you’re back home in the warmth of your shared apartment. After the elevator ride up, it’s almost as if you’ve sobered up again. You’re walking better, still holding onto Taehyung, but walking. You’re blabbering now, talking about how you and Em had tested who could drink the most shots in 30 seconds and who could chug a beer down the fastest. Taehyung listens with a small smile, shaking his head in amusement because this is so very much unlike you. But he’s happy you had fun with your friends.

“Oh, you should’ve seen the way I chugged down those shots,” you laugh, plopping down onto the couch as Taehyung kneels down to take off your shoes. “Em could not catch me at all!”

“I’m sure you were ace, baby,” Taehyung hums, grinning now because you’re way too cute when you’re drunk. He’s not even mad that you spoiled his gaming night because you’re too drunk to get home by yourself. This is a sight he would’ve hated to miss out on.

“My head hurts though,” you mumble, frowning. Taehyung matches your frown as he glances up at you while unclasping your heels from your feet.

Once your shoes are off, he gets back up. He cups your cheek, brushing a stray eyelash off it with the pad of his thumb. “Just gonna get a makeup wipe and some pills for your headache, okay? I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

You nod, smiling up at him. He pecks your forehead quickly before heading for the bathroom. Taehyung glances back at you to see you sitting there silently, wiggling your bare feet and hugging a pillow to your chest. He chuckles as he enters the bathroom to retrieve painkillers and a makeup wipe to clean your face. A few minutes after rummaging through the cabinets and the drawers, he exits the bathroom and heads back to you. He stops in his tracks when he notices you’re gone from your spot. He skims the living room, not finding you anywhere. What he does find though is something he hasn’t seen since he was like eight years old. Right there by the dining table behind the couch, you’re currently putting up a blanket fort, a wide grin on your face.

“Baby,” Taehyung catches your attention right away, “whatcha’ doing?”

You smile, looking back at the project you’ve started. “What does it look like I’m doing? It’s a blanket fort!”

Taehyung steps closer, nodding. “I can see that.”

It doesn’t take long for you to finish setting it up before you’re grabbing pillows from the couch, throwing them inside the blanket fort. You’re way too good at this. Something tells Taehyung that you’ve made a lot of these as a child. You emerge from the fort to motion at him, beckoning him to join you. “Come on,” you insist.

Your boyfriend looks at you as if you’ve lost your mind, when really, you’re just tipsy as hell. “____, shouldn’t we just go to bed? I mean, this is-”

“Just get in the fucking blanket fort.” 

Taehyung’s eyes widen as you stare back at him with hard eyes. “Alright,” he puts his hands up in surrender, painkillers in one and a makeup wipe in the other, “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

The hard stare turns into a wide, content smile and Taehyung seriously thinks he’ll get a whiplash from how fast you can switch between facial expressions. You’re already inside the blanket fort when Taehyung stands in front of the opening to it. He squats down, looking inside. It did look insanely inviting and cozy in there. You pat the spot next to you on the blanket, still smiling. Taehyung sighs as he knows you won’t give up until he’s inside your blanket fort. You really don’t take no for an answer.

“You’re lucky you’re adorable,” Taehyung shakes his head before crawling inside the fort, plopping down beside you. You lay on your side facing him with a grin. “I haven’t been in a blanket fort since I was eight.”

You laugh, reaching for his hand, intertwining your fingers. “Then we must make blanket forts more often.”

[its-me-im-coraline]

NSFW Alphabet // Victoria De Angelis

words // around 1k

warnings // obviously this is nsfw, very badly written really but ooops

pairing // Victoria De Angelis x reader

author's note // this was so hot to write but i also felt so intrusive writing this omg 😳😂

request // yes, can't find it right now

summary // NSFW guide to miss Victoria de Angelis

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

I feel like Vic is even more like a puppy after sex (i swear this woman will be the death of me). She seems really caring so I feel like she would try to take care of you, and you would have to force her to let you care for her. Cuddles are an absolute must!

like “here, drink this love, you need some water.” “oh, come on, you need to get up a go to the bathroom, love, just go” and then you sit down again and she just sits there waiting for cuddles “victoria, did you drink any water after we got done?” “no, ill drink later, its fine” “no its not fine, im getting you some water” and she would just argue with that until you threaten with no cuddles

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On her self Victoria really likes her lips and fingers (i mean she would loooove devouring you.... stop me)

now, on you, for some reason feel she would either have a chest or arm thing hmmm. i can imagine her just practically drooling any time you wear something low cut

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

i feel like cumming tends to make her hornier sometimes. would def like to cum on your face no hesitation, but other than that nothing crazy

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

hmm can't think of something really crazy here but she could possibly like teasing you in public.

or there is something she hasn’t told you… wears your shirt to masturbate when you cant be with each other, but again nothing crazy

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

i wouldn’t say she is insanely experienced but she knows what she's doing. if there’s something you like and she doesn’t know how to please you she is glad to learn from you. there are surely things that you both explore together

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

i don’t much about sex position names and shit but i see Victoria as being decently dominant so I’d say anything that gives her the leverage of being in control. maybe riding you…..

G = Goofy (are they more serious at the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

considering her personality, she is quite goofy but can be really serious if she is really concentrating (no but like her eating you out and just being so focused her eyes never get away from your heat ooooooof)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

she is really loving, really. whether she is dominant or not does not matter. she will always just hold your face tenderly every once in a while, lots of sweet kisses afterwards

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

just from the whole image the band puts out, i think, victoria is pretty comfortable with masturbation. she looks like she would be into mutual masturbation a little bit..hmmmm

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

she’s into hair pulling (her doing the pulling omg), i’d say she is dominating but not really into the whole “mummy” thing. would maybe prefer mistress.she’s into leather accessories if that could be considered a kink. maybe a bit of voyeurism, she would be into you seeing her masturbating

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

prefers the more comfortable places, that way you can both have the ultimate fun

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

lingerie is a big turn on for her. for some reason i get that she would get turned on by photos of you all blushy and stuff, like after the gym.

“what are you doing, babe?” “oh nothing, I was just working out a bit” *sends pic* “how are you?” “oh...uhm, you know… busy… gtg”

also finds extremely hot when your face is a bit red during the summer from the sun…. I don’t know why i get that vibe i just do ok? sue me lol

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

she's pretty open to most things, hasn't exactly encountered something she would say no to. exept feet fetishes! i might be projecting cause i hate that but she finds it kind of... well, to put it nicely, uncomfortable

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

she loooves giving you oral. I mean, I get the vibe that she specifically likes eating pussy so maybe this isn't the same if you have a dick. like I see her as a service top 😶

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

she is quite sensual and goes at a middle pace; not too fast or too slow, simply quickly enough to make you both enjoy it but also tease a little

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

doesn't love them, but if she is very insatiable due to how horny she's gotten she will be open to the idea. otherwise she believes quickies don't give her the opportunity to love you as you deserve

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

as i said before, she's willing to try most things, except fucking feet

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

def a few rounds, but gets really tired after maybe 5 ?

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

she loves using toys when teasing you. vibrating panties, cock rings, even vibrators that connect to an app so she can control it from afar, anything and everything shes got it!

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

she is in general a loud person so def moans a lot. she speaks all the time, especially when teasing you, mostly throwing encouraging and taunting phrases like "come on, baby, is that all you can do? be louder". she gets really hot and bothered by your sounds

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

i mentioned it before but I trully can not get the idea of victoria eating pussy out of my head. like I can imagine her being so concentrated on the task at hand, unless she is teasing you she is very quiet and just ooooof drowsy eyes and all... s t o p m e from thinking

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

id say on a balanced medium (lol sounds like a steak). like on a week scale, 4/7 days a week

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

depends on her day. usually she tries to wait till you fall asleep as you are cuddling but especially if you are the big spoon she's asleep in seconds i swear

[smol-and-grumpy]

To Be Free - CH01

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Escaping and hiding away, that’s what she wants to do. Her parent’s remote cabin in the mountain sounds like the best place for it. There, she meets someone from her past — a green-eyed mountain man.

Chapter Warnings: A little back story, cheating (not Dean), language, threats being made, car accident

WC: 2481

Beta: @winchest09​ <3

A/N: So, this is the beginning of the Mountain Man!Dean AU. I hope you’ll like it!

Read ahead on Patreon!

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

The phone buzzes on the seat next to her. Again. 

It hasn’t stopped ringing since Y/N had gotten into the car and drove away. She’s so close to just throwing it out of the window but then again, the rational side of her brain tells her that she would endanger the automobiles around her on the highway, and she doesn’t really want to cause any damage, or accidents, if it can be avoided. 

“You’re a goody-goody.” Mick always used to say, “It’ll get you in trouble if you don’t toughen up.” 

Perhaps Mick was right. She probably was not made to work in that firm where she has to help fucking criminals. But then again, he made it seem so plausible and she can’t believe that she fell for it all. Y/N had fallen for the prestige, for the fame, and most of all, she had fallen for Mick, and that was the worst fucking mistake. 

The events of that night flash before her eyes once more. 

It’s 9 PM. Mick usually doesn’t have a reason to work so late unless he has a meeting with the mob family that they have under their wings. She never liked to go to their meetings, always found an excuse to opt out. The way the men always stare at her like she was a piece of meat rather than a woman with a brain, always sent a chill down her spine. 

When she stepped out of the elevator, the floor was dark. There’s only minimal light coming from the reception area that’s vacated at this time of the night. Y/N never liked to be here after hours but it’s the only place she thought she could find Mick. He didn’t pick up his phone when she called him which was highly unusual. Somehow, she was a little afraid of what she would find. It could be him just laughing and joking with the mobsters, but it could also have been him bruised and beaten beyond recognition because the Family wasn’t happy with his work, or it could be worse. He could be dead. Today was his birthday too and she even ordered catering for the both of them to enjoy at home. She guessed that she would have to pop the dishes into the microwave because by the time she decided to check here, it was already starting to turn cold.

Walking further along the hallway, she noticed that the lights in Mick’s office are still on and a sense of relief washed over her, while the sense of dread built up in the pit of her stomach at the same time. 

“Oh god, Mick.” 

There was a faint moan that carried through the hallway of the offices. It made her blood freeze, but it forced her to walk faster.

“Mmh,” she heard Mick humming. “Always so fucking tight for me, Eve. Such a good pussy.” 

“Better than Y/N, I’d hope.” 

Mick chuckled, “I’d rather you not talk about her while I fuck you. You know you’re my best girl, baby.”

The dread in Y/N’s stomach intensified and something began to churn inside of her. She had to clutch it so as not to just hurl out the whole contents into the next pot plant she could find. 

Eve was her friend. Her best friend since she moved into the city two years ago. She was even the one who helped Eve to get a job at her boyfriend’s firm. 

Well, not her boyfriend anymore, she guessed. 

She reached the door, fingers clutched around the frame for purchase as she took in the image before her. Eve was bent over the table, Mick half undressed, fucking into her from behind. 

He threw his head back as he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he turned his head and their eyes met. 

For a brief second, she thought she saw a smirk twisting at his lips when he noticed her. He kept on pounding into Eve, though, his pace never faltered. 

Y/N retreated, tears pooled in her eyes and she moved on autopilot. Before she knew it, she found herself in her office, packing the things that she needed into her laptop bag. 

‘Stupid! So fucking stupid!’ she thought. She should have seen it. Why hadn’t she seen it? The red flags were always there. Mick always gave her assignments that would see her traveling all over the country for a long stretch of time. She would find receipts of hotels laying around in the apartment, or when she did laundry, but he always had a good reason. They hadn’t been intimate for a long time, too. Mick was always too tired and if he wasn’t then she would be. And if that happened, he would get out of bed and said that he needed a drink and was out of the apartment before she could even say anything. She was so engrossed in her work and too oblivious to what was going on, that she ignored all the warning signs. 

She was crying now, the tears not stopping. But it’s not over Mick. She would never cry over a man who had treated her like this. She cried for herself, for being dumb enough to let someone play her. 

Bending down to pack the remainder of her things, she opened her last drawer, revealing a little safe that was neatly tucked inside. Without hesitation, she punched in the combination and it sprang open. It contained a single USB stick. 

Picking it up, she clutched it in the palm of her hand. She had forgotten about the small device and now she knew why Mick kept her around. She was the only person who had a copy of the shady business his clients are doing, because she was involved as much as Mick. He was never going to give her up because if the information got leaked, he'd be taking the fall. 

There were footsteps along the hallway, the thumping sounds getting louder as someone rushed to her office and she quickly let the stick slip into her jean pocket. 

“What are you doing?” he asked too casually but with a bitter undertone, acting like he hadn’t just fucked her best friend. 

“What does it look like?” she snarled, patience wearing thin. “I quit. And don’t even come by my apartment anymore.”

He walked in further; his hair was ruffled and the buttons on his shirt were hastily done up, the material lopsided as he had fastened them wrong. She was so disgusted by his appearance.

Mick rubbed his hand over his chin, carefully thinking about his next words. “I need the USB stick before you leave.” 

She snorted. That’s typical. All he could think about is his fucking business. “I don’t have it.”

“Liar!”

“Oh, look who’s talking.” Maybe, just maybe, she shouldn’t anger him but screw that.

“Y/N.” Mick rounded up around her desk and came to stand right before her. The scent of sex hit her nose in waves. It made her nauseous. “You’re going to get into so much trouble if they know that you have it and believe me, if you walk out of here, they will find out because I will tell them.”

“I’m not scared of those men.”

Mick laughed. Fucking laughed. 

“They’ll come for you, Y/N. Those men are not to be fucked with.” He was still chuckling when he said, “They will find you and they will kill you.”

She cocked her eyebrow, and maybe she should have been scared of Mick and his threats but she’s still got the upper hand. If she got to expose him first, she has bargaining leverage. Maybe she’d get to be in a witness protection program. By the time it hits the fan, she will hopefully be long gone. 

“I don’t have it,” she said again as she bumped her shoulder against his on her way out, shoving him to the side. 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” Mick called after her, his voice echoing in the almost empty hallway. 

With her head held high, she descended the stairs, too impatient and not to say scared to wait for the elevator.

 The phone buzzed again after having only stopped for a short time. It actually hasn’t stopped ringing since she drove back to her apartment to pack her duffel with enough clothes that should last her for a couple of days. She wanted to get out of here, clear her head, think about what to do next. 

It’s after she stopped for gas that she remembered the remote cabin that belonged to her parents. They hadn’t been up there for a while as the health of her father was deteriorating but she knew where they kept the spare key, and it’s the only place she knew nobody would come looking for her because she hadn’t been with Mick long enough to let him in on the existence of the cabin, nor on the memories the place held.

Buying enough food that would last her a couple of days, she drove towards the foot of the mountain. 

It was February and the roads were icy as it had snowed just last night. She hoped that her car would have enough power to get her up there, as she didn’t have snow chains with her. Not that she knew how to put them on in the first place. If worse comes to worst, she’d have to abandon her car and hike up the last bit, which was totally fine with her too. Anything to get away from civilization.

As she made her way up the snowy road and rounded up the twelfth bend in the street (There were fourteen - she had counted them from the drive up there every winter), her phone buzzed again. 

She glanced over to the passenger seat to catch the caller ID. It could be her mother for all she knew and that one, she would pick up. Y/N would maybe tell her that she was on the way to the cabin so that they wouldn’t be too worried if they can’t get a hold of her, because the reception could be pretty spotty up there.

But no, it’s fucking Mick again. She rolled her eyes upon seeing the name flash on the screen before turning her gaze back to the snow-covered street in front of her, but it was already too late. Out of her periphery, she caught it. The deer that ran out of the woods, its eyes wide when it saw the headlights of her SUV. Her foot hit the break immediately, but it was too late. The car swerved on the icy ground and she hoped she didn’t hit the animal before her vision goes black.

  Dean was sitting in his recliner in the cabin while he enjoyed his glass of bourbon. It’s his downtime, one of his favorite pastimes, next to spending his days out with Stevie, his Bernese mountain dog.

He had been coming to this cabin since his early childhood, having only missed one Winter out of the many. There were times where he would only spend a week up here but also there were times where he would be there for the whole winter. It’s his favorite place, always has been. 

The cabin is not as big as the ones that surrounded it, but it’s enough. It has only one bedroom, yet it was cozy. He remembered back to when he was younger, when he and his younger brother would sleep on the fold-out couch while his parents took the bedroom. Sometimes if Sam was upset with him, Dean would spend the night on the rug in front of the fireplace instead, and it was the best thing. He almost felt bad for wanting to get into a fight with Sam more often so that his sibling wouldn’t look at him funny when he wanted to spend the night on the floor instead of on the worn-out couch.

Once his parents stopped their annual visit up there, and they wanted to sell the cabin, Dean had saved enough money to buy it from them. There were just too many memories tied to the little property, too many of them that he wasn’t willing to just forget. 

While he took a sip from his tumbler, Stevie lifted her head and twisted her ears. 

Dean noticed, and immediately reached down to pat the dog's head, “What's wrong, Stevie?” 

The dog ignored him to get up and walk over to the door, letting out a whine as her nails started to scratch at the wood. 

“Easy, girl,” he soothes the agitated dog. “You wanna go out for a walk again?” 

Stevie whined some more, her scratching becoming more frantic. 

“Right,” Dean sighed as he got out of his seat. He took his time to empty his tumbler before setting it down on the coffee table. “Let’s go then.” 

The snow had started to fall again as they got out of the cabin, and he ducked inside once more to grab his hat that’s hanging on the hook right behind the door. Stevie was not impressed that it was taking Dean so long to get ready and started to bark.

“Easy, Stevie,” he chuckled as her wet nose nuzzled against his palm. He reached down to scratch behind her ear, a motion that seemed to calm her down. “Good girl.” 

They made their way down the street. The old snow crunched underneath his boots. Fresh layers of the white powder would cover over it soon enough, erasing their prints when it settled. He thought about doing their usual nightly walk around the perimeter, wondering if maybe they’d see a deer or two. Stevie had a way with deer. They love to meet her and Dean’s always mesmerized by the unusual bond they had. Stevie was always good with other animals and people, the dog’s sense to protect everyone is highly admirable, and Dean really couldn’t wish for a better companion.

As they rounded up the second bend in the road, he saw the car. Its headlights were still on but the front was wrapped around a tree which was the only thing standing between the car and the abyss. It was not a strong pine and the wood was already creaking under the weight.

Stevie rushed forward and Dean followed suit. The tree was going to give in at any minute, he just knew and if he couldn’t save the car, maybe he would be able to save whoever was stuck in there.

Dean thankfully reached the vehicle in time, yanking the driver’s door open and the sight of the girl slumped over the steering wheel made his blood run colder than the icy road he was standing on. 

“Y/N?” 

CH02

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

​

[wordsnwhiskey]

As It Should Be | Chapter 4: Company

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F!Reader x Frankie Morales

Summary: Whiskey gets a surprised call and he and Frankie have a long talk.

Rating: M

Warnings: Talks of drug use, alcohol, mentions of character death, mentions of canon typical violence, PTSD, violent nightmare

A/N: I really wanted this conversation to happen between these two given their respective histories. We all know that Whiskey needed therapy and in this verse he gets it. It’s also my HC, from what I vaguely know (I’m not an expert and I could be very wrong), that Whiskey was an officer in the Air Force where he flew/placed in jets and that’s how he knows how to fly an F-22 (The Silver Pony).

We are getting some angst and some fluff this time folks!

Also, yes I do have a specific soap in mind for Whiskey, it's Old Glory by Duke Cannon

Huge special thanks to mi esposa @danniburgh and my friend Agent Capri Sun for the betas and encouragement!!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Chapter 3: Statesmen & Demons | AO3

He was drowning. He needed...something. He needed help.

Frankie pulled his phone out, went to the recent number that was, as of yet, unsaved, and pressed ‘call’. His shaky hand brought the phone up to his ear as the line rang.

Whiskey’s hair was still wet from his shower, and his white t-shirt clung to his damp skin. Eyeing the take out on his counter, he sank into his couch and smiled at your texts:

Whiskey: Thai sound good, sweetheart?

Bourbon: God yes Jack, I’m starving!

Whiskey: I’ll let you know when I get outta the shower, see you soon sweetheart

He was just about to send you a message to come on over when his phone rang. Glancing at the clock on his stove, then back to the unfamiliar Texas number on his caller ID, he frowned.

“Whiskey.”

His greeting was curt. Who the hell would be calling at 8:30 pm on a Wednesday?

“H-hey Whiskey, it’s me, Frankie. Is… uh, is she there?”

Whiskey’s frown deepened, not that he minded Frankie calling him, far from it, but his voice was cracking like he’d been... crying?

“Oh, hey there, Flyboy. No she isn’t, do you need me to get her?”

“N-no, no… I, uh, I don’t want her to see me right now. I’m, uh,” Whiskey could hear Frankie take a deep breath on the other side of the line. “I’m having a bad night, Jack. Could you come get me? I’m at the hotel.”

Jack shot straight up, practically leaping to his feet.

“Did you…?”

The question clung to the air like lead, crushing both of their chests in the silence.

“No, I haven’t… I just… fuck.”

Jack was moving, grabbing his leather jacket, keys, and Stetson, practically sprinting out the door.

“Don’t worry about it, Flyboy. I’m headed your way.”

He shifted his weight while he waited for the elevator to take him to the parking garage, shooting off a quick text to you in apology. Frankie’s words, “I don’t want her to see me,” rung in his ears and he decided to hold off on telling you what had come up, at least until he could see you at the office tomorrow.

Whiskey: Hey sweetheart, sorry something came up and I can’t do dinner tonight. Everything’s fine, see you at the office, sugar. X

Your phone went off and you quickly unlocked it, eager to hear back from Jack so you could head over. A frown pulled the corners of your lips down at his text, but you knew he wouldn’t cancel on you without good reason.

You: See you tomorrow, cowboy. Better make it up to me ;)

Frankie had left the door slightly ajar and was pacing around his room, arms crossed in front of him when he heard a quick knock, then the handle was turning and Whiskey crossed the threshold. He took a cursory glance around the room: nothing but minibar booze bottles, thankfully. Whiskey let out a sigh of relief that was short-lived when he took in Frankie’s demeanor. Frankie’s face was taut with shame, and his gaze refused to rise any higher than Whiskey’s boots.

“I didn’t know who else to call,” Frankie choked out, “ Pope, and Hawk… I can’t disappoint them again. I’ve been clean for three years, and I didn’t…”

Jack shook his head and beckoned Frankie over, wrapping his arm around the other man’s shoulders and pulling him in for a quick, tight hug.

“C’mon, Flyboy, this is not the time nor the place to talk about this. I’m taking you back to my place, and we’re gonna have some whiskey that’s much better than what you’ve had here, and then we can talk.”

Frankie nodded and grabbed his hat, planting it on his head as Whiskey tugged him out of the hotel room. He was so deep in his thoughts and his guilt for having Whiskey come out that he didn’t realize where he was until the elevator dinged. Whiskey unlocked and opened the door to his condo, giving way to a view so incredible Frankie almost forgot to breathe. Across from the entryway, on the far side of the condo, the gorgeous New York night skyline twinkled back at them from beyond the wall of glass windows. Frankie marveled at the rustic elegance of Jack’s home. It had an entirely open floor plan, giving Frankie a view of the dark cherry butcher block island, the top-of-the-line range top, and other appliances, all immaculately clean. For a moment, he wondered if that was because Whiskey ordered out more than he cooked, but then he saw the bags of takeout on the counter and immediately felt guilty.

“I’m sorry, looks like I interrupted your dinner plans.”

Whiskey closed and locked the door behind him, hanging his jacket up on the nearby hook. He glanced over at the takeout, then put his hand on Frankie’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it, partner. I just told her something came up. You hungry? I ordered her Drunken Noodles, be a shame to put them to waste.”

Frankie was about to decline when his stomach rumbled, and Whiskey chuckled.

“C’mon, Flyboy, go sit down on the couch and I’ll bring the food and some whiskey round.”

With a nod, he toed his dress shoes off (they were all he had without his go bag) and made for the brown leather couch. He sat down a bit stiffly, feeling awkward given the circumstances. Whiskey brought over the containers of food, handing one to Frankie and resting his own on the coffee table before grabbing them the promised drinks. He sat down, and Frankie took his drink in one hand, relishing in the smooth burn as he took a sip, then set it down to dive into his food.

They ate in a relaxed and cozy silence. Frankie finished first, which wasn’t a surprise. When Whiskey finished, he took Frankie’s empty container with him to toss in the garbage before he made his way back. An awkward silence replaced the previous comfortable one, and Frankie found himself having a hard time pulling his gaze from the amber liquid in his glass. Whiskey took a deep breath, then turned on the couch to face Frankie.

“Santiago said you’ve been clean for three years? That’s quite the accomplishment.”

“Yeah, thanks. Doesn’t really feel like it right now. I feel like I failed. I’m worried I’ll slip up.”

“I don’t think you will, Frankie. Neither do Pope or Bourbon.”

Jack didn’t know why, but the words rang true in his mind, even though he hadn’t known Frankie for very long.

“You don’t seem like the kind of guy to throw three years of hard work away, Flyboy.”

A small smile tugged at Frankie’s lips and he took a sip from his glass.

“Must’ve been weird for Halcón. Last time she saw me, fuck, I was barely with it. The suspension hit me hard. I had been getting my shit together before Colombia and the funeral. I just wanted to be able to fly. I couldn’t and still can’t stand the idea of being grounded. That, and I knew my fianceé would leave me if I didn’t get it together. But then, well, we all went to Colombia.”

“I couldn’t imagine being grounded. I don’t fly often, but to not have the option? I dunno what I’d do.”

Whiskey shook his head and grimaced. Frankie perked up, head snapping to meet Whiskey’s gaze.

“You fly?”

“Mmmhmm, was in the Air Force for a bit, did jets. Statesmen has an F-22, the Silver Pony, that I fly.”

A small buzz of excitement was washing over Frankie, and he subconsciously scooted closer to Whiskey. He didn’t really have anyone to talk to about flying, even if helicopters and jets were two very different means of flying.

“What made you risk it, Flyboy? What happened in Colombia?”

Frankie frowned and let out a deep sigh.

“Pope had been down there for a few years, chasing a narco named Gabriel Martín Lorea. He finally got a break when his CI told him she knew where he was hiding out and where he was stashing his money. He showed up outta the blue asking us, our old team, to come down and do recon, $17k just for a week of recon. If we wanted to stay on after that, we’d be entitled to 25% of whatever we seized, and the rumour was that Lorea had $75M on him. I’m guessing Halcón was busy with a mission for you guys, and I’m glad she was. It ended up being a fucking shitshow.”

Whiskey noted the faraway look in Frankie’s eyes as he sighed and took another swig from his glass, shaking his head as Frankie recalled the events.

“After the recon, Pope said he thought we could do the job ourselves, take all the money and not tell the local governments. We found out that the local agency hadn’t been the ones to pay us the $17k. That had come out of Pope’s pocket. He was so sure that the locals were on Lorea’s payroll, and if he went to the local agency, Lorea would disappear with the money. At the end of the day, none of us could say no. Turned out the rumors of Lorea having $75M were wrong. The house was stuffed, literally, with cash. Tom, our captain, got greedy. He ignored our hard-out time and insisted we take more loads of cash. We ended up stealing close to $250M, then we burned the house down.”

Whiskey whistled. “$250M is a lot of money, partner…”

Frankie barked out a humorless laugh, his eyes rueful.

“Too much. Our helo couldn’t take it all and make it over the Andes. I knew it before take off, and I warned Tom and Pope, but all any of us could see was the money. Tom didn’t want to leave it on the runway. I almost had us over the Andes when a gearbox blew, and I had to get us back to flat. We had to cut the money net, and it was just our luck that it happened to be over a coke farm. It was a bad landing. I honestly don’t know how none of us were seriously injured, but Pope and Tom went to go and convince the farmers to get out of the money. Our comms were out, so we were going off of hand signals. Tom got too trigger happy, and he dropped a few of the villagers. I-I provided cover fire, too…”

Frankie hung his head, no matter how much Will, Benny, or Pope had tried to reassure him, he still held an enormous amount of guilt over what had happened. He felt Whiskey’s hand rest on his shoulder, and he leaned into the touch.

“That’s what you were trained to do, Flyboy. You couldn’t have known any different, especially without comms.”

Frankie nodded, taking a large gulp of his whiskey, then continued on.

“A couple days later, we took fire in the mountains, and they got Tom. It ended up being a kid and another guy from the coke farm. We killed them, but there was nothing we could do for Tom. Headshot, he died instantly. 10 years we all served together, and then he was gone, leaving behind an ex and two daughters. It could have been any one of us though, Jack… we all took lives during that mission. Tom just took the wrong ones. It… it could have been me even, I shot some of those villagers, too.”

Frankie felt Whiskey’s grip on his shoulder tighten and looked up to see the empathetic sadness of someone who truly understood how he felt reflected back in Whiskey’s eyes. Frankie cleared his throat.

“We ended up bailing on a lot of the cash, taking only what we could carry in our daypacks and tossing the rest in a ravine so we could haul Tom’s body out with us. At the end of it, we made out with around $5M, but we all agreed it should go to Tom’s family. I got back to find my fianceé had left. She couldn’t stand my leaving with Pope. Looking back, my addiction is probably what really did us in, but I was devastated to come home to an empty house after everything that had happened. Things got… dark after that. I fell back on old habits, fuck, I had barely been clean a few months when we went to Colombia. I didn’t want to think about what we’d done there, didn’t want to feel the emptiness, didn’t want to sleep and deal with the nightmares. I was a mess, and I… uh, I took too much one day. Pope found me unconscious, lying on the ground, and got me to the hospital. When I came to, I realized I didn’t want to end up dead in my shitty apartment, once they discharged me, I checked into rehab.”

Frankie took another drink. No one other than Pope knew that knocking on death’s door had been the turning point for him. Whiskey chewed on his lip, taking a drink and debating whether he should share his past as well.

“Drugs are… a terrible thing to get hooked on. My high school sweetheart, carrying my unborn son, was murdered by two meth head freaks robbing a fucking convenience store. I was on leave from the Air Force, waiting for them to come home when I got the call. I didn’t realize how much it festered in me until about a year back when we were taking down the Golden Circle.”

Frankie nodded. He remembered that he had been glad he was clean by then.

“I’m sorry, Whiskey… I didn’t know, I shouldn’t have-”

Jack’s hand moved from Frankie’s shoulder to rub his back reassuringly.

“Listen, the things you’ve done and seen for our country… and not, well, it’s a lot, and I know it’s not the same as the freaks who… it’s not the same. I almost sabotaged the mission. My hate-addled brain thought it would be justice… It was Bourbon who very literally knocked me on my ass and kept me from making a decision I’d regret. She encouraged me to see a Statesmen counselor, which has been a lot of work, but has been more helpful than I ever thought it would be. Have you thought about that?”

Frankie was distracted for a moment by Jack’s hand. It felt nice, reassuring, safe, things that had been sorely lacking for him today.

“I have and I did, well, I had to as part of the program, and I kept it up for a bit after. It helped, but… I couldn’t really talk about what happened with Tom. Sure there’s confidentiality and all that, but what we did is all kinds of illegal. I couldn’t exactly bring that to a session or group.”

Frankie snorted, a ghost of a smile tugged at a corner of his mouth.

“Really though, aside from the program I was in after rehab to get my license back, I’ve gotten some hobbies and some other out-outlets. This was just a lot. I needed to not be alone.”

Jack cocked his head at the way Frankie stuttered and subconsciously fidgeted with the bandage on his right wrist. He had picked up from the night prior that Frankie had a thing for pain, and Frankie’s reaction when he had bandaged him up was further proof of that. But using it as his sole outlet or method of working through his issues was something he wouldn’t enable. His eyes narrowed, and before Frankie could blink, Jack snatched his left hand, mindful of the tender marks as he held fast and fixed Frankie with a hard stare. Frankie flinched at the sudden movement then his eyes widened a little.

“You know this ain’t a solution, Flyboy.”

Jack’s voice had an edge to it bordering on a growl. Frankie shook his head quickly.

“Shit, no, Whiskey, the i-impact p-play stuff, i-it’s an outlet, and it’s not my only outlet. I met my old partners, Sam and then later on her husband, a year and a half or two years ago. I was a year clean before I even had my first session with either of them. I met Sam when she booked a flight tour, and one thing led to another… She’d come back into town and sometimes her husband would come with, but we all kept everything pretty quiet. They helped me relax, and they had their fun.”

Frankie was doing his best to be nonchalant, but he couldn’t help the slight bitterness creeping into his voice. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Jack’s tone had thrown him off guard, unexpectedly stirring something in him. Whiskey, of course noticed on both counts, having been trained to do so. He could see through Frankie a mile away. Frankie nervously took another sip from his glass, shuddering as Whiskey’s thumb gingerly rubbed circles over the marks, seemingly accepting his explanation.

“You know, had I known about your… interests, I would have done things a bit differently last night, Flyboy.” He winked at Frankie, then smirked as he examined Frankie’s wrist more thoughtfully. “How are they doing?”

“G-good, thanks. And uh, well, you’re one of 3 people who know.” Frankie murmured.

Whiskey’s eyebrows raised slightly in surprise as he nodded and released Frankie’s hand.

“Really? Not Pope or Bourbon?”

“Are you kidding me? Pope would never let me hear the end of it. There are some things he doesn’t need to know.” Frankie chuckled and shook his head. “And Halcón? Well, there was never any reason for her to know. We never did anything together before last night.”

“How long has it been since you last saw Sam or her husband?”

Frankie downed the rest of his whiskey, eyes far away for a moment, remembering their last session, the sharp pain followed by a rush of endorphins and the occasional soothing praise. He shook his head gently, blinking himself out of his memories at the feeling of Jack’s warm hand on his knee.

“It’s been a while, six months? They moved overseas.”

There was a beat of silence, Whiskey could sense there was something up, it was a subtle shadow flitting across Frankie’s face. He decided to push a little more.

“Did you have feelings for them?”

“It was complicated.”

The edge in Frankie’s voice was tinged with pain, and he tried to cover it up with a laugh that came out humorless.

“I guess it isn’t that complicated. After six months, things shifted, and they made it clear I wasn’t part of their long term plan. It became very transactional, which was fine, but there was less and less... care after.”

“Oh.”

The response slipped from Jack’s lips, and he was momentarily stunned quiet before his temper began to flare. His index finger and thumb gently gripped Frankie’s chin, forcing him to meet his gaze.

“Listen carefully, Flyboy. What I did last night was the bare minimum of what someone should do in that kind of situation. Anything less is negligent. Christ, how was this ever stress relief for you if you were left to free fall afterwards?”

Whiskey’s voice was calm and even, but Frankie could see the fury raging in his eyes. Sensing Whiskey’s desire for understanding, he nodded then shrugged.

“I guess I’d try to go on a hike with one of the guys or go train at the gym.”

Silence fell between them, a muscle in Whiskey’s jaw clenching before he glanced at the clock and let out a deep sigh, willing himself to calm down.

“It’s already just about midnight, Flyboy. Why don’t you go shower, and I’ll put on a clean bandage for you once you’re done. You can use my bathroom. There’s a clean towel hanging you can use. Don’t worry about clothes, I’ll leave something for you to sleep in on my bed so you can change while I set up the guest room for you.”

Frankie was about to protest, saying he could do his own bandages, but Whiskey fixed him with a stare and shook his head.

“Go on Flyboy, get yourself in the shower. Head down the hall, second door on the left. Your room is across the hall. I’ll be waiting there with the medkit when you’re done.”

Whiskey took Frankie’s empty glass and stood, taking their glasses to the sink while Frankie got up and made his way to the shower. A pensive frown tugged at Whiskey’s lips. Tonight certainly explained a lot of things. The sharp fury that permeated Whiskey’s chest when they were talking about Frankie’s previous partners returned. How could someone not be bothered with aftercare? It was also clear that Frankie felt abandoned by them. On some level, the poor man was probably terrified of that happening again, if he even entertained the thought of something between the three of you. Whiskey waited a few moments until he heard the water running before heading into his room. He let out a sigh as he grabbed a white t-shirt and a pair of linen shorts for Frankie to wear, leaving them on the bed before he left to make sure the guest room was all set.

Frankie undressed quickly, folding his clothes and setting them down on the vanity in a neat pile crowned with his hat. Next, he made quick work of unwrapping the bandage around his wrist and tossing the materials in the garbage. He let out a sigh of relief as he stepped into the shower and the hot water scoured the last two days from his skin. The relief was quickly replaced with a small whine of pain as the water hit his wrist. Closing his eyes and bracing himself against the wall with his forearm he breathed through the pain, acclimating to the sensation. Frankie took a minute to just exist, trying to enjoy the quiet that had slowly crept back into his mind. Taking a deep breath, he set to work getting himself clean. The steam made the air thick and heavy with the scent of Whiskey’s soap, something akin to leather and tobacco leaves. It clung to Frankie’s lungs, and he could have stayed there enjoying it for considerably longer. But, he didn’t want to keep Whiskey waiting, so he rinsed off and hopped out of the shower. He toweled off, smirking to himself when he saw it was monogrammed (because of course it was), then headed out and changed quickly into the shirt and shorts that had been left for him.

Whiskey looked up in time to see Frankie stride through the doorway wearing his shirt and shorts, smelling like him, his soap. He swallowed thickly and tried to recover with a smile.

“Feel better, Flyboy? C’mon, sit down. Let’s have a look.”

Frankie nodded, then took a seat next to Whiskey on the bed and gave him his right hand. Whiskey hummed his approval at the lack of resistance from Frankie, something the pilot felt tug at his chest.

“This is looking much better, Flyboy, should be completely healed in a few days.”

Whiskey smiled as he finished tending to and wrapping up Frankie’s wrist. Without prompting, Frankie offered his other wrist and Whiskey couldn’t bite back the smirk that followed. He was glad though, glad that Frankie was trusting him with this and was embracing these moments, even if it was for something small. Frankie’s left wrist was considerably better off, but even so, Whiskey was still gentle as he looked him over.

Frankie’s heart fluttered at the intimacy of what was happening. Here was Jack, a man he’d known for barely 48 hours, who was taking care of him, who had dropped everything to come get him, who had spent his evening letting Frankie talk. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had treated him this way.

There was an overwhelming urge building in his chest, and without thinking, he acted on it.

He gripped the collar of Whiskey’s t-shirt with one hand, tugging him closer as Frankie leaned in and kissed him. Whiskey was shocked for a moment, it had been the last thing he had been expecting, but he quickly recovered when he felt Frankie’s tongue swipe at his lip. His hand rested along the column of Frankie’s throat, thumb grazing over the scruff along his jaw as he deepened the kiss, leaning into Frankie and tasting him.

A small moan pulled Jack back to his senses, resting his forehead against Frankie’s and cupping his jaw with this other hand. They both panted, trying to catch their breath, and Whiskey smiled as he gave Frankie another quick kiss. For a moment, Frankie was worried he had overstepped when Whiskey cut off their kiss, but looking into the other man’s eyes, he knew that wasn’t the case.

“You’ve had a long day, Flyboy, we’re not gonna do anything tonight. Tomorrow though, if you want, I could help you get rid of some of that stress and help you come down the right way. No rush, no pressure, you can say no and nothing changes. I don’t want an answer right now either, sleep on it.”

Frankie’s breath quickened and his pupils dilated at the thought, but one thing nagged at him.

“What about Halcón?”

Whiskey chuckled and patted Frankie’s shoulder.

“Well it’s what we both want, in a manner of speaking. She’d be onboard, but she doesn’t have to know exactly what we do for now unless you’re comfortable with it. A lot of this is stuff I know she wants to go over on Friday, but for now, when it comes to me and Bourbon, keep an open mind and try not to overthink it, partner. If you want to do this tomorrow, then we can do it. If not, no harm, no foul, you’re still welcome to stay here and keep me company.”

Frankie nodded, still processing what Whiskey had said and more than a little surprised that Whiskey was inviting him back regardless of his decision. Whiskey stood up then, squeezing Frankie’s shoulder.

“G’night, Flyboy. Holler if you need anything.”

Frankie was back in Colombia. He felt sluggish, his feet refusing to respond the way he wanted them to. He saw the villager from the cocaine farm pop up from the rocky outcrop, but Frankie couldn’t move, couldn’t draw his gun to take him out. He cried out in anguish as the man fired.

“No! Tom!”

Then he was surrounded by Pope, Benny, Will, you, and Whiskey, statuesque as the man who killed Tom lined up and dropped Pope, moving his way down the line. Frankie was sobbing now, he was being swallowed up by the ground, sinking helplessly as the people he cared for were murdered.

Whiskey woke with a start to the sound of shouting.

Ripping the sheet and comforter off, Whiskey glanced at the clock. It read 01:30 and he sighed. Frankie just couldn’t catch a break.

“P-please, No! Po-Pope, God, n-no, Hal-Halcón! Whiskey!”

He really didn’t want to shake Frankie awake, worried as to how he might react waking up from that sort of dream, but Jack had to do something.

“Hey, Frankie, I’m right here, you gotta wake up. Wake up, Flyboy.”

Frankie shot up, feeling like ice water had been poured down his spine. He was wild-eyed and breathing heavily, but once again, Whiskey’s soothing words served to ground him, and he clung to them with all he had. He felt Whiskey pull him into a hug, and Frankie didn’t care about the awkward angle, he clung to the embrace as well.

Whiskey’s heart ached at the way Frankie clutched at him after hearing him call out Pope’s, his, and your names. He had a vague idea of what might have happened, he still had dreams where he couldn’t save his loved ones every now and then. Once Frankie’s breathing calmed a bit, Whiskey tugged him up out of bed.

“C’mon Flyboy, you’re coming with me.”

Frankie didn’t argue, he just followed, grateful that Whiskey was pulling him by his hand, needing that point of contact. Whiskey pulled back the covers on the side opposite of his and waited until Frankie crawled in before he pulled the covers over him, then slid in on his side of the bed. He scooted a bit closer, not wanting to crowd Frankie unless he wanted the contact, and was pleased when the other man scooted back until his back rested against Jack’s chest.

“Get some sleep, Flyboy. I’ve got you.”

Sooner than he expected, Whiskey heard soft snores coming from Frankie. He smiled then wrapped his arm around him and pulled him closer.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs & comments are much appreciated!

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[gucciwins]

Frosty the Snowman

Harry and Y/N love the holiday season but Harry takes the teasing a bit to far and well Y/N decides to give it right back. 

Word Count: 5126

A/N: hello! thank you so much to @goldenbluesuit for organizing this wonderful christmas fic challenge. thank you for allowing me to participate, kate. i’m so happy i got to be a part of it. merry christmas and happy holidays to you all. sending you all a big hug and lots of love. 

_____

Christmas has never been much of importance in your life.

That was until you began dating Harry.

 Harry and his family loved celebrating in particular because Harry was gone for so many months of the year. They loved giving gifts, and Harry loved spoiling his family. He was a true family man who loved to be doted on by his mother and teased relentlessly by his older sister. His smile never leaves his face when he's with them.  

Ever since Harry found out how you spent the holidays alone drinking wine and hot chocolate on and off and binging all the best holiday movies. He declared that was not acceptable and that furthermore and until the end of time you would be spending it with him and his family. 

The first year was something out of a storybook, a house full of kids and adults, Christmas music all day, and a big festive dinner. Gifts passed around, photos being taken to be added to the end of year scrapbooks. Lots of stories being told; honestly, it overwhelmed you. 

Anne found you outside wrapped up in Harry's coat that you swiped before slipping out unseen. She stood next to you, overlooking her garden with you. "My son loves you; he's brought you here not to overwhelm you but to let you know that you have a family here, and you always will." You let your tears run free, feeling comforted, and loved. "I've never seen him shine as bright as he does when he's with you and when he's speaking of you. We all want you here as much as he does." Anne then pulled you into a long hug, the motherly hug you never got growing up.  Reminded you not to stay out too long. 

Three Christmases later, you now take part in family traditions, helping Anne cook dinner and staying in sweats and playing family games all of Boxing Day. 

It's what makes your move to London with your boyfriend of four years easy. Knowing they want you there, knowing that the love Harry has for you won't fade, you've gone through many hurdles together, and it only strengthened your bond to one another. 

Four years together, and you're still learning new things about each other, like Harry having to have coffee first thing in the morning, bread was a must-have always in the house, and that he owned more mugs than he needed. He picked up that you adored your shoes, meaning you wouldn't throw them out until they were ripped and beat up enough for a new pair. Also learned that you rather eat lots of fruit during the day than making food in the kitchen because it meant more dishes that would be needed to wash. You loved doing the laundry, Harry knew it was to steal his shirts, but he didn't mind. He always knew where to find them. 

The one thing that really surprised him was your love for Christmas music; you knew every song, maybe couldn't remember the name, but you would be able to sing it. It never failed to make him smile; you even knew ‘Feliz Navidad’ and didn't butcher it as he did. 

Your love for Christmas music was signified because you never celebrated the holiday, and music was easy to access. It was what you immersed yourself in. 

This is why Harry is confused when he hears you begin to sing ‘Frosty the Snowman’ under your breath, then switching to a soft hum in the tune of the song as you start to place your freshly washed sweats in their drawers. 

Harry was not sure why you did that; you loved singing out loud. You had a decent voice, as you liked to say, but why switch. 

You're clueless to Harry watching you, deep in thought, trying his best to analyze you. 

Then Harry gasps; it all clicks, making sense. 

You raise your head to look at him, shutting the drawer with your hip. "What?"

"You don't know the lyrics." Harry accuses. 

"To what?" You step towards the bed, wanting to finish the rest of this to finally go down and each lunch. 

"Frosty the Snowman."

"I do." You defend.

Harry smirks, crossing his arms. "Prove it."

"No." 

"Why not?"

You frown before taking a deep breath and begin to hum the song correctly to Harry. 

"Okay, you know the tune, now the lyrics." He gestures for you to go on.

"Frosty the snowman..." Your voice dies down, you rake your brain for the correct lyrics, sending a smaller prayer you're right. "had a shiny nose?" 

"Oh, this is golden, love." He's laughing now. It's filling up the room. 

"Harry," You whine. 

"You call yourself the Christmas Queen." Harry is holding his stomach, his laughter getting to be too much. "Next, you're going to tell me you don't know the lyrics to 'All I Want For Christmas Is You.'"

"How dare you, that came out in our birth year." You're over making fun of you. 

"Okay fine, but really so many years, and you never learned. You said you love all Christmas music, and well, that's a classic, dove."  

You run a hand through your hair, your fingers getting caught on the tips for not brushing it out. "I never actually got to make a snowman, so I never listened to the lyrics."

"Are you secretly a Grinch as well?" Harry teases.

You throw a balled-up shirt of his and hit him square in the face; it quiets him down. "Conversation over." 

You walk out of the room, leaving him alone, to his chuckling. 

_____

In your home, something was always baking. 

It was either Harry trying to better his last bread or you baking a new vegan cake that Gemma sent you. 

It's something you both loved to do.

For you, though, it was your own form of meditation. No matter the time of day, if you felt your head spinning, you'd just head to the kitchen and begin to take out ingredients letting that be your only focus. The Great British Baking Show also brings a lot of comfort to you, Harry happily laying his head on your lap, your hand running through his hair as you just let the show play on and on. 

Now, you're in the kitchen for a whole other reason; you're baking gingerbread cookies, from snowflakes to snowman and even little reindeer. Harry has invited friends over for a fun holiday decorating party. It sounded like a good idea until he left you to do it all yourself as he ran errands that he pushed off for a week. 

Thankfully, there were no distractions during the time it took you to make one hundred cookies because there would be casualties during the decorating. Just as you were putting the last dozen on the cooling rack, does your phone ring causing it to cut off Paul McCartney's singing of 'Wonderful Christmastime.'

As you pick it up to answer, you check the caller id and see that it's Gemma calling. 

Gemma forgoes a greeting and goes straight to the reason for her call. 

"You don't know 'Frosty the Snowman!'" She exclaims more than asks. 

"I'm going to kill him." You groan into the phone. 

Gemma laughs, "No, no, please don't. Mum likes you too much to see you behind bars."

"Gem, he's been relentless." Thinking back to the past few days and how he'd randomly come up to you and just begin to sing the lyrics to you, not shutting up until you tickled him too much to continue. "Please don't let it come up later." 

"I've got you," Gemma assures you. 

"Thank you."

"As long," Gemma begins, but you groan jokingly into the phone. 

"Go on," You sigh, knowing this is how the eldest Styles sibling acts.  

"As long as you tell me what Harry bought mum for Christmas."

"Alright, fair." Very well, Harry would most likely spoil this himself the closer the holiday arrives. 

Just as you were about to spoil Harry's gift, he walks through the kitchen, saved by the devil himself. "I'll tell you later when you get here." You tell Gemma, smiling at Harry as you bid his sister goodbye.  

"Who was it, love?" Harry asks, kissing you lightly on your lips, being able to taste the gingerbread on your lips that makes him beeline to the cooled cookies. 

"Gems, a huge birdie told her I don't know the lyrics to a popular song." You lean against the counter, smiling as he has a cookie in hand already; he is also a big reason you made so many. 

"Hey," He says, offended, a cookie half shoved in his mouth. "I'm not huge." 

"Never said it was you, hun." You smirk. "Thanks for fessing up."

He pouts, not liking that you outsmarted him. 

"Might want to watch the cookies." You pinch his love handles, snatching what was left of the cookie from his hand and heading upstairs. 

Harry watches you walk away, upset that you stole his cookie; also, he knows you love his winter gains. 

_____

You and Harry are up fairly early, he likes to go on a run around the neighborhood, but you like going to the park. This morning you skipped your run because Harry was meeting up with a friend for breakfast. 

Sure, you got up at your usual time at 7am and began to prepare yourself breakfast. You usually drank coffee with Harry and seeing as he wasn't here, you decided to skip it, instead going straight to the fridge to get the fruits and orange juice to make a smoothie. Something simple, not wanting to clean much after. 

As you finally settled on the couch, getting ready to read Educated by Tara Westover, a book Gemma recommended to her then gifted to her. Tara's memoir is her story of how she comes from a Mormon background and recounts how she educated herself to go to college and learn about the world. It's a Friday, and what better way to spend it lost in a book. 

You had just flipped it open when your phone rang, alerting you to a message. As much as you didn't want to check because you were finally in a comfortable position, you knew it could easily be Harry checking in who gets worried about not getting a reply even five minutes after. He's a worrier at heart. 

As you retrieve it and settle yourself back down, not at all comfortable anymore, you see it's a message from Iz. She was the first friend you made on your own that Harry didn't introduce you to. Iz saw you at a coffee shop you began to frequent and complimented your tote bag that had wildflowers embroidered on it. You thanked her and shared you made it. Iz was shocked, just throwing compliment after compliment. You offered to make her one, but she said you had better teach her instead. Thus, a friendship began. 

Her message read: 

Radio 1 Breakfast Show. Listen in! 

It was definitely a strange message coming from Iz, but you did as told. 

Greg James was saying goodbye to his special guest, no idea who it was. "Before he signs off, he's going to play you one of his favorite Christmas songs," Greg says, then silences, allowing his guest a moment before speaking. 

"This week's Christmas song is in honor of my girlfriend who loves singing Frosty the Snowman... without knowing the lyrics. Happy Holidays."  

Your jaw drops. 

That your boyfriend's voice. You are the girlfriend. 

He went on record. 

Harry really went on live radio to tell thousands that you don't know the lyrics to a Christmas classic. 

You want to laugh because you never expected this from him and are annoyed that something personal now the whole world will know by the end of the day. 

You can't wait until he arrives home.

"Harry Edward Styles!" You yell as you hear Harry open the front door. 

He looks sheepish. "Yes, my darling angel."

"You told me you were having breakfast with Greg James, not that you were going to be on the Breakfast show."

"I took muffins, and they provided coffee, therefore, breakfast." Harry defends

"You exposed me to all of the UK to not knowing 'Frosty the Snowman.'"

"No one knows you're my girlfriend." Harry tries to brush it off.

"We've been dating four years; I'm not that much of a secret. Anne posts me on her story from time to time, and your friends follow my Instagram, fuck; you've introduced me to Greg." You're not angry, more annoyed than anything because he won't let this go.

"It's just to give everyone a good laugh; no one is going to hold it against you." 

"No, just my boyfriend and everyone who listens to the Breakfast Show." You cross your arms before storming up the stairs away from Harry. 

"Love? You're not actually mad, right?" Harry asks, pushing the bedroom door open. 

"You even got Iz on it!" Your turn around with a pout on your face. 

Harry laughs. "I honestly thought she wouldn't go through with it."

"Well, I see where her loyalty lies." 

Harry steps close and pulls you into his chest. You sigh, wrapping your arms around him. He knows how much you love his hugs.

"I promise this is the last I mention of it." 

You frown into his chest, not at all believing him. Harry pats your bum, and you take that as the queue to look up at him. He's smiling down at you, leaning in to give you a quick peck. "I promise." 

"Okay, then." You lean in and kiss him, firmer this time and much longer. Harry sneaks his tongue in, instantly getting a moan out of you. 

"I know how you can make it up to me." You gasp, pulling away, 

Harry raises an eyebrow at you. "Do tell." 

A smirk on both your faces as you guide him to the bed, very much hungry for something that wasn't breakfast. 

_____

Harry has the Christmas playlist running; it's a Sunday, meaning they spend it at home doing absolutely nothing. To be truthful, they rolled out of bed past ten and still have their pj's on. Not at all bothering to change, why waste more clothes if no one will see them like this in the comfort of their own home.

You cooked grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch and now are playing a game of scrabble.

Harry puts down the word 'light,' then reaching his hand into the black pouch to pick five letters to have seven once again. You are looking back and forth between the board and your letters, thinking of the best place to place your word. 

"I've got a question," Harry says, looking at you, wanting all your attention as well. 

"What is it?" You're focused on your letters. Rearranging them, not putting down the 'q' in your hand. It's currently useless but will eventually give you a word to win the game. Not that you both ever keep points, oh no, that stopped after you beat harry 120 to 66, and he flipped the board, causing letters to fly everyone. You still claim that there are missing letters. 

"Frosty is a cute name."

"Reminds me of that Wendy's dessert. I'm still not sure what made it so good." You say, maybe you should get up and eat some. Harry did just pick up new flavors that he had been wanting to try something about them being richer in flavor. 

"You're getting off track." 

"Sorry, Frosty is cute for what?" You don't let him answer before you're speaking again. "A dog, did you get a dog?" You pause, looking up at him, "a cat, did Anne find a stray and wants to give them to us?" You wait, but Harry is about to crush all your excitement. 

"None of that." He shakes his head at you, and disappointment fills you immediately. 

"Well, can this conversation end then? I'm disappointed." 

"Darling," Harry chastises you for not letting him go on.

"Go on then, mate." You gesture him to continue. Shifting your attention away from the game in front of you.

Harry frowns, his eyebrows pinching together in the sweet way that makes you want to rub them out until he's relaxed. "Why'd you call me, mate?"

"Oh, I've called you this before." You brush off Harry's reactions; he's always dramatic. 

"I'm not your friend." He states.

You furrow your eyebrows and tilt your head and really look at Harry. "Well, of course, you are boyfriend," You emphasize, dragging out the word. "You're my best friend." 

"You can't say boyfriend anymore. I'm your fiancé now." Harry states proudly, but you feel a little dumbfounded, not knowing why he is saying that.

Your eyes widen when you look down at your left hand, and no ring rests on your left ring finger.

"Fuck, I missed your proposal, and the ring got lost." You pout, trying your best to stop the smirk from coming out.  

"Darling, I'm sorry." Harry quickly apologizes. "I'm still your boyfriend, but I will be proposing soon." He promises. "Shit, you were supposed to not even know. I really am bad at hiding things."

"Fuck, you really are." You laugh, "but boyfriend sounds cute. Can't I still say boyfriend when you do?" 

"Doesn't fiancé sound nicer?" Harry tries. 

You shrug. "Not as fun, husband is nice."

"You're rejecting my future proposal, then." Harry is teasing, and you can tell by the sparkle in his forest eyes. 

"Of course not, you dummy. You can be my fiancé and my boyfriend." You tell him like it was the most obvious answer.

"Seems like a lot of work."

"Rude." You stick your tongue at him. 

"Right, love, well try to remember I'm your husband once we're married, no more boyfriend."

"I will, hubby. You're going to be my hubby."

You both go silent.

You burst out laughing, "That's awful, I hate it."

Harry chuckles, nodding his head. "Yeah, I do as well."

"This is why I'm the brains in the relationship." 

"Right," Harry rolls his eyes at you, not at all agreeing.

"Uh, darling, I went to uni and got two degrees while you only finished school at sixteen before going off to steal millions of hearts around the world." 

"Including yours." He teases.

"I was always more a Zayn girl." You correct him.

Harry throws his arms up, "Can never let me win, can you?" 

"Nope"

"We're off-topic." Harry realizing how far they strayed from their starting point. 

"Where did we start?"

"Frosty." 

You sit back, resting against the couch; you take him in and smile at how cuddly he looks in the purple robe that he stopped letting you use. "Well, go on."

"Seeing as-" He pauses, hearing the familiar opening notes to the song he was thinking of. 'Frosty, the Snowman' is now his favorite song. "Perfectly timed, as you don't know the lyrics to Frosty the snowman."

"Gosh, you're never going to let this go," You grumble. 

"Nope. I figured we will have a little fun with this."

"More fun than the breakfast show." 

He gives you a pointed look.

You let out a long sigh, "Let's hear it." 

"You learn all the lyrics and sing it for me, and I'll let you get us a dog or cat." Harry's grinning at his idea, knowing you'll agree without a fight. 

"Can we go to the shelter?" You look like a kid on Christmas morning who had just received their presents from Santa, and in a way, you have.

"Yes, we can. Only if you can learn the entire song." Harry tells you again, wanting to emphasize the singing.

"Done deal." 

"Great, I'm giving you a week." 

You smile wide, nodding, looking, finally focusing back down at your words and the ones Harry has placed. You put down the word 'queen,' and this wins you the non-official game. Harry looks down at his poorly hidden score sheet and curses under his breath. 

"I win." 

Safe to say you lost more letters that day.

_____

It's been a week, and Harry is patiently waiting on their bed as you get ready in your shared closet. Your shared closet is large and mainly holds all of Harry's clothing. You definitely have a nice share of clothes filled with gifts from friends as well as Harry's friends and your treasured thrifted pieces. You smile at yourself in the full-length mirror. 

Harry really can't begin to imagine what you have in store for him. 

The speaker is set out and ready, and all that is needed is for you to make your entrance.

You shake out your hands in hopes of ridding yourself of the nerves. You look yourself over one last time before taking a deep breath and pushing the door open. 

"Close your eyes." You call out. 

Harry rolls his eyes but does as he is told.

You walk over to the speaker and press play, letting the music fill the room, making your way to stand in front of Harry, who slowly opens his eyes.

He gasps; he feels himself start to get hard. His eyes can't seem to take everything in fast enough. You smirk, loving the reaction you got out of him. It gives you the extra boost of confidence you were needing. 

You stand there, hand on your hip in a sexy snowman outfit to go with the performance you are about to give.

The dress, if you can consider it with how short it is, has three black buttons in the center. The material hugs your chest nicely, giving Harry a nice view of your breasts that are close to popping out. The dress hugs your waist and begins to flow out right past your butt. You wore your favorite black heels that Harry sometimes begs you not to take off. You had on a plaid scarf and a black hat that matched it perfectly. 

You were the human version of the snowman except for a more rated r version.

Harry is sitting his mouth wide open at a loss for words. You blow him a kiss before letting the song lyrics flow out of you.

Frosty the snowman

Was a jolly happy soul

With a corncob pipe and a button nose

And two eyes made out of coal

You sway your hips side to side, singing, enjoying the ravenous stare he was giving you. You throw the hat, letting it fall at his feet, but not even that breaks the gaze he has on you, not wanting to miss a single movement of yours. 

Frosty the snowman is a fairy tale they say

He was made of snow

But the children know

How he came to life one day

You take a few steps forward, but never enough to allow him to touch you, and he's craving it; you know he is. His hands are gripping his thighs, his knuckles turning whiter by the seconds. 

He still hasn't said a word. You have him mesmerized. 

You sing the lyrics proudly, knowing you practiced all week for this moment. The moment Harry will never forget all the teasing he had been doing, always forgetting you win these battles. 

There must have been some magic in that

Old silk hat they found

For when they placed it on his head

He began to dance around

"Baby," Harry breathes out, putting a hand out to touch you, but you take a step back before he can do so. 

You smirk, shaking your head no at him. You were having a lot more fun than you expected. 

You bend over, slipping off your heels, never breaking eye contact with Harry; he could very easily see up the dress that you had nothing underneath. His green eyes turned dark, and you swore your heart stopped, and you were sure he was about to attack. You were the prey, taunting him until he had enough, but surprisingly enough, he took a deep breath, and his composure was back well, just a bit of it.  

O Frosty the snowman

Was alive as he could be

And the children say he could laugh and play

Just the same as you and me

You stopped right in front of him. Harry's eyes trained on your red lips, hanging out to every word you were singing. You reached a hand back and began to unzip the dress. The grin on your face excited for the next reaction you were about to receive. 

Once you reached the bottom of your back, the dress fell to the floor. Harry let out a loud gasp. Your breasts on display, the small owl tattoo on your hip staring at him, he could see how wet you were, and all he wanted was his head between your thighs as you screamed his name. 

You were a dream. You missed Harry's touch. It was the reason you stepped close enough for him to finally pull you in. 

He led them down the streets of town

Right to the traffic cop

And he only paused a moment when

He heard them holler "Stop!"

Harry has no expression on his face as he sits you on his lap. He lets his head fall into your next, feeling how wet you are through his thin sweats. You move to stand up, but he grips your hips tightly, thrusting his hips against yours, searching for some kind of relief or a reaction from you because you still haven't stopped singing. 

"Baby, stop singing." His hand is cradling your cheek as his lust-filled eyes stare at you. 

You shake your head, not letting him distract you. The only piece of clothing left was the scarf, and Harry lets out a growl before ripping your scarf off your neck, throwing it off to the side.

Now you truly sit there naked in his lap, and you feel all the control you have over him. The song is coming to an end, meaning you've got to remove yourself from your favorite place to sit but knowing you'll be back there soon enough. 

Frosty the snowman

Had to hurry on his way

But he waved goodbye, saying

"Don't you cry I'll be back again someday"

You sing the final lyrics in his ear before walking away to turn off the speaker, an extra sway to your hips, knowing Harry is very well still watching your every move. You stand a delighted look on your face as you wait for his praise. 

"Those were the longest two minutes of my life," Harry says; he puts a hand over his heart, feeling like it might just burst out. "I'm never going to be able to listen to this song in public or around anyone that isn't you." 

You smirk, thrilled to hear that.

"What did I do to end up with someone as beautiful and perfect as you in my life." He confesses. 

"Probably stopped a war in a past life." You throw out jokingly. 

Harry puckers his lips and makes grabby hands at you. "Kissy, please?"

And who are you to say no? He spreads his legs, letting you step in between. You slip your fingers into his hair, pulling back with enough force to have him let out a moan. You lean down and connect your lips in a hot kiss, one that has Harry gripping you tightly wherever he can get his hands on. You moan as he slips his tongue into your mouth, and you happily give up the control to him. 

You pull back and rest a hand on his chest, preventing him from pulling you back for you. You wipe your thumb over his bottom lip that now has some of your red lipstick. "Seems like I won, sweets."

"I feel like the real winner here," Harry tells you cheekily, sneaking a kiss to both your boobs. You giggle, not at all surprised by his action. 

"Well," You fiddle with the collar of his shirt. "Why don't you show me how winners celebrate?" 

"With pleasure." Harry groans standing up quickly and pushing you back against the best. He strips as fast as he can, not without a small stumble; you're sure to keep your giggle quiet, knowing very well how easily he gets embarrassed. 

He is quick to get on top and kisses you hard. His kisses are always soft, but it seems the teasing seemed to flip a switch, one that you will happily remember to look to turn on again on a later date. Tonight, you are ready for an endless night of pleasure and love. 

Harry connects their lips, ready for an endless night of pleasure and love. 

_____

Christmas cards were a lovely tradition. Harry insisted they started because he wanted to show off his beautiful girlfriend to his friends and family. He also liked them handwritten because it added a nice personal touch. Who were you to argue about it?

This year you were the one excited to send them out. 

It read: Merry Christmas from our beautiful family to yours

You and Harry sat in front of the fireplace, four stockings hanging behind you. Harry made you sit in his lap, wanting to show off your matching two-piece buffalo plaid pajamas. You both had the biggest grins on your face, eyes shining bright. Next to you, laying on top of a box that was wrapped with blue sloth wrapping paper, was a one-year-old Australian shepherd that had spent the better of six months in the shelter because the small pup was quiet who didn't do well with people, but that changed instantly the minute he met you. You decided on the name Frosty for him. Not only did Harry get you the dog of your dreams but a small kitten as well. You brought home Snow, a six-month white Birman kitten who was the rut of his siblings, and how could you just not bring him home with you with his big blue eyes staring at you begging to add to your family because he had lots of love to give. At least that's what you told Harry what the look he was giving you meant. The two siblings laid next to each other, both surprisingly staring right at the camera, making it their best Christmas photo yet. 

A photo can honestly speak a thousand words because one glance at this photo tells you how much love there is in that home and their relationship. 

Christmas was all about spreading joy and love, and well, Harry accomplished just that for you.

_____

thank you so much for reading! i honestly hoped you loved it and would love to hear what you thought so send me a message if you like. 

i love you!

[winterscaptain]

long shot.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic - no context required

a/n: this is in response to this ask in kind of a loose way, and also fulfills kiss prompt #6 (on a falling tear). i sat down and wrote this all in one sitting this weekend and it makes me smile SO MUCH. tell me what you think! i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it :) this one takes place in au!december 2012

words: 2.3k warnings: alcohol use/mention, allusions to sex, language

summary: “i couldn’t have dreamed you into existence because i didn’t even know i needed you. you must have been sent to me.” - kamand kojouri

It’s a rare early night off in December and you all make the ill-advised choice to go to the bar closest to the base for some drinks and dancing, completely forgetting that academy graduation is tomorrow. 

There’s part of you that feels aged by the whole thing. Even newly-minted agents your own age look fresh-faced and about a decade younger than you feel. 

When you all walk in, there’s a bit of a hush, a lull, in the conversations around you. You find eyes on you from all directions and realize your faces are familiar ones, and in the case of Aaron and Dave, almost-famous ones. 

Aaron pulls you further into him, almost shielding you with his body as you navigate through the crowd that parts before you. It seems like an eternity before you find a table, but Derek, Aaron, and Spencer hold down the fort while the rest of you manage drinks. Strategic postings at either end of the bar is likely going to get you the best return, so you fan out accordingly. 

It’s unsurprising in the least when the bartenders make a beeline for you all, getting your orders down and drinks started over the shouts of NATs - many of them already blasted with three or four shots under their belt. 

While you wait, you can still feel a fair few pairs of eyes on you. You meet one pair, set in the face of a rather handsome new agent about your age. He smiles at you, and you shift your eyes away from him, your expression unmoving. 

He apparently takes that as invitation enough. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot him as he winds his way to your side. 

You meet Aaron’s eyes across the room, and there’s a smile in them. You offer the smallest twitch of your lips and a wink. Watch this. 

Oh, I’m watching, his eyebrows say. 

“Hi.” The young agent finally reaches your side and offers his hand. You take it. “Agent Mark Sullivan.” 

You smile thinly and introduce yourself. “So, I take it you’ve just received an assignment?”

He laughs, making an attempt at charm. “Alright. You’re a profiler,” he says with confidence. “What gave me away?” It’s a challenge.

It’s also a long shot. A really really long shot. 

There were plenty of people in the vicinity that would be reeled in by his warm smile and handsome jawline, but your fine man (currently sprawled back in his chair with an arm on the back of the chair and a hand over his mouth to cover his smile) stands head and shoulders above the rest, sometimes literally. 

“Well,” you start, making a show of eyeing him from head to toe, “Your papers are still in your pocket and you’ve left your ID tag on, against academy and bureau regulations.” 

He startles and snatches it off his lapel, tucking it into his pocket. 

With a little smile, you soothe his embarrassment - it’s a play only designed to endear yourself to him. “It tells me you’re proud, excited. I felt the same way when I received my assignment and credentials. It’s a significant accomplishment.”

You can’t quite tell in the irregular darkness in the room, but he looks almost like he’s blushing. “Thanks.” He collects himself after a moment, putting his bravado back on. 

Your eyes flicker to Hotch once, twice. He’s still watchful. Amused. 

“So, I was lucky enough to see your lectures with the BAU and I must say...it’s impressive.” 

He says that like it’s some kind of validation. 

I need validation from this clown like I need a hole in the head. 

“Thanks. I’m usually rather modest, but I think it’s alright to say the BAU is a very fine unit.” If you’re honest, you’re talking about one particular unit chief’s...um...unit, specifically, but that’s neither here nor there.

He smirks. “What would you say if I told you I got a placement on one of the BAU teams?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Really? That’s quite the accomplishment.” A pair of arms wind around you and a kiss is pressed to your temple. 

It would also be a lie.

You smile and flip in Aaron’s arms, completely ignoring poor Mark. “I was just getting you a drink,” you explain, gesturing vaguely to the bar behind you. 

“I see. Did you get me -”

“Double scotch, neat, aged at least fifteen years? Yes, sir.” 

He smiles. “You know me so well.” 

“I sure do.” You pull him down by his tie and plant a firm kiss on his lips and shove him off with a smile. “Go. Sit. I’ve got it.” 

You turn back to Mark with a breathless sort of laugh. Aaron always makes you feel a little flushed and you’re happy to play it up for the benefit of the moment. “Sorry about that.” 

Mark, you find, is reconsidering his strategy. His face, while still outwardly warm, harbors a kind of calculated look to it that would almost be funny if you weren’t so eager to see what kind of trick he’d pull next. “So, Hotchner?”

“What about him?”

Mark shrugs. “I dunno. Doesn’t he have a kid?”

You nod. “Yep.” 

“And he’s a widower, right?”

“Yes.” 

Mark laughs a little. “Wouldn’t it be kinda nice to, I dunno, have some fun for a little while?”

You frown at him, and your drink arrives at the hands of the frazzled bartender. You pull the fifty from your sleeve and pass it to him with a smile. After a sip, you ask. “What do you mean?”

“It seems like a lot to take on, you know?” He backpedals upon seeing your squint. “I mean, I’m sure he’s a great guy, but wouldn’t it be nice to have someone...I dunno -” He restores his confidence and leans on the bar. Again, his moves would probably work on someone else, but you were a lost cause. “- easier?”

Aaron’s scotch arrives. You pick it up in your free hand and shrug somewhat breezily. “Maybe.” 

You brush past him, leaving Mark a little confused and a bit stunned. When you return to the table after much jostling, you take a seat right on Aaron’s lap and pass him his drink, reclining in his arms. Scanning over the crowd, Mark’s frowning face sticks out like a sore thumb and you try not to look too smug. 

Other than Rossi, the rest of the team is already out on the dance floor, so you know Aaron doesn’t mind having you close. 

He sets his scotch down and wraps his arms around you kissing the underside of your jaw. You lean into his touch and smile. 

There’s nothing easier than this. 

+++

There’s something a bit sulky about Aaron when you settle next to him in bed. You squint at him, looking for his eyes as they follow the loose pattern on the bedspread. 

“Hey.” You bump his shoulder with yours. “What’s on your mind?” 

He shakes his head a little, still not meeting your eyes. “Nothing. Just thinking.” 

With a roll of your eyes, you throw the covers off and sling a leg over him, straddling his thighs. You tap your palms on his pecs on-beat with your begging. “Come on. Tell me tell me tell me tell -”

“Jesus, alright!” He cuts you off with two hands over yours, his thumbs running fondly over your knuckles. “I just…” He huffs, already a little frustrated with himself for feeling put out. 

You slide your hands out from underneath his, running up over his collarbones and shoulders to find the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“I couldn’t help but overhear…”

You let all your breath out in a huff. “Oh, Aaron. He’s a stupid NAT who knows the only way to come after you is to come after your history.” You kiss his cheek and tuck into him. “He was trying to be a big-dick boy and it didn’t pay off for him.” 

There’s a halfhearted laugh from underneath you, and his hands wander across your back. “He is right, though. It would be easi-”

“If you say ‘easier,’ Aaron Hotchner, I’m going to lose my shit.” 

He sighs, and you pull back, tipping his chin up with a finger. 

“Hey. I love Jack. He is not an added weight in my life. He does not make my life harder in any way. Your son,” you emphasize with taps on his lips, “is the light of my life and I wouldn’t ever want to be without him.” 

Aaron’s eyes get a little misty. For his sake, you ignore it and continue. 

“I never feel like a replacement for Haley. I’ve never once minded leaving room for her in our lives because she’s my friend and I love her and I love you. I loved you before we lost her and I’ve loved you long after. This baggage keeps my feet firmly planted on the ground.” 

Aaron takes a deep breath, and his voice has the smallest of wavers when he speaks. Before he even starts, you concede to let him share what he’s feeling, if only to rebut it. “But you could - you could have so much. You could have someone ten or fifteen years younger who - I don’t know - could do things with you that thirty-somethings do. You wouldn’t have to spend your weekends at soccer games or your evenings rubbing Icy Hot on my bad knee or dealing with me on rough pain days or raising your voice because I can’t hear shit on my right side.” 

He shakes his head, and you brush the tears that fall with your thumbs. “You could have - You deserve, so much more...” The rest of his words go unspoken, but you hear them anyway. 

You deserve so much more than me.

Your eyes sting and you blink rapidly, letting your tears wet your lashes. Leaning forward, you kiss away his remaining tears, shifting your weight to wrap your legs around his waist and get as close as you can. 

With your head on his left shoulder, you whisper, “Aaron, I don’t want someone ten or fifteen years younger. I don’t care what I’m doing on my evenings and weekends because I get to spend them with you.” 

You pause for a moment. “And, I don’t need boys. I’m done with boys.” 

You lean back, looking him square in the eye, or at least trying to. “I have a man who has silver in his hair because he worries and is in his mid-forties and it doesn’t fucking matter. I have a man who is the subject of so many crushes and fantasies at the academy it makes me want to vomit.” You laugh a little at your own joke, but he’s still focused on the seam of your shirt at your collar. Changing gears, you bring your hands to the sides of his neck, feeling his pulse jump under your thumbs.

“I have no need for boys because I have a man who treats me with kindness and respect. A man who is thoughtful, who isn’t afraid of himself. A man who knows himself, who loves his son, who invited me into his life when he didn’t have to because he’s brave.”

A couple more tears fall down your cheeks and you frame his face with your hands. “You love better and more courageously than anyone I have ever known.” 

You sniffle a little. “Aaron, honey...I love you. I wouldn’t want anything else, or anyone else, for my life, to be my partner, my best friend, the person I love. Odds have it that you’ll be my husband and the father of any other kids we might acquire and that we’ll grow even older and grayer together.” 

You let a little facetious smirk cross your lips. “And I’d like you to look at me and tell me I’d be happy with some dickhead named Mark with a business degree who wears shoes well-outside his pay grade.” 

That does it. 

Aaron smiles and pulls you to him with a hand at the back of your head. Your lips meet and you can taste the saltwater, but it doesn’t matter. 

He pulls back to look at you, and he really looks at you. His eyes roam hungrily over your face as if trying to memorize every line and curve and lash and budding wrinkle he finds there. 

You simply melt in the dark brown of his eyes, watching him take his time. 

Even then, as you expected, there is some doubt - not in you, of course, but in him. “Really?”

“Really.” You hold up your fist between your faces, pinky extended. “Pinky promise.” 

He smiles a little and links your pinkies together, twisting your hands to kiss your knuckles. Your hands drop into your lap and another little smile crosses your face. 

“What?” He asks.

You shrug. “I’m also thinking about how thirty-something-year-old boys absolutely suck in bed. I can pretty much guarantee that you’re better at - well, just about everything.” 

He closes his eyes and smiles, looking the picture of a happy house cat in the sun. You draw closer, running your nose along his. He leans toward you and captures your lips again. 

The next few hours? Don’t worry. They’re spent proving your point.  

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @ogmilkis @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @buckybau @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @violentvulgarvolatile  @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @lcvischmitt @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @cevanswhre @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor @spencers-hoodrat @infinity1321 @zizzlekwum @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @this-broken-band-girl @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @winqhster @spencerelds @the-falling-in-the-danger @nattylite49 @crazyshannonigans @softbibxtch @iconicc @mangoberry43 @andreasworlsboring101 @kerrswriting @mac99martin @itsalwaysb33nyou

[fific7]

Cold Day in Hell - Part 1

Logan Delos x Reader

A/N: This does not completely follow canon, it’s mainly lemon zest 🍋 because the world needs more Logan Delos.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content, including oral, between consenting adults* in future chapters. Drinking and swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My GIF)

Logan Delos was bored. Mind-numbingly, screamingly, terminally bored. He was rapping out an irritated drum solo on the arm of his chair with his long fingers. He was shifting in his seat, constantly crossing and un-crossing his long legs. He was moving the papers on the conference table in front of him from side to side, then backwards and forwards.

The businessman who was talking through the main presentation had a voice that was flatter than roadkill and had only one tone... monotone.

Logan leant forward and propped his elbows on the conference table in front of him, using his fingers to physically hold open his eyelids as they kept closing of their own accord. He felt a yawn coming on and fought to stop his mouth opening to accommodate it... but failed.

He was aware of the door to the conference room opening behind him but didn’t even have the energy to turn and see who it was. This asshole is draining the fucking will to live out of me, he thought. He vaguely heard said asshole saying something about his colleague talking through the next section of the presentation.

Logan sat right up in his seat as he spotted a beautiful - no, stunning - woman making her way to the front of the room. She was dressed in ‘business smart’ but even those sensible items couldn’t hide her curves. Her hair was pinned up, and he had already started fantasising about loosening it and running his hands through it. He wished he’d paid attention when Asshole had said her name. Or had he said her name? Logan had no idea.

He heard her starting to speak, a melodic voice... he had to know her name! Logan tutted and picked up the meeting agenda, riffling back and forth through the pages to get to the correct one, but wasn’t even sure what page he should be on. Suddenly the folder tumbled from his hands and clattered onto the floor. The talking stopped and he became aware of everyone’s eyes on him, including hers. In fact, she was kind of glaring at him.

He gave an apologetic wave to the room in general as he retrieved the folder from the floor. She began speaking again, and he resumed his page-riffling. Finally he found the current one, and there was her name in black and white. A melodic name to match her voice, he thought.

He started paying attention to what she was actually saying.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d just started your part of the presentation when some asshole dropped his agenda folder, the sharp noise bringing you to a screeching halt. When you saw a hand waving around in the air, your eye followed the arm down to its owner and noted that he was in fact a very good-looking asshole. But he was still an asshole.

You cleared your throat, trying to collect your thoughts and then launched back into your presentation. The asshole was now staring at you relentlessly; every single time your eyes swept the room, his dark eyes were on you. Like... always on you. Not like the others, who were at least glancing down at the handouts occasionally.

The section you were presenting drew to a close, and you now took an empty seat at the table. It was diagonally opposite the handsome asshole. Who was still staring at you.

Now that you were much closer, you could see that his eyes were a dark chocolate brown, with a wicked gleam in them. They matched his shining dark hair, which was immaculately swept back from his forehead. You boldly met his stare for a while, before breaking eye contact to listen to your colleague Craig deliver the final part.

At the end of the presentation there were a few questions which were duly answered, and then everyone was gathering up their paperwork and milling around prior to leaving the conference room. As you tucked your folders away in your document bag, in your peripheral vision you became aware of a pair of long legs making their way to you. You knew who it was bound to be so you didn’t bother looking up. A throat cleared next to you but you continued packing away your items, and then you heard your first name being spoken in a low, husky voice. This time you did look up - it would be rude not to - and yup, it was Handsome Asshole. A hand was proffered to you and by reflex you took it, your hand being crushed in a strong grip. “Logan Delos,” said that suave voice, “...it’s an absolute pleasure to meet you, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart?” you scoffed, “...how original!” while thinking, oh... so this is the infamous Logan Delos, whose name you’d heard all the time in connection with the projects but never actually met before. He had a reputation of being a bit of a diva. You heard him give a deep chuckle. “Yeah, that’s me - an original. Unique, in fact I’d say.” “Well, you’re super confident, that’s for sure!” You picked up your document bag and headed for the door, saying “Nice to meet you, Mr Delos,” as you started to leave. His tall frame scooted round in front of you before you could reach it, “Oh, not so fast.... I can’t let you leave before you agree to have dinner with me.” You tried to sidestep him but he blocked your way, and then a little ‘step to the right, step to the left’ dance ensued. Finally, exasperated, you stood still and put your hands on your hips. “Mister Delos! Will you please let me past!” He copied your stance, “Not until you say you’ll have dinner with me. Or lunch. Or.... breakfast, if you prefer?!” wiggling his eyebrows at you. You huffed, “I don’t date business partners!” He still stood in front of you, seemingly immovable, “We’re not business partners - technically speaking. Boring Asshole is my business partner, not you.” Your mouth dropped open but before you could stop it, laughter bubbled out.

You hastily silenced it, saying, “I admit, Craig may not be the most inspiring public speaker, but he really knows his stuff,” trying to cover your somewhat indiscreet reaction and save your colleague’s honour at the same time. “But that’s beside the point, Mr Delos, because we are business partners despite what you’re trying to say.” Logan had moved slightly aside while you were speaking and you took this opportunity to brush past him, calling out, “Goodbye, Mr Delos,” with the emphasis on the goodbye as you went.

If you’d bothered to look back, you would’ve seen Logan Delos watching you go, a very determined expression on his face.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Juliet looked up from her laptop as Logan breezed into her lounge, tossing his car keys onto the coffee table and throwing himself onto the sofa, long legs spreading out in front of him as he did so.

“Good meeting?” she asked, seeing that his head had gone back onto the cushions and he was staring up at the ceiling. He hummed, “Good and bad. The presentation was the single most boring thing I’ve ever heard in my life, but on the other hand one of their staffers.... wow! It was like an angel came down from heaven and found her way into that conference room.” She sighed, “Logan... by all that’s holy... do not try to screw one of our business partners for god’s sake! Dad will go ballistic if you mess up our working relationship with them.” Logan looked offended, “Who says I’d mess it up?” Jules gave a big sigh and shrugged, “Me, for one. Dear brother, I love you with all my heart but you’re fucking awful at relationships. You’d just fuck her and drop her like a hot potato. Who is it that caught your roving eye this time anyway?” Logan said her name in a dreamy tone and Jules rolled her eyes heavenwards, “Oh, no, no, no!... no way, Logan. I know her, she’s a lovely person and also does a fantastic job - she’s one of their top software engineers, specialising in middleware.”

Logan smirked, “She can engineer my middleware anytime she likes.” “Oh, shut up and get your mind out of your pants, Logan. Stay away, okay?!!” He huffed, “Hey! You can’t tell me who to pursue or otherwise, Jules!” “But that’s it, right there - you’ll chase her, catch her, bang her and drop her! I really like her as well as respecting her work, so you better just be damn careful!”

Logan sighed. He loved his sister but god, she was a king-size pain in the ass sometimes.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

A week or so later, and you’d almost forgotten about that handsome asshole at the presentation. You couldn’t deny that he’d popped in and out of your thoughts since, but you’d googled him the day after you’d met him and had also made some discreet enquiries amongst those colleagues who’d worked with him before on projects. What you’d discovered had not endeared him to you.

He was a world-class player, that was obvious - and not fussy about which gender he played around with either. Not that that put you off, it was just the sheer volume of men and women he was pictured out on the town with. And alcohol and substance abuse had been there in the mix too, with some stays in rehab mentioned although the last one had been over a year ago. So no... you’d decided you wouldn’t be entertaining any further thoughts of the undeniably attractive Mr Delos.

You turned your thoughts back to the current middleware solution you were constructing, in fact it was for Delos Corporation, involving various scenarios for their Westworld hosts. You were immersed in code and structure when your phone rang, and you saw your boss’s extension number on the caller ID. Hmmm... what could she want? She usually gave you free reign when you working on a project, catching up with you every couple of days at team meetings. Answering it, you heard her assertive voice asking you to pop along to her office and so you set off on the short walk there. You knocked on her door and heard her say ‘come in’, so in you sailed and then came to an abrupt halt. Logan Delos was sitting opposite your boss; he was half-turned towards you with a somewhat triumphant smirk on his face. Your boss indicated the chair next to Logan and you quickly sat down, wondering what this was about and why Logan looked so smug.

Your boss launched into a mini-summary of what you were currently working on, and all you could do was nod. Eventually she finished up with, “So all your current projects are for Delos.” It was a statement not a question, so you just nodded. “Mr Delos here...” she levelled a hand towards Logan, “....has come up with a suggestion, and I happen to think it’s a good one.” She smiled at Logan, before looking back at you and continuing, “He thought it would be beneficial to have the person working on most of his projects - that’s you, just to clarify - to be based at Delos Destinations for the next three months, to facilitate progress.” You knew you were looking completely dumbfounded as she hurried on, “Obviously I’d like your input on this, but I’m sure you can see that it’d be very helpful for you to be on-site with our partners while you’re working through the projects?” Meanwhile you were desperately trying to come up with reasons to remain in your own office, but truthfully you couldn’t. It would be helpful to have instant access to their engineers when you needed an answer on something, you couldn’t deny that. Reluctantly you nodded, “Yes...I can appreciate that. But couldn’t we just have me spend maybe one or two days a week over there rather than be actually based in their offices?”

Logan spoke for the first time, his expression business-like now, “That wouldn’t really fulfill the brief though, would it? Because we’d be back to having a slight delay in receiving and giving responses for the time you weren’t at our offices. And I’d ... we’d... make you very welcome. There’s an office waiting for you... right next to mine.” He couldn’t stop that smirk reappearing as he finished speaking. You forced a smile, “Well, I can’t really refuse an offer like that, can I Mr Delos?” You looked back to your boss, “I guess that’s agreed then. When does this take effect?” Your boss beamed at you, “Excellent! I don’t see any reason for it not to commence immediately, do you? How about as of tomorrow?”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Logan walked onto his office the next morning, whistling a happy little tune. He’d had a small glass of wine the night before at Juliet’s place when he’d dropped in on his way home, knowing he had to break the news to her that evening about the cunning plan he’d come up with. He was happy for two reasons; firstly, visiting Jules and his niece Emily and not having to see William’s stupid damn face any longer would never get old, and secondly, his little scheme to get closer to that gorgeous woman was coming together. As Jules worked partly from home and partly at the office, he had to let her know that a new face would be around for at least the next three months. It would give him a much better chance to persuade her to go out with him - she wouldn’t really be able to escape him given that she’d be right next door to him every day. Predictably, Juliet had issued a stern warning about what would happen to certain parts of his anatomy should he overstep, but had reluctantly accepted that it was a fait accompli. (Privately, she was looking forward to working more closely with her and also warning her about the usual antics of her beloved brother, that’s if she wasn’t already well aware of them).

He’d been racking his brains for ideas on how best to pursue her ever since she’d turned him down flat at that conference. Logan wasn’t used to being turned down. He’d had a brainwave a couple of days later and had checked into who was handling the Delos projects at her company - after all, surely she wouldn’t be at the conference in the first place if she wasn’t involved somehow? He’d been overjoyed to find out that she was handling just about all of the current open projects (so why on earth had they allowed Boring Asshole to give the majority of the presentation?! he’d thought incredulously) and had then begun to put together a plan to somehow get her into his close orbit. He was really quite proud of what he’d come up with.

His secretary knocked on his doorframe and announced that his visitor had arrived. A big smile appeared on Logan’s face.

Here I go! he thought, the thrill of the chase coursing through his veins.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The secretary smiled at you over her shoulder as she leaned against Logan’s office doorframe, “Please, go right in,” before stepping aside so you could enter.

The man himself was lounging back in his fancy office chair, which to you looked more like the type of padded seat you’d get on a private jet, waving you into the office before getting up and striding over to you. He held out his hand which you took but instead of shaking it as you expected, he pulled you towards him and kissed your cheek very softly. A waft of delicious and no doubt expensive cologne reached your nostrils before he stepped back, “Welcome on board!” he said, “...I’m so glad you’re joining us here at Delos Destinations.” You smiled, “Thank you, Mr Delos.” “Logan!” he said immediately, waving his hand and saying your first name. “Logan,” you said dutifully, “yes, thank you for the welcome ....of course I do still work for my own company.” He smiled at you, still holding onto your hand and beginning to lead you to the door, “Well, for now you do. I’ve a mind to steal you away for myself, you know. Or, sorry... for Delos Destinations, I should of course say.”

OK... seems like he’s still interested, even if that wouldn’t last longer than a heartbeat once you’d gone out (and especially if you slept) with him. You knew this secondment was going to be trouble, you thought. Three whole months of trying to resist Mr Player of the Decade. But you were convinced that you could do it.

As he lead you from his office to what was going to be yours, you were suddenly very aware of his tall figure beside you, your hand in his (he still hadn’t let go of it) and a hint of that beautiful cologne of his again. He looked across at you, dark eyes gazing into yours and gave you a mischievous grin. Annoyingly, your stomach did a little flip.

Yeah, really convinced.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

(Not my GIF - credit to owner)

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Request: Birthdays (Demetri Volturi x Reader)

Alice’s instructions were simple. Pack a bag. Come to the Cullen’s house. You did and the chaos began. 

The whole coven were leaving to a location they wouldn’t tell you and you were going with them. You thought maybe you’d get a hint at the airport. However, headphones were put on your head...and Alice covered your eyes every time the location came up. 

By the time you landed, you were certain of one thing. You didn’t trust what was happening anymore. Your suspicions were confirmed. There were more voices you couldn’t quite place and then you were pushed and landed on what definitely had to be a talking rock. After that, you were sure you were going to die.

"Just trust me!" Alice sang, you could practically hear her grin. Her hands blocking your ability to see. "I do but-" you were cut off as you kicked something hard, a sharp pain erupting in your foot. "Ow!" You yelled out creating a rather loud echo. You slapped a hand over your mouth before gasping. "That's loud!" You whispered hurriedly. "Where the hell are we!?" "Trust me, (Y/N)!" Alice repeated with a grin you could almost hear it was so prominent. "I just went down a hole, there's a really big echo and now I've kicked something!" You cried in exasperation. "I'm sure you'll live." A male voice said. You halted immediately. "Who's that?" You asked. "I've heard that voice before." "Just be patient!" Alice whined, sending a pointing look to Alec. Although you didn't know that. 

You held your hands out in front of you. "What are you doing now!?" Alice asked as you heard a booming laugh. "I can't see and you're making me walk into things!" You shot back. Your hands hit what you originally thought was a wall...until the wall had fabric...and arms. "What the-?' You patted at the fabric, which seemed to be a coat of sorts. You moved your hands to find shoulders. "That's a person!" You gasped, your hands rising to meet hair. "That person also looks like they may break your fingers if you keep touching them." Alice said uneasily and you yelped pulling your hands back. "Sorry!" You couldn't see Alec's glare as he brushed himself off. 

"Why don't you lead the way...out of reach?" Alice offered to Alec who rolled his eyes and nodded to follow him. "We're almost there!" Alice sang quietly in your ear. "Id hope so, you nearly tackled me like four times at the airport so that I didn't know where we were going!" You huffed. "Not to mention bring shoved down a hole!" "You were taking too long! " Alice said simply, turning to look at Felix who grinned, satisfied that he was the one who had pushed you. 

“So much walking- where are we going!?” You groaned.  “Almost there.” Alice responded. Finally you were told to stop and turned.  “Alright, we’re going to take our leave.” Alice smiled and you felt a rush of air behind you. “I want you to count to five and then open your eyes and go through the door in front of you.” Alice’s cold hands finally left your eyes and you counted to five. 

When you opened your eyes, you were in a corridor, a long one. Everything looked expensive and unfamiliar. You stared at the brown door in front of you remembering you were to go through it.  “I swear if this is bad...” You mumbled under your breath before opening the door. The sight made you drop your grip of the door. 

You gasped. "Demetri." Demetri smiled at you, candle light reflecting upon his face. "I thought..." Demetri slowly nodded. "I know. I couldn't come to you but I didn't want to miss your birthday, especially your last. So if I couldn’t come to you, we figured why not bring you to me?" You couldn't help but laugh and he smiled, gesturing for you to come closer. "I'm terrified I'm about to mess something up." You admitted, looking at the candles places around the room. You couldn't lie, it made for a very romantic setting. "You won't." Demetri chuckled. "They're not even on the floor, darling." 

Slowly you moved forward. "So I'm willing to bet that you’re exhausted." Demetri smiled knowingly. "A little bit, I want to spend time with you." Demetri wrapped his arms around you. "Oh you will, darling." He replied. "However, I do insist you get some rest." Slowly he unwrap an arm around you to unzip your jacket. "What's the plan here?" You breathed, very much receiving mixed signals. "Darling, I haven't seen you in four months, you're tired and I won't get you to myself tomorrow." Demetri began, his hands moving to cradle your face. "I want to hold you in my arms tonight and I can't promise I'll let go in the morning." You giggled and Demetri continued. "I don't care when you fall asleep, you're here and that's good enough for me." He pulled you into a soft kiss. As he pulled away you wrapped your arms around him, breathing him in whilst hold him tightly. Demetri seemed to approve as he was more than compliant, following suit. "I've missed you so much." You said into his neck. "I promise you, not as much as I missed you. Vampire and all." Demetri smirked. "Now, go and get ready for bed." 

Demetri was already in the bed when you finished getting ready, his jacket removed as well as his shoes. Two buttons of his shirt unbuttoned. He smiled at you softly, reaching out for you as you climbed into the bed. Almost instantly, you cuddled into him. Your head rested on his shoulder so you could look up at him. The covers brought up to your waist. “Wait, what’s happening tomorrow?” You asked. “Tomorrow night is a sort of ‘get together’ if you will. All of the Volturi, the guard, The Cullen’s and the receptionists will be attending. I suppose it’s also convenient it’s on the day of your birthday.” Demetri chuckled. “Could be a birthday party in some ways.”  “Just to be clear, you didn’t throw me a birthday party right?”  “No, I didn’t.” Demetri couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s why I couldn't come and see you but Aro, Marcus and Caius gave it some thought and suggested that you came here with the Cullen’s. It made sense considering your birthday was on the same day.”  “I’ll need to thank them. That was very generous of them.” You said, your fingers interlocking with his. Demetri nodded before kissing you. “I look forward to a dance with you, my love.” He smirked and you sighed in mock defeat. “Oh but i already promised Alec all my dances.” You squealed when Demetri lightly tickled you. “Very funny.”  “I suppose you can have one.”  “Don’t test me, my love.” Demetri warned with a playful smile and you giggled. 

Demetri was right, you couldn’t get a moment alone with him for even second. People wanted to know what you were wearing, when it was time to go eat. You only got a shower in peace that whole morning and afternoon. Even then Alice was poking her head through the bathroom door with anything that popped up into her mind. She wanted everything to be perfect but you felt she had to be reminded that it wasn’t her party. She was attending. Alice would simply smile are you, making you raise an eyebrow in question. She never explained, simply hurrying away to do something else. 

That evening you caught sight of Jane in a beautiful black dress, you gasped audibly. You couldn’t stop yourself. Yourself and Jane hadn’t spoken much and the same went for her twin brother. The two kept to themselves mostly and it was difficult to endure a conversations over their piercing stares and short responses. Jane looked over at you, pausing from digging into a drawer on the opposite side of the room to you. “Jane! You look beautiful!” You said in awe.  “Thank you.” She responded. Her tone quiet and innocent, a very misleading fact about Jane, there was nothing innocent about the blonde despite the tone of voice she had. Jane continued riffling through the drawer and Alec appeared. “Are you ready, sister?”  “Alec, you look very handsome!” You smiled at him and he smirked slightly. “Thank you, little human. You’re looking very wonderful indeed.” You couldn’t help but blush. “Nothing compared to you lot.” You responded and his smirk widened.  “Nonsense!” Alice said, entering the room. “I approved of your outfit myself.”  “Alice i picked this myself.” You reminded her in confusion.  “Yes and I approved of it!” She called back, going into the bathroom seemingly looking for a mirror. You sent Alec a helpless look who simply rolled his eyes at Alice, his smirk never faltering.  “Okay, i’m ready.” Jane said finally, turning before you could see what it was she had retrieved.  “Good.” Alec responded. “Aro is waiting on us.” 

When you first entered the ballroom, you were actually rather intimidated. Some of the most beautiful people in the world were in the one room...with you. Edward was the first to elbow you lightly. You sent him a questioning look.  “No more of that talk.” He replied pointedly. “You look beautiful.” You sighed. “You’re saying that out of pity.”  “I’m not.” He said sharply. It wasn’t long before Demetri made his way towards you and the next hour had gone by quickly. 

"Cara mia." Demetri smiled charmingly handing you the small glass of champagne. "Is the plan to get me drunk?" You smirked taking the drink from him. "Of course not." Demetri said amused. Alec smirked, rolling his eyes. "Don't drink it in the one gulp. Please." "I'm not drinking like that. Delicate sips and all that." You giggled in response before raising the glass to your lips. 

You froze when a reflection glinted in your eyes briefly. Your eyes narrowed on your glass, pulling back to have a look. There, in the champagne, at the very bottom was a ring. It was silver, small diamonds outlining one big diamond in a rectangular shape. You looked over at Demetri, you heart beginning to race, barely able to acknowledge everyone stopping to watch the scene. "So perhaps I wasn't entirely clear." Demetri smiled. "Whilst birthdays become less important in the vampire world, I want this day to remain special forever. For a reason you could never forget." Your jaw dropped when Demetri got down on one knee, taking your free hand. "I know we can't technically get married but that isn't enough to stop me. We can still wear the rings and it'll be important to us. Everything else be damned. I'm still going to ask you. No matter your answer, I'll always love you. Someone as perfect as you needs to be cherished and I have adored every moment I could have with you. I hope we have an eternity more of those moments. I don't want to be away from you any longer and this is the best way I know how to show you how much I love you. So marry me, (Y/N). Let it be my honour and greatest wish to be your husband. Your mate. Let us never have to be apart again." Your eyes were full of tears threatening to fall. Shock still wracked you body but you cling to every word. Slowly you nodded your head. Demetri's eyes, widen slightly, challenging your response. You nodded even more frantically. "Yes." You managed out with a smile. The room burst into applause and cheers. He was standing in a heartbeat as you pulled him towards you, leaning your forehead against his before kissing him. 

"That was a really subtle warning not to just chug the whole thing." You laughed through tears, turning to Alec. He smirked, raising his eyebrows with a nod. "I'd rather you wore the ring, not swallow it." Demetri chuckled, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "Do I look a mess now?" You said through tears. "Never, my darling." Demetri kissed your forehead. You sniffled slightly, a smile still planted on your face. You fished out the ring. "It's beautiful." You said quietly in awe. "I couldn't imagine anything else for you, my love." Demetri pulled you close. 

After a minute, you were approached by Aro, Marcus, Caius, Sulpicia and Athenodora. The wives clutching their husbands arms. Athenodora was the first to break away with a smile, her arms opening to wrap you in a hug. "Congratulations!" She smiled, giving you a light squeeze. "Thank you." You felt another wave of tears emerge but fought them back. "Congratulations, dear." Sulpicia said, much more composed but also stepping away from Aro to hug you much more briefly than Athenodora had. "Thank you." You responded. "Such joy!" Aro grinned. "A momentous occasion indeed." Caius agreed, a smile nowhere to be found but his tone of voice was smooth. "We look forward to seeing more of you in these walls." Marcus, clasped his hands. "We offer our congratulations, Demetri." Caius nodded, their attention turning to him. "Thank you, master." Demetri nodded. "Did everyone know you were going to do that?" You asked and Demetri chuckled nodding. "We did indeed." Caius nodded a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. "We may have provided some assistance." Aro smirked. "Thank you so much." You couldn't help but smile. "No need to thank us." Marcus responded. 

 Athenodora looked to Caius expectantly who sighed. "Might my wife see the ring? She has been quite eager to see it." Caius said flatly and she tutted at him. "I've been desperate to see it!" "They don't even have it on yet, dear." Caius sighed again. "Oh hush!" Athenodora hurried towards you excitedly. "That's a good point, I should probably put this on." You laughed. "Oh Demetri, help the poor thing! They're shaking like a leaf!" Athenodora held sympathy in her eyes. "This has been such a exciting trip." You laughed as Demetri gently took the ring from you and sliding into your ring finger with ease. "Well would you look at that. A perfect fit." Demetri smirked, seemingly pleased with himself. "Let me see!" Athenodora said excitedly and you held out your hand to her. 

She took it and stared in awe. "Oh, it's beautiful! Caius told me it was lovely but he didn't do it justice!" "My dear, I told you it was lovely because that's all that needed to be said." Caius responded. "Well, we'll leave you be." Aro smiled and Athenodora took her place back at Caius' side. "Enjoy the celebrations and congratulations again." "Thank you master." Demetri smiled with a nod. 

It wasn't long before you were approached by a couple who you didn't recognise. A woman with copper curled hair was arm in arm with a blonde man. He was more blonde than Demetri, resembling Caius' hair colour although his was styled. "Congratulations, Demetri." The woman said as the blonde shook Demetri's hand. "Thank you. (Y/N), allow me to introduce you to Afton and Chelsea. I don't believe you've met them." "We've heard so much about you. May I?" Chelsea eyed your hand. "Simply breath-taking." Afton nodded, looking over Chelsea's shoulder and offering you a small smile. He seemed almost shy in comparison to the Chelsea. "Isn't it just? Absolutely beautiful." Chelsea looked at the ring adoringly. "I might just be jealous. Afton never got me a ring like this." "Don't be fooled, (Y/N)." Afton leaned in slightly. "If she wanted one she'd have it with a snap of the fingers. She knows that." You chuckled. The couple were clearly very much in love but gave off the impression that they had been together for a very long time. "Well right now, I'd love a dance." Chelsea batted her eyelashes at him and he smiled almost knowingly. "Come along then, my dear." She sent you a quick smile. "Enjoy your night!" 

Finally, you were approached by Felix and the twins. "Well, my friend, you finally did it." Felix clapped Demetri in the back. "Bet your on top of the world right now." "Words cannot describe." Demetri replied, looking down at you lovingly. "We're very happy for you." Jane said, neither she or her brother showing any expression. "Thank you. I didn't see this coming." You said, eyes drifting to your ring. You still couldn't believe it was there. "Well it seems your lonely nights are coming to an end." Felix winked at you both and you felt a blush rise to your cheeks. "Felix." Demetri warned. "I'm only joking friend. I'm excited to finally have my little human friend with us more permanently." "They won't be human for much longer but...I understand the sentiment." Jane said. "Regardless, I'm sure it'll be a pleasure having you with us." Alec said flatly. You caught on quickly that the twins were really trying to be nice. You appreciated their efforts and welcomed them with kindness. 

Once they had left you were immediately pulled into a hug by Alice who squealed in your ear. "Congrats! I'm so happy for you!" "Alice, you've really outdone yourself." You squeezed her tightly. "I always rise to the challenge." She grinned. "That was beautiful, Demetri." Esme smiled, her arms linked with Carlisle's. "I meant every word. I must thank you. Your family helped make this a very special day." "Do I get to plan the wedding!?" Alice asked excitedly. "Alice, you've shown a tremendous amount of progress seeing that you actually asked this time but I've barely had the ring on for an hour." You smiled. "It was wonderful. You're both a wonderful couple and we couldn't be happier for you." Carlisle smiled. 

After more talking, Demetri decided to pull you in for a dance. Each of his arms wrapped around your waist as your looped around his neck, the two of you swaying slowly. "You really surprised me." You smiled. "In a good way or a bad way?" Demetri asked. "Good. I was confused when you said vampires don't really care about birthdays and you all decided to celebrate mine -sort of- but..." You trailed off, your smile widening. "Perhaps you've realised why this came to be now?" Demetri raised an eyebrow. "You didn't have to go through all this bother for me." "I do and it wasn't a bother. The Volturi had an excuse to bond with one another and I got to be traditional as I could. I gathered my coven, the Cullen's and proposed. If anything, I'd wish I would have done more. Although I know you like small and simple." "I never thought I'd be getting engaged on my birthday." You cracked a small smile. "Well, I didn't want this day to stop being important. Vampires have so many birthdays that it gets tedious and boring. Most of us lose count of how many birthdays we've had but I figured there was a way to over come that. If it were to ever no longer be your birthday then it would be-" You gasped. "Our anniversary."  Demetri nodded with a warm smile. "Although I really don’t know if a wedding could happen, cara mia. Not in a way that humans would." You shook your head. "It doesn't matter. You said it yourself, we can wear rings and we'll know- that's what matters. I don't need the wedding because I'll instead have an eternity with you." "I'm so lucky to have you." Demetri said quietly. "Not as lucky as I am to have you." You responded. "Not possible, my love." Demetri said before moving in for a kiss.

[plaidbooks]

Liquid Courage

A/N: Okay, so, this Sonny Carisi x reader fic was literally just an excuse to write drunk!Sonny. Idk how it got so long, but here we are. My headcanon is that Sonny is...touch starved is the wrong adjective. Affectionate? Touchy? Something. Hope y'all enjoy!

Tags: SVU talk, alcohol mention

Words: 3270

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @storiesofsvu @lv7867 @cycat4077 @barbasimp @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @reading--mermaid @glimmerglittergirl @alwaysachorusgirl @detective-giggles @crowleysqueenofhell @dreamlover31

You were standing in the vast hallways of the courthouse, waiting to hear if your testimony helped at all. You were a Medical Examiner for the Manhattan NYPD, meaning you couldn’t tailor your statements like the detectives or victims could; you only spoke about the facts. And the facts were simple; with the injuries the deceased sustained, they died from asphyxiation. Could it have been caused by their husband wrapping a soft material around their throat? Of course. Could it also have been caused by the victim hanging herself in her room? Yes, it could. The same could be said for a thousand other scenarios. The difference was the husband was found to be abusive, and it was highly suspected that he killed her. But that was the detective’s job. Yours was to give them the facts. Did you want the sick fuck behind bars? Of course, but that wasn’t what you were called for—no opinions, just facts.

The SVU squad caught up with you quickly; Olivia, Amanda, Fin, and Sonny. You adverted your eyes when you saw Sonny; you had a crush on him, though you were only friends. At first, you were just the ME, hardly talking to him…or any of the squad, really, outside of work-related things. But he was charming and made it a point to talk to you every time he visited about, well, everything. Soon enough, you knew all about his family, and he knew about yours. He even invited you over for game night with the squad a few times.

“Jury back yet?” you asked as they got closer. You asked Olivia, but your eyes darted to Sonny a few times, your cheeks burning. He, of course, decided to stand right next to you, close enough to touch.

“Not yet; it’s only been a few hours—” Olivia was cut off as her phone pinged. She pulled it out of her pocket, glancing at the screen. “Never mind; jury’s back now.” You followed them to the courtroom, and congratulated them all, including Barba, when the jury came back with a guilty conviction.

“Celebratory drinks?” Amanda asked, grinning. Everyone agreed with that…except for you.

Sonny looked to you expectantly, but you shook your head. “I’d love to, but I’d rather decompress at home,” you replied, smiling sheepishly.

The detectives all nodded in understanding. Sonny patted your arm lightly, muttering a, “you’ll be missed. See ya on Monday,” before following his coworkers. You trailed behind before splitting from the group, heading home while they headed in the direction of Forlini’s.

*****************

You were at home, reading a book while soft piano music played softly on your speakers. You jumped as your phone rang. Looking at the id, you cocked an eyebrow. Sonny was calling you?

“Hey, Sonny; everything okay?” you asked as you answered.

There was loud music playing and voices before Sonny’s voice overpowered them all. “Heyyyy doll! I hope you’re doing okaaaay.”

Oh god, he was drunk. You let out a little huff of laughter, shaking your head. “I’m doing just fine, Son. How’re you?”

“I-I miss you,” he hiccupped, and your cheeks burned. “I wanted to l-let you know….” He pulled away from the phone for a moment, talking to someone before he was back. “I app-appreciate all you do, and I-I looooove youuuu~.” He dragged out the last two words, saying them in a sing-song voice.

Your heart leapt into your throat. He was obviously drunk; he didn’t mean it like that…or did he? “Do you need me to come pick you up?” you asked, concerned.

Sonny’s words all melded together and you couldn’t understand what he was saying anymore.

“Okay, I’ll be right there. Stay. There,” you ordered, pulling your shoes on. At least he was with his squad. He slurred something else unintelligible before hanging up, and you rolled your eyes, a small grin on your lips.

********************

You made it to Forlini’s in record time, glancing around at the patrons, looking for the lanky detective. He wasn’t too hard to find; in the corner of the bar was the whole SVU squad, and Sonny was loud. He was laughing at something, pounding his hand on the table, his head thrown back as he guffawed. Picking out a path towards him, you weaved through the crowded bar feeling completely out-of-place in your sweats and loose shirt.

Once close enough, you reached a hand out, laying your hand on Sonny’s elbow. He jumped, whipping around to look at you and almost falling off his seat in the process. His cheeks were rosy, and he had the widest grin on his face as his watery eyes focused on you.

“You came! Can I b-buy you a drink?” Sonny asked loudly, his voice carrying over the rest of the cacophony in the bar.

You gave him a soft smile. “Actually, I think it’s time to take you home, Son,” you replied. The rest of the squad seemed to be in various states of sober or tipsy, but Sonny was obviously the one that was gone. He didn’t object as you helped him stand, waving a goodbye to the rest of the squad, and pulling him through the bar.

“Guys! The hot ME is taking me home!” Sonny yelled, and you ducked your head, your face on fire. Other drunks in the bar congratulated him, and you as well, as you made your way through the throng. You just wrapped an arm tighter around Sonny’s waist, pulling him towards the exit.

Once outside, Sonny wrapped his arms around your midsection, pulling you close to him. “Have I told you how much I love you?” he asked, resting his head on top of yours.

“You may have mentioned it on the phone,” you commented, trying to drag him towards your car.

Sonny was having trouble walking straight, mostly because he was trying to wrap himself around you. “I mean it, d-doll. You’re so fuckin’ smm-art and pretty and funny and cute and beautiful…” he trailed off, leaning almost completely on you now, his weight crushing you.

“Uh huh,” you replied, smiling despite yourself. You knew he was only saying this because he was drunk; sober-Sonny would never be like this. It left a pang of sadness in your heart, because you really did like him. But come tomorrow, he’d remember none of it, and life would go back to normal.

You made it to your car and deposited him in the passenger seat, buckling him in. Sonny attempted to get out, but the seatbelt held him down. He seemed confused, pulling at the material across his chest as you slid into the driver’s seat. You cracked his window so that he’d get some fresh air and pulled away from the curb. You knew where he lived, so you headed in that direction.

“Love you,” Sonny muttered, his eyes glued to your face. You smiled, ignoring the fluttering those words made burst forth. Only in your wildest dreams did Sonny say those words to you, but he’s said it so much tonight...at least it would fuel some late night fantasies. You jumped as his hand connected gently with your head. You were about to ask what he was doing until you realized; he was petting your hair.

“So soft…” he breathed, his fingers twining through the strands of hair. Your breathing hitched slightly, and you tried to focus on the road.

“Is there a reason you’re petting me?” you asked, chuckling lightly.

“Cause your hair is so soft, so pretty…feels so nice,” Sonny replied. You were thankfully getting close to his place when you noticed him moving; it seemed like he was trying to fight the seatbelt, but couldn’t quite figure it out.

“What are you doing?” you asked, alarmed.

Sonny grunted against the impossible belt holding him down. “Wanna cuddle. Wanna hold you.” He said it almost angrily, but that was directed more at the damned seatbelt holding him from you.

“Sonny, stop struggling; wait until we’re not in the car,” you instructed. He let out a huff of defeat, sinking into the seat grumpily before dissolving into giggles.

You pulled up in front of his apartment complex shortly after. As you got out and came around to his side, you let out a chuckle, watching Sonny fight and lose against the seatbelt. You hurried to open his door, leaning across him, and clicking his seatbelt off.

“Freedom!” Sonny cheered as you helped him out of the car. Though, now free of the car, nothing stopped him from draping his body over yours, leaning over your back.

“Sonny, this isn’t helpful—” you started before he cut you off.

“Mmm cuddles,” he murmured, his voice directly in your ear, slurring even worse than before.

You struggled under his weight as he forced more of himself on you, wrapping his arms completely around your torso and arms, leaning almost completely on top of you, forcing you to bend forwards under his weight. “S-Sonny…I need you to walk with me, man,” you huffed, trying to take the few steps into his building.

“Can we cuddle, though?” Sonny asked, wrapping a leg around your waist.

You had to stop walking, spreading your legs so that he didn’t completely throw you off balance. “Oh my god; yes, we can cuddle. But let’s get inside first.”

Reluctantly, he peeled himself off you…mostly. He kept his arms around you as you tried to hurry to his door, before he changed his mind and rewrapped around you.

“Keys?” you asked as you made it to his apartment.

Sonny seemed barely conscious at this point, leaning fully on you again, but from the side this time. You had to lean partly against the wall to keep from falling. “You’rrrrre prettyyy,” he hummed in your ear.

“Yes, thank you. Where’s your keys?” you repeated. Sonny swayed on his feet, blinking slowly, showing no signs of hearing you. You sighed, reaching into his pockets, searching for any kind of jingling. You found his phone and wallet easily enough before your fingers closed around his keyring.

As you pulled your hand out of his pants pocket, he said in a low voice, “I like when you touch me.”

Heat rushed to your face, and you ignored him, as well as the rush of arousal you felt, and unlocked the door. “Come on,” you grunted, dragging him over the threshold. You half led, half carried Sonny back to his bedroom. Once his bed was in sight, Sonny extracted himself from you, moving to collapse onto the mattress, face-first and laying diagonally across it, legs dangling off the side. Bending down, you were able to get his shoes off quickly before he rolled onto his back.

He reached out for you, muttering, “cuddles” over and over again as you shook your head at him.

“Hold on, Son. Let me go to the bathroom really quick,” you lied. You had no intentions of cuddling with him, nervous about what he may do. Sonny was a good guy, but alcohol was a hell of a drug.

He nodded to you, letting his arms fall to his sides. You quickly leaned over him, loosening his tie and pulling it off. “Be right back,” you said, leaving his room and closing the door behind you.

Searching in his kitchen, you quickly found glasses. You filled one with water before heading back towards his room. You debated finding food for him, but water seemed more important right now. That is, until you opened his bedroom door and found him passed out. Sighing once more, you deposited the glass on his nightstand, then reached into his pockets, pulling out his wallet and phone. His charger was laying on the floor by the nightstand, and you plugged in his phone while he snored loudly. Then, as gently as you could, you lifted his legs and pulled them to the bed, angling him so that his head was on the pillows…more or less.

Shaking your head slightly and fighting a smile, you crept out of his room, letting him sleep it off. You wondered if you should just go home, but you were worried about him; he had gotten pretty drunk. Making your way back to the kitchen, you glanced in his fridge. He kept it well-stocked, and you vaguely remembered him telling you he liked to cook. Nodding to yourself, you went to the couch in the living room, making yourself comfortable, and falling asleep quickly.

********************

You awoke early in the morning. The apartment was silent, and you stretched before getting up. After splashing some water in your face while in the bathroom, you made your way to the kitchen. You took out the eggs, bacon, sausage, mushrooms, cheese, and salsa you had found the previous night. You weren’t a whiz in the kitchen, but you could make an omelet easily enough. Searching through cabinets for pans, you also found a cheese grater. You glanced at the potatoes in a basket on the counter, deciding to add some hash browns to the mix. Greasy food was the best for hangovers. Finding the pans, you started grating the potatoes, letting them cook a bit before starting on the meat.

There was a beep behind you, and you jumped before you realized it was the automatic coffeemaker. You searched until you found mugs, then made yourself a cup as you cooked. Once the meat and potatoes were done, you turned everything to low, waiting for Sonny to wake up. Eggs don’t take much to cook, and you could make them as he showered or drank coffee.

As if your thoughts summoned him, you could hear Sonny shuffling about in his room. The door slowly opened, and a very disgruntled-looking Sonny stumbled out of his room. Since waking, he had stripped down to his boxers and undershirt, making your cheeks burn. His eyes were barely open, and his hair hung limply on his face as he rubbed his head.

When he caught you in his kitchen, he froze, eyes going wide. “Wh-what are you doing here?” he muttered. His eyes traveled over the various pans on the stove before coming back to your face. “Wait…please tell me we didn’t….”

“N-no! I just gave you a ride home last night, then slept on your couch to make sure you didn’t die from alcohol poisoning,” you explained. Though, you were slightly disappointed with how upset he seemed about potentially sleeping with you.

Sonny nodded, moving to make himself a cup of coffee. “And the breakfast is just a bonus?”

“I figured you’d need the help. You were pretty…fucked up last night,” you smiled, and he groaned.

“Please tell me I didn’t do anything too embarrassing,” he mumbled as you cracked the eggs into the pan.

You salted and peppered the eggs, then moved to poke at the hash browns, making sure they weren’t sticking to the pan. “I wasn’t there at the bar, so you’d have to ask your squad for that story. But, uh, I did watch you lose a fight to a seatbelt.”

“Fucking fantastic,” he replied, letting out a soft chuckle. He came over to you as you flipped the eggs, watching you work. “That it? Nothing else? Because I did wake up fully clothed, minus shoes and a tie.”

Your cheeks burned and you kept your eyes on the eggs as you put the mushrooms on top. “I’ve learned you really want cuddles when drunk…and that you think my hair is soft.” You didn’t dare look at him as you sprinkled some cheese on the mushrooms, then folded half the eggs on top of it. You plated the omelet, pouring some salsa on top and adding more cheese. “The tie just seemed like a safety precaution.”

You kept your eyes on the food, even as you felt Sonny staring at you. Once you had scooped hash browns, sausage, and bacon onto the plate, you chanced a glance at him, offering him the plate. Sonny’s eyes bored into yours, holding you there for what seemed like forever before he took the plate from you.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

You gave him a small smile. “Anytime,” you breathed back. Sonny moved to a free spot on the counter, taking small bites of food. But his eyes went wide as he tasted it, and he started shoveling food into his mouth. Grinning, you scooped the rest of the food onto another plate before moving to soak the pans.

You ate in silence, pausing only to drink coffee. Having less food, you finished first, then moved to start doing the dishes.

“No, no. You made this amazing food; I’ll do dishes,” Sonny said, swallowing hard.

You shook your head. “It’s fine, Son; I made a mess of your kitchen. I’ll clean it—”

“Like hell you will. First, you made sure I made it home safe. Second, you stayed the night to make sure I didn’t die. And third, you made me the best breakfast I’ve had in a long time—I swear my hangover is gone. You are not doing dishes.”

You smirked. “Okay fine, you win.” Instead, you finished your coffee, rinsing the mug out in the sink. Sonny continued eating, and you felt awkward standing in his kitchen. “So…I guess I’ll see you at work?” you said as a way of goodbye. You grabbed your phone off the counter, slowly making your way to his door.

“Wait!” Sonny called out, following you out of the kitchen. You cocked an eyebrow at him, and he shifted on his feet. “I-I feel like I should give you a better thank you for all you’ve done for me.”

“It’s fine, Sonny, really. That’s what friends are for, right?” you shrugged.

Sonny seemed to fight with himself for a moment before he muttered, barely audible for you to hear, “what if…I don’t want to be just friends?”

“What?” you asked, your heart racing. He wasn’t drunk anymore, and if what he was saying was true….

He came closer to you. “What if I don’t want to be just friends?” he repeated. “It seems like…drunk me was at least trying to flirt with you…. Something sober me is too damn nervous to even attempt.” When you still didn’t respond, he let out a huff. “What I mean is, I-I like you…a lot. And I’d, uh, I’d like to get to know you better?”

“You’re not still drunk, are you?” you asked, half-joking. Sonny shook his head, eyes wide. “Okay, good. Because you kinda did profess your love to me last night…but I was afraid that it was only because you were drunk.”

Sonny ran a hand over his face. “Did I really? I’m…so sorry if I made you uncomfortable—”

“No, it’s fine, really. I, uh…I’ve liked you for a while now. I was just worried that it was your drunk self that liked me, and not, uh, you,” you explained.

Sonny smiled sarcastically. “Drunk me says what sober me is thinking…most of the time.” He rubbed his neck anxiously. “So, uh, can we go on a date? No alcohol, I promise.”

You chuckled. “I’d like that. You obviously have my number—call me?”

“Of course. Let me clean up here—myself as well as the sink—and then I’ll give you a call,” Sonny grinned genuinely this time, and you melted.

“Sounds good. Talk to you soon.” You made your way out of his apartment, giving him a small wave. As he closed the door behind you, you broke out in a wide grin, excited for a date with Detective Carisi.

[henrycavillobsessed]

Porcelain

Characters: Henry Cavill x Anwen Evans (fictional fiance)

Summary: Henry and Anwen’s life was perfect. Until one day, one phone call, changes everything.

Words: 3,444

TW/CW: Death, car accident, description of injuries, hospital, grief. Slight mention of implied sex; some bad language. 

Notes: So here it is, my latest fanfic. It’s been a while, due to a bit of a mind block. The idea for this came to me, after being inspired by the song Porcelain by Emarosa (link below in case you’re interested). This one is different to my other fics, for one it’s not the usual Henry x reader narrative. I have created a character this time to act as his partner. Also this one is LONG (3,444 words). I have enjoyed writing a longer and more complex story and I hope you enjoy reading it. (As a warning, it’s SAD. I am not ashamed to admit I cried just writing it.)

Link to song: https://open.spotify.com/track/7rk8cH53nI8ffb5ZccjfpT?si=QMVvEmA3TK-3WuQXJanMmQ

“Oww! Shit!”

Henry looked up from the book he was reading in bed. Anwen was rubbing her forehead and looking very wounded. She’d clearly just walked into the doorframe. Again. Henry laughed out loud.

“Don’t laugh at me!” A pillow flew through the air and missed its target of Henry’s face by a considerable amount. He laughed again. 

“I can’t help it. You are so clumsy!”

Anwen climbed into bed, still massaging the sore spot on her head. She scowled at Henry. “If I remember correctly Mr Cavill, it was because of me being clumsy that meant we met for the very first time.”

“Hmm,” Henry reached over and gathered her up in his arms, leaning back against the headboard. He kissed her gently on the faint bruise that was blooming on her pale skin. “I do remember,” he said fondly. 

          It had been over five years ago now. Henry was out with his friend and colleague Simon Pegg, drinking their way through some of London’s best nightclubs. It had been a great night so far, with both men enjoying their freedom; they’d recently finished filming their latest movie and were celebrating. Henry was feeling happily tipsy, and when Simon offered to go to the bar for another round, he didn’t refuse. 

“Get some shots too!” he shouted at Simon’s back as he left their table. Simon waved a hand in response; Henry took that as a yes and smiled. He was just checking his Instagram on his phone when something- someone- crashed into him and he felt the cold wetness of a spilt drink over his shoulder and down his shirt. He looked up incredulously. A woman was stood there with an empty glass and an equally shocked expression.

“Oh, my go- I am so sorry!” she said in a very attractive Welsh accent, Henry thought. He felt his annoyance dissipate immediately. 

“Hey, don’t worry about it, accidents happen. How much have you had to drink anyway?” he asked cheekily. 

The woman’s ivory skin blushed, contrasting prettily with her ebony hair, which was cascading around her shoulders in thick waves.

“Um, I actually don’t drink,” she admitted. “I have just shown you how uncoordinated I am; I really don’t need to throw alcohol into the mix.” 

“Very wise. Hi, I’m Henry Cavill.”

“Anwen Evans, nice to meet you.” They shook hands and were making pleasant small talk when Simon returned with the drinks.

“What on earth happened to your shirt?” he asked Henry. 

“Anwen happened. Anwen, this is my friend Simon Pegg.” 

Anwen’s face lit up. “I love your movies! Hot Fuzz is just hilarious!” she said to Simon, who smiled widely and they spent the next few moments quoting lines from the film. Simon looked sideways at Henry, and saw the way he was looking at Anwen, and cleared his throat.

“Well, it’s been lovely to meet you, but I must get on. Henry, I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said, winking at his friend. Henry mouthed a silent thank you, grinning. 

After Anwen explained to her girlfriend’s that she was going to continue the night with Henry, prompting a lot of excited giggling and whispering, she sat herself down at Henry’s table. The hours flew by as they got to know each other. Anwen was an up-and-coming chef, who’d recently opened a new restaurant nearby in London. She told Henry about the restaurant’s menu, and Henry promised to try it out soon. In return, Henry told her about the films he’d been in. He was mock-outraged when Anwen admitted she’d never seen a Superman movie, let alone Man of Steel, and laughing, she promised she’d check it out soon. Conversation naturally flowed between them, Henry felt so at ease with her, and it turned out they had quite a bit in common. As Henry told Anwen about his akita Kal, Anwen told him she also had a dog, a golden retriever named Ciri.

“Ciri?” Henry had asked. “As in Ciri from The Witcher?”

“Yeah! I’m such a huge fan, I’ve read all the books, and I’ve played all the games!”

Henry laughed. “You are never going to believe who I’ve just been cast as for my next job…” Anwen’s jaw dropped to the floor when he told her. 

The night ended with Henry walking Anwen home to her nearby townhouse, and they shared their first kiss on the doorstep, swapping numbers with the promise to meet up again soon for a date.

          Now back in the present, nearly six years later, Anwen had moved into Henry’s penthouse, with Ciri who Kal adored. Both dogs were curled up at the end of the bed now, fast asleep.

In Henry’s arms, Anwen cuddled in close. “Yes, so if it wasn’t for me tripping and drenching you that night we wouldn’t be here now, so stop taking the piss!”  

“Okay, okay!” Henry laughed. “I do worry though, you know. You’re like… like porcelain. So easily broken. Be more careful, I’d hate for something to happen, for me to lose you. I love you so much, my Annie.”

“Don’t be so soft! I’m not going anywhere, not for a long time. And I’ll love you until the day I’m gone, and if I can love after, then I will then too. So shush,” Anwen replied, placing a kiss on his lips.

“Anyway, I’m not that breakable, I don’t think. Wanna test this theory?” 

Swinging her legs around Henry’s waist, Anwen straddled him and seductively removed her top. She was braless underneath. Henry whistled low, and licked his lips.

“Yes ma’am.”

          Henry and Anwen’s life continued in perfect bliss. Both had never been as happy as they were with each other. Anwen was now an established celebrity chef, having opened many more restaurants worldwide, written a few cookbooks and even been on television a couple of times. Henry’s career as an actor was skyrocketing, his role at Geralt in The Witcher making him a household name. This meant that he had to travel all around the globe for work, however this didn’t impact his and Anwen’s relationship in the slightest, as she regularly went with him, using the time to research new recipes for her business. When they had spare time, they enjoyed exotic holidays, and it was on the white powder sand of the Maldives that Henry proposed. Anwen had burst into tears and accepted immediately, and they’d spent the rest of that holiday on their private island mostly naked, enjoying each other as an engaged couple.           Their home life was refreshingly normal however. Behind closed doors, they were just Henry and Anwen, not the famous actor and the celebrity chef. They both took in turns to cook dinner, did the housework together and spent the evenings cwtched up on the sofa watching old movies. Laughter was a staple in their home, in fact they only ever rowed when England played Wales at rugby during the Six Nations. Life was indeed bliss, and it seemed nothing could burst this content bubble they were living in.

            One average day in late autumn, Anwen was sat at the kitchen table, with her laptop open in front of her and Ciri snoozing quietly at her feet. Dressed in a pair of comfy sweats and a loose off-the-shoulder jumper, her hair piled artfully messy on top of her head and holding a large cup of coffee in her hands, she was looking at wedding venues online, finally making a start on planning their special day. A huge binder was also open on the table with multiple sheets on paper sticking out of it. She’d made plenty of notes and had lots of ideas; it was now time to put them into action. Henry walked into the kitchen, looking very stylish in back jeans and a tight black t-shirt. He was holding Kal’s lead and the akita was tip-tapping on the tiles behind him, clearly very excited about going for a walk. Ciri didn’t even raise her head, happy enough to stay in with her mum and continue her nap. 

“I’m going to take Kal with me to the meeting with my manager,” he said to Anwen. “Then do you fancy meeting me after with Ciri and we’ll take them for a walk in the park?” 

“Yes, my love, sounds lush. How long will you be do you think?”

“Not sure, I’ll call you when I’m done.”

“Sounds like a plan!”

“What are you up to today?” Henry asked, walking over to Anwen and kissing her on the top of her head. “Wedding stuff?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna send off some emails now this morning and then go to this bakery and try out some wedding cake samples,” Anwen smiled.

“Well, I’m jealous! Have a great day honey, I’ll call you later. Love you!”

“Love you, bye!” she called as he walked out the front door.

          Henry’s meeting was going well. His manager had quite a few prospective roles lined up for him, and Henry was interested in the majority of them. His mind wandered to Anwen every so often; he still missed her when they were apart. As the meeting was coming to a close and Kal started getting excited again at going for another walk, Henry’s phone rang. He looked at the caller ID- withheld number. 

“Hello?”

“Is this Mr Henry Cavill? I’m a nurse here at London hospital. We have you down here as Miss Anwen Evans’s emergency contact.”

Henry paled. “Is she okay?”

“I’m afraid Miss Evans has been involved in a serious accident. We have her here at the emergency department. Can you get here straight away?”

          Henry had never moved so quickly in his entire life. After giving his manager a hurried explanation and asking him whether he’d look after Kal, he’d gotten in his car and sped through the streets of London, not caring that he was breaking the speed limit. He parked illegally, jumping out of the vehicle and sprinting into the hospital. His mind was in overdrive, all sorts of scenarios going through his head. He felt sick with fear and exertion. Flying into the emergency room, he looked around wildly, finding a nurse sat at the front desk.

“Anwen Evans? I’m here for Anwen Evans, I’m Henry Cavill,” he cried desperately. The nurse didn’t hesitate.

“Come with me.”

She explained to Henry what had happened on the way. “Anwen was crossing the road at a zebra crossing when she tripped halfway, according to witnesses. There was a speeding car, who didn’t see her. He… he ran right over her. He didn’t stop. There are police looking for the car and driver as we speak.”

The flash of anger that Henry felt was so severe that his steps faltered for a second. But then he pushed it away, to be dealt with later. All that mattered now was Anwen. 

“Mr Cavill, Anwen is in a bad way. She has a serious brain injury, and multiple body fractures. The trauma team managed to get her stable, but it’s touch-and-go. The next twenty-four hours are critical,” the nurse said gently. “Prepare yourself before you go in.”

She opened the door to the dimly lit room. The sound of machines beeping dominated the otherwise peaceful atmosphere. Henry moved closer to the bed, his mouth dry, hands shaking. His Annie was lying in the bed, connected to the machines, wires snaking out from every part of her it seemed. Her beautiful black hair was covered by thick white bandages wrapped around her head, and every part of her skin was purple and blue bruises. Her striking green eyes, usually so full of love and sparkle, were swollen shut. Henry had never seen anything so heartbreaking; tears coursed unbidden down his cheeks.

“Can I sit by her? Hold her hand?” he choked to the nurse. 

“Of course, pet.”

He pulled up a chair to her bedside and ever so gently took Anwen’s hand in his. It was reassuringly warm. He could do nothing for a moment but stroke it slowly. Worry filled every part of his being. 

“I’m here Annie. It’s your Henry. Come back to me, you can get through this,” he whispered, and then as sobs wracked through him, he added, “you said you’d love me until you’re gone and I’ll be damned if you’re going anywhere yet.” 

For the next few hours, Henry didn’t leave Anwen’s side; he didn’t let go of her hand. He held onto hope that she would get better. After all, porcelain could break yes, but it could also be fixed. And he would do anything to fix her. 

          As it approached eighteen hours since Anwen’s accident, a nurse came into the room and caught Henry fighting not to fall asleep. She softly tapped him on the shoulder.

“Mr Cavill, go and get some rest. You’re more than welcome to use the family room just next door. Freshen up, get an hour or so sleep. If anything changes, I promise I’ll come and notify you immediately.”

Henry considered this, torn between not wanting to leave Anwen’s side and the need to at least wash his face. 

“I’ll be half an hour, tops. Annie, I’ll be right back.” He put her hand down, and exited the room, rubbing his tired eyes as he went. 

He hadn’t been gone five minutes when a terrifying beeping screeched out from Anwen’s room. He ran out of the bathroom still with wet hands, his heart in his mouth. He halted in the doorway, petrified at the scene unfolding in front of him. 

A team of medics were working hard on her, the unrelenting beeping just adding to the frenzy of the situation. Anwen’s heart had stopped; someone fired up a defibrillator. The shock that went through her echoed in Henry. He just didn’t know what to do. He was vaguely aware of someone trying to lead him away but he just couldn’t move, couldn’t tear his eyes away, panic rising, threatening to overspill. His Annie, his Annie was there dying on that bed, and he couldn’t do anything but watch. And then suddenly, the most sinister sound yet. A flatline. Followed by a voice.

“We’ve lost her. Time of death, eight fifteen AM…”

Then silence.

The sound that tore its way up and out through Henry’s throat was that of a wounded animal. He screamed, the feeling pure agony.

“No! NO! There must be something you can do! My Annie! Annie…”

The doctor looked at him with sadness in his eyes. “I am so sorry, Henry. So sorry. Please, everyone, give him some space.”

The rest of his team followed him out; the nurse that had told Henry to go get some rest was crying silently. 

Henry stood rooted to the spot, in a state of absolute denial. Only a day before they’d been in their kitchen together, making plans to walk their beloved dogs, she was planning their wedding. Their wedding. Agony ripped through his chest, sobs wracked his body, his breathing erratic, his heart shattered, never to be healed again. Broken, like porcelain. 

          Henry didn’t know how he got through the funeral. He’d been to the funeral home, and dressed her in her favourite dress and shoes, and spent a long time brushing out her hair; he’d done that when she was alive, but the familiar act did nothing to ease his pain. When he got to the church, he walked down the aisle with her coffin on his shoulder, his heart heavy because he should have been watching her walk down the aisle in a white flowing dress towards him, he should be becoming her husband, not burying her. When it came to reading her eulogy, he was overcome with emotion, for the first time in his life not able to talk in public. His mother helped him down from the podium; his father continued the speech. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house.

At the wake, he got blind drunk. No one saw him for a week afterwards.

          The news of Anwen’s death was plastered all over the newspapers and online. Headlines such as “HENRY CAVILL FIANCE KILLED IN TRAGIC ACCIDENT” and “CELEBRITY CHEF ANWEN EVANS DEAD AT 27” accompanied photos of the both of them. The hole in Henry’s chest got bigger each time he saw it. He threw himself into his work; being someone else for at least 12 hours a day was easier than dealing with real life. Because the grief was all consuming, terrifying, never-ending. When he got home to his cold and empty penthouse, he couldn’t escape it; Kal and Ciri looked at him sadly every night, the question in their eyes: “where is our mummy?” Henry had no answers for them. He spent each evening sat in the dark, in silence. There was no laughter, no enjoyment in life since she’d gone. 

          A few weeks later, Simon came to visit. He’d been dropping in regularly, terribly worried about his friend. Henry looked, quite frankly, awful. His hair was long and the curls unkempt, he’d let his beard grow out and he had deep purple bags under his eyes. He’d lost a lot of weight too, although he hadn’t stopped working out. Simon sat down next to Henry on his sofa, nervously voicing the question he’d come round to ask.

“Henry, it’s the awards ceremony tonight. Will you be going?”

Henry looked at him like he’d gone mad. 

“Look,” Simon continued. “You’ve been nominated for Best Actor. It’s highly likely you’re going to win. Remember how she… how Anwen was really looking forward to going.” This was true. The red dress she’d been planning to wear was still hung up on the back of the bedroom door. “If you don’t want to go for yourself, why don’t you go for her?”

Henry thought it over. He hadn’t been out, apart from work and the gym, since before the accident. The thought of going to such a high-profile event caused panic. Yet… an image of Anwen, smiling before him in that red dress suddenly entered his mind. She had been so excited; she’d even helped him write his acceptance speech in case he did in fact win Best Actor. Go for her, Simon had said…

          And that’s how, just hours later, Henry found himself back on the red carpet, surrounded by flashing lights and crazed shouting as paparazzi tried to get his attention. He posed for a few photos before hurrying inside and taking his seat. He ate the extravagant three-course meal without really tasting it, drank the wine without really feeling it. Simon sat by his side, a welcome support; a truly great friend. Then, finally, it was time for the awards to be given. 

Henry clapped and cheered as each person won their nominated categories; showing his support for his fellow actors and actresses. Seeing them so happy actually lifted his spirits for the first time since… before. Then it was time for the winner of the Best Actor award.

“And the winner is… HENRY CAVILL!”

Henry sat in shock as the cameras and spotlights panned to him. Simon was on his feet, screaming “I knew he’d do it!” and then he was helping Henry up. “Go on mate, to the stage. You won, you bloody won!” 

In a daze, he walked towards the stage, then across it, accepting his award from the host. The applause was tumultuous; it took a few moments for it to die down, and then everyone in the audience was waiting expectantly for his speech. Henry drew a blank; he had no idea what to say.

“You can do it, handsome!” a heartbreakingly familiar voice whispered in his ear. He looked to the side and his breath hitched in his throat. Anwen was stood there, a wide grin all over her face, looking devastatingly beautiful in the red dress she’d planned to wear tonight. 

“I’m right here with you. I love you.”

Tears welled and spilled from Henry’s eyes as he turned back to face the audience. 

“This award,” he started. “is for my Anwen. My Annie. I couldn’t have been the actor who deserved it without her love and encouragement. She was my everything. She still is. I owe this, my entire career, my entire life to you, my angel. I miss you more than words can describe, and I love you even more.

As he left the stage to even louder applause and cheers and flashing lights, he looked up, seeing the love of his life again, smiling, tears sparkling on her cheeks, blowing him a kiss as she faded away.

“Goodbye my Annie,” he whispered. “Goodbye.”

[barnesandrogersfanfics]

Ocean Eyes - Part 11

A/N- OMG i finally updated!!

Please like/comment/share if you like this. Seeing that people are actually enjoying this fic makes me wanna write more lol 💕💕

I got next to no sleep, i just laid in bed going over and over the things Chris had said....was he being serious?? or was it the alcohol talking??

Finally giving up on sleep at 5:30am i got up and dressed and decided i needed to talk to someone about all this. When i went downstairs i made a cup of tea and grabbed Chris's coat from the back of the chair then headed outback, Dodger following behind me.

I walked down to the pool area and sat down at the table and chairs that were next to it where i was far enough away from the house to have a private conversation. I unlocked my phone smiling at the photo of Chris, Scott and Mason before scrolling to my recent contacts and hitting call.

"Hello" she answered after two rings.

"Hey ma, i didnt wake you did i?"

"No sweetheart, you know me I've been up since 5am"

"Thats because you're crazy" i chuckled.

"why are you up this early? This is very unlike you"

"Ive not really slept..... mom something happened with Chris last night and i'm kinda freaking out...."

"Oh god please tell me you haven't slept with him already....."

"No! Jesus Ma...."

"Thats good, so what happened?"

"Well after Mason went to bed last night i stayed up with Chris and Scott, we had a few drinks and just hung out you know? Everything was fine until Scott went to bed" i started explaining shaking my head, i told her all about Chris ending things with his girlfriend, about him getting jealous about Derek and then i dropped the kicker.... Chris confessed to still loving me and wanting a second chance!

"Wow, thats alot to take in"

"Tell me about it! Ive been up all night going over it again and again"

"So what did you tell Chris?"

"I just said that we needed to talk about this when we were both sober. I mean he could wake up and forget he even said any of this to me last night"

"Would you still bring it up if he does forget?"

"I don't know Ma, i don't know what to do"

"Only you can answer that, i can't tell you the right thing to do here baby. All i know is that you have loved that man since i can remember, even when he left and broke your heart you still loved him"

"You love who you love right?.... i just feel like an idiot" i mumbled picking at the sleeve of Chris's coat nervously.

"You're not an idiot"

"I feel like one!"

"Just talk to him, take things slow.... maybe use this time together to get to know eachother again before you decide on anything. Also, just remember this effects Mason now"

"Thats what makes it worse ma" i quickly wiped away a tear that rolled down my face, Dodger came over putting his face in my lap and i smiled as i scratched behind his ear. When i looked up my breath caught when i saw Chris slipping out the sliding door and heading my way.

"Shit, he's coming over.... i gotta go Ma. I'll call you later"

"Okay sweetheart, good luck.... deep breaths, i love you"

"Love you too, bye".

I locked my phone and placed it on the table before wrapping Chris's coat tighter around me. Dodger spotted Chris and went bounding over to him excited to see him up and about.

"Morning, you're up early" he said before sitting in the chair beside me.

"Morning, i couldn't sleep. Thought id call my mom to check in"

"All the way out here?"

"Its early i didn't want to wake anyone up" i shrugged picking up my tea taking a mouthful.

"You sure thats all it was?"

"Mmhmmm"

"You're not hiding from me after last night?" He raised his eyebrows at me questioningly.

"So you remember what you said last night?"

"Of course, i wasn't that drunk" he scoffed reaching for my tea and helping himself to a few mouthfuls.

"Im not hiding, just.... thinking"

"About?"

"About what the fuck i'm supposed to do!"

"Do you love me?" He suddenly asked making me look up at him, into those eyes.... damn him!

"What?"

"Do you still love me? Its a simple question babe"

"Its not a simple answer Chris" i shrugged "i mean of course i do but i just..... the way you treated me before.... how do i know that wont happen again?"

"It wont i promise! I know how bad i messed up...."

"You say that now but i can't help but worry about you changing your mind.

You broke my heart when you left me and now we have Mason to think about.... i don't want him getting hurt if this doesn't work out again".

"So your answer's no? You wont give me a second chance?" He asked sadly his eyes tearing up, i forgot how emotional he could get.

"Maybe we should just spend this time together, get to know each other again and go from there?" I said taking my mom's advise.

"So you're not ruling it out completely? Its not a hard no?"

"Im saying maybe, just... baby steps" i smiled over at him and he nodded smiling back at me as he reached over and took my hand.

"I promise you i wont let you down again, i wanna be the man you deserve and the dad that Mason deserves"

"Id like that a lot, even though i hated you for what you did... i still missed you"

"I know, i missed you too"

"Lets go in im freezing" i said getting up, Chris was suddenly standing and pulling me into his arms holding me tight.

"Chris..." i mumbled into his chest as my hands landed on his waist.

"Im sorry i just needed to hold you"

I sighed and wrapped my arms around him... as nervous as this made me it felt so good to be in his arms again.

"I'll make things right again i promise" he mumbled pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

The weeks were flying by and we were all still in lockdown, it was now May and there was no sign of anything changing just yet.

Chris was doing a lot of online interviews to promote his new show 'Defending Jacob', when these video chats took place Scott and I made sure to take Mason to another part of the house so he wouldn't interrupt.

Things with Chris and I had been going good, we wouldn't act any differently around Mason but once he was in bed we'd snuggle on the sofa.... we'd shared a few kisses here and there but thats as far as it had gone.

"Mom can we take Dodger for a walk?" Mason came running in from the backyard with Dodger diving on the sofa next to me.

"You better go ask your dad buddy"

"Dad!!!!" Mason yelled loudly making me laugh.

"Why are you yelling?? i'm right here" Chris said walking in from the kitchen with coffee's. Mason chuckled cuddling up to me suddenly going all silly.

"Why you getting all shy?" I asked as i run my fingers through his hair.

"I don't know" he mumbled hiding his face against me, Chris sat down next to him and picked him up pulling him into his lap.

"Whats up pal? Why was you calling me?"

"Mom said i had to ask you if we can take Dodger for a walk"

"Sure we can! Why don't you go get your shoes on and grab Dodgers leash while your mom and i finish our coffee then we'll go"

"Yes!! thank you dad!" Mason wriggled down from Chris's lap and run upstairs to the room he'd been staying in.

"Maybe it'll wear him out enough that he has a nap, kid has too much energy!" I said looking over at Chris.

"He loves walking Dodger thats all"

"So do i but not this much! Poor Dodge is probably begging for a rest!"

"He's fine, we'll just walk up the road a bit throw the ball around... we don't have to be gone long"

"I guess"

"You coming with us?"

"Yeah why not".

We walked Dodger as promised and let him and Mason run around playing fetch. Chris took me by surprise by grabbing hold of my hand pulling me close enough to kiss me.

"Hey! We said not in front of Mace...."

"He's not looking its fine" he laughed "so, i was thinking maybe you could stay in my room tonight?"

"And what if Mason catches us??"

"We'll say we're having a sleepover" he smirked.

"You're terrible!"

"You didn't say no though" he wriggled his eyebrows at me.

"I didn't say yes either. Mace, come on Bud we're heading back" i called out stepping away from Chris even though all i wanted to do was pounce on him!

As i looked over to where Mason and Dodger were playing i spotted a familiar car parked across the street outside of the gated area.

"You've got to be shitting me....."

"Whats wrong?"

"Thats Brian's car out there"

"What?!!! Are you sure?"

"Yeah"

"Im gonna kick this guys ass i swear to god...." Chris said as he started to storm towards Brian, i quickly grabbed his arm pulling him back.

"Lets just go back inside, call the police. I don't want you getting into trouble over that jackass. Just get Mason and Dodger and lets go. He cant get in here"

"Okay.... okay lets go" he whistled for Dodger who came bounding over followed by an out of breath Mason and we walked back up to the house locking ourselves safely inside while Chris called and reported Brian.

Everything taglist: @jesseswartzwelder @dumblani @barnesandrogersworld @patzammit @rynabarnesrogers-reading @rainbowkisses31 @rororo06 @supernaturalwintersoldier @fairlightswiftly @hiddelstannerbarnes

Ocean eyes: @supraveng @michelehansel @melissaglenn5 @denisemarieangelina

@mrsjeffwittek @mery-be @marvelfansworld @cmalass @capstopavenger @fallenoutofrose @kelbabyblue @biebsmylife95 @loser-alert @traceyaudette @w3lissax @jennmurawski13 @ford66steal @saiyanprincessswanie @christocrave

@jakiki94 @torntaltos @my-dearest-agent @buchanansebba @ms-betsy-fangirl

[writingsfromhome]

Hot Waters

A/N: this one’s a little more dialogue, but you manage a hotel Harry stays at and have to help him with an issue.

Part 2

———————————————————

As a manager of an upscale hotel I saw a lot of celebrities filter through the door. I could probably write a book, my own version of a tell-all exposing some celebs for what they really were. Sometimes the nicest ones were the snappiest and other times, the ones you thought were rude and stuck up took the extra time to thank your staff warmly and treat everyone with respect.

I’m in for the evening—that’s when most of them came under cover of the night, when they didn’t want the papps to know they were in town. Tonight’s guest stays a few feet from the counter as his manager or whoever checks him in. A false name of course, James Smith.

I glance at the man, the soft curls and stylish outfit, strong jawline and lean body. I could tell it was Harry Styles, this was a first for me. I could add him to the imaginary tell-all book in my head: oddly mute but just as cute in person. He looks antsy, fidgeting with his phone.

He catches me staring and nods. I give him my best customer smile and get back to the man finding his ID to show me.

“Thank you sir, here’s the key cards to your suites. Enjoy your stay!”

They barely acknowledge me, he’s already grabbing Harry’s arm and pushing him towards the elevators. Cool.

I don’t think much of it until five minutes before I leave for the night. It had been a long day for me covering since the breakfast shift—the morning manager was out sick. I was ready to fall asleep on my ride home but one of my newer staff comes up to me urgently.

“Hey, Y/N, suite 1203, the man is really annoyed and saying his hot water isn’t working.”

“Did you tell him how to turn the hot water on?” I ask, thinking she didn’t do a thorough job.

“Yes,” she looks upset. “Like three times before he just asked to speak to someone else.”

“Okay...” I wander to the front and take him off from holding. I check our database ahead of time for the name, James Smith. Of course. “Hello Mr. Smith, I heard about your hot water. It should be working-“

“It’s not! I got in thinking it would heat up but I was drenched with ice cold bloody water!” He sounds like a child about to throw a tantrum. I found working for celebs was just like working for glorified children sometimes.

“No other suite has made this complaint, the hot water is definitely working. Would you like a staff member to come check?”

He finally sounds reasonable, “Yes please, that would be great.”

“Let’s go,” I tell the newbie, she was still in training so it would be a good opportunity. But just as I step out from behind the counter an elderly customer walks up and I have to leave her behind. Guess this was my last task before heading home.

I knock on the door 1203 and hear a shout from inside that it’s open. I try the lock but it isn’t so I just use the master key and slip inside.

“Hi, Mr. Smith-“

“We both know it’s Styles,” Harry...Mr. Styles is dressed in nothing but a towel around his waist. His hair is wet and he really looks like a teenage fantasy. And with the way my eyes are glued to his abs, maybe I was reliving some teenage fantasy.

“Mr. Styles,” I clear my throat but from the way his mouth quirks I know the silence between when he spoke and I responded was a little too long. Long enough to notice I was staring. Jesus, I had to stay professional. I recall how he sounded on the phone-he’s just a big man baby, I remind myself. I was just way too single. “I can show you how to turn the hot water on so you don’t run into this again. We apologise for the trouble.”

He sighs, “You don’t need to apologise love, I was just frustrated b’cuz a nice relaxing shower turned into an ice bath.”

I let out the breath I was holding and erase the entry I’d written in my head about him so far. Replace man baby with: don’t judge based off his first impression, might be as kind as everyone says?

“Well we’re sorry about that anyway,” I head to the bathroom. I try to ignore the way he’d made the room personal in such a short amount of time. It wasn’t my job to pry into my customer’s personal lives...but it was so tempting!

I head to the shower and show him where to turn to get the hot water. It was simple but he claims the showers he’s used to, have the hot and cold on opposite sides. I would have pointed out there was an H and C engraved into the handle but the shower is such a small space and he crowds over me as he pays attention, I didn’t want to stay any longer. I’m very aware his towel brushing up beside me is the only thing he has on. I stumble back and compose myself.

“Is there anything else I can get you sir?”

“Please it’s Harry, don’t call me sir. Makes me feel weird.”

“Right, Harry.” I walk out into the bedroom and he follows. “Do you need anything else?”

“Um,” he looks off to the side to think and I can’t help myself—I take the moment he’s distracted to drink him in. He was fine indeed. My eyes catch on his famous butterfly tattoo, actually all of them. It was cool seeing them in person.

“You have any of your own?” Harry asks and my eyes snap up. I feel myself get hot, he caught me staring! But he doesn’t seem angry, he seems to think I was looking at his tattoos. I roll with it.

“Don’t tell my mom but yeah,” I reply. I only had two and managed to keep them secret from my very traditional family. Harry laughs and asks to see them. I show him the wildflower curved behind my ear. His breath tickles my hand that holds my ear down to show him.

“How do you manage to hide that?” He asks. I’m suddenly self conscious he’s studying me so close.

“A little bit of foundation, a lot of wearing my hair down.”

“Surely your mum wouldn’t care that much—you’re an adult.”

“You haven’t met my mom,” I think about her. “She’d say something like, ‘my tattoos are the reason I haven’t settled down’ or something.”

“Bloody hell,” he laughs. I feel a strange high knowing I’m making him laugh, he was being so friendly. Like an old friend. It was rare, but sometimes I forgot a customer was a hot shot musician or actor when I had one-on-ones. That usually scored them a down-to-earth point in my imaginary book. Maybe I just caught him at a bad time earlier, I think as he points to his tattoos, “I don’t want to know what your mum would say to me.”

“Um, Sign my arm so I can ink it probably?” I joke. I warm as he laughs. “She’s actually a huge fan of you, always has plenty of commentary when we watch the award shows. Claims she dated someone who looked just like you in high school.”

Oh god, I was blabbering. But from his expression, he finds it amusing.

“That’s lovely,” he studies my face again and I try not to squirm. I retreat back into professionalism, about to ask if he needed anything before I left—my shift probably ended. But he asks, “You said there were two. What about the second one?”

My body feels prickly, this was a customer and I was about to flash him-well not entirely but showing him where my second was...it was a big no being who I was and who he was!

“Right here,” I casually slap the general area of my underboob when he continues waiting. He raises an eyebrows and I just bite my lip. I was past nervous—at this point I was surprised my legs themselves hadn’t given away.

“May I see?” He asks, his face is intimidating when he asks so seriously. At least he was being polite, and he seemed genuinely interested.

Wait, was I really doing this?

“I...don’t know if that’s the best idea?” I squeak. He flashes me a smile could make a grown woman like me take off my shirt to show him. But I’m frozen in place.

“Is it personal?” He asks. Oh my god he didn’t get why I didn’t want to show it. Maybe I was the one making it a big deal.

Okay, I would show him.

“No, it just requires me to untuck my shirt,” I joke. “But I’m off for the night now anyway so I guess I can...” Every tug of the fabric feels like it’s slow motion, the blood rushing to my ears sounds like the roar of the ocean. He steps closer to me—still only in a towel! And finally I lift up the shit to just under my bra, the tattoo is the words the sun will rise again curving under my boob. It was a gentle reminder I kept close to my heart, and Harry was the first person aside from my best friend I had shown this to. It was strangely intimate.

He reaches out his hand and stops halfway, realising where he would be putting his hand. He retracts it and lets out a nervous laugh. I almost sigh at the missed contact.

“That’s really beautiful. I like the quote,” he says honestly.

“Yeah,” I can barely meet his eye. “It’s a good reminder. I can think of like, 10 worst-case-scenarios at any given moment. So...”

I trail off. The tension in the room seems to have grown in the last ten minutes. I’m inhaling it, and Harry is breathing it. And when I finally make eye contact with him, I can’t tell if he’s judging me or just watching me. He’s chewing on his bottom lip just staring at me, I can’t help but feel initimidated.

“Maybe I’ll get going if you hav-“

“You’re off your shift?” Harry cuts me off.

“Well,” I check my watch. “As of ten minutes ago yes.”

“What would you say to joining me for a drink?” Harry asks. Was this a drink drink? Oh my god, is this what happens when you flash someone your underboob.

“I’m not sure if that would be appropriate,” I feed the automatic line we’re all trained to say. But inside, I’m muffling my heart that wants to say yes I though you’d never ask.

“Well,” Harry says. “You’re just providing superior customer service.”

“But I’m off the clock.”

“So hard working,” Harry jokes. “She stays even after her shift is over.”

“You’re also dressed in just a towel,” I point out. He looks down and even he seems surprised. I laugh, “So that won’t exactly go down very well with my boss.”

“Aren’t you the boss?” Harry asks, his eyes scanning his open suitcase to pull out sweats. He steps into the bathroom—where moments earlier he was demanding a hot shower.

“Sort of, I co-manage. But I don’t own the hotel so...I have to answer to someone. Hey-didn’t you desperately need a hot shower?”

Harry doesn’t even close the door, but a minute later he’s back out in sweats. “I did, it was a long day travelling and I wanted to relax. But you’ve managed to do that for me.”

“Nice to know I’ve got the same charm as a hot shower,” I say cheekily.

“You’ve got more charm than a hot shower,” Harry goes to the minibar. “Now what can I make you?”

“Oh you’re making the drinks? Here? I can just ask the staff to bring up-“

“No, just sit down. I’m taking care of this.”

I boost myself up onto the dresser and watch him mix drinks. This close, I can reach out and trail my hands over his tattoos, see the stubble coming into his face, see the dimension to his hair. I was so totally single, just being this close to someone remotely good looking turned me absolutely gaga.

“So tell me honestly, how this is,” Harry hands me the concoction, watching me closely. I take a sip and nearly snort it out, it was strong.

“I don’t think I could drive home if I drink all of this,” I cough. “That almost went down the wrong pipe.”

Harry takes a big sip of his and laughs, “If you’re driving, don’t take any more of this.”

I settle the flute down and Harry places his down beside mine.

“I don’t have anything else to offer,” he looks at me.

“I can still ring something up for you.”

“I think I already rang up what I wanted,” he leans in, he was flirting. With me! And I can’t help myself. I lean towards him too. I forget where I am and what kind of trouble I could land myself in if I let this go through. I can’t even think straight, I just want to-

His fingers on my face jolt me out of my hypnosis. I lean back and slide off the dresser. I could get fired! What was I thinking!?

“Where are you going?” His brows knit together as I move away from him.

“I should get going home, I’ve been in since 6am.”

“Oh course,” Harry clears his throat. “Yeah-sorry I didn’t mean to keep you.”

“No it’s fine,” I say. “I would love to provide some of that superior customer service. But I really am functioning on one bar right now. I’ve got to go home and recharge.”

“Recharge yeah? A hot shower maybe?” Harry teases.

“Hm, yeah if I can get the hot water to work,” I tease back and I swear he blushes.

“I know a place where the hot water works 100%,” he tilts his head to his bathroom. Now it’s my turn to blush and walk towards the door.

“Alright,” he sticks out his hand when I turn to say bye. I stare at it before realising he wanted me to shake it. “Goodnight.”

I laugh and take it, “Goodnight Mr. Styles.”

Oh for god’s sake, I’m caught staring into his eyes again as we shake hands. He doesn’t let go of my hand and I can’t break eye contact. Finally, he cracks a smile and I look away. I really had to go or I could not hold myself back.

“Don’t hesistate to contact front desk for anything,” I say as I open his door. “And maybe don’t drink too many of that whatever mix you made.”

He pouts, “It’s the only thing keeping me company tonight.” Maybe I was right, he was a big baby. But one who’s cheeks I wanted to pinch. I resist the urge and wave before heading to the elevators.

I let out a breath when I get on. If I wasn’t careful, the man in 1203 could land in me some hot waters, no pun intended. If I wanted to keep my job that I loved, I had to make sure I steered clear of him. For good. And maybe find myself a boyfriend. Because...that was a close one.

[bubblesuga]

Leave Me Lonely

A/N: I’m mad so here’s some angst that turned into smut :)

Prompt: The reader broke up with Yoongi six months ago. Just as she feels like she’s able to move on, he pops up on her doorstep with watery eyes and whiskey laced breath.

Warnings: alcohol, angsty yoongi, cussing, crying, squirting, unprotected sex (don’t do this), mentions of Plan B, oral (F receiving), riding, yoongi and the reader are a mess and don’t know what to do 

Yoongi didn’t know what he was doing here, or how he ended up here. He just knew that he drank a little too much, and his feet carried him from the bar to here. 

Your apartment. 

He could navigate his way here with his eyes closed, which he practically did because he had no idea how he got here. The alcohol running through his veins was thanks in part to the lovely members in his band, insisting on celebrating their comeback with a lot of drinks and food. Unfortunately for him, that also meant that the alcohol was breaking down a barrier that he built up months ago when the two of you broke up. 

It burned. He already had frustrated tears in his eyes just staring up at your balcony, debating whether or not it was actually worth it to walk up the stairs and knock on your door. 

Sober Yoongi would stop him. Sober him would rationalize the break up, saying that there was no reason to bother you and that you more than likely had already moved on with your life especially with how quickly you managed to cut him off. 

Drunk Yoongi is a different story though. Drunk Yoongi is mad that you left him so easily, seemingly unscathed by putting him through one of the worst things he had ever experienced. Drunk Yoongi is upset that you left when he needed you most, when you were the one thing holding him up from barreling into a whirlwind of depression and anxiety. Drunk Yoongi is sad, because sober him loves you still. 

Annoyed, Yoongi reaches up and wipes the tear that slipped from his eye. Namjoon was probably already looking for him, and he knew that he should get back before the cops were called, but with ever step backward he was taking two steps forward until he eventually found himself gripping the railing of the stairs. 

“Fuck.” He mutters to himself, taking one last glance downward before he began his ascent up the stairs. 

The third floor seemed to take way longer to get to than before. Maybe it was the way his feet collided with the edge of every step or his hand having to constantly catch himself from stumbling backward. Through the perseverance of his stubborn mind, he made his way up the stairs and with out thinking about it twice, he knocked on your door. 

Well, pounded. He pounded on your door. 

“(Y/N),” he whined, his voice husky, “please open up.” 

The pounding turned to gentle taps when he felt his eyes grow heavy, leaning his face against the door while his finger nails tapped against the door. 

Just as he was about to give up, to stumble his way back down the stairs and forget that this whole thing happened by morning, he felt the weight of the door shift and before he knew it, he was on the ground in the doorway of your apartment. 

“Yoongi?!” You yell, stepping backward when you heard the thud of his body hitting the ground. 

Yoongi groans loudly, picking himself up off the ground, “Your apartment is cold.” 

You roll your eyes, “What the fuck are you doing here?” 

Yoongi could already tell that this was a mistake. Okay, maybe he knew that it was a mistake before but his internalized fight with himself was much too loud for him for him to comprehend anything that was actually happening. 

“I-” he groans as he grabs his head, “I wanted to see you.” His eyes traveled up from the floor to your face. You still looked the same, but now you had lighter hair and it was longer than before. Your face was still the same though, the concerned curve of your brow still rested above your eyes whenever Yoongi did something stupid. God damn, though, you were still just as beautiful. 

“Why? Why on Earth would you think that coming here was okay, Yoongi?” 

Even your voice was the same. The way your lips pursed and the curve of your tongue while you scolded him was still the same. It hit him, the familiarity of you was the reason he was here. He spent so much of his 20s traveling the world that the concept of having a ‘home’ was indescribable. His home was you, because everywhere he went he had you to lean back on, the scent of your Strawberry conditioner in his nostrils and your laughter filling his ears. 

“Because I miss you.” Yoongi shrugged, plopping onto the couch. Your jaw dropped, throwing your hands up in the air as you kicked the door closed. It was close to midnight, you had work in the morning, and you had your ex-boyfriend sat on your couch with red-rimmed eyes. 

“We’re broken up.” You whisper, sitting opposite of him and allowing your face to fall into your hands. 

“Why?” He questions. 

“Why what?” 

“Why are we broken up?” Yoongi’s eyebrow raised in question, his hands clasped together in front of him. His mouth was dry while looking at you, the feeling of having you close yet again was somewhat overwhelming. 

“I told you,” you clench your jaw, “your life was too hectic for me. I couldn’t keep up, I just wanted a sense of normalcy.” 

“Normalcy?” Yoongi scoffs, his earlier anger returning, “You want fucking normal? You think I asked for all this shit to be thrown at me? That’s fucking laughable, that you think I wanted this.” 

“Yoongi, I-” 

“No, let me talk for once,” he stands, throwing his hands around wildly, “you walked out on me because you wanted to be normal? How fucking boring.” 

You swallowed, the sting of his words setting in while you stared at the floor.

“What happened to the woman I fell in love with when we were 20 years old? Where did she go? She was willing to go on every adventure with me, she was there for me when I spent hours upon hours recording and re-recording songs that I wrote, about her might I add, and came home exhausted. She was the one who helped me navigate fame!” Yoongi was yelling now. Although it had been six months without you, his anger was just as futile. He hadn’t allowed himself to feel anything in so long. 

“And what about me?” You spoke quietly, your eyes not leaving the floor. 

“What do you mean, what about you?” Yoongi’s fists clenched and the stench of whiskey was far stronger than you realized before. 

“Well, you sat there saying all the things I did for you. How I was your rock, and I helped you with everything. What about me, Yoongi? You were so caught up in your own feelings that you never stopped to think about how it was affecting me. To be entirely honest,” your nails dug into the palms of your hands while you were trying to prevent yourself from getting in his face, “it was exhausting to try and help you through it while never having any help myself. A relationship is a two way street, and you seem to forget that part.” 

Yoongi was quiet again, sitting back down slowly on the couch while an emotion you couldn’t read was on his face. Immediately, he brought his nails up to his teeth, gnawing anxiously at them. Fuck, he thought, I’m an idiot. 

“Well?” You gesture to him, your eyebrows raised.

He didn’t respond. 

“I don’t even now why I’m entertaining this conversation. I’ll let you crash on my couch tonight but I want you out once your sober enough to get home. I’m going to sleep.” You speak, standing up from the ottoman. You went to your closet and grabbed a pillow and blanket, taking it out to Yoongi who still sat in the same position you left him in a few moments ago. 

Placing the pillow at the edge of the couch, you couldn’t help but feel your heart hurt for the man beside you. You knew that navigating the world of the suddenly famous was difficult, you watched it happen for years, and it took a toll on you as well. You were mentally exhausted, and you never felt like you could talk to Yoongi about your problems because his seemed to be so much more. You felt foolish if anything to try and compare your co-worker yelling at you to Yoongi’s legs giving out from practicing for 12 hours straight. 

Wordlessly, you pat the pillow to soften it, giving him one last glance and turning away while you heard the crack of his teeth biting into a nail. Old habits die hard. 

~*~*~

Yoongi tried his hardest to sleep, but when six in the morning rolled around, he realized there was no use. 

Leaning over to the notebook on the table beside the couch, he flipped to an open page and began writing. If there was anything he was good at, it was putting his words to paper. 

It felt like he was writing for hours, his mind clouding over with thoughts of you as he wrote. Sober now, he had the ability to properly reflect on the words that you were saying last night. It was difficult to discern last night. He was listening, and he heard every word, but he couldn’t get passed the tone that you were using. It was so mature, like you had aged mentally in the six months more than you had in the entirety of your relationship. He feared that he was the one holding you back from your full potential. 

After what seemed like ages, he placed the pen on top of the open notebook on your coffee table, and stood. His feet took a moment to carry him out the door, but he made sure to lock it as he left, hoping you wouldn’t just throw away the note without reading it. 

It didn’t take long for you to wake up after that, stretching your limbs before remembering the events of last night. Quickly, you hopped out of bed and rushed to the living room, scanning the area of the slept in empty couch. 

You sighed, but you weren’t sure if it was in relief or disappointment. Despite everything that happened last night, you still thought it was nice to see him. You had yet to admit it to anyone but yourself, but you missed him. 

You walked towards the coffee table, grabbing the notebook curiously and beginning to read. 

I’m sorry. 

It’s probably better for me to start it off like that than with anything else. I’m an idiot, and I’m so sorry for that. I was so caught up in everything happening that I never stopped to take the time to see how it may be affecting you. Sure, I wasn’t the only one experiencing this at the time so I wasn’t alone, but I felt so alone when I wasn’t with you. 

I used you as a shoulder to cry on, and you didn’t use me. I had no idea you were so hurt, and that’s my fault. You were my partner, you are the love of my life. I should have pulled my head out of my ass long enough to see that you needed me just as much as I needed you. 

I’m in no way trying to excuse my behavior. I’m just trying to explain my side of things. I’m in a better place now, as far as coping with fame goes. I don’t find it to be such a disaster anymore, I’m more comfortable with what fate has laid out for me. Well, everything but being away from you. I’m still working on trying to handle that.  

Thank you for letting me stay here. It warms my heart a little bit to know that you still care about me in some way and didn’t just throw me out on the street.

Although I know I was in the wrong here, I do hope you can forgive me. Even if you never talk to me again, I just want me to be one less thing that had you scorned. 

I still love you Yoongi.

You dropped your head once you were done reading, pinching the bridge of your nose. The sight of his handwriting alone made you emotional. You remembered seeing his scribbles on post it notes strewn across your apartment and his studio of random topics to write songs about. You always found his handwriting endearing. 

Taking in the words on the page, you re-read his sign off more times than you’d like to admit, your chest aching more and more with each time. 

“Fucking Yoongi,” you groan out into the empty room, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, then standing abruptly to get ready for work. 

As you showered, your mind was racing with thoughts of Yoongi. Of course you still loved him as well, but after careful consideration all those months ago, you realized it was better for you to take a bit of time for yourself and your mental health. 

Last night you were angry, and you said some things that weren’t entirely true. Yes, Yoongi did help you out when you were down from time to time. It just felt like your entire existence was spent helping Yoongi that it overshadowed the times he helped you. 

Admittedly you did leave him abruptly. The break up was filled with ‘I’m sorry’s and ‘It’s not you, it’s me’s. You told yourself that you had to get out then otherwise you knew you wouldn’t be able to do it. 

Being without him was so hard for so long, now that you felt like you were in a place where he wasn’t on your mind constantly, he pops up on your doorstep. He looked so damn good, too. Black hair (a stark contrast to the reddish brown you saw him in the day you broke up), black shirt and white jeans. He looked thinner, something that you always worried about with him, but he was still the same Yoongi that you love. 

His face didn’t leave your mind the entire day. The red-rimmed dark brown irises staring up at you in shock as you spewed on about your bullshit reasoning for leaving him. The way he just sat there and took it. The way he looked so defeated when you turned off the light and left him on your couch in the dark. 

After you got off of work, you sat in your car, staring at your phone. 

The contact name was changed from “Yoongles <3″ to just “MinY” a few months ago, something that it took you far too long to do. You couldn’t bring yourself to delete the contact, just in case. 

Sighing, you opened your messaging app and began typing. 

You: are you at genius lab right now? 

MinY: Yes. Please don’t come visit out of pity. 

You rolled your eyes, gnawing at your lip.

You: just let me come see you, dumbass. 

It took him a moment to reply, but when he did you unlocked your phone faster than you ever had before. 

MinY: ok. the passcode is the same.

The drive went by a lot quicker than you had anticipated. When you pulled into the parking lot of BigHit studios, anxiety filled you to the brim. Why were you doing this? What encouraged you to suddenly come here? How was staff going to react to you prancing back in there like you had so many times before? 

Clenching your keys tightly in your hand, you stared at the doors and continued to debate whether or not this was worth it. 

You had no clue what you were going to say, but you had to see him. 

Walking inside, you made it to the elevator successfully with no questions asked. Pressing the top floor button, the elevator stopped midway through and in walked Jimin. 

He didn’t seem to notice it was you at first, walking in while staring at his phone and noticing that the button was already pushed. He glanced your direction to see who needed to go to the top floor, his eyes going wide and his jaw dropping. 

“Wh- what are you doing here?” Jimin stuttered, shock washing over him in rolls. 

“I’m here to talk to Yoongi.” You say simply, clearing your throat and trying to avoid his eyes. You couldn’t help but feel like he must be mad at you for hurting his friend. 

Jimin didn’t speak again, only allowing you to walk out of the elevator and down the hall. Your eyes stayed on the floor, your arms crossed over your stomach in the process. You knew that people recognized you, but you just couldn’t face them before you talked to Yoongi. 

Yoongi was never one to be vocal about stuff, and you knew your break up never hit the media, but you couldn’t help but feel like everyone within the company was well aware of what happened. 

Stepping up to the door, muscle memory kicked in and before you could hesitate any longer, you were punching in the pass code and listening to the door unlock. 

You had walked into this scene many times before. Yoongi was sat in front of his piano, headphones on his head, his eyes closed as his fingers played silently across the keys. He was always so focused. 

Seeing this room again had images of you bringing in take out many times and massaging his shoulders while you told him to relax playing through your head. You glanced carefully at the black leather couch in the corner, unable to count how many times you and Yoongi had made love on there.

He still didn’t notice you, opening his eyes and scratching notes across the music sheets. You walked behind his chair silently, putting a hand on his shoulder and pulling away quickly once you felt him jump. 

“Jesus fucking-” he turned and met your eyes, his facial expression softening immediately, “-sorry I thought you were Jungkook.” 

“It’s okay.” It was quiet. Both of you were just puddles of anxiety, and Yoongi’s eyes searched yours for any ounce of pity, but there was none. He couldn’t figure out why you wanted to come here, and it took every piece of him not to begin panicking when he initially saw your text. 

He knew if he looked directly into the eyes of his bandmates, he would tell them everything in a panic and they would try to talk him out of saying you could come here. 

“Still looks the same.” You say suddenly, looking around the studio. The shelves of plushies from fans made you smile, he always tried to keep everything that was given to him. You noticed that the mannequin holding the Chicago Bulls jersey now had a BT21 hat sat on top of it, with various chains dangling from it’s neck. Whether Yoongi liked to admit it or not, he took pride in the way his studio looked. 

“Yeah,” he inhales, “I like the aesthetic. Makes it feel like home.” 

Making conversation with Yoongi had always come to easily before. Now that you hadn’t seen him in half a year, it felt tense. Not necessarily awkward, you knew if the circumstances were different you two could talk for hours whether it be about songs he’s writing or projects you’re working on. He just kept looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to say something. 

When your eyes trailed along his desk, you saw the photographs lining along the side. They were mostly Polaroids of him and his bandmates, except for one framed picture of the two of you when you first began dating. 

The picture was taken on one of your many visits to the dorm, Yoongi’s arms wrapped tightly around you while he looked down at your sleeping figure. You knew Namjoon took the picture, and later teased Yoongi immensely for the amount of love and adoration in his eyes while you slept soundly with him so close to you. 

You haven’t slept that well since you broke up. 

Yoongi spotted where your eyes were staring, reaching over and putting the picture face down. Silently, he saw the pained look in your eyes as he did so, swallowing and slowly placing it back up. 

“W- why?” You asked softly, his expression unreadable while he stared down at the floor. 

“I wasn’t lying when I said I still love you.” He didn’t look at you when he spoke, so your eyes went back to the photograph. 

Even in your sleep, your fingers clutched his arm around you, never wanting him to let go. Despite always feeling like he wasn’t there for you the way that you were there for him, you realized in that moment that his love language was different than yours. He silently supported you, loved you, cherished you. It was different from past relationships so you weren’t sure how you could see the signs. 

All this time, he was there for you in his own way, and you were too blind to see that.

You didn’t break your gaze away from the photograph until you felt a single tear slip from your eye. You moved quickly to wipe it away, but Yoongi had already seen. 

Normally he’d rush to comfort you, to pull you in his arms and allow you to cry it out on his shoulder, but he couldn’t right now. You weren’t his to comfort. 

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper softly, meeting his burning gaze. 

Again, he was unreadable. He only soaked in your words silently, before tossing his head back, “Why are you sorry?” 

“Because I didn’t see that you were there for me, just in your own way.” Another tear fell from your eyes. Yoongi had seen you cry before, but rarely. Every time, it was silent. He’d never seen sobs rack your body like you had seen him, but even this was enough to be jarring. 

“So I guess we were both a bit stuck in our own worlds, huh?” Yoongi spoke up after a moment, allowing you to silently soak in his words. 

It’s true. You were both so caught up in trying to navigate your own feelings that helping each other almost felt like a chore. Although you wanted to help each other, when your anxieties get overbearing it just makes it that much more difficult. 

“Past tense?” Your eyes were still on the picture. 

“Past tense for me. As I mentioned before, I’m in a better place than I was before, again besides the not having you around part.” He explains, suddenly feeling a little more relaxed than before. His nails weren’t being gnawed at constantly, instead his hands rested in his lap, clutched together. 

“I-” you begin, swallowing a choked sob, “I thought I was doing better without you.”

You could read Yoongi’s expression again. Sympathy crossed his brows, his eyes beginning to shine over with unshed tears while he watched you cover your mouth in an attempt to quiet your cries. It took everything in him not to reach forward and pull you into his arms. 

Then he couldn’t stop himself. 

Sliding his chair closer to yours, he hesitates for a moment before pulling you forward and into his arms. 

You fell into them so easily, your head falling onto his shoulder while your legs moved to straddle his thighs. He held you tightly, inhaling your scent while silent sobs racked your body.

“I’m so sorry,” you cry into his neck, “I’m so stupid.” 

All of your thoughts were a jumbled mess. You wanted to tell him that you didn’t properly think through leaving him, you wanted to tell him that you were so caught up in your own mind that you were being selfish. You wanted to shout it from the rooftops that you were the idiot who broke Min Yoongi’s heart, but your tongue wouldn’t form the words you so desperately wanted to say. 

“No you’re not, baby,” he strokes your back, “I did the same thing, remember? Our early 20s were a weird time for the both of us. We couldn’t expect perfection when we both had a lot of growing up to do still.” 

“You’re always so good with your words.” You pull away from his neck, noticing your tears on his shirt. Yoongi reached up and wiped away the wetness on your face with his thumbs. A sad, somber smile rested on his lips. It was the same one he had when you left him.

The memory makes more tears begin to fall. 

“P- please forgive me.” You whisper softly. 

“Oh baby,” Yoongi pulls you back in for another hug, “there’s no need to forgive each other because there’s nothing to forgive. We’re grown more as people, and we can both admit our mistakes.”

“I love you.” You breathe. 

Though it was something you said routinely when you were with him, it felt foreign on your lips to say again. 

“I love you too.” Yoongi responds, his hands stroking the back of your head. 

Then he pulls you down to him. You feel excitement rush through your body at the thought of his lips on yours again, but instead he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek. 

“What does this all mean?” You ask. 

“I don’t know yet,” Yoongi right now was such a contrast to last night. He was much more composed than before, and you no longer smelled whiskey on him, “I feel like we shouldn’t try to define what’s happening to us right now. If we hop into something too quickly, it won’t end well. I just know I want you in my life in some way.” 

You nod, wiping your nose. You took this as his way of saying that you were too close right now, so as you went to crawl off of his lap, his hands flew to your thighs and for the first time since you entered the room, his eyes seemed pleading. 

“I didn’t say I didn’t want you on me right now,” his fingers dug into your hips, “this is the first time I’ve touched you in so long. Please let me savor it.” 

Wordlessly, you move your hands to his wrists, guiding them up the sides of your body until they reached your cheeks. You embellish the feeling of his hands on your face, closing your eyes for a moment. 

His fingers were so long. You couldn’t help the images of his fingers knuckle deep in your heat flashing through your head. You opened your eyes to meet his, silently hoping he would begin to touch you again. You didn’t realize how starved for touch you were, but only his touch. 

Yoongi’s hands slipped off your face, trailing down your chest softly until he palmed both of your breasts in his large hands. You tossed your head back at the feeling, your tears long forgotten as you silently thanked yourself for wearing a thin bra today. 

“Do you want this?” He questions, his hands still kneading you. You looked down at him, unable to form words as you nodded. 

Yoongi moved his his hands underneath your shirt, slipping it over your head to expose your bra-clad chest. The minute your shirt was over your head, you couldn’t take it anymore. You gripped his face in your hands and slammed your lips onto his. 

The kiss was filled with so much need, but was also a silent apology. Yoongi was just as greedy as you were, his tongue darting out and into your mouth the moment you gasped at the feeling of him tugging at your nipples. 

The chair was too small for the two of you, so you tugged softly on the collar of his shirt to follow you to the couch. His lips didn’t leave yours as you moved, his hands unhooking your bra in the process and tossing it haphazardly. 

Yoongi fell on top of you when the back of your knees hit the couch, careful to catch his weight but unable to ignore how hard the sight of you shirtless in front of him was making him. Instinctively, he ground his hips into your spread legs, allowing you to feel him through the thick material of his jeans. 

“Please.” 

Yoongi took your plead as permission to slip your skirt and panties off of your hips. The sweet smell of your arousal immediately filled his nostrils. He thought he would burst through his zipper at the sight of you. Though your eyes were still rimmed with red from your earlier tears, the sadness was replaced with lust, need, and love. 

Yoongi slipped off the couch and pulled you towards the edge, moving your feet to each of his shoulders. 

“Fuck,” the word fell so effortlessly from his lips, “you’re so fucking wet.” 

“All for you.” You say, tutting your hips closer to his breath. 

Then Yoongi dove in. His tongue delved into your soft, pink flesh. You spread your lips for him, allowing him better access as his tongue wrapped around your swollen clit and sucked harshly. Your body convulsed at the feeling, finally feeling his fingers press into your entrance. 

Animalistic moans fell from your lips, your free hand flying to his hair and tugging harshly at the roots. This caused a groan to leave Yoongi’s throat, the vibration heating your core. 

“You’re still so loud,” he peaks up from you, his face half covered by your pelvic bone, “give me more, baby. Tell me how much you like it.” 

His fingers moved so much quicker now, his tongue lapping at you like it was his last meal. His words were enough to encourage you to scream his name as he curled fingers in just the right place, your orgasm rushing through your body in heated rolls. You didn’t even realize you were squirting until you unscrew your eyes open, glancing down to see Yoongi’s shirt and face soaked as he drank in your orgasm with blown out eyes. 

Something about the way his tongue kept finding itself on your clit as you rocked through your release made you come undone again seconds after the first. 

“Oh my god,” his hands shook at the sight in front of him, “I- I almost came in my pants. You’ve never squirt like that with me before.” 

You hid your face shyly, your chest heaving. You had never squirt before in your life, and both you and Yoongi had knew that. 

“Can you keep going?” his eyes were still wide, “are you- that was so hot.” 

“Fuck me, Yoongi.” You say as you lean forward, unbuckling his belt quickly. His hands beat you to unzipping his fly, pulling his jeans and boxers down in one go. 

You didn’t hadn’t had anyone inside of you since the last time you and Yoongi had sex, and the feeling as he pushed the head of his cock into you again was one of absolute euphoria. A harmonized moan fell between the two of you and he didn’t move for a moment, just drinking in your fucked out expression as your jaw dropped when bottomed out. 

His teeth grit together, “So tight and wet.” 

“Please move.” You ask, grinding your hips down onto him for any sort of friction. 

“I-” he couldn’t form a sentence. Yoongi was always the one in charge in the bedroom before, but having you around him again was breaking him. He didn’t know how to think, how to move. All he knew was your clenching walls milking his cock for everything that it was worth. 

You sensed his hesitation and flipped the two of you, straddling his thighs and beginning to ride him to your hearts content. His fingers dug into your hips as you did so, and all he could do was watch you. 

You leaned down to him, pressing your lips to his. He reached a new spot inside of you, his hips beginning to tut into you to meet yours. 

“I love you.” You breathe, Yoongi swallowing your gasp in the process. He didn’t respond, only allowing his hands to roam your body. 

“I’m gonna- oh fuck- where do you want me to cum?” Yoongi managed out, and you felt him twitch inside you. 

You had completely forgotten he wasn’t wearing a condom, and that your birth control ran out months ago. You just wanted to feel him cum inside you, the thought pushing your orgasm closer to the edge. 

“Baby-” Yoongi struggled to contain his moan, “If you don’t stop, I’m gonna cum inside you.” 

You nipped at his neck, “Then cum inside me, Oppa.” 

The use of the honorific was enough to send him over the edge, his hands stilling on your thighs as hot, thick strings of cum shoot inside of you. You moan his name as you come around him, milking his orgasm out of him in one of the most intense orgasms you had ever had in your entire life. 

Sweat drenched the both of you, your chest shining as Yoongi took your nipple in his mouth in a last ditch effort to please you just a little more. You couldn’t move, knowing that his cum was slowly leaking out of you and covering his own cock. 

Yoongi moved you to sit beside him, most of his cum spilling out in the process and covering the couch. He was too spent to care, only being able to look over at you while you cuddled into his side. 

“We’re going to have to get Plan B.” You whispered suddenly, your thoughts unclouding in the after math of your release. 

“Fuck,” Yoongi said, his thumb stroking your thigh, “you’re not on birth control anymore?” 

You shook your head, “Didn’t need it.” 

This made Yoongi’s heart flutter, knowing that you hadn’t had sex or wanted it anytime soon if it wasn’t with him. For a moment he forgot the last six months had happened, and that you were back for good, ready to softly stroke his head to sleep again. 

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, moving so you laid on top of him, “Shall we take a nap?” 

“But-” 

“We’ll talk about everything when we wake up. We’ll make decisions once we aren’t recovering from mind-blowing sex. Just, hold me right now. Then whatever we decide later will move our lives in the direction that it needs to go.” Yoongi said, silently begging you not to leave him high and dry.

You only nod, laying your head on his chest. 

In your sleepy state, you try not to over think his words too much, only trying to inhale his scent and the memory of his arms around you because there’s a chance that this is the last time that this happens. Even if that’s not what you want at all. 

So you two fall asleep, the soft breathing shared between the two of you lulling you into a deep sleep, your dreams filled with thoughts of a black haired boy with a gummy smile. The love of your life.