#idk why but this feels like a step. A line that once I cross I will never be able to uncross

[imminent-danger-came]

Someone stop me I am this (🤏this) close to making an emo SWK edit

[beloveds-embrace]

OK IVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS FOR A WHILE

so I keep seeing these ads for “pheromone perfume” pop up. the women in who advertise it say that it makes men go crazy, it smells amazing, they can’t get their bfs off of them whenever they put it on (and usually they put it on and then set up the camera and wait for their significant other to walk in the room and react to it)

and every time I see one of those ads, I think of designationless reader.

idk if that’s something they’d ever do, but I feel like it would be interesting for them to dab some of it on their wrists and behind their ears, as well as where their scent glands are and see how the guys react to it 🤭🤭

Anon i love you and I am smooching your brain so hard rn

The idea had been simmering in your mind for weeks, born from the endless pheromone perfume ads that flooded your late-night scrolling. People with bright smiles swore their perfumes were magic, capable of driving their partners wild with desire. But you weren’t like those people. You had no designation, no scent, no pheromones to speak of-

The ads made you feel like an outsider all over again. But they also left you wondering- what if there was a way to bridge that gap, just a little?

That’s how you found yourself at a specialized lab, the kind that catered to people willing to spend a small fortune for something deeply personal. It wasn’t easy. The process was invasive, awkward, and expensive. The technicians had taken a lot of samples of your body- skin oils, sweat, saliva- examining them under microscopes, running them through machines you didn’t understand, distilling your very essence into a single vial of concentrated potential.

When you walked out with the tiny glass bottle, your wallet was lighter, and your chest was tight with nerves.

What if this didn’t work?

What if it did?

Being scentless had always set you apart, a quiet absence in a world built on pheromones and instinct. You didn’t have the alluring pull of an omega’s sweetness or the steady, grounding weight of a beta’s calm. And you certainly didn’t have the commanding presence of an alpha’s dominance.

You were… nothing.

Not that your pack ever made you feel that way. Price, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz treated you like you hung the moon, their affection constant and overwhelming. But sometimes, in the quiet moments, you wondered what it would be like if you could scent them. If you could mark them the way they marked you. If you could pull them closer without relying on their instincts to protect what was theirs.

You’d dabbed the finished product on experimentally: just behind your ears, at the base of your throat, and along the faint line of your collarbone. You added drops to your wrists and even a little over your faulty scent glands, though you weren’t sure why. It had no scent for you, and you were almost worried that they might have scammed you.

But their reactions convinced you otherwise.

The moment he walked into the common area, his steps faltered. His broad shoulders stiffened, and his blue eyes sharpened, narrowing as if sensing something just out of reach. He sniffed once, subtly at first, but then again, deeper, his nostrils flaring, and his hands flexed at his sides.

“Something’s… different.” He muttered, almost to himself, but his voice was low enough to send a shiver through you.

“Something wrong, Cap?” You asked innocently, feigning ignorance as Soap entered behind him.

Soap stopped in his tracks, bright demeanor dimming as his eyes zeroed in on you. His head tilted, his mouth parting slightly as he breathed in deeply. “Lass,” he murmured, soft and careful. “What are you wearin’?”

“Clothes? What else would I be wearing, Soap?” You replied, voice dry just enough to be convincing. You raised an eyebrow, then, and crossed your arms. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

Gaz appeared next, his movements slower than usual as he approached. Dark eyes narrowed, his focus razor-sharp as his body tensed. He didn’t speak immediately; instead, he circled you slightly, his hands twitching like he wanted to reach out but didn’t know where to start.

Ghost entered last, his imposing frame cutting through the room’s tension like a blade. He didn’t say a word, didn’t ask, didn’t even hesitate. He simply stopped in front of you, his chest rising and falling steadily as his head dipped slightly, his masked face inches from yours. His gloved hands found your waist, and a low growl rumbled in his chest as he inhaled deeply.

“What?” you asked again, blinking at them with wide eyes, your voice lilting with carefully curated confusion. “What’s wrong?”

Price stepped closer as well, his boots heavy against the floor as he studied you. “You smell… different, love.” He said, voice like the distant rumble of thunder.

“Different how?” you asked, biting back a smile.

Johnny couldn’t hold himself back from you any longer, his hands sliding over your hips as he leaned in, his nose brushing against the curve of your neck. He let out a low hum, his warm breath skimming your skin. “Christ,” he murmured, his lips barely grazing your throat, “you smell good. Like somethin’ I can’t quite place.”

Gaz knelt at your side, his hands wrapping around your wrists. He brought one up to his face, his eyes fluttering shut as he pressed a kiss to the soft skin. “Sweet,” he murmured softly. “Warm, like you’ve been wrapped in sunlight.”

Ghost growled again, deeper this time, the sound vibrating through his chest as his gloved fingers tightened on your waist. He pulled you closer, pressing his masked face against the other side of your neck, and the rumble in his throat sent a shiver down your spine.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, your voice trembling just enough to sell the performance. “I didn’t do anything.”

But the pack wasn’t buying it.

Price’s hand cupped your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he tilted your face up. Piercing blue eyes searched yours. “You sure about that, love?” he asked, a low grumble that sent heat pooling in your stomach.

Soap pressed a kiss to your collarbone, his teeth grazing the skin lightly as his hands slid beneath your shirt. “Disnnae matter,” he murmured, voice thick with affection and something more primal, more hungry. “Whatever it is, it suits you.”

Gaz hummed in agreement, his lips trailing up the inside of your wrist to the sensitive skin of your palm. “Feels like it’s everywhere,” he said, his voice almost reverent. “Can’t get enough of it. Can’t get enough of you, dove.”

Ghost was silent, but his actions spoke louder than words. He lifted you effortlessly, setting you on the edge of the table with a deliberate slowness that made your heart race. His hands found your thighs, his grip firm but gentle as he leaned in, his masked face pressing against your stomach. The low growl in his chest deepened, a possessive sound that sent a thrill through you.

They were relentless after that.

John claimed your lips, firm and demanding, his hands cupping the back of your neck as he tilted your head back. Soap followed, his kisses trailing along your jaw and down your throat, his hands exploring your body with a reverence that made you shiver.

Gaz and Simon kissed the inside of your thighs, their teeth grazing the sensitive skin there as theirs hands held you steady and open, all theirs.

“Perfect girl,” Simon groaned against the back of your thighs, thick fingers digging into your skin. “Ours. Whatever you’d done- you don’t need it. You’ll always be ours.”

Hours passed in a haze of touch and heat, their attention unyielding as they marked every inch of you as their own. They murmured about your scent between kisses, their words a mix of worship and devotion. You played your part perfectly, letting soft, breathless sounds escape your lips as you clung to them, your innocence a carefully crafted mask.

By the time they were done with you, your were very sure they had rubbed off all the perfume off your body, and covered you with their own scents.

When they finally pulled back, in the nest, their bodies heavy with satisfaction, Price cupped your cheek with gaze still burning with intensity. “You don’t need anything to make us want you,” he said, low but steady. He stared straight at you, so that you would not have any reasons to doubt his words. “You’re already perfect.”

You smiled, letting the words wash over you, but said nothing. Your secret was safe, for now.

[ohbo-ohno]

idk if any of you have peacock/have seen ads for their show "teacup" but i can't stop thinking of smth similar with ghost (entirely unedited)

like, you buy a house out in the middle of nowhere - maybe a cabin, just to get away from society a bit. and you say you won't stay for long, but then you get used to things, start enjoying the peace and quiet you get away from all other human life, and you just... stay.

and then one day you go outside, and there's a giant spray painted ring around your house - enough for you to walk a bit but not so much that you can reach your garden. and there's a man standing maybe fifteen feet past the line, wearing a mask that covers his face, but clearly just staring at you. he's massive, casts a shadow that crosses over the line, but almost unnaturally still.

he tells you that he won't cross the line, that everything past it is still yours and safe. but if you cross the line in any way, you're his. the fact that you won't last long without food from your garden isn't something that needs to be said, you're already taking stock of the food inside your pantry.

you'd gotten comfortable out here in the wilderness, with your garden producing everything you could want. you never got into canning - bought a book on it, but never even cracked the spine. it's so much work, and you were perfectly happy with going to the garden before dinner and throwing something together with what you could get.

but now you're stuck. you see the man outside your window sometimes, walking around and around and around the circle, never passing it. every room in your house has a window, and there are days where you feel like he's following you, every time you glance outside he's just there.

you don't see him at night. you have no idea where he goes - god knows if he ever sleeps, you're not sure if he's even human - but you can't see him in the dark. the light from your windows doesn't stretch to the line, and the moon isn't enough to make him visible. once the sun goes down, he's just gone.

that's what gives you the nerve to step outside one night, long after it's gotten dark. you're hardly breathing as you tip-toe towards the line, eyes trained on your poor neglected garden - it's been several days since he first arrived, and no one has tended to your poor food. you're not even sure what you'll be able to get, if he's really gone.

he seems to be, or at the very least you certainly can't see him when you stop right at the edge of the line and look around. your flashlight illuminates the edge of the forest as you scan the trees, the circle of light smaller than you'd like. there's nothing.

you stand there for several more minutes, just staring at the food only a few feet out of reach. there's plenty of food that you know has already gone to waste, but you're hoping, praying there's enough to fight off your hunger just a bit, just long enough that you can think past the ache in your stomach long enough to attempt a plan.

(you'd been unable to think the first 24 hours, a creature of panic and nothing more. by the time you'd calmed even a bit, you'd been so hungry you could hardly breathe, then gotten sucked back into your panic after one look at your barren pantry. why had you never bothered to save food?)

your first step over the line feels like a crime. you almost squeeze your eyes shut just to wait for something to happen, but you force yourself to keep your flashlight active, not letting your eyes settle as you scan the forest again and again.

each step feels like you're stepping on glass, heart in your throat. it's dead silent in a way you've come to know the forest never is. the only thing keeping you from darting back inside is the desperate, animal need to eat.

you fall to your knees at the edge of your garden, plucking as many cherry tomatoes from the vine as you can, shoveling them in your mouth without even checking for bugs. there's nothing here but you and then man in the forest.

they burst on your tongue, cold and juicy and tangy and delicious. you feel delirious, having gone more than three days without eating by this point. the tomatoes could be spoiling on the vine, dotted with rot, and you'd still savor them like they're nectar.

you drop your flashlight after the first mouthful, desperate to use two hands and grab as many of the fruits as possible. the light illuminate just a small section of the trees ahead of you, blades of grass casting high shadows.

you only notice how much you've lost focus when the flashlight flickers off next to you. you can't move for a moment, juice dripping down your chin, paralyzed at the thought that he's somehow snuck up on you, made it to your side and taken your only light.

but he's not by you, you're still alone. you can feel it acutely, some instinct at the back of your head saying predator near, hide but not screaming in the way it had on that first day, when you'd been closest to him.

still, you're on your feet in the next moment, fruit abandoned in the dirt as you sprint back to your cottage. your not far from the circle, just mere feet, but it feels like an insurmountable distance.

you can feel him, he's right there you know it. the forest is quiet, the only sound the crunch of grass beneath your feet and your heavy breaths, but you swear you can hear his voice echoing in your head. not an inch past that line, love. then you're mine.

it's not a surprise when you're tackled to the ground, not really. still, you scream, tomatoes already churning in your gut and bile gathering in your mouth. your nails claw desperately at the colored grass, so fucking close to your safe haven, your cage.

"got you," he hisses over your shoulder, so heavy over you that you can hardly get in a breath. you scream soundlessly, face contorted in tear as you break your nails in your desperate digging. "you're mine."

the lights from your cottage seem like hardly more than the flame at the end of a matchstick as you're dragged away, your strength nothing compared to his as you're taken further and further from the safe haven he'd allowed you. by the time you hit the tree line, you don't have the energy to even try to scream.

[rafesbabygirlx]

john b with like..a bitchy!bimbo!kook!reader.

readers all y2k and such a bitch. actually hates john b. all juicy couture suits and daddys money.

That’s hot 🤭

Idk if you want smut or not but I can do this pairing with out it lol I also may have gotten carried away

𝚓𝚘𝚑𝚗 𝚋 𝚡 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚢!𝚋𝚒𝚖𝚋𝚘!𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍, 𝚖𝚒𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚡, 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚔𝚎

𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You spin around towards the bathroom door to meet eyes with a certain Pogue you’ve come to despise.

You were in the bathroom trying to take a moment to get in a line or 2. If you did it out in the party, everyone would hassle you for some and you were too selfish to give any of your stash out. People always took advantage. The high hit you pretty hard so when you went to take a swig of your drink you stupidly missed your mouth and spilt it all down your dress and track suit. You we so shocked to see him come in you completely forgot you had you jacket zipped down and open.

His eyes trail down your body and you scoff at him closing it back up. “I’m crashing your little kook party.”

“John B get the fuck out of here,” you yell at him and he rushes over clamping his palm over your mouth. You hate him but something tingles in your core at how he towers over you.

“That wasn’t a joke, I crashed I got caught and now Kelce and Rafe are looking for me.” He whispers trying not to get caught, releasing your mouth.

“Least knock first, why didn’t you just leave?” you yelled at him. He frustratingly throws his hands up telling you to be quiet again.

“God, that little pea brain of yours really forgets easily.”

You flinch at the words just a bit. You hated that people thought you were dumb. You couldn’t help the fact you were fun, out going, flirty… and maybe a little clumsy. Your face dropped and looked at him defeated.

“Don’t worry princess, daddy can just get you some silk tissues to soak up your tears.”

“I’m not stupid, Pogue. You’re an asshole for always throwing that in my face. Maybe I want you to get caught.” You cross your arms unintentionally pushing your breasts together. You catch John B’s eyes focus on them again. “And at least I’m not a pervert. Like what you see?”

He clears his throat as his eyes reach yours again. “I mean yeah.” He states it matter of factly not breaking the eye contact.

“I hate you… like a lot.” You move in closer to him, slowly unzipping your jacket again. “But if you want my help, you have to do something for me.”

“Anything. Not trying to get my ass beat tonight. What is it?”

You step up into your tippy toes, mouth meeting his ear. “Fuck me. No one will suspect it’s you in here if they me.”

You slip off you jacket leaving you in your matching pants and bra. You grab John B by the back of the neck taking him with you until you’re up against the sink. He lifts you up onto it, smashing his lips into yours. Your tongues break into each other’s mouths immediately. You only break apart for a second when you rip his shirt off of his body. Your hands roam up and down feeling every bit of muscle on him.

You hop off the sink and pull your sweatpants, next you fiddle with the button of his cargo shorts. You expect him to lift you back onto the sink. But I’m one swift motion he spins you to face the mirror.

“I want you to watch your enemy fuck you.” He says and a dangerous smirk flashes on his face.

He drops your panties to the floor releasing himself from his boxers. With his cock in his hand he runs through your folds, sticking it between your thighs. He moves back and forth creating a friction on your core making your body run hot.

“Eyes stay on me.” He demands and you nod.

Taking his cock again, he nudges your hole with his tip. He pokes you a couple of times using his knees to spread out your legs more. Once they’re spread he jams his entire length into you.

Setting a pace quickly he thrusts into you hard and deep. The only sounds in the bathroom are the soft bass from downstairs, skin slapping, the squelching noise coming from your pussy, and your moans you can’t contain. You clench your eyes tight at the pleasure.

“What’d I say?” He grabs your long hair, pulling your neck back making you open your eyes.

He keeps that position, your back is arched, one of his hand digs into your hip and the other stays tangled in your hair.

You’re getting close, a couple of people have knocked on the door already but stumbled away once they hear you moan. Until this time you hear loud banging on the door and they won’t leave.

“John B, get the fuck out here!”

Shit, it was Rafe. He probably thinks John B was just locked in here hiding from them. Your friend you will you if he found out what he was really doing.

John B goes to stop out of panic. You reach back to tell him not to stop and he listens. It’s part of your plan, your friends know how promiscuous you were, especially at parties. You calling out to him wouldn’t shock him in the slightest.

“Rafey! It-it’s me. No Pogue here, pr-promise!” You shout out and watch John B’s eye widen. You giggle at his reaction.

“Oh. You gotta cool it with these hook ups. I’m going.” Rafe warned, but it didn’t matter, it worked.

John B was turned on by how you seemingly stood up for him. This caused his to pick up his pace even more. It was a brutal beating on your pussy.

Your eyes have been locked in each others this entire time. You’re about to come and you can’t stop the noises slipping from your mouth. He was fucking you so good you didn’t think you could hate him anymore after this. You came hard around his cock and John B followed right behind you, pulling out and coming onto your back.

After he cleaned you up and you redressed you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You’ve hated him for the longest time, you still hate him, he’s still an asshole. Just an asshole who happens to be really good at fucking.

“Let’s get you outta here, Pogue.”

tags + some moots 💗

@rafestoothbrush @weluvwbb @itsforeverandalwayz @butterfly-ibuki @megiiite @maybankslover @siredbtches @bigenergy777 @percysley @aupernatural-teenwolflover @slut4you @rafegf-real @skywalker0809 @snowtargaryen @kieeslove @leather-n-velvet @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @diasnohibng @slut-4-gojo @akobx @jjmaybankmylovee @slurpdew @rafesheaven @cameronsprincess @littlelamy @nemesyaaa @inthelibrarybtw @frankoceanluvr11 @writingroom21 @v3n1ce-bxtch

[sleepy-fiction]

Adam Warlock x Reader.

NEMESIS AND I. 🏆 NSFW

syn: at galacta's inter-faction New Years party, you run into your mortal enemy, a new member of the guardians called Adam Warlock. and after some interpersonal battles, you allow yourself to fall into his charm, and he to yours. TLDR; mini slow burn where u hate Adam and then u fuck him

tgs: breeding kink, cunnilingus (fem r), fingering, masturbation, p n v, creampies, power play, bdsm, slowburn, soft dom adam, fem villian reader, inappriopriate use of adam's soul bonding ability (sex), a lot of shit goes on in this fic my mind is blanking, oh and u kiss bucky too idk

an: it's finally done.... after five days.... BARELY PROOFREAD

13.3K WORDS

Galacta's New Years parties were the hit of century. Everyone always attended, from villians to heros, it was the one sanction of peace in the universe. On the month following and prior to the party, a ceasefire commended the rare seasons when paths crossed. And any who disobeyed such rules, or worse started an issue at the party, would have thr face the wraith of both their faction's and the enemies. And yet again, Galacta's cosmic rager was started up again, only this time, an abandoned space station outside the Milkway was chosen to be this year's host.

Preparations were going smoothly on her in, as she fixed the place up well. Strobe lights, lazers, performers from across the galaxies flew out to attend, so it only made sense for you, and a few other villians to attend this year. By now, youd be terrorizing the galaxy, setting flame, birthing to chaos, destroying (or getting destroyed by) the guardians of the galaxy.

But for once, it was good to set a difference pace.

That's why you went all out on the night of the party. You wore your sexiest dress, paired with the slutiest heels imaginable. The combination a far cry from the violent and downright unapproachable nature you dressed yourself in. Though it wasn't your villian name, you wanted everyone to know that the Duchess of Galaxies had arrived.

Your space shuttle pulled into the station, as you slipped out into the airlock, feeling gravity return to your feet. You adjusted your top and breasts, checking your makeup one final time before the grand iron doors opened, and thr flooding of deep techno rave beats filtered in through the noise.

You smiled and shuddered, "the purr of chaos," whispering nothings into the air.

You were gonna get laid tonight.

But by who?

You passed through the final automatic door before you reached the inside. The lights were shut off, leading you into a world of bleeding LEDs and flashing neon lights. You recognized some familar faces as you passed by the dance floor. Of course, Sue Storm and Reed, finding their rhythm as they grinded against eachother. It made you scoff, but still, you shouted as you crossed them, "Don't hurt her now, Reed," winking.

"Ha-Ha! Enjoy yourself, Empress," Reed called back.

You slithered down to the drink bar, where lines of sofas and tables adoring the space. Along the far corners was a bar. And despite being off the crowded dance floor, this place was almost equally as flooded. That was the appeal of Galacta's New Year's. Alive and crawling with bugs.

Speaking of, as you pranched to the bar, blowing your kisses, and greeting friends, you stepped on something. "Y-owch," it suddenly yelped, it's voice like gravel.

In confusion, you whipped your head down, finding the kne and only Rocket Raccoon. Still, you didn't liff your foot, and the little creature pulled at it frantically. "Oooh. My, if it isn't Rocket Raccoon," you snarled as you lifted your foot. He stumbled back with a deadly growl. "I didn't know Galacta allowed pets in here," you snickered.

"What the fuck did you just say? Huh (y/n)? You wanna fucking go," he barked throwing up his puny fists.

It's then that you notice Peter Quill and his sister Mantis scurry on over.

You gasp dramatically, "Picking a Fight? At Galacta's New Years?" You spoke loud, purposely drawing the attention of others.

Rocket grits his teeth as he booms, "Hell yeah I'll fucking show this party the best facking fight its ever seen--" Before he could finish, Peter arrives to the scene, grabbing the Raccoon by its scruff.

"Hey- No, no, no. There will be no fighting," The Starlord huffs, turning away from you to whisper dead at the Raccoon, "I'm not missing out on another year, got it?"

It's then you glanced over to Mantis, her eyes narrowed on you, her fists clenched in anger. You quirk, raising a brow as you drop a deviously finger against your lip. "Oh? Cat's got your tongue," you speak.

Mantis flattens her top lip, hissing, "You should have never did that to Planet Yulean! Think about the Yuppies that got hurt!"

"I couldn't care less about Yuppies, they were hoarding fuel," you roll your eyes. "But they're dead now, aren't they?" You grin, staring her dead in her eyes.

Mantis shouts, "You monster! I swear. When we get outta' here I'll teach you a good lesson on-- On.... One everything!"

It's then a golden hand that flies between the two of you, and your eyes flicker up to see him. Adam Warlock. One of the new generations of the guardians. He was simple, plain, and easy to overlook, at least in personality. The two of you were fairly netural about each other, as you couldn't really get under his skin. You didn't know him, and you really couldn't figure him out. He seemed so weirdly honest that you were drawn away from him.

Appearance wise, you could easily admit how handsome he was. Definitely better eye candy than the squirrel, depressed oldest, and drax, that pulled down the looks on the team. Well, at least the old team. In all honesty, you hated the change. You hated how the guardians were moving ahead, you hated how you seemed to lack and fall behind in importance to them. Most of them split up and left, leaving behind these strange imposter's you didn't know.

Maybe that's why you were so off out by Adam. He was a symbol. A symbol of how you were now of the past. A symbol of change.

You immediately got irritated at his presence.

He spoke, "Now. Let's not start fights here. This is a netural setting on netural grounds. Although you are not physically fighting, Empress, you are starting a lot of them."

Mantis smiled, softly patting his arm. She says, "Thank you, Adam." And he grins joyfully. Mantis spares you one dirty look before turning away.

You seemed to burn with rage at the little gesture. You spit, "Ah-huh, You think you can talk to me, Tinman?"

He chimes, "No it's Adam. Adam Warlock."

Your eye twitched. You weren't stupid. "Yeah, uh'huh. Why dont you make yourself useful and go fetch me a scotch, robot," You wave your hand at him, dismissing him. He seems to stare at you, his eyebrows furrowing, before he simply walks away. His back slinking off into the dense crowd. You stood there a second, taking a breathy huff.

Now you were alone.

Good riddance.

You sigh, finding a spot on one of the sofas, leaning your head back against the back of it. Behind you, you heard the (usually) tantalizing sound of liplocking, but now it brought you nothing but rage. No one deserved to be happy but you.

How could you ever be when you were fading away. Not only were you no longer considered a priority, or barely even a threat by your nenemies, they were moving on. They were growing, no longer in fear of your threat to the galaxy. Thanos really reset the memter, especially after he took so much of your land from beneath. Fighting against him damaged you. You were weaker, insignificant.

You and many other villians.

Your eyes dotted across the room, watching as Captain America mingled with Miss Marvel and Cloak and Dagger. Your eyes honed in on them in disgust. They smiled and chatted away, laughing tenderly as if things were funny, exhanging looks, and glances at familiar friends and familiar faces. These heros always got what they wanted. They always get it in the end.

Then you glance over at Loki. The God of stories sits at the far end of the bar, drinking alone, lost in thought. Just as you were. All alone, all in thought. For the more sane villians, it was harder to "fit in", not that you wanted to, but still. Unless you were mindless and brainroted, seeking endless bloodshed with no sanction, you were alienated. That's the one understanding that kept you with a decent-ish relationship with the god. Sane villians who want power yet aren't respected.

In the end, it seems all us villains drift away. Your eyes sadly glance away from his cloaked back.

No fair. No fair when--

"Mmh-- haa," the couple behind you moaned. Your fists clenched tightly. Your magic swelled in your palms, burning hot to the touch.

"Fuck, not here," you heard the other one whisper. Inconsiderate fucks. You glanced behind you, watching the two blue skinned aliens swap spit. They weren't even heros or villians, just random rich folk who got in with connections or status. It only ticked you off even more.

No one should be happy.

Nothing about this was happy.

You whisper, "No one should be allowed to be happy but me." You spat out the last word, your whisper underneath your breath. Your palm burns, and without thinking, you shoot out magic. Wih a buzz, you shoot a shadow beam that curves backward, zipping through the dark, before it sneakily hits the champagne glass the couple held.

A splah rippled behind you. "Ah-- Shit! My shirt! Ugh! This was expensive," you heard one yell as they stood up abruptly, storming off to god knows where.

You smile, feeling the sofa shift as the other rushed off after them. "Hey! Wait," it's pitiful voice soon drowned out by the lull of techno. Your eyes dust close with ecstasy as you turn on the couch, laying your back against it and spreading your legs wide in the new room you gained. You rested your arms out against the back of the couch.

God, what were you even thinking before? It was too good to be you! You shut your eyes, rolling your head back with a soft groan.

"Your scotch, Empress," you suddenly heard Adam's voice before you.

What the fuck?

In disbelief, your eyes blank open, your head shooting up right. To your surprise, this wasn't a figment. Before you was the golden boy, Adam Warlock. He stood tall, his golden hair slip back, gorgeously complimenting the new suit he wore for the occasion. His golden light was a Stark contract to the neon-hellscape, the yellow and red almost comforting to the eyes. He held two glasses of scotch in hand, blinking at you, staring simply through lpng, frail, golden eyelashes.

"What?" You spat.

Adam looks off to the dance floor, lulling out, "You asked for a scotch, ma'am."

You were kidding.

You were making fun of him. Why the fuck did he actually get it?

Your eyes flicker to the whisky. It was served in a refreshing glass with a lemon slice, a straw, and a thick ice cube. You swallow, mouth parched and dry. You blink once. You suppose you'll enjoy it. You reach for it, but your fingers hesitate just before your fingertips brush the cold surface. Adam doesn't wait. He meets you halfway, pushing the glass into your hands, brushing his golden fingers under the pads of your fingertips before letting go. The scotch fits well in your hands.

You pull it into you, staring at it more quietly. He's the first to ever shut you up, huh. You feel the sofa sink next to you. When you glance, the Warlock is sitting beside you, not looking at you, as if to spare you the embarrassment, as he takes a sip. "Mmh," he hums, a smile dotting his face.

You quirk oddly, "You like it?"

He finally looks over at you, and you can clearly see the engravings of symbols on his golden face. "Yes, Scotch Whisky is good," he says. His voice is soothing, and it's deep and thoughtful. His jawline was perfect, strong, and dashing. He was truly sublime. Even you were taken aback. He speaks again, "Whisky is always good."

You take a sip, never taking your eyes off him. He's quite large too, broad shoulders with a small waist. You were almost jealous.

Your eyebrows twitch in annoyance. "Why are you doing this," you huff. You cut to the chase.

He awkwardly looks away. "I don't know much about you. And... This is my first party," he huffs shyly, his eyes meeting yours again. He doesn't break eye contact. Not even as he goes for another innocent sip.

"Ah-ha... Well. Do you know that I colonize and conquer planets for my bidding," you speak. Your eyes sharpen, your smile devilish and tight.

He winces, shaking his head. "Oh boy, trust I know," he sighs. "Dangerous stuff, you know. If you cross the wrong person, they'll be gunning for you," he speaks as if he knows that life, it irriates you worse, "It's never too late to call it quits," he continues.

You stand with a start, throwing a finger at his face, "So that's what you want from me! You're trying to turn me good, huh? Haha! How pitiful. One bland scotch isn't going to change me." You take a swing, hapzardly tossing the glass as you stare down at him. "You heros think you're so above all of us. All of everything. As if you get us all, standing up on your righteous throne."

His jaw slacks. He's about to speak, probably to sprout some more hero bullshit to you. No way that'll happen. You sway, pouncing before he can make one more move. You slide into his lap, pulling your hair away from your neck and leaning in close. Your perfume lingers on him. His thighs are a strong and steady support to you. Your knees rested on the soft sofa.

He flinches in surprise, his breath catching and then blowing against your neck.

You drag the side of your nail down his cheek, tracking your finger with your eyes before pinching his chin, pulling it down to part his mouth. You whisper seductively, "I'm rotten. I'm boundless and endless, ruler all of all, and nothing all at once. And I will return to terrorize you and your little gang again. And again. So you'll never forget me," you hush, so close that your breath mingled together.

You can hear and feel his panting against you, his chest rising and falling. "I'll haunt you forever. I'll dig myself beneath that golden skin. You'll be awake at night, trembling in fear of the mighty Empress of Galaxies," you hiss spitefully.

His eyes flicker between your features, mouth agape with a shaky breath. He's so still afraid to even move a centimeter. Either that or ill prepared. Your eyes narrow down on the etchings on his perfect, golden face.

"Mmh," a pleased sigh escaped you, "You're mighty handsome," you whisper, dragging your hand down his neck and to his chest. "I'll eat you for lunch," you grin.

He finally, finally, says something after a deep pause, "Y-You like me? You like me in that way?"

Your eyebrows furrow. You hiss, "Of course not. I'm fucking with you." You lean back away from his face, disbelief ans disgust in your eyes.

His hands slither around your hips, his eyes flickering. He gazes deep into your eyes. It lnly makes you tense up, your disgust brewing into bewilderment. Did he not listen to any of what you said? Or was he doing this on purpose?

"You like me? Is this what you're doing? Is this how you flirt? Have you done this with Quill, too," he asks. His face is blank, his tone is inquisitive.

Your face heats with humiliation, you lean back more, still held in place by his hands. You bark, "Of course not! He's! He's unattractive, to say the least."

He gasps quietly and the grins, "So I am?"

You sputter, "Yes? I already-- I already established that. I'm teasing you, Adam. This isn't real." You fold your arms and look away.

"Aah," he nods. You refuse to look. "Your dress is stunning. You have a great sense of fashion... You are definitely one of the best dressed here," he reaches and tugs on your jewelry, and that's what gets you to finally look at him. He speaks, "You have a beautiful style."

Your eyebrows furrow deeply, eyes flickering back between each of his features, searching for an answer. Was he? Fucking with you now? How fucking dare he.

You dawned a plastic smile, accompanied by a passive-agressive hum. You slid your hand from up his chest and to his neck. You lean into his ear and whisper, "I wonder what'd be like to melt you back into pure gold," your hand tightens around it, "I wonder if you'll finally learn to shut up." Your magic swells in your palm, and he can feel it against his neck. He gulps quietly.

For some reason, you can't bring yourself to peer out of his neck at first. You feel nothing but irration, nothing but the desire to squash this little bug and move on with your life. But also, a slight humilation kept you from looking at him. He was running circles around you. You feel the large, strong hands around your hips quiver, and you feel him half harden beneath you.

You jolt at the feeling.

"A-Ah... Melt me? O-Oh," he whispers, swallowing thickly.

You slip out of his neck with disbelief. He thinks this is real.

He continues, "W-Well. If you melt me, I don't think I'd be quite useful for my team. In fact, w-what I'm saying is that there could be other ways in which one could... Uh." He stops his rambling as he stares into your eyes. You're looking at him blankly. He only seems to clam up more.

Power spurs in your belly. You slowly, slowly, creep on a villainous smile. Oh yeah, you were gonna fuck with this.

He sighs and looks away, "Well. What I mean is--" You crash your lips against his, cupping the sides of his golden cheeks in your hands. He hums dutifully into it, melting and rocking his head forward to take over this kiss. His left hand raises from your hip to stroke up and down your back, reassuring and worshiping all at once. It then slides to your shoulder, as he wrosd his thumb around it, and beds his fingers around you, his knuckles facing away, his forearm against your skin.

You run circles around him now. He's a horrible kisser, yet he's trying to take the lead. His tongue laps awkwardly out of tune, and his teeth crash into yours. Was he really this inexperienced? It makes you chuckle. He surely has the passion. Your hands slip up to the back of his head, holding it as you pull apart and start anew. Only this time, the both of you keep your eyes open, staring, and letting you guide him into how to kiss.

He finds your rhythm, slurping you up, molding his lips against yours. Ever so diligent, ever so studious. He pulls apart to breath, and the two of you take this short intermission to stare oddly, contently into eachother’s eyes. He pulls your body in, you curve into him with a deadly giggle, and he takes the lead with his new knowledge.

You don't have to tell him twice.

That was fun, at least.

Your heart starts to race, your mind dabbling into dangerous places. You'll fuck him, split up the team from the inside, and then they'll never forget you. Yeah.

Adam sucks your tongue into his mouth before pulling out of the kiss. He licks up your lips, before catching your bottom lip in-between his teeth. You moan, spine-shuddering in excitement. He was too quick of a learner.

Your head buzzed in desire. You moan, "Ah- fuck." Then he releases your lip, dragging off of it painfully slow. It bounced back into place, all juicy and wet from his mouth. Your lipstick smearing on him. Your eyes lid. Maybe. Maybe just a little bit of him was driving you crazy.

Only a little.

He'd make for a fun toy.

One of his hands slides back to cup your ribcage, it fits swell in his palm. He moves you like a weightless doll back into his inquisitive mouth, swapping your spits, dragging his tongue up the roof of your mouth. Your tongue laps the beneath of his while he does so, but then he turns his head completely to dive in deep. Your hand falls, grabbing tight chunks of his suit. A whimper flies out of you.

Your tongues meet again, burdened with passionate fire, frictioned and brisk, lips brushing, growing redder, and plump. He's calm and calculated, at first slipping into your rhythm just to test it out and learn. To gain more of a human experience. Then, it bubbles into desire, a feeling he's not very sure with, then it turns competitive. He wants to turn you on too.

He's overpowering you fast, he doesn't need to take breaths as much as you do, and he's taking advantage of that. As you pull away to breath, you only get a mere second before he's suffocating you again with pretty, golden lips. So much so that you've begun to time your breathe, but, the strategist he is, he's even quicker to notice your pattern and sabotage it too.

You slam on his chest and forcefully pull away from him, leaning over the side of his lap a bit to heave and pant. Blood is brewing in your face and pussy, you can feel your clit swelling. You really couldn't breathe, you didn't know that feeling had such an effect on you. He didn't give you anytime to think. You knew it as an irriation, something you couldn't figure out. Adam knew it as your weakness, your head clouds you from reality.

He's just as smart as you. He knew greater than you that no villian would simply climb into his lap just to "fuck around". A part of you liked him. You just couldn't admit it.

As you pant, he cups the side of your face with his hands, your hair folding against his fingertips. He was admiring you with a soft smile and relaxed posture. The weakness. It made you want to curl up. You shut your eyes tight, trying to gain some energy to stand up, or brew up some sort of curse on him.

Adam's hand slips down, his thumb running over your kiss-bruised lips. You moan and mumble in discomfort. Your head meekly drops into his hand, and he can feel just how hot your forehead was on his palm.

He mutters, "You're thinking too much, Empress... You pick and choose your battles... Maybe... This should not be one..."

Your fists clench tightly. "Why do you talk as if you know me," you spoke. You try to bite back with force, but it comes off so weak. So sensitive, so vulnerable. The Empress was never vulnerable or soft with anyone.

The Empress ruled with a heavy hand, always in control, always in power. Always. Always...

Adam speaks, "Maybe I do."

You look up, glossy eyes finding his. This was a problem. You stand up, using his shoulders as support as you did so. "If you'll excuse me," you huff, face falling blank. You slink off into the dance floor, your usual strut more of a wobble, as you felt how disgustingly wet you were. It made your underwear so uncomfortable, not to forget how your aching clit commanded your knees to soften like jello.

Your neck was hot, your head was heavy. Your feet ached from the heels. You tried to dance in the tight hubub, as arms brushed against yours, as backs were dear to your body. But all you could do is think. Think about how wet you were.

"You think too much," Adam's voice appears in your head.

You hiss.

As if he knew you. You don't think enough. The beat flowed into a slow, sensual song as you released tension from your body with a huff. You slid your hands down your chest, cupping your breasts before sliding them down your stomach. You rose then high into the air afterward, trying to get into the groove, as you swayed your hips to the beat.

You heard the crowd shift behind you, feeling a presence on the custs of your back. They were close, whoever it was, as you lost yourself to the rhythm, eyes shut with your worries behind you. You felt large hands ghosts your hips. You reached down and pressed them down against you, feeling the smooth fingers curve around your hips in a secure vice. You moaned out a chuckle. You felt the stranger pull you into him, meeting you halfway as your bodies connected.

Your back laid against a sturdy, hard chest. You leaned your head back against it with a pleased hum, feeling their crotch brush against your butt. The heat, the pressure, the friction was cathartic. You almost forgot why you came here in the first place. You leaned forward, dropping your hands on your knees grinded against the stranger. You felt them lay a steady palm on the center of your middle back, the other hand sliding to old the side of your ass.

The touch.

Your brain flickered.

You know who it is. No- You knew.

But you kept your eyes closed vice. You didn't want to think about it. You couldn't do with the stress right now.

Maybe Warlock was right. Maybe you do think to much.

His hot rod was hardening beneath your quick, strategic ebbs and flows, your body moving in a addictive, rhythmic wave. The hand slid up and cupped and cupped your shoulder, it was cold and metallic to the touch. Warlock. You shuddered and mewled, pleasure erupting deep within you. You leaned back up into Adam, pressing your back against his strong chest again.

You reached up to cup his cheek, mewling out, "Warlock," as you look to admire him.

hello this next part of thr fic is rushed because I wrote it out the first time and it didn't save so..... but trust the og was juicy.

His long black hair, dewy peach skin and-- Your eyes hardened. Metal mask? You flung off him in an instant, in the process bumping into someone else. You steadied yourself and stared wildly at the man-- who wasn't Warlock.

You stared at a tall miscuksr man with long black hair bluntly cut at the shoulders, his skin fair and leach, a metal mask clamped over his mouth, accompanied by a cool metal arm. You recognized him immediately. "B-Bucky Barns," you stammer out, your eyes wide and frantic.

He stood tensely in place, his arms pulled up harmlessly, his face flushed in deep humilation. "Warlock," he squeaks out, but quickly covers his humilation with a gruff. He's just staring at you, not quite processing what was happening yet.

Your face grows deadly hot, your body tensed up. You nod simply, fleeing from his stare as you speak, "Sorry... I-I thought Adam followed me from the dance floor." Your tone was weak, barely surviving over the loud music.

Bucky's eyebrows quirked in surprise, his hand reaching to scratch the back of his neck. It was rare to see The Empress blubbering. You were always so poised.

Winter Soldier spoke, "Aah. No, I've been watching you dance... I've been watching it for a while so," he blanks, looking away, "I-I thought you saw me approach you." He's quiet the slient type, you're aware. You never would of guessed he had taken an interest in you.

You knew of the Winter Soldier. You've seen him in here in at Galacta's every year almost. You've even once shared a drink, but that was maybe four or so years ago. You never had a real interaction. He had taken an interest in you? It was certainly flattering.

Bucky's brows pinch as he shakes his head in disbelief. "Adam Warlock?" He repeats, but this time it's framed as a deadly question. His tone is drowning in petty confusion. He spits the name as if it were a juvenile stain on your crest. You pale. But he continues, "Like The Guardian, Adam Warlock?"

He spoke as if the name was beneath you.

Truthfully, he was right.

Adam Warlock was beneath you.

At least to your Empress Persona.

Adam Warlock wasn't someone "The Empress" took after. No, in all honesty, someone like the Winter Soldier was perfect for you. He was quiet, filled with a powerful prowess mixed undeniable raw strength. Only such a cold and calculated powerhouse could be a perfect fit for the power-hungry, illustrious Empress. Meanwhile, Adam Warlock is soft and kind. The Empress isn't.

Humilation stung you. Your head felt so heavy. You sighed, pinching your temples, "I won't tell a soul about this if you won't." You shut your eyes tight, praying this all would fade away.

You failed to see the disappointment that flickered through his eyes. He still spoke, "Deal."

You quietly slipped past him. He watched you leave. Your head fell low, your arm suddenly felt cold and forlorn. You stepped off the dancefloor. Shame seemed to sting at every corner.

You were impossibly fond of Adam Warlock.

You were so vulnerable with a stranger. You embarrassed yourself again and again.

You found your way back to the sofa you saw Adam last and was instead greeted by the scorching sight of Captain, Stark, and Thor. They sat snugly like old chums, laughing loud, beaming with endless joy.

You clench your fist.

You glanced around the bar, searching for even the smallest flicker of gold. Luckily, you caught sight of glimmering gold, just behind a crowd of villains you didn't care about. You pushed through them and soon found your Adam, sat at the end of the bar top in between... Hela and Loki?

What.

Your palms burned with fury.

What did they even have in common?

Hela's face was slightly softened, as she peered down at him between upturned eyes. Loki was perched forward, chin resting in his palm as a pleasant, thin lipped smile grew on his face. Both of which had their whole bodies turned to face him. Adam sat in thr middle of them, talking with his hands as he shared some story. The light from the ceiling glowed down upon him, making him twinkle and shimmer in contrast.

You felt.

Bitterly insecure.

So he just talked to villains then, huh? You weren't special at all. You were easily replaced by two other washed-up phonies. You were friendly with both, but still. It stung.

But at the same time. You couldn't look away. Not from the air of pleasure that dimmed from the three of them, how entranced they seemed just by catching sight of Adam. You found yourself grouped up and frozen, just like them.

Adam really was...

Really charming. He naturally lowered people's guards, naturally brought them in, and captured them there. It made sense. He was pure gold, who wouldn't be called in. Your heart ached pitifully.

He was funny and witty. He was a true jewel.

You could easily see why his team valued him so much. He was unique.

He was precious. Not in a juvenile way, but a way that highlighted how lucrative and luxurious he was.

Your eyes trace down his red cape, his slicked back hair, those golden palms. How he was a direct contrast to the neon life, to the blur of black and green that sat next to him. He was glowing.

Hela reaches and lays a hand on Adam's shoulder, he turns to her as she speaks.

Your eyes softened.

You really think too much.

You were still The Empress, you couldn't forget that.

With a deep breath, you correct your posture, strutting on over. You get in close, reaching a hand to cup Loki's waist, the other squeezing Hela's nailed hands, leaning in close on Loki's back. You do this all at once as you slyly hush, "Hello, lovelies," eyes lidded as you stare at Adam, and Adam only.

He flinches, staring at you with a slack jaw. Loki doesn't budge at all, and pleased hum mixing from him, "Hello darling." He reaches back to briefly pat the back of your head.

Hela's eyes narrow down on you intently, eyebrows raising in delight. She slips her hand back into her lap, humming, "My Empress." A pleasure to have Hela's approval.

You pull back, moving to Loki's side as you drop your palms on the table. You speak, "May I borrow your little jewel for a while?" Your eyes soften down on him. You were displaying open affection to him? Adam's eyebrows pinch together, a soft smile glittering across his face. He leans back.

"By all means," Hela says.

"Ooh, but we were just having fun," Loki pouts, drunkenly sloshing his head about.

"He can play god-sitter another time," You say.

Adam awkwardly looks between the three of you.

That's when another steps to the group, laying big and heavy hands on Adam's shoulders. You flicker on over to them, seeing Thor standing just behind him. Thor asks, "Does the dear lad get a say on anything?"

You all seem to cackle, "No."

Loki groans, turning his whole body away from Thor as Adam stands. "Ugh, hurry ans escape while you still can," Loki slurs. Adam chuckles, almost rushing towards you as you lean up, raising your hands to be taken by him.

He grabs them fondly, pulling you along through the party, barely missing the bickering that erupted behind you two.

Adam pulled you off into a long winding hallway, that was, essentially, the bridge between the party and the shuttle board. The hallway was lined with large rounded windows on the right side, a grand observatory to view this side of the universe. Stars sprinkled endlessly, galaxies entertwining, glowing their saturated colors. The two of you sighed at the sight.

"No matter the faction... This sight is home," you whisper, resting your head against his shoulder as you walked.

He hums deeply, nodding with a breathless sigh. "I couldn't agree more. When I learned to fly this was all I ever wanted to see," he hums.

"Earthlings don't understand it," you snicker.

He chuckles, glancing down at you. "You're enjoying yourself, Empress," he says. His free hand cups your cheek, running a thumb underneath your eye.

He's warm and smooth to the touch, you're not sure at all how you mistaked him for Winter Soldier.

You spoke, "Well of course. I have successfully pried you away from two duplicates of me."

He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. He nods, "You have."

You continue, "And now, you will take me to your ship."

He freezes, "Oh wait... Groot's in there."

You groan bitterly. You pull away from Adam and lean against the windows, kicking one of your legs back, a sly look on your face. "Then," your tone is deadly, "You will please me here. Whilst I count the stars I have yet to conquer." You glance off to the window.

Adam walks over quietly, your heart rate spikes. He grabs your hips securely, not hesitating for a second. You perk your ass out for him, and he meets you half-way, pressing his body flat against your. You moan, eyes already rolling to the back of your head. His crotch kisses your ass, the friction and warmth mind blowing as he wraps his arms around you, wrapping you up in his readcape, pulling you off the window and into him. Your hands meekly fall into this cloak.

"No," he hushes. His voice is deep and sweet in your ear.

"No," you scoffs.

"Not here," he leans and kisses your ear. His breath is hot, his lips are firm and soft. He's holding you plainly, cutely, you can't even get mad, you feel comfortable here. Your eyes lid, as you stare off into the galaxies.

"Why not," you whine.

He speaks, "I don't want to get caught."

You snicker, "Not a exhibitionist, I see?"

He sighs contently, looking up to stare off at the stars with you. "I still am a guardian. I must behave accordingly, especially in public. Many look up to me... And... I don't think I'm ready..." the last part hushes out, quick and fast, drowning in insecurity.

"Ugh," you roll your eyes playfully. But it didn't go unnoticed by you.

He snickers, "Some of us have rules and are not succumb to mindless chaos." Direct jab.

"I'll send you to hell," you hiss. He laughs heartily.

One last time, Adam sinks into you, taking in your scent, squeezing you tight, savoring your warmth, before he pulls away from you. You knew it was bound to happen, so you stare in contentment, counting stars. He whispers an intergalactic coordinate in your ear along with a date, you hum appeased.

"Until we meet again, nemesis."

"Au revoir."

A week from now, huh.

You can wait.

🏆🌟.

There you were, week later, in the den of your enemy, Guardian's ship. Warlock had you pinned. You found your back against the Starlord's old seat, your hands trapped on his broad chest, as his hands were locked on the chair on each side of you, his tongue half way down your throat.

Adam made up some lie about him taking the ship off to maintenance while he brought and paid for the rest of the team's vacation on a tropical tourist planet. He did take it for maintenance (and a deep cleaning), just needed to show it off to you.

Everything about this was so dangerous. He brought the ship into your large, monstrous space port, docking inside. You had the total upper hand here. You could draw in your shadow creatures in minutes, overpowering him and destroying the ship. He knew he was playing with fire. He knew it was wrong. But still, he lapped and sucked away.

The kiss was passionate from the jump, and eager awaited hands crawled up and searched eachothers bodies, stroking needy touches, groping, and groaning. Adam himself came into this event with his brain already shut off, falling to the will of his senses without question, something he rarely got to explore. Meanwhile, you were glad not to be in control, to not be cautious, at will to his every motion.

Your lips crashed in a rushed, passionate frenzy, your lips bruising already under him, as he dragged his hands from the chair to your sweet hips, pulling them flush into him, he loved the feeling, squeezing the flesh there was his life line. He popped out of your kiss with a dazed expression, you strayed out a swell moan.

You ran your hands up his neck and cupped the sides of his golden face. His cheeks were warm, and he curved into the touch and puckered a sweet kiss into your palm. His hair was down, floating above his shoulders as you twirled it in your freehand's fingers, giggling giddy at his affections. You wee becoming dangerously fond of him.

But as you stare at those yellow scleras, you stop caring.

When you were together, you vowed to just be (y/n) and Adam.

"Empress," he whines. But he likes the nickname.

You sigh, "Warlock?"

"Follow me to bed," he leans in, burying his face into the side of your head, "I want to hold you."

"Alright, alright," you hum. Adam pulls away, grabbing you by your hand and pulling you off with him. The ship has had some several upgrades since the last time you sliced it in half. It now had a lower and upper wing, the upper, having designated bedrooms for each of the crew. And after noise complaints, it was maintained today to be soundproof.

Adam pulls you into his. It's befittingly decorated with gold and red drapes, the occasion grey or black charcoal painting dotting the white and metal walls. His bed was a king's, with plush red duvet and fluffy ruby pillows. He sits down on it. You stand between his legs, throwing your hands around his neck. He grips your hips again.

You sigh in content. "You please me, Adam Warlock," you whisper.

"What a great honor," he sinks those hands around your back and flops backward with you, unearthing giggles ans chuckles on the way down.

You lay your head down next to his neck, spreading your arms about his head. Your right hand glides through his hair. His large, warm hands spread up your back, feeling your breasts against his chest.

There's this unyielding warmth here, fracturing through your joint bodies, radiance of affection burling through it all. His hand smooths down your back and to your ass, he cups them in both hands. You stiffen and look at him, raising a judgemental brow. He laughs, lidding his eyes and sputtering before going quiet. Since he's made of gold, you figure he can't really flush. You drag your hand down his cheek.

You prop yourself up with your left, using your right to pull down his lip. The inside of his mouth was pink and warm, his tongue pink, his teeth white. You didn't get to see it much, as mostly, you were feeling it out. "You're not gold all the way down," you say as you glaze at his pink mouth.

His brows quirks in confusion, "I am."

You shake your head, "Your month's pink, meaning your organs are too... See... If I were to follow down your throat, you'd be red and bloody... Like any other worthless human," you grin.

"Ooh... Ah... Right," he looks away.

You hook a finger on his bottom teeth, pulling his head back to you. "What? Spit it out," you command.

"Nothing, nothing, Your Highness," he's smoothing circled into your ass.

Your eyes lid, resting your face in your left palm. "I implore you, speak," you drag your middle finger up the bridge of his nose. "My tin-man."

His golden lashes flutter, his bright scleras glowing an honest yellow. He stammers, "I thought you were asking... You know... All the way down, if I were gold."

You blink, "Yes. I did. I am."

"Ah, I am then," he nods.

You quirk, "But you're not. You're pink."

"I can show you," he whispers quietly.

"Alright," you hum.

He gives you one final, tart squeeze before you slide off him, rolling onto your side as he sits criss cross on the bed. Immediately, he begins to unbuckle his metal belt, and you jolt upright in surprise. You get it now. "Oh- oh I," but it's too late for you to interupt. As within seconds, Adam had fished himself out of his grey-black suit pants, his penis slowly hardening under your stare.

Just as described, he was golden. His rod was still mostly soft, his size seemed unclear, but he was uncircumcised, his foreskin was a shining, glittering gold. It was pure, dancing with soft sparkles of different shades of gold. "Oh, my," you whisper, leaning forward for a better look, and laying your hand on his forearm.

He flinched a little, he hardened more. Was this his way of initiating sex? Your eyebrows pierced as you gazed up at him, his breath was caught, lips persed together, shy gaze being thrown back at you. You blinked. He could have easily carried the situation into something further at the cockpit, you were needy then. All he did was kiss you how he did before. Now he had you in his room, and now he's flashing himself.

He's hardening more.

You continue to stare with an unreadable expression into his eyes. Adam's face tenses more, teeth baring in braced anticipation.

Was he?

"Are you a virgin," you asked. It's more of a statement than anything.

He seems to clam up more, "I-I... I uh..."

"My, so there are things you can't do," you grin devilishly. You press your hands against his chest, pushing him to lay back on the bed. His cape spreads out on the sheets, his hair spread away from his face. "You're shy, aren't you? Ah, is that why you denied me at the party? Because you are a shy virgin? Or, are you truly not ready for sex?"

You rest a hand on his thigh.

His head was spinning, he tried to prop himself up onto his elbows to get a good look at you inbetween his legs, but you rose forward and pushed him back again. He bounced back on the bed with an anxious gasp. Your head tilted, "I need an answer," you pinned him down beneath you, slowly rising to gaze up at his face, trying to bring the tension away from his most sensitive part, and towards his face.

He laughs awkwardly. You blink.

"Ooh," he starts. "M-myeah... Yes, I am what one would call a virgin... Not particularly shy about it. Haha... Not at all." He's cracking again.

You smile. It was a soft and amused one, not the face splitting grin you usually bore. "Adam Warlock doesn't always have everything in control either... But he pretends to," you reach and stroke the side of his face with your hand. He squeaks, his eyes trying to hide behind his lashes, his hips swelling forward to the speed of your caressing.

He shuts his eyes tight again, drawing a breath and relaxing back into the sheets as you move your hand.

"Adam," you whisper.

He peeks up at you, "Yes?"

"Let's kiss," you grab his chin.

"Ah," Adam dives into your lips again. You have the upper hand as you turn your head to deepen it, but still, you're steady and secure, setting the pace for a slow kiss. You explore his pink mouth, licking his cheeks and teeth, meeting his tongue to carress and twirl around with it. You feel Adam's hand raise and rest on your back as you move to straddle him, hovering just over his waist, not resting on him yet.

You drive your hands down his bare, golden chest, he mutters into the kiss, but his tongue swallows it up as it chases after yours. He's good at kissing, so you start there. Not reaching past what you haven't done with him before. He's still mostly letting you take over, he's not lit with the zealous fire like before.

You were so confused. You pulled out of his lips, hearing him shudder and huff. You rest your forehead against his, peering into his eyes, he avoids them, looking away at the paintings on the wall. Your hand slides up to cup his neck. "Are you alright, Adam," your tone is so soft.

"I- uh... I," he doesn't do anything more. You take a slow breath in, annoyance plaguing you. He won't kiss you, but he won't tell you what was wrong. So what does he want? It's annoying. What was the point of you being here then, if he wasn't going to talk to you. Your brows furrow.

If you were doing something wrong. You'd remove yourself the second he says it. And if he wanted you to continue, then you would do so the second he says it. Yet, he says nothing.

He finally, after a bit of silence, (and him noticing how you huffed), looks at you, a guilty expression wrapped on his face. "On Earth, humans have a common saying that... One's first time is sacred and i-irreplaceable... They say that... That you will never forget them... The person and the time," he pauses.

You lean back from him, giving him space, and he watches how your eyes begin to melt. You know where he's going.

He continues with a sigh, "I am still a Guardian... To become this infatuated... And entwined with such a grand enemy wouldn't be... Beneficial or safe for my team... They would never accept it... They would hate to see us..."

Us, Infatuation, entwined.

He really likes you.

His expression is meek, his voice trembling with weakness. That you were, his weakness. And he was rapidly becoming yours at an alarming and uncontrollable pace.

His hand reaches, and he cups one of your breasts affectionately before his hand slides up to your shoulder, in the crook between your shoulder blade and your neck. His hand is large enough to cover all of it. He gives it a tender, secure squeeze. He speaks, "I'm not sure if... If I should do it... It might be better off," you brace yourself, he notices, he retreats, don't go, "Ah... Empress. I make all the wrong choices with you... You've enchanted me."

Your brows quirk. He didn't give you a straight answer. You didn't have time to help him figure it out. You'd leave yourself to vulnerable if he decided in the end, after all of it, all of what you'd give up for him, he decides to settle with his team. Would it be worth it?

You freeze up yourself.

You didn't know.

He continues, unaware of your own mental dilemma, "Here I am... Taking the ship, and parking it in the lion's den... The Starlord'll kill me if he finds out what I've done to his legacy," he laughs, but his eyes are brimming with affection. He reaches for your face, you look away, his hand retreats back to his chest.

Terror.

He blinks.

Without knowing it, he's begun to convince you otherwise. You speak, "One must decide... You must decide... If I am worth the risk. Am I worth the risk, Adam Warlock? By choosing to give me all of you, you will be thrust upon hardships and bliss. One but decide, if the bliss will outweigh the hard, or will the hardships swallow up the little bliss you had in the beginning. I... Tend to destroy everything, especially the good," your fingers trailed up his golden cheeks.

"I will leave you desolate and broken... Your team will forsake you," something flickers in his eyes, "I will corrupt the little goodness, the little sense you have left. Nothing of me is worth it," and is your solemn truth.

You look back into his eyes, your face hardened, only to find, that he's smiling. A soft giggle trails out from his lips. You're heavily annoyed. Your face scrunches up. You're opening up and he's. Hes simply laughing. That's when you sit up, almost moving to leave when he shoots upright and grabs you by the shoulders, giggling, and burying his face into your neck. "Pfft-- I'm sorry," he's still. Still laughing.

Your face burns with frustration. You feel your feelings begin to hurt. "You're humiliating me," your voice is squeaky and strained.

His laugh dies a little in him, "Sorry-- Sorry," the tension is thick and stressful. Is that all he was going to say-- "It's just, (y/n)... I think I've decided now," his breath is airy. You tense up immediately, already glancing up at the door. You're never worth it. You sag already.

He speaks, "Your words really opened my eyes."

Ah, you've gone and ruined it, too. You clench up, grabbing chunks of his cape. Why do you not want this to end? You've merely started.

"And I think you're right," he speaks. Why is he so cruel? Why couldn't he have chosen another set of words. Why does he rub it in your face and not quickly get it over it. Just say it. Say he doesn't like you so you can be gone. A tiny, quiet whimper shivers out of you. He speaks, "There are going to be a lot of hardships moving forward for us."

You blink.

You hissed out, "What?"

He pulls out of your shoulder, looking up at you with delighted eyes. "Ah-- Are you crying?" His hand slinks up to wipe away the tears you didn't know where falling.

It only makes this more humiliating for you. You're not weak. You shake your head, "No. Of course not."

His hand drops back to your shoulder. "Aah, okay, okay," he's amused again.

You only get angrier. "So. What does that mean?"

He doesn't scold you, he doesn't get annoyed, he's not angry. He only smiles, effortlessly sweet, following along with your train of thought, a hum in his throat as he chimes matter-of-factly, "Well. It means... I like... I uh-- I like you. And... Yeah. I like you, (y/n)."

You're drowning in disbelief. "But- You said I... You said my words... My words helped you see, I didn't say anything good about us. I dont... I didn't say anything good about me. Why are you deciding to stay?" You don't know it. But you're sort of pushing an idea that Adam Warlock must be flawed if he ever were to pick you.

That's when he takes offense. Not about himself, but about how you think of yourself.

He sighs out loudly, "(Y/n). That's what I like about you..."

"What? That I am-- That I am evil? That I will hurt you? That I promise," you huff.

He speaks, "Yes." You flinch. "That you are moody and indecisive... You think a lot, you're anxious... That you're an inter-galatic terror, and a domestic one," he strokes your cheek again, his tone is soft and affectionate, "I like you. I like that. I like all of you... I like it. You're fun... You're different."

Your shoulders slowly relax, unaware of how your slowly begin to sit in his lap. He's just staring at you now, all proud of himself. You blink. You blink again. "Ah, that's it?" You ask.

"Yes," he giggles.

"That- That wasn't very romantic," your brows furrow.

He giggles again. Adam cups the back of your head, pulling your face towards him, and meeting your face halfway to kiss you, a soft, gentle peck that was intended to be a long kiss, but was interrupted by his hearty laughter.

You huff, "Hey... Tin-man. You... Say something romantic." You're still pretty tense. With a pouty face and glossy eyes, you look like you're on the verge of crying a thousand times over. But. You gaze at Adam, sat in his lap, reminiscent of before, when you met at the party, and now a week later, still falling again and again for his hurtful charm.

He leans forward, taking your down with him, your head falling against his plush ruby pillows. You look so pretty in his bed like this. His heart's racing, those glossy eyes of yours are ever the sweetest. "Ah, I'm sorry, my Empress... I am lucky to be graced with your presence, and spared from your just wraith from my imprudent behavior. Forgive me, sweetness... Love of my," he freezes.

You freeze too. A thick surge of blood rocketing to your face, eyes buldged out.

"Ahem," he looks away in embarrassment. "M-My sweet Empress," he gulps.

"Mmh... I'll think about forgiving you," you chime.

He giggles again, finally, finally succumbing to your sweet lips.

🏆🌟.

You gasp ans shudder, as Adam takes you down into his red sheet. Your marvelous suit was peeled off you by his large hands, each time, he took a second to take it all in, reveling in the sight of new skin, not touching you once until it was all off, discarded to the side.

Your body was pure heaven, he oggled it down, watching how you posed and store up at him, softly aching your back and chest, trying to accentuate your assets, and like a fly in a fly trap, he fell for the honey hook line and sinker. His cock was spitting up on itself, twitching and shaking, as he took the terrifying task of hovering his hand over your glorious tit, his fingers seeming to shake.

He gulps quietly.

He's going for it.

He's really.

"Adam please take your clothes off," You sigh out, pinching your temples.

His bright scleras shine bright in embarrassment, his teeth clenched tightly. He takes a breath to calm himself before he quietly turns off the side of the bed, dropping his pants ans shedding his giant cape. He crawls back in, lips pursed, eyes still locked on your tits. He sits next to you, legs criss crossed, as he leans his head inquistively forward, tucking hair behind his ear on his left side.

And it is with that same left hand that he reaches... And! And!

Hovers his palm over your tit again. He got as far as he could before he could feel your warmth radiating up against him, his cock throbbing pitifully. He senses a change with you, he looks to your face. Surprisingly, you're not angry, you stare at him blankly and calmly, eye fucking his just as much as he to you.

He was golden all over, down to his cock, to his calves and toes, to the tips of his golden hair. His broad body as stocky as a barn, complimenting a tiny waist, built arms and powerful halves. He was so pleasing to look at, how his golden skin reflected and shined under the light so sweetly. He was hairless downstairs, smooth all down, even from his crotch to his legs. Your eyes flickered to his forearm, which was also hairless. Then they landed back to the shaggy hair at the top his head.

He got lucky.

You giggle.

He sucks up the sound. He finally lays a hand on your boob, gasping lowly, as he gives you the tiniest squeeze. He caresses you, lulling his fingers to cup your underside, feeling your hand hard nipples graze under his palm. He pulls his hand up to your collarbone, shuddering as your nipple draws a line on his palm again. He sinks back onto the bud, only this time with his golden fingertips, pulling them into a squeeze. You harden, parting your lips a little.

"Be a bit faster, Adam, I can't wait forever," you whisper.

"R-Right--"

"If you must stare, I perhaps I'll send you a few polaroids," you giggle.

His jaw slacks. As he stutters, "Yes... My Empress but-- I don't know how to do anything else."

You part your legs, flashing your pretty cunt to him. Adam sucks it in. You meticulously slide your hands down your body and to your clit, slowly rubbing circles for him to watch. He turns to you, leaning over to peer at your exposed labia. His dick twitches. He watches you moan before dipping your fingers down, parting your hole with two fingers for him to see.

He slips off the bed, you pay him no mind, as you continue to pleasure yourself. You're magnetic in this moment, eyes shut peacefully, fingering yourself at a quick pace, loving the way your hymen stretched around the entrance and bullying that intensely. He gets to enjoy the best part from here, you dipping in a see of plush red, moaning. He slips back on to the bed, his little moment over, as a new fire overcomes him.

He slots between your legs, holding your thighs, parting them wider, as you pull out of your yo shift and angle for his take down. He rolls out his pink tongue, licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit, looking dead at you as he did so. His heart was beating so fast, he was so nervous. But you couldn't tell, you flushed, patting his head with a whisper, "Good boy."

He he doesn't slow down, not even as his scleras glow brighter with sensitive lust. He's laying full on his stomach, grinding into the sheets as he sticks his whole tongue inside you, squirming it up against your hymen, just how you liked it. "Aah... Adam," you moan. He twists his head, grip intense on your thighs, as he fucks his tongue into you, pawing up around the layer of muscles that tighten around him, squirming the hard tip of his tongue into your walls before thrusting out, thickening his tongue and badgering your entrance with it. All just to slam it back in, erratically swirling his tongue from side to side, thrusting it in deep, flattening out his tongue for the thickness inside of you.

You bucked into him roughly, reaching out and grabbing chunks of his hair.

He could feel your loud moans reverberate through you, as you pushed yourself down on his tongue. His balls jerked, and he gave into the intenseness by grinding down more onto the sheets.

He pulls out to pant, too enamored by the flithy act that he forgets to breathe. He goes back in fast, lapping up your clit and labia, adoring how you felt when he parted you with a flat tongue. Your pussy made all sorts of vulgar sounds, complimenting the grunts that flew out your body.

He really couldn't take this.

He slips his tongue back in, dropping one of your thighs. He rockets his freehand up, snapping sharp into the air. The click comedy with a room shaking buzz, the lights flicker, and with a rough grasp, you feel energy invading your body. It directly attacks your heart, pulling at a strange sensation just behind it- your very essence. Your soul.

You gasp, feeling a phantom heartbeat ring next to yours. It's warm and inviting, full of kindness and light- golden, tasteful-- "A-Adam," you whine out.

Your breath quickens. Your soul is tied to Adam's in this moment, all of you belonging to him. It was odd and strange, the sensation like a relaxing lullaby but burning with passionate energy. You shudder. You can somehow feel Adam, not just his heart but-- feel yourself in his perspective. You can feel his embarrassment, how its hidden by lustful eyes, feel his passion for you, how his whole body seems to burn. As you look down at him, you find he's already staring at you, leaning his head against you thigh, his hair hugging his face.

"He's watching you ride out your high. Your first time ever begin soul-tied to him.

You whine again, hearing his thoughts interrupt you.

You both reach for eachother, sensing it in your souls, as he frees a hand to intertwin with yours. You met half way, yet again, loving his warmth and his company.

You groan and buck your cunt forward, he pulls off your thigh and buries into it on command. His hand runs from thr back of your thigh to the inside, resting right by his cheek to support him in his bullying of your clit. He flicks it and rolls it erratically around, doing all of this on repeat just to pull you into his warm mouth and suck you off.

He can feel your soul cry out, feel how the sensations make you feel, but they coarse through his own body, reverberating inside his being. He can feel what it's like to have your clit bullied, and it forces him to thrust against the bed and grunt, slipping off your clit in the process.

He sighs helplessly, tucking hair behind his ears before drawing an experimental strip up your clit. He can feel the sensation against his cockhead simultaneously. You grunt and buck your pussy forward, your crotch knocks against his nose, and you both hiss upon feeling Adam's pain.

You only need to think it, "Adam, what's going on,"

Before he responds back to you, despite ever speaking a word, "In this moment, I am yours and you are me. Our souls have bonded. I feel all of you," he strokes your thigh, "you feel all of me."

You moan out, "Haa- fuck!" Your eyes rolling back in ecstacy. You can feel his-- or yours-- throb, it's so painfully tense with heavy, shaking balls. His load is going to hard and huge, you can feel the sensation ring up his reproductive systems and to his brain.

The combination of dopamine and oxytocin firing through both of your bodies was an overwhelminf sensation, your mouth grew parched. You finally rested back down onto the pillow, Adam senses your acceptance, and he goes back into you. His work is sloppier, interrupted by his own grunts and moans, but he still fucks your clit up, badgering it, slurping and flickering against it.

You can feel him, feel what it's like to devour you, feel what it's like to sense your pleasure on his cockhead, how these bullying sensations feel like teasing on his cock. You can feel Adam begin to lose it, as he tries to suck up your whole vulva, just to feel the sensation on his cock too.

You grab chunks of his hair, roughly pulling up out of your body with a huff, "Adam- A-Adam hurry up and fuck me," you think.

He's so pitiful in your hold, not even hissing in pain, just thrusting up into the sheets. He nods simply and quietly, sloppily pinning you down. And even sloppier, his head pokes everywhere put your entrance. You can feel his thick head thrust into your folds and part them, twitching before bumping into them again, and again, each in a different area.

You hiss, tightening your death grip on his hair, he whimpers. You use your voice for the first time, "Put it inside, dammit!"

You release him and he drops his head into your neck, biting down hard as he forcefully, and finally, slams all the wall inside. He bottoms out inside you, all glorious seven inches, as he's skinner with a fat head. You both moan out in unison, yours are mostly filled with bright eyed gasps. You can feel your walls tremble around him, what its like to have a hot and heavy cock inside a warm womb, and simultaneously, the thrill of being filled up.

Adam's whimpering, panting, thrusting into you as if you were a pillow. His thrusts are shallow, he's barely leaving you, drowning in your warmth and fucking your cervix at this point. He likes the way it hurts, having your cervix bullied, he likes the sensation that you feel when your pussy's full. He can't leave, he never wants to.

But his man-ly senses override the glory of his new-found feminine desires.

He releases your shoulder, his forehead against yours, tightening his grip on your entwined hands as he fucks you, pulling out and then slamming in harshly, just to do it again. Focused on roughness than speed. "Aah- My! E-Empress," he mewls. He loves the way he feels on your-- more so our- hymen, finally understanding in full why you bullied it so much.

Such a normally restrictive muscle being forced to loosen, the pleasure and pain were comingling into one new, glorious thing. He loved how his head bludgeoned it to stretch, before his skinny cock made it shrink, just for it cry out when it had to deliver his fat head out.

You, on the otherhand, you used your freehand to claw his shoulders, already fucked out of your mind. Your bodies were combining into one sensations, you couldn't separate them the way Adam could. You felt your cock get a tight and hot hole, and your pussy get fed. Like some simple ape, you hollered and moaned in an endless stream, feeling your cock twitch in a pretty orgasm.

"Im- gonna cum," you moaned out, shooting your load into yourself. Only for your pussy to drown in a pretty wave, cumming instantly at the thick, appreciative sprays. You moaned ans arched off the bed, spitting out, "'M cumming a-again!"

Adam shakes, his virgin body forced him to cum again, right after you, his second time today. You moan out again, thwarting your head all the way back, not caring for the pain that rushed up your spine. "C-Came! Th-Thrice," you mewled, your toes flying up clenched.

Adam released your hands as his head fell heavy. His forehead and thr top of his head rested on the bed, his hands scooped up your hips, pressing you against him as if he were lost in a bowing prayer. He fucks into you, still maintaining that sloppy, but incredibly deep pace. He just wants to squeeze around his fat cockhead, and you do so, making him cum once again in your hot walls.

Your claws rip out skin, blood oozing out of your golden back, as you scream. To your magically inexperienced, you've been cumming non-stop, no separation between the two of you. Your mind was in ruins, tearing flooding out your body as you sobbed. Adam felt them swell up in his eyes, as he bits down on the sheets.

His brain rings, "A bit more. Please a bit more i need to remember this forever," Adam thinks. You nod pitifully.

He manages strength to raise his head up, and shoot up fully upright on his knees. He tightens his grip on your hips and fucks speedily, into you, slamming his burly head in your gummy walls, the sickness of a sea of cum aids him to go fast. There's this milky ring that builds on his shaft for every thrust, forcing the sea of cum to dribbling down and spray out when it can. The color was a light golden. Pure strays of gold mixed with your human slick, it's a glittering sight that none of you can behold, too lost in the balance of chemical fires.

Your orgasm is building, he can sends your ovaries forcing out a painful quake. His orgasm is building, you can your-- his-- balls surge.

"Cumming! Big-- Big c-cumming," you try to warn him, but trust me he already knows. You brace yourself, reaching out and grabbing chunks of the red sheets.

"Fuu- Fuck-- (Y/n)-(Y/n)-(Y/n)," he chants, speeding up as his high reached.

He slammed down into your cervix, your highs combined into one explosion, as you exploded out a hot load within yourself, and his ovaries squeezed out every last drop down your womb to meet you. The mess filled your womb up with cum, your breath dulling in your throat, your voice hoarse from the screams you didn't know were falling out.

Adam could barely stand upright, as he trembled from head to toe, jerking and pulsating. The pleasure came with an endless pain that followed, forcing him to snap his fingers, feeling his soul return to his body.

You both gasped at the ready-ness. It felt as if someone forced the lights on in a comfortable, dreary sleep. He pulls out of you and collapses next to you, panting and heaving as it his life depended on it.

His balls had completely tagged, as with his cock, it shrunk behind his foreskin almost instantly. You were still moaning in confusion, forced into another, painful orgasm just as your body returned from being one.

You grunted out, almost instantly flying into his body as he laid down, head resting in his chest, hand grasping at his body. And as you turn on your side, a flurry of cum rockets out of your wall, the sensation is nothing but endless relief. You moan again, unaware of how sweaty and sticky you were, seemingly everywhere.

Adam quickly jumps into action, snuggly pulling you into him as he helps the two of you into the ruined covers, barely resting his head on the pillows before it was lights out for him.

And you, you got to revel in after-glow glory before you too, were knocked out.

🏆🌟

Your eyes burned behind your eyelids, disoriented as you shot up. Your eyes opened shortly after you found yourself upright, instantly noticing how your uterus cramped up tightly before mellowing. You were in a warmlight red room, your hair wild, the strench of sweat and sex pure and thick in the air. You were deathly hungry, deathly parched, and desperately in need of a shower.

What the fuck?

The memories of before hit you like a brick.

You gasp, it's a picture of bewilderment, amazement, and anxious excitement as you turn to Adam in bed. He's grunting awake, laying a hand on his forehead as his eyes pop open.

You nudge him, "Adam." He grunts, his eyes closing blissfully. You nudge him again, "Adam. Adam... Wake up, honey." Your voice is drowning in tender affection.

"Oh fuck," he hisses, as he finally sits up, just like you. "Ah-- Shit... 'Ve got a migraine," he speaks as he keeps his hand against his forehead.

But he smiles oh so gratefully, and oh so tenderly when he sees you. He leans in and pecks a loving kiss on your lips, and you moan awesomely into it. There's this air of awe that suffocates you both as you pull away.

"Fuck," you hiss. "That was," you trail off blissfully.

"Exhilarating," he finishes. Adam slips off the bed, his knees buckling before he catches himself. He looks back at you, and finally gets to see the mess you two have made. His sheets are drowning in crusty sweat, and even worse, smeared with thick white crust in one concentrated area. He cringes bashfully, looking away in disgust and pride.

You walk up to him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"We need a shower, my sweet," you smile. Your hair's a mess.

He giggles.

The shower, turned bath, was lovely. The two of you engaged in meaningless talk about everything and anything. Like what letter of the alphabet the galaxy would be, and if rocket where a cat would he be less angry? Things that floated from your mind to his, and he simply went along with as he helped you wash and comb out your dirty hair. As he scrubbed himself while you rinsed. And finally, as he snuggled your warm body onto his while you yapped in the hot water.

You've never been so vulnerable, as you laid your bare body against him, your hair up as it sat in his conditioner, his lips and face already familiarizing itself with your neck.

"But out of all the races, I never would've expected a Xyler. Maybe a Luma, but never a Xyler. They're naturally more... Well," you paused in thought, "Reproduction-minded."

"Mmh, I've never been to Wahloni. I wouldn't know," Adam hummed, as his hands worshipped up and down your body, mostly your sweet breasts were played with.

You sighed in content.

"Hey... You ought to pick up your team too... You still have seats to wash, my golden boy," you grin.

He huffs, "Don't remind me." He picks his head up, turning to the large mirror in the bathroom. "Computer," he shouts, it responds with a ding, "what time is it?"

The mirror warps, a holographic "2:30 pm", flashing on the screen.

Your eyebrows furrow. "Huh? You arrived at four?"

"Ah, the clock's messed up... It's probably only eight, I've got until eleven," he speaks. Adam begins to kiss suck your neck, you moan sweetly. "Let's... Play again," he whispers.

You laugh, "No Adam! I still haven't recovered from that."

He kisses your ear, "I won't use my Soul-Bonding."

"No. Not a chance! Trust me, my sweetness, there will be more where that came from. Simply, another time," you turn to him, kissing his lips sweetly.

He wraps arms around your hips.

"Let's clean, my dear," you command him.

The two of you slip out the bathtub after you finish your route. He helps dry you off as he fetches your suits from the hang wrack. They're fully dry, curtesy of their quality, but the two of you decide white robes would be better. Adam loads his sheets in next, while you fetch a while glasses and some wine. He follows you out to the common area, where a nice flat screen descends.

"What time is it, computer," Adam barks again.

"Hello, Adam Warlock. It is 2:57 pm, Eastern Standard."

His eyebrows quirk. "That can't be right?"

"You have 250, new messages. Shall I read them?"

"Fuck-- Yes," Adam tensely folds his arms. You grin at the chaos, pouring your glass.

"From Rocket Raccoon. Where are you dipshit. Do not leave us stranded. From Mantis. Are you okay? We don't mind if you're a little late. From Drax. Hurry the fuck up. From Rocket Raccoon. I will shred you into gold flake--"

Adam gasps, "Wait, computer give me the full date and time."

It spurs, "It is 2:57 pm, January 8th. Drax's birthday is approaching. Should I set a reminder?"

You shoot off the couch.

Adam grabs his locks viciously in his hands as he yells panickedly. "Wait, what? The eighth? That's tom... Holy shit," Adam frantically looks at you.

Your eyes bulged out. "That's! We slept in, Adam!"

In a hurry, the two of you speed in two different directions. You rush to throw on your suit, Adam runs down to the control board. He starts a call, and you can hear Mantis's strained voice as she yells. You don't care to make out the words, quickly collecting every reminder of you ever being here in your pals, as you rush back to Adam.

He turns back from the conversation to you, "Yes! Yes. I was attacked by," his eyes lock onto you, "The! The Empress!"

"Oh god, but it's not even February? Does she not care about the party," Mantis huffs in disbelief.

"She's an animal. Can't expect an animal to follow rules," Rocket gruffs.

You bite your lip. Adam shoots you a soft look.

"I think it was all bark no bite, as I defeated her pretty fast. She chased the ship through the galaxy-- But there's not a scratch on it," he speaks, not looking back at the computer.

"It's villian menopause. She's falling behind. That's what it is," Drax hums.

You clench your fists with angry. Huffing as their conversation drones on.

"I don't know, but Adam. I've got my own adventures to return to, okay," Mantis drones on.

You jester to the door, waving at him. He nods sharply, waving as you rush out. He cant help the warm, affectionate smile thats on his face. They make his next words oddly happy, "I've got it. Don't worry I'm returning."

He'll, see you again.

As you step out into your ship, you rush into the airlocks before opening your hatch, allowing Adam to fly out of your ship's park. And just as you return to your cockpit, your system dings.

"One New Message from Golden Boy, My Empress. Should I read it?"

Your heart flutters, "Yes."

Your system speaks,

"Same time next week? :)"

[n0vazsq]

Obsessed | Marc Bernal x Reader

pairing . . . marc bernal x gf!reader

summary . . . Your boyfriend, Marc, is unbelievably obsessed with you

request . . . yes!! based on this request!

word count . . . 1.7k+

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . i was thinking of lines for this literally since i saw the request omg i also rewrote this like 4 times for some reason idk i kinda hated it

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa ,, @notm4d1 (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

. . . To say that Marc was enamored with you would be an understatement. Obsessed might be a closer word, though even that didn’t quite come close to it. He was completely, utterly, and unapologetically smitten.

You didn’t mind, of course, not at all. But sometimes, his love left you a little… astonished.

Like when you’d catch him looking at you from across the room, his expression soft yet intense, as though you were the most beautiful thing in the world.

It didn’t matter what you were doing. Whether it was reading a book, tying your shoes, or just existing, Marc would watch you like it was a privilege to witness it. Every little thing you did seemed to fascinate him.

"Are you seriously watching me do this?" you’d laugh, catching him staring again.

He’d shrug with that boyish grin, completely unapologetic. "You make everything look interesting."

His devotion was in the little things too. The way he'd reach for your hand without thinking, the way he'd listen, really listen, to every word you said.

It wasn’t about the big gestures, though those had their place. It was the quiet moments that left the biggest impact.

One afternoon, you mentioned you loved the scent of vanilla, never expecting Marc to do anything about it.

A week later, your apartment was filled with it. Vanilla candles, vanilla soaps, and even bouquets of vanilla roses.

"Marc, this is… a lot," you’d laugh, half in disbelief, half in awe.

He’d just lean in the doorway, arms crossed, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You deserve a lot."

Sometimes, his intensity was overwhelming, like when he'd brush a stray lock of hair from your face with such care, as though you were something delicate.

His touch lingered just a moment too long, his eyes searching your face as though trying to memorize every detail.

There were moments when his affection felt too much, but you always came back to him. No matter the overwhelming nature of his love, there was no one else you’d rather be with.

"Do you ever get tired of this?" you asked him once, half joking, as he brought you your favorite drink randomly.

He tilted his head, confused. "Tired of what?"

"Of… loving me so much," you said, a teasing smile on your lips but a hint of genuine curiosity in your eyes.

Marc stepped closer, his expression soft but serious. "That’s like asking if I get tired of breathing."

And how could you argue with that?

One evening, as he lay with his head in your lap, you ran your fingers through his hair, the warmth between you both filling the space.

"You know," you teased softly, "you’re kind of obsessed with me."

Marc opened one eye, a lazy smile playing on his lips. "Is that a bad thing?"

You shook your head, heart swelling. "No. It’s… kind of amazing."

He reached up, fingers intertwining with yours. "Good," he murmured. "Because I’m not planning on stopping."

Marc's gaze lingered on you, soft but intense, as though you were the only thing in the world worth looking at. There was something almost adoring in his stare, a mix of awe and admiration, like he couldn’t quite believe he was lucky enough to be this close to you.

It was the kind of look that made you feel like you were the center of his universe, and for a moment, it was hard to remember a time when anyone had ever looked at you with such pure, unwavering devotion.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" you asked, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably because, honestly, it was hard not to melt under that gaze.

The room was quiet, except for the soft hum of the city outside. Your heart raced, the weight of his gaze never leaving you. You watched his eyes flicker down to your lips.

He sat up, a shameless grin on his face. "Because you’re you."

And before you could think, his lips were on yours, soft but eager.

The kiss was slow at first, hesitant, as though he was giving you the chance to pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you leaned into him, your hands cupping his face, pulling him closer.

Marc’s hands found your waist, and you could feel the tension in his body, as though he was holding back. But you wanted more, wanted to feel everything he was offering.

You deepened the kiss, your lips parting, and he followed, his fingers gently tracing the outline of your back. It was as though the rest of the world melted away, leaving only the two of you tangled together in the middle of your couch.

Marc pulled back, just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours. "I’ll never get tired of this," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

"You better not," you murmured, a teasing smile tugging at your lips, but your heart was full. And in that moment, you realized that this, all of this, was exactly what you wanted. Marc, his love, his obsession, it was all worth it.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, as though he couldn’t stop himself. And you didn’t want him to.

After that, the two of you just lay there in a comfortable silence, the warmth between you two wrapping around you like a soft blanket. Marc’s head was still nestled in your lap, his eyes half closed as you continued to run your fingers through his hair.

The weight of his gaze, despite his relaxed posture, was still there, lingering on you.

"So, what now?" you asked, your voice a soft whisper as you traced the outline of his jaw with your fingertips.

Marc didn’t answer right away, as though he was savoring the moment, or maybe he was just lost in his own thoughts. He shifted slightly, his arm sliding around your waist to pull you a little closer.

"Now," he said, his voice low and soft, "we just stay like this for a while. No rush, no need for talking. Just… you and me."

You smiled down at him, your heart swelling with how much you cared about him. "I like that idea," you murmured, adjusting your position slightly so you were more comfortable, your hand resting gently on his chest.

He let out a satisfied sigh, his fingers brushing lightly against your side. "I could stay like this forever."

You laughed softly, but the sound was full of affection. "You’re impossible, you know that?"

Marc’s eyes flickered up at you, that lazy smile spreading across his face once more. "Impossible?" he echoed, an eyebrow raising teasingly. "Is that what you think of me?"

You rolled your eyes, but it was all playful. "No," you admitted, "just… a little intense sometimes."

He laughed quietly, his thumb running over your wrist in slow circles. "I can’t help it," he murmured. "You bring out this… this thing in me."

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you could feel the heat rise in your cheeks. "Obsessed, huh?" you teased, raising an eyebrow. "I guess I’m okay with that."

Marc gave you a grin that was equal parts charming and mischievous. "You should be. You're pretty great to be obsessed with."

You shook your head, laughing softly at his teasing tone. "Yeah, yeah, I'm the best."

For a moment, there was silence again, the peaceful kind that came from being so close to someone you cared about deeply.

It felt effortless, just being there, in each other’s company, no need for extravagant gestures or anything else.

You could feel Marc’s breath against your skin as he shifted slightly, settling deeper into the warmth of your lap.

After a while, Marc spoke again, his voice quiet but sincere. "I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before, you know?"

You tilted your head, looking down at him curiously. "Like what?"

His fingers tightened slightly around yours, pulling you even closer, and you could feel the emotion behind his words. "Like I don’t ever want to let go. Like, when I’m with you, everything else just… fades."

You could feel the weight of his words settle in your chest, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. There was something incredibly raw in the way he spoke, something that made your heart skip a beat.

"Marc," you whispered, your voice soft but filled with emotion. "You don’t ever have to let go. I’m right here."

Marc’s eyes softened, the intensity in his gaze making your breath catch in your throat. "I know," he said quietly. "And I plan to keep it that way."

You couldn’t help but smile, your thumb gently brushing over the back of his hand. "Good."

The room fell into a quiet lull again, but this time, the silence felt different. It was warm, filled with unspoken affection, as you both laid there, content in each other’s company.

The world outside didn’t matter, not when you had this, when you had each other.

Marc let out a soft sigh, his head tilting slightly so he could look up at you with an almost lazy fondness. "You make me feel like I’m home," he said quietly. "Like, no matter where we are, as long as I’m with you, it’s all right."

The words hit you harder than you expected. You weren’t sure how to respond, but you didn’t need to. The look in his eyes said everything, and all you could do was pull him closer, your hand resting on the side of his face.

"I feel the same way," you whispered, your voice barely audible, but sincere.

Marc smiled then, a soft, gentle smile that made your heart swell. "I’m glad."

He closed his eyes again, his breathing evening out as he settled back into your lap. You could feel the slow rise and fall of his chest, the steady rhythm of his heart, and for the first time in a long time, you felt completely at peace.

"So, what are we doing tomorrow?" you asked, breaking the silence with a small smile, hoping to keep the mood light and easy.

Marc shrugged lazily, his arm draping across your waist. "I don’t know. Whatever you want to do."

You thought about it for a moment, then grinned mischievously. "How about more of this?"

He laughed softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. "I think that sounds perfect."

And just like that, everything felt right. You didn’t need anything else. Just him, just this, and the promise of whatever came next.

And maybe, you were a little obsessed with him too.

[ssa-dado]

Three Stages of Truth - SOS

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader Genre: fluff and a lot of fun bits Summary: After years of adhering to the FBI's "no dating coworkers" policy, you and Aaron finally crossed the line, keeping your relationship hidden behind a professional facade. The team, amused by your strict boundaries, continuously poked fun at your stoic, near-platonic interactions. Despite this, once you were home, everything changed. Three fun scenarios lead to one undeniable truth. Warnings: probably there's a short NSFW bit, nothing scandalous, minors can probably still interact (?) idk sue me Word Count: 10.4k Dado's Corner: The first two parts are heavily inspired by the delightfully unhinged brainrots exchanged with @c-losur3 (bless your criminally brilliant lawyer mind, this is all pure comedy). Finally expanded into something more fun… or at least, I hope so! Hopefully I met your expectations with your request, took some creative liberties just to keep you on your toes :)

masterlist

Arthur Schopenhauer, German philosopher, once said: “All truth passes through three stages. First, it is ridiculed. Second, it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.”

---

Stage one: “First, it is ridiculed.”

If there was one defining characteristic that bound you and Aaron together more than any other, it was your deeply ingrained sense of duty.

Duty to the job, to the rules, to the team.

This profound sense of responsibility was what held you apart for so long, faithfully upholding the FBI's strict "no dating coworkers" policy, a rule neither of you dared to transgress.

It was that deep sense of responsibility that kept you and Aaron apart for so long, both of you strictly adhering to the FBI’s “no dating coworkers” rule. It was a line neither of you dared to cross… until, one day, you did.

When you finally took that step, it wasn’t as if everything suddenly became easier. If anything, your dedication to your roles only deepened. Years of hiding your true feelings had trained you well, knowing how to navigate each other’s professional boundaries came almost naturally.

And it wasn’t just about personal pride or discipline - it was about a shared commitment to keeping the team dynamic intact and not letting personal matters disrupt the work you were all so devoted to.

Worried that your relationship might disrupt that delicate balance, you both chose to keep it private for as long as possible. Every interaction at the office was carefully managed, every glance controlled. Even in moments when you wanted to let your guard down, you reminded yourselves what was at stake.

And when you finally told the team, it wasn’t accompanied by a sigh of relief or a relaxing of your professional façade, instead, you doubled down.

Pure stoicism.

No touching.

No lingering eye contact.

What the team found undeniably funny - and maybe enjoyed a little too much - was that back when you and Hotch were just “partners”, you were actually more relaxed around each other: a comforting hand on the shoulder every once in a while, sitting close together on the jet, chatting easily about anything and everything.

Now, you barely allowed yourselves even a fleeting glance. You maintained such deliberate distance that every rare look felt like you were cautiously measuring out tiny doses of affection from a secret reserve.

"Why don’t you two just kiss in front of us once, so we can actually remember you’re a couple?" they would jest during briefings, fully aware that the likelihood of such a display was on par with the office coffee machine working on a Monday morning.

However, this only seemed to encourage them to find even more creative ways to poke fun at you. During tactical briefs, a simple "Pass the stapler, please," from you to him could warrant theatrical gasps and someone fanning themselves as if witnessing an affair.

Or watching you navigate the halls with military precision, they’d nudge each other, whispering dramatically, "Alert, potential accidental eye contact in three, two, one... Oh, never mind, false alarm!"

In reality, the one thing that could actually make you falter was when the case wrapped up and all the tension, the sleepless nights, everything came down to a single moment.

All you both wanted was to collapse into each other’s arms, but instead, the only physical contact you allowed yourselves was a strangely formal handshake - stiff and awkward, yet somehow managed to carry the weight of all the unspoken longing between you, a small tradition of yours.

"Good job catching the unsub," you’d say, your voice steady, though your eyes shimmered with a warmth reserved just for him.

"Good job deciphering the pattern," Aaron would reply. His tone was calm, but his eyes lingered on yours a moment too long, betraying his deeper emotions.

In a daring whisper, you might lean in closer and murmur, "You looked insanely hot in that vest. I’m dying to jump your bones right now."

"I know, darling, but we can't," Aaron would reply, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "And by the way, if you could stop tying your hair up when I’m around, it would make things a lot easier."

You and Aaron had mastered the art of subtle flirtation, weaving little moments of connection into the everyday rhythm of work. Casual comments, quiet glances, nothing obvious, just enough to remind each other of what was waiting for you both at the end of the day.

If someone happened to get too close, you could easily switch back into "professional mode," talking about the case with ease, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

But once you were home, everything changed.

The moment the door closed behind you, it was like a switch flipped. Suddenly, you were no longer bound by the rules of the office. In your shared space, the weight of professional conduct melted away. You could finally let go - drop your bags, let the tension fade - and just reach for him. Your arms would find their way around his neck, as if you'd been waiting for this all day.

“Long day?” he’d ask, voice softened in a way that no one else ever heard.

“Long,” you’d murmur back, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before you even realized you’d missed him. “But I think I can be persuaded to relax,” you’d add, letting a sly smile tug at your lips.

He’d shake his head, but his hands would find your waist, pulling you close. “I’m sure you’re very persuadable,” he’d reply, and the warmth in his voice would melt away whatever stress lingered from the day.

There was no one to see you both now, no one to maintain appearances for, and the freedom was almost intoxicating.

You’d end up on the couch, half-curled into his side, legs intertwined, as you both debriefed each other not just on the day’s work but on everything that made you who you were, stealing kisses every few minutes just because you could.  

When paperwork demanded attention, it quickly transformed into another reason to stay close. You’d find yourself on Aaron’s lap, either at the dining table or settled into the couch, one arm draped around his neck as you both tried - mostly in vain - to concentrate on the documents in front of you.

More often than not, the papers would end up slightly crumpled, bearing witness to the playful struggles and distractions that ensued whenever one of you became too immersed in the task - or, more accurately, when the task became anything but the focus.

With a subtle wiggle, ostensibly just an innocent adjustment, you grinned up at him. “This is just more comfortable,” you declared, your tone overly serious as if you hadn’t used that same excuse every time you sat on his lap.

His eyes narrowed, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips. “Comfortable for you, maybe,” he murmured, his hands settling on your waist, fingers drawing slow, deliberate circles on your skin that sent your heart racing.

You stretched, arching slightly, your lips brushing the spot behind his ear that you knew he loved. "Are you saying you’re uncomfortable, Agent Hotchner?" you teased, your lips still grazing his skin, before pulling back to face him as though nothing had happened. "Because we can always switch back to a more professional arrangement."

He chuckled, a rich, low sound that reverberated against your ear. "It’s only unprofessional if we’re caught," he replied, as your hand began to roam up and down the middle of his chest, your movements slowed by the bumps of his shirt buttons.

You feigned shock, your hand pausing in its path up his chest. "SSA Hotchner, suggesting we shirk our duties? I'm scandalized." Your tone was light, teasing, your fingers now slipping beneath his shirt to trace the warm skin of his torso. His slight gasp was your reward, and you pressed your advantage, your touch bold and exploring.

"And yet, you're not too scandalized to stop what you're doing, are you?" he observed, his gaze lowering to the chaos of papers that had begun to scatter across the table as you moved to straddle him, your knees pressing into the cushions on either side of his hips. He immediately moved his hands to rest on your waist.

"Shock makes us irrational," you quipped, biting your lower lip. Your left hand rested at the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his hair to draw him closer, while your right hand played provocatively with the belt loop of his trousers.

His eyebrow arched, a sculpted line of mock sternness that didn't quite mask the flicker of desire in his eyes. As your fingers playfully tugged at his belt, a barely audible hitch caught in his throat. “Oh, I think the real shock came last week,” he murmured, his voice a low, tantalizing tease, “when you chose to critique my punctuation on that witness statement  - while we were busy on the coffee table. And, of course, it wasn’t even an error.”

You paused, holding his gaze with a look of feigned innocence, your hands slid slowly over his shoulders, fingers tracing the hard lines of his upper back as you leaned in closer. "I never said it was an error. I just suggested that a semicolon would’ve made that paragraph flow better." Your fingers danced closer to the waistband of his trousers, hinting at further provocations yet to come.

"And you expected a revision on the spot?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, his voice a blend of amusement and disbelief. "You’re lucky that I was too distracted by other things." He adjusted your positioning slightly, sliding your hands from your waist to your hips, pulling you flush against him so that the closeness allowed you to feel the firm pressure of his arousal.

“Lucky?! Look, it’s not my fault that, in that position, all I could see were your terrible stylistic choices,” you breathed out, your voice a sultry whisper as you began to kiss along the side of his face, tracing a path from his forehead down to his ear. “They were staring me in the face, begging to be corrected.”

His response was a teasing smile, his eyes alight with mirth as he leaned in, his lips barely brushing the sensitive shell of your ear. “You could’ve told me, and we could’ve tried something else.”

“Oh, no chance,” you retorted boldly, your smile laden with mischief. “From now on, it’s sex on the coffee table or nothing .”

He smirked, starting to place wet kisses on your neck, letting sounds escape from you. "Alright, but don't start complaining about ink smudges on your blouse this time."

"There won’t be any smudges if you just took it off. There’s a reason undressing is the first rule in the manual, you know?" you raised an eyebrow as you guided his hand from your waist up to your breasts, earning an amused look from him as he began unbuttoning your blouse.

And, inevitably, the papers would crinkle beneath you both, completely forgotten, scattering in a mess neither of you cared about. The only certainty was that later you would need to reprint half of those, but that's exactly why you had invested in a printer for your home office in the first place.

And, inevitably, the papers would crinkle beneath you both, forgotten, replaced by the quiet, magnetic pull that seemed to dissolve every responsibility the moment you were alone together.

Then, there were the slower nights, the ones where words weren’t necessary. You’d find yourselves wrapped up in a blanket, his arm around you, your head resting on his chest as you listened to his heartbeat, each beat sounding more like home.

He loved to stroke your hair, twisting the strands between his fingers. He would trace the curve of your shoulder, his touch a promise that echoed in the walls of your empty house, all without needing to say a thing.

Until he would.

"I love you," he'd say, quiet but direct, because he knew how much words meant to you and always would. It didn’t matter if it was the twentieth time he said it that day, he would keep saying it, never once straying from his purpose.

"I love you too, Aaron," you'd reply smiling, looking up at him, watching the way his eyes softened. His hand would brush yours, fingers intertwining in that familiar dance that he always led to his mouth, kissing your hand while still intertwined with his.

When he caught you blushing, though, that’s when the real teasing would start. “Are you blushing?” he’d ask, eyes twinkling with amusement as he leaned in closer, his grin widening as he watched the flush spread down your neck.

“Maybe,” you’d huff, trying to look away, though he wouldn’t let you, his fingers lifting your chin so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“You’re adorable when you’re embarrassed, you know that?” he’d murmur, his voice a low rumble, making it impossible to resist smiling.

“Pretty sure you’re blushing too, Hotchner,” you’d shoot back, arching an eyebrow. And sure enough, a faint hint of pink would dust his cheeks, and he’d laugh, pulling you into another kiss.

“Guess we’re both fools, then,” he’d say, his voice softer, that rare smile reserved just for you.

You’d settle in for the night, curled up on the couch, your legs tangled together, his arms around you, holding you close. Sometimes you’d talk for hours, sharing stories, inside jokes that made no sense to anyone else but always made him laugh, that deep, genuine laugh that seemed to shake away every shadow he’d carried with him.

In the kitchen, he’d steal kisses over the stove as you cooked together, hands brushing as you reached for spices, your bodies leaning into each other in that rhythm you’d both grown to know so well. You’d nudge him with your hip as he tried to take over, insisting he was better at chopping vegetables. 

“Let me handle this,” you’d say, swatting his hand away, only for him to pull you into a kiss, completely derailing your focus. 

“Or maybe,” he’d murmur against your lips, “we could just order takeout and go back to the couch.” 

“Terrible influence,” you’d reply, but you’d never actually order takeout; you enjoyed doing tasks together way too much, even if it meant sometimes letting him cut the vegetables, letting him win - after all, it was in his nature.

Lawyers always do everything to win, skillfully bending the law to meet their needs - and Aaron, he'd willingly bend you over the counter. You weren't quite sure whether to be flattered by that, considering it meant you were his personal law.

Hours passed like that in a blur, lost in each other’s presence, the outside world never seemed to matter, it was just the two of you, existing in your own little bubble.

But that wasn’t something you allowed the team to see. It was an unspoken rule between you and Aaron - quiet and composed in public, free and true to yourselves in private.

And it had worked.

Or at least, you thought it had, until one day, the team decided they’d had enough - if you two weren’t going to let them see the real deal, they’d just have to… intervene.

It started innocently enough, with Garcia orchestrating what she dubbed a "team-building" exercise focused on open communication. The twinkle in her eye was your first hint that mischief was afoot.

Morgan delivered the coup de grâce with a wide, victorious grin, making a seemingly casual announcement that sent ripples of mischief across the cabin. "Oh no, looks like the lovebirds have to sit next to each other for the entire trip! Sorry, guys. Plane’s tight this time.”

Hotch, clearly not about to let the team’s evil plan play out in full while you all had to start briefing about the latest case, immediately shut down the smiles with a sharp, stern remark. “What, you think we’re going to cuddle on the way to a triple homicide?”

Honestly, every time he could command an entire room with that dry humor of his, you wanted to jump his bones.

You couldn’t help it, it got you every time. Your man was pure authority wrapped in a smart suit and perfectly timed jokes.

Despite what everyone might assume, Aaron was actually the kinder one in the relationship. While he had the sharp, lawyerly precision to cut things off before they became problems, always quick to resolve matters - you, on the other hand, were far worse.

You didn’t rush to fix things or settle for easy solutions.

No, your method was more intricate, more drawn out sometimes it required humiliation before you got to the point. You were a master of patience, allowing people to dig themselves into a hole first, letting them build their own assumptions, and only then would you pounce, proving them wrong in the most delightful way possible.

Being a philosopher at heart, you liked to draw things out, just to let people stew a little bit in their own misguided assumptions.

In these instances, your strategy was pure, calculated evil - a slow burn of sweet, sweet revenge that only you could orchestrate.

Morgan's comment, far from a mere joke, sparked something much more dangerous within you - the thrilling anticipation of proving to them that they really didn't want to know what you and Aaron were truly like behind your professional facades.

“If we're traveling real tight this time, I guess I’ll just have to sit on your lap, Aaron,” you quipped, batting your eyes innocently at him.

Hotch blinked, his usual composed demeanor faltering for a split second, clearly caught off guard by your bold move. You could already see the faintest flush creeping across his cheeks, a rare crack in his otherwise impenetrable exterior.

But then, a slow, knowing smile tugged at the corners of his lips, the realization dawning on him that this was just the beginning of one of your devious plans.

He was, after all, your favorite partner in mischief. With a teasing glint in his eye, he patted his lap, a mock invitation and you wasted no time, making yourself comfortable on top of him.

The game was on.

“So,” you began, snuggling into him with exaggerated sweetness, “Hotch, you ever think about triple homicides?”

If you ever called him that in private, he’d probably have walked out on the spot, but here, in the middle of the case, using his work name felt like the only boundary left between you and the truth. It was the one little shield that kept the line between professionalism and the chaos of your relationship.

“All the time, Teach” Hotch murmured back, his voice low and humorously serious while his hand carelessly rested on your thigh, in its natural position.

Garcia, who ‘coincidentally’ happened to be traveling with you that day, shifted excitedly in her seat, mouthing "OTP" as she gave you both an enthusiastic thumbs-up, her delight in your theatrics clear as day.

Meanwhile, Reid looked on with wide eyes, his academic mind probably filing this under 'unexpected field observations’. "I... I think I should call my mom more often," he muttered, seemingly to himself but loud enough for others to hear. "I don’t think I show enough... affection."

Hotch’s fingers inched higher up your inner thigh at the mention of ‘affection,’ tracing patterns that almost made you question whether or not to intertwine your fingers with his to make him stop. You leaned in to whisper something cheeky into his ear, only for him to capture your lips with a swift kiss.

Now this, was unexpected.

His bold move even caught Rossi’s attention, who had been trying - and failing - to bury himself in paperwork, clearly uninterested in the team's antics. But Rossi had endured the deliciously excruciating tension between you and Hotch for far longer than anyone else. After all, there was a reason he still had that picture of you at his book release party in '99 hanging on his office wall - right in plain sight, as if to remind everyone who had been in on this secret for years, even before you two.

So you played it up even more, leaning in with a dramatic flair. "I love you," you declared, your voice slow and deliberate, gazing deeply into Hotch’s eyes. Every syllable was crisp and clear, you could practically hear the gears grinding in the team’s heads as they went into full overdrive, still scrambling to process what was happening.

"I love you more," Hotch replied, the soft chuckle accompanying his words causing a collective groan from around the cabin - yes, you two were cheesy, you and Hotch were far from the type to indulge in the most clichéd of romantic exchanges… probably because he already knew if you two ever started it, considering your competitiveness, it would have probably escalated into something so ungodly he didn’t even want to know.

"No, I love you more," you shot back, the stakes of your playful banter rising – you almost wanted to puke.

"Impossible," Hotch retorted, his lips curling slightly in that way that made your heart skip a beat. "Because I loved you first." you blinked in surprise, eyes widening just a little.

Now, that was new information.

But before you could fire back with another over-the-top retort, something in his gaze shifted, and in an instant, you found yourself pulled into a kiss, this one deeper, more intense, and completely unexpected.

The kiss was slow at first, drawing out the moment as his lips moved against yours with a deliberate slowness that made your pulse quicken, no room left for hesitation.

His hand slid to the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair, his grip tightened just enough to hold you in place, but it was gentle, as if savoring every second. His other hand found the small of your back, pulling you closer, until you could feel both of your shirts crumpling against each other.

The kiss deepened, his tongue slipping into your mouth with urgent intensity, exploring and tasting, oblivious to the hum of the jet engine masking the sounds of your teammates' shocked reactions… and the click of Garcia’s phone camera.

His movements were fluid and confident, each touch perfectly synchronized with the growing heat between you. You met him with equal fervor, your lips and hands moving in sync, the kiss becoming more insistent, more desperate – it was this raw, unreserved passion that finally pushed Rossi to his breaking point.

“Alright we got it! You were right! Stop it, stop whatever this is. We won’t tease you about the PDA anymore, I swear," Rossi exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air in dramatic surrender.

Thank you.

You and Hotch broke apart, the kiss lingering in the air as you wiped a smear of lipstick from his lips with a quick swipe of your thumb. Without missing a beat, you slid back into the seat next to him, immediately adopting your professional mask.

The sweet talk, the casual touches - all of it disappeared, as it should, leaving behind only the steely, composed agents the team was more accustomed to.

“Good,” you said coolly, taking the pen from your jacket pocket and clicking it with an exaggerated focus as you pretended to examine the case files.

It was as if the entire heated exchange had never occurred. Your calm demeanor was flawless, but inside, you couldn’t suppress the gleam of triumph in your eyes.

Oh, how you loved being right…

…Rossi, on the other hand, was still recovering from the emotional whiplash.

He shook his head with a rueful smile, a flicker of regret in his eyes. “If I ever see you two so much as glance at each other that way again, I’m quitting, for real” he muttered, his voice laced with mock seriousness.

Garcia, however, shot up in her seat, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. “No, no! Ignore him! You guys, please, be as mushy as you want. It’s a safe space here! I want this. We all want this,” she insisted, her eyes wide with fervor as she shot Rossi a defiant look. “Come on, meet me in the middle, Dave! I’ll buy you bleach! A privacy curtain! I’ll even throw in a soundproof booth! Just let them be adorable in peace!”

Rossi, who had clearly reached his limit, held up a hand, shaking his head in resignation. “I’d rather have earplugs and a set of blinders.” His voice was full of mock defeat, though it was clear he couldn’t stop the faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Really, Dave? Blinders?" Morgan chuckled from the back, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “You’re not going to let them have a little fun? Come on, man. This is way better than watching you flirt with the coffee machine in the break room.”

At that, you and Hotch immediately turned your heads toward each other, exchanging a look that only the two of you could understand.

Oh, if only they knew the real story. If only they knew how much Rossi had a thing for that coffee machine...

… especially the one in the Section Chief’s office.

You and Hotch had both noticed it long ago.

It was impossible to miss, really.

Rossi’s eyes would soften whenever he found himself near that ‘coffee machine’, as if it held some magnetic pull. Or the way he would suddenly volunteer to deliver reports to the coffee machine’s office, even when it was Hotch’s responsibility.

It was so painfully obvious to you two - Rossi was absolutely smitten with that ‘coffee machine’.

But, of course, you weren’t going to spill that little nugget of gossip just yet. Not today, anyway.

Although Hotch’s dry humor kicked in, and he glanced over at Rossi. “It’s all in the Italian blend,” he said flatly, his voice as deadpan as ever. You squeezed Hotch’s hand tightly to suppress the burst of laughter that threatened to slip out – damn, how you hated how much he managed to let you crumble like that all the time.

Oh, how much you loved him.

Thankfully Reid came in to save the day “I’ll buy the earplugs, Dave,” he said in all seriousness, looking at Rossi like he was ready to place an order for industrial-sized ear protection. “And maybe a seat in the very back of the plane. For everyone's sanity.”

“Thanks, kid,” Rossi muttered with a sigh. “This is the last time I’m taking a flight with you two lovebirds.”

You exchanged a playful glance with Hotch, both of you struggling to keep straight faces. The rest of the team seemed caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement, clearly trying to hold it together, but clearly failing.

"You know, we really should've started this sooner," you mused aloud, crossing your arms and leaning back in your seat. "It’s such a great way to keep everyone in line."

Hotch's lips curled into a slight smirk, though his eyes stayed locked on the case files in front of him. "Next time, I'll save the theatrics for after the case. If we make it that far."

“Good call, as always, Unit Chief,” you replied, your voice playful, but just serious enough to leave them wondering if you were still messing with them or if something had changed.

And that’s when it happened - the first domino fell.

Hotch’s hand, now shifted from the table to rest on your knee.

The weight of his touch was different this time - it wasn’t calculated, nor was it part of the show you’d put on to mess with everyone - it was simply him, expressing something real.

For a moment, you froze, the air around you feeling suddenly charged with something more intimate than you’d allowed to settle between you at work. But as you looked at him, you saw that he wasn’t expecting you to respond theatrically, either.

His gaze was steady, his hand resting casually, without any of the usual distance he’d maintained before.

The shift was subtle, but it was there.

You let out a soft breath, your muscles relaxing for the first time all day as you allowed yourself to lean slightly into the touch. “Thanks,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but Hotch caught the meaning behind it. He squeezed your knee just slightly, a wordless acknowledgment that you were both on the same page.

Maybe it was time to stop being so stiff…

---

Stage two: Second, it is violently opposed.

…and so you did.

Over time, you allowed yourselves some liberties here and there — small gestures, quiet moments shared in the midst of the chaos of the job - only when no one was watching, of course.

You still made sure that the workplace environment remained as professional as possible, the last thing you wanted was for anyone to feel uncomfortable or for your relationship to ever be questioned.

But if there was one thing Aaron was particularly good at, it was finding loopholes.

He would argue, “It’s not a breach of the rule if the statement isn’t clear on that at all." And when the rules weren’t clear, he was quick to take advantage of it, slipping into those grey areas that never seemed to get any real clarification.

Lawyers.

The rule had applied to the workplace, yes, but it never specifically mentioned physical spaces - like the FBI parking lot, or the elevator. So more often than not, you and Aaron found yourselves “stretching” the limits there, enjoying those quiet moments away from the eyes of the team.

The elevator rides were your favorite…

There, it was just you two, no cameras, no one listening, and nothing to hold you back. Sometimes it was just a kiss, other times... well, you both liked to test just how far you could go before someone walked in.

But, as always, timing had a funny way of messing everything up. It seemed like every time you’d start kissing or your hands would wander just a little too much, someone would always show up.

And somehow, it was always Rossi.

No one else.

Just him.

It never failed.

He’d clear his throat loudly, or tease you both with that exasperated tone of his, as if he was constantly trying to escape what he couldn’t avoid. It was like he had some sort of sixth sense for catching you two in those exact moments, and no one else seemed to be quite as lucky - or unlucky, depending on how you looked at it.

At this point, Rossi had had enough of the cosmic joke that always seemed to land him in the middle of your most inconvenient, and often highly personal, moments.

His will was already written, and it came with a very clear clause: Only one of them is allowed at his funeral or grave at a time. Lovebirds policy only. He had his reasons, of course, he didn’t need to explain why he didn’t want to see that particular dynamic at his final resting place.

So, in his infinite wisdom - and desperation - Rossi scheduled a mandatory HR seminar.

“Dave, I don’t have to attend the seminar, I’m Unit Chief” Hotch told him one afternoon, looking as though he might be able to talk his way out of it.

“Oh no, you do,” Rossi shot back, practically pointing at Hotch like he was an unruly student. “You’re the very reason I called them in. You and your... antics.” He threw his hands up dramatically. "This has to stop."

You exchanged a look with Hotch, trying not to laugh at how utterly serious Rossi was about this whole thing. But as usual, Hotch wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. “We’re managing it well, Dave. We never cross professional boundaries when you’re around.”

Not exactly, it should have been ‘we never cross professional boundaries when we know you’re around’.

But he continued talking anyways, intense and relentless as usual “In fact, we don’t even sit next to each other on the jet anymore, especially after hearing someone mention how she falls asleep on my shoulder after cases and thought it was 'cute,' apparently,” he said, glancing at you with a playful look.

Rossi’s eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, don’t start with that," he grumbled. "I know you two are playing some kind of game with me. And don’t act like you’re the picture of professionalism, Aaron, just because you sit on opposite ends of the jet."

Hotch then took a deep breath, rolling into lawyer mode. His voice dropped lower, each word becoming more deliberate – it was time to pull out the big lexicon. “Furthermore, Dave, I find it rather hypocritical for you to bring up a matter like this, considering you’re the very reason these fraternization rules were implemented in the first place. For the record, we’ve been transparent. Strauss was informed as soon as we started dating. There’s no issue here.”

Rossi blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in Hotch’s tone. He frowned, a bit of surprise flashing across his face. “Did she teach you the word ‘hypocritical’?” he quipped, looking at Hotch with a knowing smirk.

Hotch, taken slightly off guard by Rossi’s jab, blushed a little - his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. He wasn’t usually one for showing any signs of fluster, especially in front of his team.

The HR seminar had barely begun, but you were already feeling your patience thin.

Everyone had been summoned to the bullpen, begrudgingly forced to sit through a mandatory lecture on fraternization and professional conduct.

Rossi, in all his glory, had managed to schedule the whole thing thinking that a lecture about fraternization and workplace boundaries would somehow curb the “antics” he thought were getting out of hand.

But what he definitely didn’t anticipate was the sheer chaos that would follow.

The HR representative - Carmen, an overly cheerful woman in her late forties with a name tag that read "Carmen" - stood at the front, facing the group with a bright, forced smile that didn’t quite match the tension hanging in the room. She seemed oblivious to the undercurrent of discomfort flowing through the team.

“Today, we’re going to talk about how to maintain professionalism in the workplace,” she began, clicking through slides on the projector. “Specifically, we’ll be discussing fraternization, boundaries, and how to handle uncomfortable situations when they arise.”

You exchanged a quick glance with Hotch.

This was going to be painful.

Carmen continued, oblivious to the growing tension, moving to the next slide. “So, let’s start with a simple question. What should you do if you ever feel harassed or like professional boundaries are being crossed?”

“Do you ever feel like there’s a couple who barely show any emotion beyond stoicism but make it a point to talk about…”

You blinked.

Stoicism?

Did she even understand what that word meant? It wasn’t just about hiding emotions or being composed. It was a whole philosophy, a way of understanding life and how to deal with adversity. And yet here she was, using it as some sort of generic descriptor for a couple that was, apparently, too controlled, while also being embarrassingly not controlled enough in their personal moments.

You could almost hear her thoughts: “Stoicism” sounds intellectual, let’s use that to make things sound deep and professional. But she was so off the mark, you almost couldn’t bear it.

Carmen paused, her finger hovering over the remote.

She clicked the button again with the kind of confidence that suggested she had absolutely no idea what the word stoicism even meant. In fact, as you sat there, trying to distract yourself from the growing tension in the room, you found yourself profiling Carmen.

You were pretty sure she had just Googled the term moments before this presentation, probably during the coffee break, her face lighting up when she stumbled across something that sounded smart enough to say in front of the group.

The way she adjusted her glasses after every click, the small, almost nervous laugh she gave when she spoke a little too loudly, and how she constantly tugged at her sleeves like she was just a little too eager to prove she was in charge - she was someone who tried hard to project authority but clearly lacked a deeper understanding of the material she was presenting.

Her behavior hinted at a kind of surface-level preparedness, just enough to get through the presentation without anyone questioning her qualifications. She was the kind of person who relied on buzzwords to sound impressive…

The entire room went dead silent, but Carmen, continued without skipping a beat. "Next, we’ll look at how professional boundaries really can be blurred in the workplace..."

“Stop shaving, your beard makes me want to schedule sick leave for the both of us.”

That hit you quite hard. Damn… you still remembered how you didn’t let Aaron get out of the bed for two whole days when he grew one of those himself.

Your weakness... how the way it highlighted the lineaments of his face, casting shadows like something painted by Caravaggio himself, was irresistible.

Not to mention the heavenly way it felt against your skin… oh you were so feral… you had never had so much sex in your life like you did in those two days…

Your mind wandered back to those moments, the soft temptation to bribe him into growing it back.

“Your lectures make me want to…”

Lectures? Very oddly specific.

“My son wants a sibling.”

You blinked, trying to wrap your mind around it, but then the realization hit you. Fun, the agents in that room who had a child could be counted on your fingers, so the words felt oddly out of place. But still, you couldn’t quite grasp why they felt so familiar.

And just like that, it hit you - 32 languages, three PhDs, and years of teaching... all now reduced to the deductive powers of a ladybug.

You hadn’t realized it until now - probably because you were still thirsting over the memories of your hot man with his hot beard - but those weren’t just any words.

Those were your words.

Your conversations.

The moments you and Hotch thought were just whispered between the two of you, moments you thought no one heard. And there they were, broadcast on the screen for the entire team to see.

A chill ran down your spine as the final line appeared.

“Stop quoting Hagel or we might have to leave to take something we left back in...”

The moment those words appeared on the screen, you felt something snap inside you. The misspelling of Hegel - with an A instead of an E - was a personal betrayal.

Your mind immediately spiraled, fixating on the glaring error. How could they get something so fundamental so wrong?

To have something so simple and fundamental, so easily identifiable, mangled like this felt like an insult. Your whole body stiffened in protest, and your jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

You could feel the weight of your teammates’ stares burning into you, but it barely registered.

It wasn’t much their reaction to the personal details of your relationship with Hotch that had you worked up - it was the glaring inaccuracy before you.

The universe had somehow decided that this moment wasn’t going to be about the privacy that had been stripped away from you, but about this mistake - a simple, careless error that was now at the center of your fury.

You couldn’t think about how embarrassing it was to be outed like this. Your brain couldn’t process any of it, it shielded itself consuming by the fact that someone had managed to butcher the name of one of the greatest philosophers of all time.

Prentiss leaned forward slightly, her brows raised in surprise, but her reaction was drowned out by your growing irritation. JJ, trying to keep it together, looked over with wide eyes, an unmistakable flicker of realization dawning on her face. Reid’s expression was a mixture of curiosity and confusion, as if he were trying to piece the scene together in his usual analytical way.

Then there was Morgan, letting out a low whistle, clearly amused by the sudden turn of events. But it was Garcia, sweet, innocent Garcia, who was practically glowing with excitement, a huge grin spreading across her face as though she had just won some grand prize. Her eyes sparkled with giddiness, clearly delighted by the personal details she’d just uncovered.

The entire team had turned toward you now, their attention fully on you and Hotch, clearly not expecting the turn of events.

And it was embarrassing.

But still, despite everything - the exposure, the teasing, the whispers of your relationship that had never meant to be public - it was the misspelling of Hegel that was making your blood boil.

Every fiber of your being screamed to correct it, to stand up and storm to the front and take the projector down, fix it, fix everything.

But before you could even move, Hotch must have felt the shift in your energy. His hand, almost instinctively, moved to rest on your knee. His thumb rubbed gently in small circles, a calming touch, grounding you.

“Y/N, stop,” he whispered, his voice low and urgent, sending a shiver down your spine.

You could feel his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in closer, the subtle press of his body against yours grounding you, even if everything else felt like it was spiraling out of control. “Stop before you point out they misspelled Hegel and make a lecture out of it, or we might have to leave to take something we left back in the car.”

It was a mix of teasing and flirtation, the very phrase the HR rep had just banned from its existence. And damn it, it was working. The fire in his eyes pulled you in so completely, you almost forgot where you were, who was watching, or why you were so angry in the first place.

You wanted to stay mad, to stand up and correct the error, but the way he was looking at you made it hard to hold onto anything except the electricity that was building between you. The rest of the world faded into the background.

But of course, Rossi - ever the opportunist - had been listening intently. He leaned in, catching your words before they even left your mouth. “She just finished saying that,” he muttered, a smug look crossing his face as he caught your eye.

You shot him a glare that could have frozen him in his tracks, but it only seemed to fuel his teasing. “Please, Rossi," you said through gritted teeth, your voice low and dangerous. "Next time, forget to plug in your hearing device so you can stop listening to things you don’t want to hear. Or, better yet, don’t make me tell you the very reason you’re hypocritical in the first place."

Rossi’s smile widened, obviously enjoying your frustration. "Hypocritical?" he repeated, his tone dripping with mock curiosity. “Maybe you should teach me more of those big words.” He was goading you, trying to get under your skin.

Hotch, sensing the escalation, placed a hand on your shoulder, his voice smooth and controlled as he stepped in to defuse the situation. "You're welcome to take your concerns about our so-called 'unprofessional conduct' crossing boundaries directly to the Section Chief, Dave," he said, his gaze never leaving the screen as he remained calm. "But mind you, you have no proof."

Still, you couldn’t help it.

The frustration and tension of the whole situation - everything that had been building up - finally boiled over, and you couldn't hold it in anymore. "And on that subject, Rossi," you began, your voice firm, steady, and dripping with challenge, "don’t you regularly cross those unprofessional boundaries yourself?"

The room went dead silent.

You could feel Hotch’s eyes on you, and when you glanced at him, you saw the exact same understanding in his gaze. You both knew exactly what was about to happen. The words had already left your lips, and now Rossi was about to learn just how much the two of you had been paying attention to his “subtle” behavior.

Hotch, the perfect picture of calm, added with the slightest tilt of his head and a mischievous glint in his eye, “We noticed that you and…”

Rossi, visibly caught off guard, stumbled over his words, “Why did I even open my mouth? I knew this was gonna make everything worse… porca puttana,” he grumbled, rubbing his face in frustration.

Carmen, completely oblivious to the escalating tension, continued with the presentation as if nothing was happening.

But you weren’t going to let it go that easily.

You leaned back in your seat, arms crossed, eyes fixed on Rossi with a smug grin playing at the corners of your lips. “You know, Dave,” you said, your voice light but dripping with satisfaction, “this lecture has been very informative. But maybe next time, you should make sure to include a few slides on how to keep your own relationships under wraps. Might help you avoid the hypocrisy.”

Rossi’s face flushed as he shot you a glare, but you could tell that, for once, he was caught completely off guard. “Oh yeah? Well, why don’t you join me and Erin for dinner tonight then? It’d be fun, wouldn’t it?” He threw back, but you could hear the hesitation in his voice as he scrambled to regain control of the situation.

You leaned over to Hotch, lowering your voice just enough so only he could hear. “Aaron, I swear if I see them even touching hands, I’m going to puke.”

Hotch gave you a deadpan look, trying to suppress a grin. “I feel you, but…” His tone dropped into a mock-dramatic whisper. “What if we crank up the unprofessional behavior right in front of them? Scare them off a little?”

You raised an eyebrow. Oh, this was going to be fun.

Hotch looked like he was seriously considering it. “That could either work like a charm, or - let’s be honest - knowing Rossi, they’ll just double down and serve us a taste of our own medicine. And sure, we love a good challenge, but…” He leaned in closer, his voice lowering even more. “Do we really want to go there?”

You smiled to yourself, already picturing it in your mind. “Oh no, I can already picture it.”

Hotch sighed dramatically, as if considering his options. “We could leave earlier with the excuse we need to work on paperwork...” he trailed off, giving you a look.

You smirked. “‘Paperwork,’” you said, making air quotes with your fingers, knowing exactly where this conversation was going. “Our paperwork?!”

Hotch and you both knew exactly what the other was thinking.

Hotch’s smirk turned a little more serious, and he leaned in slightly. “You know, we could always go all out. Maybe I could place my hand on your shoulder every now and then. Keep them guessing.”

You gave him a look, one eyebrow raised. “Oh, I love you, but I fear that would be too scandalous.”

Hotch’s smirk widened as he leaned back a little, but the glint in his eyes didn’t fade. “Well, then I’ll settle for resting my hand on your knee. Once. For three and a half seconds.”

Your eyes flickered with amusement, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Wow, last time you only allowed yourself three,” you teased, knowing he had a habit of pushing boundaries, but always so carefully… you were an old Victorian couple with people you knew from the job afterall.

“I know, I’m practicing more self-control,” he said, voice thick with sarcasm but still looking at you in a way that made you forget you were attending a seminar about this specific behaviour.

You leaned a little closer, watching him intently, enjoying the banter more than you cared to admit. “You’re so hot when you’re so unprofessional," you whispered, the words dripping with playful intent. "Almost makes me want to kiss you on the cheek.”

Hotch’s expression never wavered, but the amusement in his eyes was undeniable. "So unprofessional..." he murmured under his breath, his voice tinged with humor but also something deeper, something more familiar with the man you knew in the safe walls of your house.

You didn’t need to be obvious to make things very clear. It was all in the subtlety, the small gestures, the private moments that only you and Hotch understood.

And as you both settled back into your seats, you couldn’t help but grin to yourself. It was going to be a long seminar, but at least it was going to be entertaining.

---

Stage three: Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.

After an evening of forced pleasantries with Rossi and Strauss, the two of you were finally free.

Walking into Aaron’s apartment, you let out a long sigh of relief, kicking off your shoes and feeling the weight of the night slip off your shoulders. The moment the door clicked shut behind you, Aaron turned to you with that familiar smirk - the one you’d missed to helplessly melt into all day long.

As if there had been no build-up, no tension at all, you found yourself pressed up against the door, his lips crashing against yours the second you crossed the threshold. The kiss was hungry, urgent, like both of you had been holding your breath all evening and could finally release it now that you were alone.

His hands moved instinctively to your waist, pulling you closer as your bodies melted into each other, until there was no room left between you two.

When you pulled away, breathless but grinning, you teased, “You know, after all that drama with Rossi and Strauss, I’m exhausted. Think I could spend the night here?”

“Well, I do have a guest room…”  Aaron raised an eyebrow, letting the words hang in the air, as if he was seriously considering it.

You narrowed your eyes, taking a small step back but keeping the playful smirk on your face. “Guest room? That’s so nice of you, love” you said, folding your arms. “But I was thinking maybe I could sleep in your bed you know, just for the night. It’s so cold here. I mean, really cold. We wouldn’t want me freezing to death, would we?”

Aaron's lips curled into a mischievous grin as he stepped closer, his gaze playful. “I’ll tell you a secret,” he said casually, his voice smooth. “It was all part of my plan,” he added with a glint in his eye. “That’s why I’ve kept all the windows open.”

He paused dramatically, his hands slipping around yourhips, pulling you closer. “Wouldn’t want you getting too comfortable, would I? Now, you’re basically obliged for cuddles.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head at him, already feeling the heat between you two. “Oh, you’re so devious,” you teased, leaning in to kiss him again, this time slower, with just enough space between your lips to let his tongue slide in.

“You know you don’t have to plan so much for us to sleep together. I thought that was a given by now, cuddles included... maybe even something more. Who knows?” You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, the playful challenge lingering in the air.

Aaron chuckled against your lips, deepening the kiss with just as much passion, his hands sliding up to your shoulders, gently but firmly pushing you back against the wall.

For a moment, you both paused, breathless, eyes locked in shared understanding before you leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “So, how exactly do you manage to get to the office first every morning?” you asked, your smirk widening as the question hung in the air, taunting him.

Aaron’s smile deepened, a mixture of wry humor and something much more tempting in his gaze. He leaned in, lips brushing against your ear, his voice low and playful. “I love you,” he said softly, almost tenderly, before pulling back to meet your eyes. “But not a chance.”

You gasped in mock outrage, your hands finding his chest as you pushed yourself off the wall, trying to distance yourself a little. “Come on, no fair. You’ve been so open tonight with all your little secrets,” you teased, making air quotes. “Now you won’t share this one?”

Before you could move away, Aaron caught you effortlessly, pulling you back into his embrace. His strong arms wrapped around you, sending your heart racing. His lips grazed your ear again, his voice hushed and playful as he whispered, “I’ll tell you in 83 days,” his tone dripping with mock seriousness.

You froze, eyes widening in surprise.

The playful smile slipped from your face, and the warmth from his embrace spread through you, despite the coldness of the apartment.

You blinked, the realization hitting you all at once.

The bet you two had made years ago - the one where if he beat you to the office for 1,000 days, he’d have to propose - flashed through your mind. And now, he was casually dropping 83 days like it was just another countdown.

“Come on, don’t pretend you’re shocked,” Aaron said, his voice softening with affection. He leaned in closer, brushing his lips lightly against yours. “You knew this was coming, if you keep failing… this is your last chance to beat me.”

His lips captured yours in another soft kiss, and you could feel the unspoken weight behind his words. “Unless you really want to spend the rest of your life with me.”

Your breath caught, and the sudden heat flooded your cheeks, turning them a deep shade of red. You couldn’t help but melt into him, the gravity of his words settling in, even as you clung to the teasing spark that still flickered between you.

“You still have to find out my answer,” you teased, raising an eyebrow, your voice light but full of challenge. “You know, just to keep you on your toes. It’s not all settled yet… and who knows, maybe you won’t even ever know it. I’ve still got 83 days to beat you.”

Aaron shot you a pointed look, the corners of his lips curling into a smile. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer. “I wouldn’t be so confident, considering your terrible track record,” he said, his voice rich with teasing. Without giving you a chance to respond, he kissed you again - harder this time - his lips claiming yours with a passionate force that spoke of promises yet to be fulfilled.

You melted into the kiss, every nerve in your body aware of just how close you were, how real everything felt. When the kiss finally broke, your hand remained lightly against his chest, still feeling the thrum of his heartbeat. “Haven’t you learned yet that you should never underestimate me, Hotchner?”

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your ears as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. “This is the only thing I allow myself to underestimate you on,” he teased, pulling back with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “You’re terrible at it. Even worse than your shooting skills.”

You raised an eyebrow, still smirking, a playful spark lighting up your eyes. “Oh, now you’re exaggerating,” you said, poking his chest lightly with your finger.

“It’s not like if I can’t beat you at something, I’m mathematically bad at it. And also, really? You expect me to outdo a sniper?” You tilted your head, teasing him about his former SWAT team background.

“Absolutely,” Aaron replied, his grin widening. “You still have to keep up with me on long-distance shots, and don’t even think about blaming it on your blurry vision.”

He gave you a pointed look, then leaned in slightly, his voice low and playful. “I still love you, of course, even if you might need a little more training from the ‘sniper’.” He winked at you, that familiar, mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

You laughed softly, shaking your head, but the idea seemed to settle in your mind. “You know,” you said casually, leaning against the counter with a thoughtful look on your face, “I just realized something. If I married you, we’d have two Agent Hotchners on the team.”

Aaron’s eyes twinkled with amusement, but there was a hint of something deeper in his gaze. He leaned down slightly, getting closer as if he were about to tell you a secret. “Oh, so you’re considering it?” he teased, the playful tone only slightly covering the vulnerability that was starting to show through.

You leaned in a little closer, your voice soft and teasing as you whispered, “Well, we’ve still got 83 days to figure it out, don’t we?” You let the words hang in the air for a moment before adding, with a sly grin, “Unless, of course, you want to start planning now.”

Aaron’s smirk softened, a chuckle escaping him as his arms tightened around you just a little more, pulling you in closer. “Oh no,” he said, his voice low, full of mischief. “I still need to do everything in my power to make sure you’re the one to lose the most important bet of your life.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in your gaze. “Getting a little cocky, aren’t we?” you teased, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Just because you think you’ve got me cornered in this bet doesn’t mean you’ve won yet.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering as he leaned in a little closer. “Maybe I just wanted to make sure I’m doing things right,” he said, voice low and teasing. “For example… I wanted to check if sapphire was still your favorite stone,” he added, his grin widening. “You know, just in case I need to upgrade the plan.”

The question caught you off guard. You blinked at him, your heart skipping a beat as the realization hit you. “What?” you stammered, feeling a blush creep up your neck. “Shut up, Aaron,” you said, your voice a little shaky as you tried to recover from the surprise. “You’re ridiculous.” You tried to pull away, but his arms were still around you, pulling you closer, his grin widening at your reaction.

Aaron laughed softly, his thumb brushing your cheek, the teasing light in his eyes evident. “I swear, you’re so easy to fluster,” he teased, his voice low but affectionate. “You’re blushing, and I haven’t even asked you yet.”

You couldn’t stop the blush from deepening, your face now a full shade of red. You crossed your arms over your chest, looking away in embarrassment, but it was too late, he’d already noticed. “You’re going to be the death of me,” you muttered, feeling the heat in your cheeks spread.

Aaron reached out, his fingers gently tilting your chin up so you were forced to meet his gaze. His voice dropped to a quiet, serious tone, though the warmth still lingered. “Til death do us part, right?” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Don’t make me cry,” you whispered, the teasing edge to your voice slipping away. The laughter, the playful teasing, they all seemed distant now.

Aaron’s gaze softened, his thumb gently caressing your jawline as he studied you, he didn’t say anything at first, letting the silence stretch between you. His hand lingered on your chin for a moment longer before he slowly, carefully, let it fall to your waist, his touch grounding you.

His voice, when he spoke, was quieter, more intimate. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said softly. “But if I do, I hope it’s because I’ve made you happy, not because I’ve made you doubt what we have.”

You swallowed, the words tugging at something deep inside you. It was the way he spoke to you, like he meant every syllable, that made your heart swell, and for a brief moment, you almost wished you could freeze time and just stay in that moment, locked in his arms, no words left to be said.

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling a little, despite the overwhelming feeling in your chest. “Well, you’ve already got me feeling all kinds of things,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood again, even as your voice wavered just slightly. “But I think you’re safe for now.”

Aaron chuckled softly, his hand gently brushing down your arm, a reassuring gesture that made you feel grounded. “I don’t want to just be safe, though,” he murmured, his eyes dark with something a little more serious. “I want to be the one who makes you feel like you’ve found home, even when the world is too much.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the weight of his words settling deep in your chest, causing your heart to flutter in a way you couldn’t quite put into words, no matter how many languages you spoke.

There was something about Aaron - his warmth, his steady presence, his certainty - that made it so easy to get lost in him. You didn’t know what the future held, but with him by your side, the world seemed less daunting, less frightening.

“Then maybe you’ve already won,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. The walls you’d so carefully built around your vulnerability came crashing down, and for the first time, you let yourself feel the full force of it. “Maybe you’ve already made me feel at home, windows open or not.”

Aaron’s lips brushed gently against your forehead in a soft kiss, his arms tightening around you in a way that made you feel completely safe. “Then I’ll keep doing it,” he murmured against your skin, his words a promise, a vow, and a reassurance all in one. “Every single day.”

"In love, one and one are one." Jean-Paul Sartre

---

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[jezebelblues]

apollo | h.s

summary: fall 1925. a journalist looking for a story, a jazz musician dancing with the devil. [au]

cw: smut18+ - oral fem!receiving, alcohol usage, drugs, fem!reader, depiction of gangs, lower case in case u hate me for it, unedited.

word count: approx 16.7k

| debated posting for a while idk. can u tell i have a thing for historical au’s yet

not my gif. if u have the info of the original creator, lmk so i can appropriately credit them.

masterlist

october 16th, 1925 | chicago

a brick building sat tucked into a narrow side street, a sweet irony. it was flanked by tall, worn structures that once boomed with business but now seemed abandoned - their faded signage barely legible in the dingy light of street lamps. there was a reminiscence that lingered, the apollo club once tucked into bed and remained asleep as the city began to expand. there’s no longer a sign that introduces apollo to the public, having been removed a few years ago as the prohibition bared its ugly teeth.

the marquee sign held a dim, white glow with no words placed into it. however, on top of the sign sat a faded golden lyre, subtly marking the place for those who knew. the large entrance door had the chipped markings of the sacred name from a previous white paint, but since has been worn due to time. it’s the kind of door you’d pass by without a glance, unless you knew to look for it.

the club entrance is set into a recessed alcove, shadowed by the overhang of a rusted fire escape. the door itself is heavy and wooden, painted black, with the sheen of wear from countless hands that have brushed against it. it's always slightly ajar, as if welcoming those with enough curiosity to push through, yet closed enough to keep out prying eyes. graffiti lines the walls of the alley, the scrawl of the city's underbelly just a little louder here, a hint that apollo is more than just a music venue - it's a haven for those who dwell in the shadows of society.

a faint, pulsating glow of golden light leaks from beneath the door, casting long shadows onto the rain-slicked pavement. on humid summer nights, you'd hear the low, vibrating hum of jazz slipping out through the cracks - just enough to make a passersby wonder. there's an old iron gate, usually half open, that leads into the alley, lined with crumbling brickwork, creating the feeling of stepping into another world once you've crossed it.

the baseline thrummed through the floorboards, a low, sultry hum that vibrated in the soles of Y/N’s shoes as she stepped into the speakeasy. smoked curled lazily in the air, hanging like the lingering whispers in the dimly lit room. glasses clinked somewhere in the haze, the murmur of voices a soft undercurrent beneath the rich, haunting notes of a piano.

apollo was hidden away in the outskirts of the city, masked - a sanctuary for the lost and reckless. she had heard about this place, about the intoxicating music and the enigmatic man who commanded the small stage. but no story or rumor could have prepared her for the reality.

he was there, center stage, his figure bathed in the golden glow of a single spotlight. harry styles. the name had followed Y/N for weeks, woven into the fabric of the underground world she’d been chasing. no one knew much about him, but everyone had a theory. some said he was a runaway aristocrat, others swore he was tangled up with the mob. all anyone could agree on was that harry's voice could pull the soul right out of your body, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

and now, watching him under the light, she understood why.

he wore a suit that was all sharp lines and expensive fabric, his hair curling softly against the collar of his white shirt, the top button undone in a casual defiance of formality. a cigarette hung loosely from his lips, the smoke twisting like a lazy snake around his face. his eyes, half-lidded and distant, caught the light just enough to gleam as his fingers skimmed across the keys of the piano, a melody drifting from the instrument like a dream. the room fell silent around him, every eye drawn to the man who made the world seem to slow with every note he played.

Y/N stood in the shadows by the bar, watching. observing. this was why you were here. not just for the story, but for him.

as harry's song came to an end, a slow, mingling silence settled over the room. he stood from the piano, and for a brief moment, his eyes swept the crowd - dark, heavylidded, and sharp. when his gaze landed on her, it felt like a secret had passed between the two, unspoken yet undeniable. a slow smile curled at the corner of his lips, like he knew she’s been watching. like he had expected her all along.

Y/N’s breath caught.

this wasn't just any speakeasy, and harry styles wasn't just any jazz musician.

the crowd erupted in applause, but Y/N barely heard it, her pulse loud in her ears as harry disappeared from the stage, swallowed by the dim lights and thick curtains that parted briefly before closing behind him.

she inhaled sharply, forcing refocus. she was here on business, not to get swept up in the glamour. with a quick glance around, she pushed through the crowd, dodging clusters of people who were already sinking into the fog of jazz and alcohol. the bartender caught her eye as she neared the back hallway, a raised eyebrow hinting that he knew she didn't belong.

"can i help you, miss?" he asked, his voice gruff but not unkind. he didn't look like the type to throw you out without hearing your reason for being there. his eyes were a soft blue, almost doe-like.

Y/N runs her fingers through her hair, shifting in her stance. "'i’m supposed to speak with mr. styles." she said, confidence threaded into her tone. it wasn't a lie - she had been assigned to investigate, after all - but she hadn't exactly scheduled an interview. the bartender sized her up, his eyes narrowing in slight suspicion, but before he could reply, a deep voice drifted from behind him.

“no need, lou. i’ve got it.”

harry appeared as if he'd materialized from the shadows themselves, his presence as sharp and magnetic as it had been on stage. he was close now, the soft glow of the bar's dim lights illuminating the fine details of his face - the dark stubble tracing his jaw, the faint crease near his brow that suggested weariness beneath the allure. but his eyes, those piercing eyes, were locked on Y/N with a curiosity that sent a shiver down her spine.

"follow me." he mumbles, tipping his head toward the back. his voice was smooth, the words wrapped in an accent that didn't quite belong in this part of the city. she hesitated for only a second, feeling the weight of the moment settle. this was what she had come for.

Y/N stepped past the bartender and followed harry down a narrow corridor. the hum of the lounge faded as she moved deeper into the club, the walls closing in, and the only sound left was the echo of their footsteps and the soft click of harry's polished shoes against the floor. he led her into a small, private room at the end of the hall. it wasn't what she had expected for a locally popular musician, no. there were no plush velvet couches, no haze of cigarette smoke. instead, the room was plain, almost bare with a simple desk, a chair, and a window that overlooked the city streets. the chair looked a bit comfortable, at least - the light floral pattern matching its time.

harry leans against the faded oak desk, crossing his arms over his chest as he regarded her with a faint smile. “you’ve been watching me all evening.” it wasn’t a question, just a quiet statement of truth.

Y/N swallowed, fighting to keep her composure. “i’m Y/N, a journalist.” she pauses, reaching into her bag and pulling out a dainty notebook. “m’here to write a piece on nightlife, the underground scene. apollo has a reputation.”

harry’s smile widened at her words, though his eyes darkened a bit, shadows playing in their depth. “and here i thought you were just another fan.” he pushed himself from the desk and takes a slow step towards the journalist, his gaze flickering between the notebook and her pretty face, studying every nuance like he was cataloging it for later. “but i’m guessing you’re not here to talk about the music, hm?”

she opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. it was like he was pulling her into his orbit with nothing more than a look. after a beat of prolonged staring, she found her voice. “no.” she shakes her head, trying to choose her words carefully. “there are rumors about you, mr. styles - about your connections, like the bootleggers that keep this city running after dark.”

harry's eyes gleamed, and he tilted his head, lips curving into a smirk and that hid something more. “rumors," he repeated, his voice soft and amused. he was closer now, just a few feet away, and the air between them felt thick. "rumors can be deadly in this city, darlin’. you should be careful who you listen to."

"i'm not afraid of rumors," she quips, forcing her chin up in defiance. "but i am interested in the truth. if you're involved in something bigger, people wanna know. your name became a gallery seemingly overnight.”

for a brief moment, the playful edge in harry’s expression faded, replaced by something harrowing - something that made Y/N’s heart race in both fear and fascination. "the truth," he echoed, his voice dropping to a low murmur. he leaned closer, his face inches from hers now, the scent of tobacco and something sweet dancing in the air between them. "the truth is, sweetheart, maybe i just sold my soul to the devil." his eyes burrow into hers, as if he’s trying to search within her. “people who come knockin’ for answers usually end up regretting it.”

his words hung in the air, heavy and foreboding, but she didn't back down. if anything, his warning only ignited her determination. Y/N had spent too long fighting to be taken seriously as a journalist, too long navigating a world where men thought they could intimidate or charm you into submission. she shakes her head, holding his gaze. “i don’t scare easily.”

harry stares down at her for a long moment, unwavering; like he was trying to figure out what exactly to do with the woman that stood before him. then, without warning, he let out a soft, breathy laugh while he shakes his head. “y’got guts, i’ll give you that.” he straightened up, breaking the tension between them, although the smirk still lingered on his lips. “alright, i’ll tell you what. wanna talk? come back tomorrow night and we can talk.”

with that, harry turned away, leaving Y/N standing in the dim room, heart pounding as the door clicked shut behind him. she stood there for a moment longer, her mind racing. she had come looking for answers, grazing her finger along his words like a page in a book, only receiving a paper cut in return. she found something dangerous, intoxicating, and impossible to ignore.

*

the next day arrived with an unseasonal chill in the air. Y/N stood at the street corner, breath visible in the low glimmer of a streetlight, clutching the strap of her bag a little tighter than usual. the thought of returning weighed on her mind. everything about last night - harry’s intense gaze, the invitation, the strange undercurrent of danger - lingered like a ghost in the back of her mind, pulling her in even as logic said to be careful.

she wasn’t new to risky assignments, but something about apollo felt different, like stepping into a dream where the rules of reality didn’t apply. there was an edge to the club that unsettled her, but it was also what made it difficult to resist.

she pulled her coat tighter around her frame as she made her way back toward the club’s narrow alley. the day had passed in a blur of half-hearted distractions, mind constantly drifting back to the meeting with harry. she had went to work as usual, exchanging small details of her story with her boss that doubted she could produce something of this measure. after all, she was just a woman. the city’s usual bustle had faded into a muted hum, and now, as she approached the speakeasy, it felt like she was walking into the mouth of something unknown.

the alley was darker tonight. the same graffiti-covered brick walls loomed on either side, but the faint pulse of golden light beneath the door felt almost menacing now. the faint, muffled sound of music drifted through the walls - a melancholy trumpet, shrill and poignant.

for a moment, she hesitated. was this really a good idea? she could walk away now, no questions asked, and pretend that harry styles and his world of secrets weren’t as intriguing as they appeared. but something inside Y/N knew she couldn’t. no, not after the things his smile hid, not after the way he had looked at her.

she stepped closer, hand hovering over the door handle. she bites her lip, pushing it open and then waltzing into the club like she belonged. the same smoky haze filled the room, but tonight, the air felt heavier, as if the very walls were holding their breath. warm lights twinkled in the lounge, two men standing upon the stage and playing their instruments with ease. it made her heart heavy, a sad language transcribed into feelings. it was wordless, but the tune held more than a jumble of letters could. some of the folks who sat in the booths actually listened, while others drank and talked amongst themselves.

Y/N scans the room, noticing harry near the bar. his outfit was a bit lackluster in comparison to yesterday, but he still looked dazzling. his posture seemed tense, gazing around the club as if he was in search of something - or someone. when he spots Y/N, a flicker of recognition crossed his features, but it didn’t come with the same easy smile. he offered a curt nod, gesturing her to follow him into a dimly lit area of the lounge.

and so she did, her bottom lip falling between the nervous grip of her teeth. the leather booth was tucked away in a back corner behind the bar, the faint light flickering overhead and casting long shadows over harry’s face. he slid into the booth first, leaning back with the same nonchalant grace as she had seen the night before. Y/N hesitated momentarily before sitting across from him, her bag resting beside her, ready to take notes when appropriate - but this felt less like an interview and moreso stepping upon a trapdoor. still, she tried to remain confident. harry’s eyes never left her, but there was a tension in his posture now, something taut and coiled just beneath his surface. he tapped his fingers heavily against the table, expression unreadable. “so, you came back.” he mutters, his voice a low rumble that made her stomach flip. “guess that means you’re serious.”

she knits her brows together, trying to maintain a collected composure by sitting back in her seat. “why wouldn’t i be?” she quips, her voice steady despite the anxiety that bubbled in her chest. she felt so close to him, feeling the weight of his presence - the same magnetism that could have everyone in the room gravitating toward him.

his lip twitched, almost like he was fighting back a grin, but his eyes remained cloudy and guarded. “y’persistent, little dove.” he paused, running his hands through his curls as his gaze flickers toward her hand reaching into her small bag. “but persistence can be- what’re y’doing?”

her eyes narrowed, turning her head to look at the suddenly more tense (if possible) man across from her. “i- i was gonna take notes.”

his features hardened, shaking his head and she immediately pulled her empty hand out from her bag. “y’trying to make things obvious? you’re already comin’ in here dressed like the press.” he grumbles, leaning slightly over the table between them. he turned his head away, jaw tightening, staring at some distant point in the smoky haze in the lounge.

she waited, her heart hammering in her chest as she nodded. the tension between them palpable yet unspoken. she wondered if there was a reason at all for this, if she would get any sort of answers or if he was just wasting her time.

after silence fell between them, his fingers stilled on the table. when he finally glanced over at her again, something had shifted in his expression. there was a flutter of vulnerability, something raw and unguarded, but it was fleeting. “i’ll give you a crumb.” he sighed, studying her face. “but it won’t be the whole story, not yet.”

she nodded slowly, like if her movements threatened to be too quick and cast a breeze, he’d blow away. like a dandelion to make a wish upon.

“there’s things about this city that the public won’t see.” he began, voice low and steady. “like the people who run it. the alcohol, drugs, power, it’s connected.” he paused, his adam’s apple bobbing against his collar. “bigger than just one man. i don’t pull the strings, m’just a puppet.”

her pulse quickened as she nodded along, trying her best to remember each key detail so she could write it down in her apartment later. “if this is so risky..” she paused, her throat dry and voice shaky. “why tell me?”

for the first time, harry felt the words get caught in his throat. why. his throat could be slit in the back alley tomorrow morning, or his fingers hammered against a table for even looking as if he was running his mouth. his eyes averted to the table, but when he looked up again, the mask was back in place, his expression reserved and hardened. “i’ve been where you are.” harry murmurs. “lookin’ for answers. thinking i could handle whatever. but i was wrong. this world will take everything from you if y’let it.”

her heart ached at the hint of pain in his voice, but before she could respond, harry leaned back in his seat. the moment of vulnerability gone as quick as it appeared. “s’all i’ll give you for tonight.” he said, voice firm. “if you want more you’ll have to earn it.”

she opened her mouth to protest, but harry stood up swiftly, eyes softening momentarily as he looked down at her. “m’on next.” he says gently, nodding his head toward the stage. “feel free to listen, otherwise, get home safe.” he dismisses, turning away and disappearing within a dark hallway.

Y/N frowned as harry vanished before her, slouching in her seat. she replayed his words over and over, studying them so she could write them down as effortlessly as she could later. she debated asking for a drink, but decided it against it as there was some clattering and adjusting on the stage. she had to crane her neck to steal a glance, but after a beat, harry appeared. the same soft spotlight shone on him, and she swore he looked like painting of the fallen angel brought to life. his eyes were narrowed and glossed over, the golden gleam of light paining him a rose gold. he held a heavier looking guitar in hand, and he started to strum after a momentary pause. his voice was low and raspy, and she could’ve sworn she floated toward the center of the lounge to watch instead of walking. his face held every bit of emotion the song could emit. it was almost refreshing to Y/N to see him this way, instead of the feigned apathy that befell him almost constantly.

the melodies he played revealed how shattered he was, it was apparent. he resembled a tragic painting from years into the past she would study in the history classes from adolescence. harry, himself, was poetry. an art. Y/N felt her chest grow heavy, knowing that she was sucked so far into the enigma on stage that she couldn’t fall away from this if she tried.

*

Y/N tossed and turned that night. the rain pitter-pattering on her thin windows as she curled into her desk, writing down whatever she could in her notes. every scribble in the margins were a question mark, riddles with no answer. she had even put on her favorite nightgown, silk and blushed pink. the color of harry’s lips, perhaps a shade lighter.

the next day dawned gray and overcast, the chill from the night before lingering like a hangover. Y/N eventually awoke in her small apartment, the events of the previous night playing on repeat in her mind. harry’s cryptic words, and the way he had performed on stage haunted her like the fading notes of his song. she sat at her rounded kitchen table that stood by a window, puddles rippling with each sprinkle of rain and the usual bustle of pedestrians moving about. the cup of tea before her steamed her face, and she basked in it. the warmth was comforting, having not changed out of her night attire and she hasn’t dared to try to warm the apartment just yet. coal was too expensive, and she could tough it out in heavy layers for just a bit longer.

her editor had phoned earlier, asking if there were any updates. but she dodged it completely, citing vague leads she still had to chase down. in truth, she wasn’t quite sure what she had. a story? not yet. a lazy article in the morning paper? maybe. she felt like she had an omen more than a paper worthy of breaking news. perhaps, she thought, she should take it as a sign and work down at the pier as a fortune teller. maybe even ask her boss for her own segment in the paper as a prophet. she tried not to grin pathetically at her inner turmoil.

before heading back to apollo in the evening, something that had become her routine - she took a second to think about what she should wear. harry mentioned in passing last night that it was already too obvious to take notes, especially since she dressed like the press anyway.

her lips pursed as she feathered her fingers over the clothes in her wardrobe. she wasn’t as cool as she’d like to be, didn’t have much that would fit into the speakeasy scene. she definitely didn’t own any flapper dresses or laces, but she did have a glittery black dress that reached her knees and frayed at the end. it was her late best friend’s, something she kept for sentiment and didn’t expect to ever wear. she clipped her hair up behind her, deciding against overdoing it in jewelry and only pulling on a dainty silver necklace that has been passed down through the women in her family. the mirror was a bit worn, but she smiled at her reflection, it looked like another version of her. her makeup was almost bare, her features dreamy. she had made note to wear one of her longer coats, mostly because of the weather, but also because she wouldn’t have felt safe bouncing around the city in her current dress.

she made her usual way back to apollo, the chill in the air almost as sharp as the sound of her kitten heels hitting the pavement. the occasional car rolled past, headlights cutting through the gathering gloom - it was only a thursday night after all. she was greeted by familiar warm lights of the club shimmering from underneath the door. she patted herself down anxiously, taking a deep breath and relaxing her features. she pushed the door open, the crowd larger than it previously was last night. the door scooted to a close behind her, and she unbuttoned her coat as she waltzed further in. there must’ve been a deal on drinks due to how much busier the bar was. louis had shot her a gentle glance, and she returned it with a small smile.

Y/N knew harry was on stage by the sound of his voice. it was piano again tonight, and the lyrics were bare - relying more on the notes of the piano to speak for him. her eyes twinkled at the sight of him. he’d worn all black tonight, and it made his green irises more vibrant. she was transfixed. Y/N doubted the idea that everyone was born with a set purpose, but it was undeniable how harry’s purpose was music. her mind wandered to the possibility of him even being the embodiment of apollo himself.

the journalist didn’t know where he was in his set, so she turned on her heel to the dispersing bar crowd. louis nodded a greeting toward her while another man beside him, one she hadn’t recognized, poured drinks for the few that were waiting. “hey.” she smiles, shrugging her coat off and setting it neatly in her lap as she sat on stool. “busy tonight.”

he only nodded again, his thin lips tugging into a smirk as he wiped down a glass with a clean, white rag. “thursday’s usually bring more of ‘em in.” he shrugged. “dunno why.”

she nodded, watching the brunette maneuver around the glasses. she didn’t realize until now that he also had an accent that sounded far away, since she was always usually focused on harry. Y/N bit the inner corner of her lip, nodding along absentmindedly to whatever he said until he ducked down a bit to meet her level, waving his hand slightly with a smile. “y’hear me?”

her cheeks flushed a bit, sheepishly shaking her head. “no.” she laughed, “sorry, what?”

he placed the glass in front of her, turning away momentarily before he poured her an amber colored liquor. the tips of his index and middle finger gently pushed the glass toward her before he stepped away to put the bottle back.

she stared at the glass like it would jump out at her. it was illegal to drink like this, prohibition and all. not to mention, her career would whither away if her boss caught wind of her getting into trouble with alcohol she wasn’t supposed to have. “it won’t bite.” lou chuckled, standing in front of her again, ripping her away from her own thoughts. “might taste like it though.”

she smiles with him, the tip of her finger running along the rim as she stares at her waning reflection in the alcohol. “bit nervous.” she admits quietly.

he scoffs, humor evident in his tone, however. “ ‘cause of the bloody prohibition?” he asks, causing her to look up. “don’t worry ‘bout it, we won’t be troubled here.”

she shook her head to his words, knowing that he meant the cops wouldn’t dare to stop by here unannounced. it felt self explanatory, gathering it from harry’s mumbles and such. the interconnections that ran through here were a dime a dozen - it’s easy to assume law enforcement could have their hands dirty as well. and so Y/N inhaled, giving louis an amused expression as she downed the alcohol she now recognized as whiskey. her eyebrows furrow from the taste, lips pursed as she slid the glass back over to him. “thank you.”

harry’s melody began to lighten, hinting that he was most likely almost finished. that was confirmed when he stood from the piano, pressed his lips in a flat smile toward the crowd, and disappeared behind the curtain without so much as a glance in the bars direction. she heard the heavy glass push toward her again, eyes falling on the doe eyed boy who gave her another drink. “he’s n’ a mood, you’ll need it.”

with that, she warily gulped it down, muttering another soft thank you as she picked up her folded coat and crossed over to the familiar path she once took the first night - his office. her steps started to slow as she walked further into the hallway, noticing his door slightly ajar. her pulse quickened, unsure of the personality she would encounter in a moment - she supposed the alcohol would help. thanks louis. steeling herself, she knocked lightly, then pushed it open.

there he sat, behind the same oak desk, but his easy charm wasn’t there. not visible to her at least. his face was shadowed, the small lamp casting sharp lines on his features. he could be cut and molded from marble. his sleeves were rolled up, revealing tattooed forearms. his fingers tapped restlessly against a half emptied glass. he looked up when she entered, his jaw clenched ever so slightly. “you came back.”

Y/N lightly closed the door behind her, hanging her coat on an abandoned rack beside her. she ambled toward the seat across from him, his eyes taking over her figure. his glance held something new, something she hadn’t seen from him before and she tried to stifle how her cheeks threatened to heat from it. she sat down, crossing her legs. “you told me to.”

he hums, eyes finally settling on her face as he shifts in his chair. “y’look different.” he mutters, swirling the remaining liquid in his drink. the ice clinked softly, a sharp contrast to the tension that seemed to always exist between them. “y’blend in. beautifully, too.”

she was unable to hide her blush now, the heat betraying her. it was obvious he noticed it as well, his lips threatening a smile. “thank you.” she says softly, “didn’t bring my notes either.”

he chuckled, taking his last sip. “good girl.” he grins, setting the glass down and falling into his seat more. he stretched out his legs, folding his arms over his chest - his gaze unwavering. “it’s a machine.” he starts, jutting his chin out toward her as an indication she should listen. “profit on the alcohol and drugs, or help smuggle it, get something in return.” he shrugs, swallowing dryly. “quid pro quo.”

she nods, placing both her hands upon the table as she fidgets with the tips of her fingers. if she’s doing something simultaneously, it’ll help her remember for later.

he clears his throat, sitting up only slightly. “cops get a cut for letting it slip under their nose. gang makes money either way, they run it.” his tone was matter-of-fact, like it was how to word went ‘round. and she guesses, in a sense, it was.

“what did you get?” she quizzes, without even thinking. it felt too personal of a question, and she wanted to clasp her hands over her mouth for asking so abruptly. but she remained still, biting her lip. she could blame her bluntness on the alcohol if needed.

he looks at her through his eye lashes, smiling gently - like he didn’t allow himself to fully. “my name.” he pauses, sitting up completely and bouncing his knee in a rhythm. “didn’t have anything before i started helpin’ out. immigrated to america on a whim, nothin to my name.” he chuckled, though it sounded sad. “met them, and suddenly i had an apartment and instruments and an audience.” he enthused, shaking his head to himself with the same gentle smile. “s’what i came here for. the music.”

she had stopped fidgeting moments ago, too enamored by his words. the more that fell from his lips, the more hopelessly intrigued she felt. he was a story she couldn’t stop flipping the pages to, his roots in a reality she was unaware of.

his expression shifted, an indifference settling upon him. “but the debt is infinite.” he says lowly, locking eyes with her. “done is done, in is in.”

Y/N’s lips parted, her face falling. a glimmer settled in her eye, searching harry’s face. she wondered briefly if he was only a figment of reality, perhaps a warning. “sold your soul to the devil.” she echoed his previous words, and she tried to ignore the shiver that wanted to run down her spine.

his lips finally curled into a full smile, nodding. “exactly, sweetheart.”

silence sat between them once again. there was a weight upon her shoulders, yet she felt almost weightless from the whiskey coursing through her veins. she hadn’t drank in a while, and due to her belly being empty, she felt its effects more quickly than usual. she remained still however, not wanting her head to spin off her shoulders. “tell me what i can do.”

harry almost snorted a laugh, but the sincerity dancing upon her features made him decide against it. his chest almost felt warm at her empathy. he shook his head, smiling. “there’s nothing you can do.” he pauses, “they’re smart, no mistakes. no loose ends.” he figuratively wraps something around his neck, holding his fist above his head. “only loose end they have is a noose.”

her breath hitched, and she swore her heart missed a beat or two. “nothing?” she murmurs, almost to herself. she shot him a glance, something a bit harsher. “why am i here then?” her voice was louder than usual, and had an edge to it. “you know my reasoning here, yet it feels i’m stonewalled.”

he sighed, running his hands through his messy curls. “cause,” he hesitated, another sigh escaping. “god.” he mumbles, letting his head fall backwards and lean against his chair. “i shouldn’t have said anything in the first place. y’gonna get yourself killed.”

she froze in her seat, “why do you say that?”

he groaned softly, shifting in his seat once more. she picked up on how restless he can be when upset. “you want to write y’little heart out on this, make a good story.” he says firmly, staring her down. “and it will, it will make a good story. but they’re not gonna clean house, make things the way it should.” he shook his head. “they’ll kill you, and then threaten your boss into confirming that y’were chasing a conspiracy, Y/N. you’ll not only be dead, but soil your own name in the process.”

she didn’t move, her mouth agape. she couldn’t help the small feeling that she was tricked sit in her chest. he could’ve turned her away from the get-go. she would’ve found another lead, another story. but now her job knew of her efforts, and her boss already doubted that a woman could publish such news. her shoulders falter, lips falling into a frown. “you already let me in.” she muttered, shaking her head. “everything here can be anonymous. but i’m not backing away now.”

he rolled his eyes, his frustration evident - but he could only blame himself. he dangled the carrot, he sucked her into his whirlpool of corruption that any reporter would be a fool to ignore. and if his death was a result in this, his own sword would be in his executioner’s hands. “god help you.” he sighs, clenching his jaw.

she took that as his defeat, and a small grin spread across her lips. she reached for the whiskey bottle that previously filled his glass, bringing it to her lips and taking a swig with a wince she couldn’t stifle. “don’t think theres one between us.” she whispers her reply, shoving the bottle toward the man across from her.

harry chuckled softly at her words, though there was no humor in his eyes. he caught the bottle as it slid toward him, the amber liquid sloshing inside. he took a long pull from it, his gaze fixed on her over the rim. there was a silent understanding now, one that settled uncomfortably between them. they were both two sides of the same coin - her driven by the need to uncover the truth, and him, trapped by the web of corruption he'd helped weave around himself.

Y/N felt dizzy, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the whiskey or the way he looked at her. the quiet between them made her unsure if the should bid her goodbyes, or sit with him for a bit longer. he didn’t make an effort to shoo her away like he would usually do, but he didn’t ask her to stay, either. but, like a jinx, harry stood from his seat, rounding the desk until he towered over her. he extended his hand down to her, gently pulling her up from the chair. she wobbled, and harry watched her through half-lidded eyes. “y’alright?”

“i’ve had a few.” she smiles sheepishly, removing her hand from his. the inside of his hands were calloused, a faint bruise on a knuckle or two, though the top of his hands were soft. “i think i should head home, if we’re finished here.” she murmurs, slowing inching toward the door to avoid tripping in front harry.

he lets out a breathy laugh, ushering toward her and placing his hand on the small of her back - barely. his fingers lightly grazed the fabric of her dress, and his palm simply hovered instead of pressing down. “let me walk you then.”

she furrows her brows as she shrugs her coat back on, shooting the curly brunette a look as he pulled open the door. “i can manage.”

he only smiled again, following her along the hallway into the main area. “m’not letting a pretty girl walk home alone, all the while dizzy from havin’ a few.”

she exhales through her nose, pursing her lips. of course he was right, but she wish he wasn’t. she dreamt of a world where women could feel safe, but it was only 1925, and the feminists of her time could only do so much with what they were given. so instead, she settled on wishing that at least her future daughters will have more. he lead her through the familiar corridor, stealing a glance or two.

harry pulled the door open for her, the crisp air hitting her a bit harsher than she would’ve liked. she hastily buttoned up her coat, a hand lightly touching the small of her back again. they walked quietly, only the wind and the click of their shoes audible as Y/N lead the way. harry’s nose began to flush a shade of pink, his curls dancing in the breeze. the alcohol made her feel a bit warmer however, or maybe it was her coat, or the hand she knew was on her back. “just around this corner.” she utters, breaking the silence.

they round corner, entering her street. brick apartment buildings sat on the edge of the sidewalk, along with a few small shops and a mechanic a little bit farther down. “not too bad of a walk.” harry adds, watching her start up the steps toward the main entrance. he stops by the large glass door, hands shoved in his pockets as she opens it. she looks at him expectantly as he just stands there, bobbing on his heels from the cold.

“coming in..or?” she trails off, raising an eyebrow at him.

“um.” he mumbles, taking the door from her hand and pulling it further open to step in behind her. “only if you’re okay with it.”

she laughs, traipsing toward the staircase with harry trudging close behind. “you walked me, least i could do is offer you something warm to drink.”

harry only smiles, remaining quiet as he mirrors her steps. she was only on the third floor, which harry thanked his lucky stars for, since his legs already ached from his jog in the morning. Y/N walked a few doors down, stopping on the fourth before unlocking her door and holding it open for the musician enter behind. she hangs her coat and drops her keys on the entry table beside her door while harry locks it from habit.

she toes off her shoes, encouraging harry to follow her into the kitchen and take a seat - in which he does silently. he feels almost too tall for her things, like it was a dollhouse intricately made for her. the floral table cloth on the round table hung off the sides gently, kept in place in the center by an unlit candle and a cute, little ceramic trinket. he couldn’t help but smile as he took in the surroundings, everything fitting into her personally so well. the floors were creaky and wooden - almost dull, but she brightened things up with all the pretty colors she could find. of course there was a fluffy rug in the sofa room, not to mention the bookshelf adorned with all kinds of books and little sentimental items she’s collected over the years. it was homey, and it was just hers.

she placed a mug in front of him, a raised etch of lavender right in the center. he fiddled with the tea bag, letting the steam wash over his face. Y/N had sit in the only chair left, which was across from him. a chill radiated off the window, but the temperature in the apartment was comfortable, nonetheless. harry had eyed her notebook that sat on the edge while he took a sip, and it took almost everything in him not to ask if he could take a peak.

“i don’t usually drink.” she says softly, tracing the florals on the tablecloth. “since the law and everything. but it’s nice.”

he places the mug down, nodding along with her. “it is.”

“i swear,” she whispers, reaching her hands out and taking harry’s wrist in her palm. he shivered from how cold her touch was, but melted into it as she began to trace the anchor inked onto him. “i could write a story on these alone.”

he grinned, his breath hitching. a daze clouded her eyes, and he knew it was just the liquor speaking for her. he still chose to enjoy it, however. his eyes threatened to flutter shut, to sink in his seat until he floated to the ground like a leaf shaken from a tree. but his trance came to an end as she pulled her fingers back, fidgeting with her own again. “sorry.” she mumbled bashfully.

“s’okay.” he shrugged. it was more than okay. he picked up his mug again, taking another sip. they sat in a blissful quiet, harry eventually finishing his tea to which she placed the used mug into the sink to reside in for the night.

Y/N leaned against the counter, and she could feel every beat and flutter of her heart against her chest. harry watched her expectantly, standing in her stunning dress in something as simple as a kitchen. a spring flower blossoming in the dead of winter - she was otherworldly. “i’m gonna change and i’ll walk you out after, okay?” she asked softly, to which earned a nod from harry. she began to step away, but before she peeled off into her bedroom, she paused, “you can look over my notes so far.” she murmurs, eyes glancing to her notebook before she crosses over to her bedroom.

harry felt like she read his mind. with her permission, the man doesn’t think twice. as she disappears, he pulls the book open to read over her pages. neat and cursive all in black ink, annotations and question marks in her margins. everything fit into this girl so well - it was almost alarming how her heart lived on her sleeve. but his jaw tightened at her writing, both their names everywhere. he knows that they only discussed anonymity prior to leaving, but it made his stomach twist seeing his name next to all these investigative questions and statements. his nostrils flared as he stood from the chair, walking out her door without so much as a goodbye.

*

Y/N had spent the last seventeen hours in a haze. after hearing the slam of her door, she rushed out only to find an empty apartment and a spread open notebook on the side of the table harry sat at. she had read over her pages more than once, but she couldn’t find a hint as to why he was upset. she had only wrote down what was said, maybe her own questions here and there, but it wasn’t anything offensive. all she could do is sit with her worries as she fell into sleep, and then on her bus ride to work the next morning. she helped out on other small article, not sure if this apollo piece would even see the light of day. was she even supposed to go to the club tonight? was that harry’s way of ending their conversations all together? she had spent the entire shift like that, but her mind went quiet on the way home. trees and people passed in a blur from the window, and a sigh of relief fell from her lips as she saw her apartment building come into view.

before she could even trudge up the staircase to her floor, one of the doormen stopped her with a gentle shout. “ms Y/L/N!”

her eyebrows furrowed, meeting him in the middle of the lobby. “what’s happened?”

he chuckles, shaking his head as he ambles over toward the front desk and pulled a powder blue gift box from underneath and walked it over. “a man dropped this off for you this afternoon.”

if her eyebrows could knit inward all the way to the opposite ends of her head to create an intersection, they would. “sorry? what man?” she asked softly, almost to herself.

“brown haired gentleman, tall.”

she only looked up in slight disbelief at the doorman, but offered him a gentle smile and a thank you as she rushed up the steps. the description was vague, but she could only assume it was harry. right? she unlocks her door, pushing it open with her shoulder and slamming it shut with her foot as she stumbles into the kitchen, placing the pretty box on the counter while she just stares at it. it was wrapped in a white lace bow, and she almost didn’t want to unravel it from how cute it sat. (but she did anyway, of course).

her lips parted at the sight before her, unfolding the cream-white fabric to open up to her as exhaled out of shock. the dress was a white that reminded her of vanilla, the trim neckline and shoulders were lace that faded gorgeously into a tinseled dress that would fall above her knees. she only assumed the tinsels would dance with every twist or turn she could make. she draped it over her forearm after admiring the fabric, noticing a small hand written note that lay at the bottom of the box.

see you tonight,

H.

and once the evening drifted into dusk, she slipped on the same coat and made the routine trek back to apollo. the music echoed from the club a bit louder tonight, most likely because it was friday. it was a warmer night in october, causing more people to be out and about. she stepped in, the electricity in the lounge immediate. there was clearly wealthier patrons about, and everyone’s voices blended in with the melody that came from the stage - not harry.

her dress dazzled in the low light, and she felt more at ease with how she mixed in with the other women here so effortlessly. she stepped further in, spinning around once or twice to see if she could spot harry, but, no avail. she wondered if he was even here, and if he wasn’t, why was she?

she took a breath and moved toward the bar where louis stood with a familiar grin. “didn’t expect you tonight.” he greets, sliding over a cocktail he had quickly thrown together.

“no?” she asks, picking up the glass and taking a small sip, happier that it was tastier than the liquor last night. “harry isn’t here?”

he shook his head, rummaging about behind the bar. “he is, he just didn’t mention that you’d be popping in. usually does.”

she frowned, forcing down another sip. she didn’t want to think about the possibility that harry didn’t expect her, thus not being the one to drop off the gift. beneath the glamour of the lounge, there was a buzz in the atmosphere that felt ominous. men in suits held conversations at desolate tables, and there was clearly white powder dusted about from previous lines. the event spelt specific, not its usual casual undertone - like the night was made for something. then, out of the corner of her eye, harry came into view. he walked from behind the curtain, only giving a soft smile to the men he had passed on stage. his clothes were dark again, hands shoved into his pockets as he glanced around. his movements were slow, like he genuinely wasn’t expecting her to stop by. his eyes weren’t eager, and his ears didn’t perk up in attempt to listen to her melodic voice. he greets someone unbeknownst to Y/N, shaking their hand with a flat-lined smile. he seems to look through the woman, a face that couldn’t compare to the journalist he’s become accustomed to. through his blank gaze, he spots her, nevertheless, and he had to take a deep breath to keep himself upward. of course she looked stunning, the lights above her making her face glow, while also reflecting prettily off her dress. none of them even moved for a moment - drinking one another in.

she shifted as harry neared her, leaving the woman with a puzzled expression. he looked good in his suit, but there was an edge to his demeanor. he didn’t smile at Y/N like he did to the woman, but his eyes held more than a tight-lipped smile could. as he stood before her, he nodded toward her dress, a hint of confusion lingering in his features. “blending in again, eh?”

she hesitated. it felt like things were moving in slow motion as harry reached past her to grab a drink from lou, sipping it gingerly as he stared down at her through half lidded eyes. “you like it?”

he swallowed, swishing around the ice as he nodded. “i do.” he says, quiet enough for only her to hear. “how many of those y’got?”

this is where she could allow her heart to take shelter in her throat. she studied his gaze, looking for even a smidge of taunt on him, but there was none. he was being genuine. she shook her head, lips parting. “you didn’t gift it?”

now it was his turn to look confused again, his forehead wrinkling from a furrow. he leaned beside her, only one hand beside her right hip on the surface of the bar. they were close, her arm against the edge of his chest. “what are you talking about?” he asked softly, and she could feel his breath above her ears. “be natural.” he cooed, but his body was tense.

she complied, of course. she didn’t move, remaining smushed against him as she takes a sip from her drink. “this dress was left for me. it had a note, seemingly by you.”

Y/N could hear him swallow, and it didn’t ease her worries one bit. harry sighed, licking his lips before he draped his arms across her shoulders, pulling her into the corner of the bar. it was still open enough for prying eyes, but just a little less visible. he guided her back against the counter, harry towering over her as he faced the crowd - his eyes occasionally scanning behind her. “play along.” he whispers, brushing a loose strand that fell from her clip behind her ears. “what’d the note say, dove?”

by his demeanor, Y/N knew he was troubled with something. she knew she should be shaking with fear in realization that it wasn’t from him, but the butterflies in her stomach gaslit her into believing she was alright. his touch was pillowy and warm, and she could melt in it if he’d let her. but she felt his hand drop, and her eyes snapped open. “um.” she paused, shaking her head ever so slightly. “said see you tonight.” she mumbled, watching his jaw tighten. “H.”

he froze, all attention placed back onto her. she had glanced around, looking for onlooking eyes but harry gently pulled her chin back his direction. “what?”

oh, how she wanted to drop to her knees and pull the fallen angel back up to heaven.

“it ended with H.”

his sigh was heavy, and his grip never fell from her chin. he had parted his lips to speak, but was interrupted by a large hand patting his back. he dropped his grip, glancing at the man beside him. brunette and basically the same height as harry. brown haired, tall gentleman. check.

“you received it well!” the man beamed, all attention pointed at Y/N, to which she only nodded. he extended his hand, lightly shaking hers. “you’ll have to excuse the H initial. figured you would trust that most.”

her eyes darted between the two men in front of her. harry was guarded, as per usual, but his eyes were worried. and the other man, stood confidently, unwavering. “you’ll have to forgive me.” she started softly, “but what is this for?”

“you’ve been around a lot.” he paused, wrapping his arm around harry’s shoulders. “with my star here.” he grinned, not releasing harry. “and i had to silence my intrigue on the pretty girl that made a pattern of coming and going with hushed words.”

she nodded.

his eyes narrowed, unraveling his arm from harry’s frame. before he could form another word, harry stepped over beside her and had pulled her head into his lips gently, kissing her temple. “s’my girl.” he stated. there was no shake or waver, and if Y/N didn’t know anything she would’ve believed it herself.

“your muse!” the man exclaimed, a smirk spreading across his lips - but there was a glimmer in his eye. a doubt, but it was barely there. “i thought we told each other these things?” he asked, but it sounded rhetorical.

“i’m so sorry.” Y/N frowned, shaking her head. “i had begged him for privacy. i didn’t think it would bring trouble.”

his eyes narrowed again, a smile still on his lips but it felt like he could see right through her. “no trouble at all.” he said lowly, nodding toward her. “our work is a lifestyle.” his eyes shot at harry, his smile faltering slightly, but not completely. “not a fan of surprises myself but,” he paused, his gaze befalling Y/N’s. he reaches for her hand, bringing her knuckles to his lips. “i enjoy seeing you in my own surprise.” he murmured, eyes raking up her dress. and with that, he left. Y/N was sure she was only in a lucid dream until harry had pulled her away toward the awfully familiar hallway.

wordlessly, his hand remained around her wrist as she followed without protest. his shoes clicked over the tile as he pushed open the door with a little too much force, ushering her in and slamming it shut behind him. his chest rose and fell rapidly, back leaning against the closed door.

“say something.” she pleaded, her voice shaking.

he held up his finger, shaking his head as his nostrils flared. she took the hint, quietly leaning against his desk with a pout. his digits ran through his disheveled curls, and after it felt like hours had passed, he finally looked up at her.

“harry.” she whispered, it was weak. pathetic even. and she would kick herself silly if she saw herself now in the perspective of her a week ago.

his jaw clenched so hard she thought she would see it snap with screws and coils shooting out. he mumbled something under his breath, incoherent to Y/N as he darted to his desk, causing her to move aside before he swept everything of its surface and onto the floor. “fuck!” he shouted, his cheeks red and eyes starting to gloss over. she wanted to reach out, pull him into a hug and coax him into even breaths but it wasn’t in the cards right now. “i-”he paused, it almost sounding like a whimper. he stumbled to lean against the desk, gripping the edges until his knuckles turned white.

she swallowed dryly, her shoulders having already fell. she didn’t feel scared, she didn’t think she had a reason to be afraid of harry himself. but she was worried, yes. “harry?” she repeated, almost a whisper.

he shook his head, curls falling over his eyes. the words caught in this throat from how many thoughts bounced through his head. he felt like his world took a 180 from only knowing this girl for five days, and someone noticed. he didn’t expect the guy to know exactly what was going on, but now Y/N is recognizable. a pawn, an object in his life that can be used to dangle in front of him if they saw fit. “-i can’t ease you out of this now.”

she didn’t want to cry. but the weight on her shoulders would make her if she didn’t try hard enough. she had worked so hard to prove herself at her job, and now this one groundbreaking piece for her career could be ripped out from underneath her. part of her blamed herself, he had warned her countless times. and if she had been smart, she would’ve ran for the hills at his first warning. but she wanted to know the ins and outs, but also wanted to know him. her lip betrayed her by quivering, eyes glossed over with tears. she couldn’t help but feel a tinge of humiliation at her failure.

“Y/N.” he calls out, running his hand down his face. he sighs, taking a calculated step closer to her. “Y/N,” he repeated, only softer. his much larger hand removed her own from her eyes in attempt to shield him from her tears. her cheeks were flush, eyelashes damp as he thumbed a stray tear away. he felt responsible, as if he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing - but it was the opposite.

“m’sorry.” she mumbles, eyes finally melting his. “i’ve made a mess of things.”

he chuckled softly. he wanted to audibly agree, but he knew that would make her feel worse. he took a slow step back, hands dropping from her face to her shoulders. “you’re involved.” he said lowly, his heart in his stomach.

“involved.” she repeated, nodding. she sniffled, and all she wanted to do was crawl into one of the booths out there and sleep the rest of the night away. “-you’re letting me write?” she thought out loud, fully expecting that he would’ve pushed her away. it had seemed that way earlier. “i thought it was done?”

he let out another sigh, hesitantly pulling her into a hug. his chin rested on her head, and she very slowly wrapped her arms around his waist - debating if she should. he didn’t know if falsely giving her the title of his girlfriend was the right move or not, but the man seemed to believe it. what else was he supposed to say? she’s the new bartender! not a day in hell. she wants to play here! would’ve forced an audition. she’s the journalist i’m in kahoots with! shot in the back alley. so, girlfriend she is. “m’afraid you’re stuck with me for a while.”

and Y/N wanted to be terrified. she wanted the world to flip upside down and to boil over with anxiety. she wanted to want to disappear from everything completely. but she didn’t. and all that ran through her mind was, how could it be bad if it felt so good?

*

three days later, harry stopped by Y/N’s apartment again, and for the first time, there was no tension, no silent storm hovering between them. she sat cross-legged on the couch, a notebook sprawled in her lap as she scribbled notes, but her eyes shot up as soon as she heard the knock. she hesitated, fingers tightening around the pen.

another knock.

she rose, padded to the door, and opened it to find harry standing there, his dark curls slightly tousled and his expression unreadable. for a moment, they just stood there, gazing at one another like strangers who had seen too much of each other’s souls, yet still didn’t know how to bridge the gap.

“morning.” he said, his voice low, almost tentative.

she stepped aside to let him in. “i wasn’t sure I’d see you again so soon.”

he shrugged, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his coat. “had a few things to clear up.” his tone was casual, but his eyes - those piercing green eyes - betrayed something deeper. a tension he wasn’t quite ready to confront. but he relaxed in her presence for the first time, melting into the apartment that smelt like black tea with honey and the morning paper.

Y/N moved back to her spot on the couch, closing her notebook as harry took a seat across from her, elbows resting on his knees. There was a comfortable silence now, one they hadn’t shared before.

“so, about the other night-” Y/N began, unsure how to dive into the complicated emotions swirling in her chest.

harry’s jaw tightened slightly, and for a moment, she thought he might brush it off like he usually did. but instead, he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “i wasn’t expecting arthur to do that. i didn’t want you dragged into that world like that. it wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Y/N nodded, feeling a strange relief at his honesty. she had been waiting for him to shut her out again, to dismiss her like he had before, but instead, he seemed almost open for the first time. “arthur?”

he nodded, “his name is arthur. he’s been involved longer than i have. insanely loyal and in love with the game.” he sighed, leaning back again. though something crossed his expression, a forgotten afterthought. “i’m so sorry-” he rushed out, shaking his head. “you’re not already with someone are you? i don’t want to ruin your reputation.”

she couldn’t help but giggle, shifting onto the rug and scooting herself to sit before his bent knees. “no harry, m’not spoken for.”

he looked down at her, lips parting as he breathed her in. an innocence floated about her like an aura, but sometimes her eyes held something opposite. she was a puzzle to harry, one he wanted to find all the pieces to so badly. an airy relief washed over him, and he knew it was the thought of her not caring for anyone in that way. her eyes were slightly puffy from sleep, her skin softened and lips the perfect shade - she resembled a cherub.

she placed her hands on his knees, pulling herself up. all she wore was a dainty white lounge dress that had tiny purple flowers scattered about, thick socks covering her feet. “would you like anything to drink?”

he had stood up after her like on autopilot, following her small steps into the kitchen. “coffee?” he suggested softly, seeing the back of her head shake into a nod. the girl hummed to herself, a tune he recognized as his own as he sat down. harry couldn’t resist a smile, the soft clatter of mugs and the steady drip of the percolator accompanying her honey soaked voice. “do you take sugar?” she called out from over her shoulder, glancing back at him with a small smile.

“two, if you got it.”

she nodded once more, taking out a small glass dish and removing it’s lid, setting two cubes of sugar in the mug. she stirred it around with a small spoon, handing it to harry as she retrieved a glass bottle of milk from the fridge if he wanted it.

“thank you.” he murmured, listening to the soft clatter and creaks as she sat down across from him. he uncorked the glass bottle, allowing only a trickle or two into his coffee. he settled in his seat, happy to see that the coffee was his perfect shade of brown.

“it feels like you aren’t used to mornings like these.”

harry glanced at her, raising an eyebrow as he took a careful sip. “mornings like what?”

she simply shrugged, a playful glint in her eyes. “quiet, simple. no trouble brewing over the horizon.”

he let out a soft laugh, stirring his drink a bit. “they come and go.”

they sat in a comfortable silence, a low hum of conversation easing between them. at some point, Y/N had gotten up to make herself tea, taking sips during the pauses of their voices. harry found himself sinking into the moment further, letting the usual tension that sat on his shoulders slip away. it felt like mornings in manchester before he crossed an ocean. the air was calm, his mum’s voice soft.

she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she set her empty mug down, pulling her legs into criss-cross in her chair. “you’re different when you’re like this.”

he furrowed his eyebrows, curiosity piqued. “how so?”

she bit her lip, eyes averting from harry’s as she thought. “relaxed.” she smiled gently. “it suits you.”

harry blinked, unsure of how to respond at first. he wasn’t used to being seen like this - stripped of the persona he so carefully put together - but there was something about Y/N that made him feel like he shouldn’t pretend, despite her interest in the truth. he leaned back, bicep stretch along the back of his chair. “i don’t know how to do relaxed.” he confessed, voice gentle and low.

she smiled again, pillowy and sweet as a dessert. “you’re doing it now.”

there was something about the way she looked at him - like she could see straight through all the mess, straight to who he really was. it was disarming, and he found himself leaning in just a little, his fingers brushing more deliberately against hers now. “maybe you're rubbing off on me.” he murmured, his voice teasing but laced with a sincerity he couldn't hide.

Y/N's breath hitched slightly, but her smile didn't waver, looking up at him through her lashes. "maybe that's not such a bad thing."

for a long moment, they just sat there, the space between them filled with a quiet intimacy. harry's fingers slid up her fingers and enveloped her hand into his. the touch slow, deliberate. she didn't pull away. instead, she leaned in slightly, the rounded edge of the table resting beneath her breastbone.

his heart raced in a way that felt foreign but not unwelcome. it wasn't the adrenaline of a close call or the rush of making a dangerous move. it was something delicate, slower. he wasn't sure what to do with it, but he didn't want it to end. “you’re not scared of me, are you?" he asked hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N's eyes flickered up to meet his, her expression light but sure. "no, harry. i never was.” she confessed. of course it was the truth, she had always felt pulled into him like he was the center of gravity. even when uncertainty loomed over her, a flicker of fear toward harry himself never washed over. perhaps it was natural selection, his beauty a siren call to a sailor - and she followed the melody blindly.

there was a moment of silence, heavy with unspoken feelings, before harry shifted closer to her, raising his bum off the seat ever so slightly to lean farther in.

he swallowed, his hand moving from hers to gently cup her cheek. he hesitated for a split second, searching her eyes for any hint of doubt, but all he found was the same quiet confidence she always carried.

without thinking too much, he leaned in and pressed his lips softly against her forehead. it was a simple gesture, but one that made her heart swell. she closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the warmth of his touch, and for a moment, it felt like the world outside didn't exist.

when he pulled back, their faces were still close, and Y/N couldn't help the smile that spread across her lips. "that wasn't so bad, was it?" she teased lightly.

harry chuckled, his thumb brushing gently against her cheek. "no. I suppose not."

they stayed like that for a while, harry having adjusted the chair to round the table and sit next to her. the morning stretched lazily around them as the world outside carried on. but for now, in the quiet warmth of her apartment, everything else seemed to fade away.

before harry bid his goodbye, he left another kiss on her forehead. her shampoo smelt of strawberries and her soft strands of hair felt like velvet against his skin. “need you to join me for an event tonight.” he mumbled into her forehead, pulling away to look into her eyes. he was kneeled in front of her, one leg underneath him while the other in front. his breath smelt like coffee and the jam biscuit she had given him earlier, the familiar scent of the smoky lounge embedded in the locks of his curls.

she hummed, eyes closing as she leaned back ever so slightly. if she was that close again, she might’ve been tempted to press her lips against his. “what for?”

he swallowed, an anxious feeling threatening to creep up his chest and out his throat to word vomit all over her. but he sighed, breath warm against her face. “a colleagues house. black tie event. you were invited.”

her eyes peeled open, eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched in confusion. “why?”

“think they’re testing this girlfriend theory out.” he said lowly, the palm of his hand resting upon her knee gently. “don’t believe they suspect much, but i’ll need you on my arm. will you?”

she nodded, searching his expression to look for something hidden. “only if you’ll give me more to write.”

he gave a small smile, sending her a soft nod as he patted his hand against her knee, standing up. “y’have my word.” he stated, stepping off toward the door. and he meant it, she really did have it; both as a promise and written with the ink of her pens.

*

that evening, Y/N stood in front of her mirror, her hands smoothing down the delicate fabric of her dress. if she had owned any dresses, it was definitely an evening gown or two. the pine green gown hugged her figure just right, the hem barely above the floor as she twirled once in front of her reflection. the neckline was that as many of the bras she owned, though a bit more conservative - only a glance of her cleavage available to the eye. the back hung loosely, draped down to the highest point of her waist. the bones and muscles in her back rippled in the light gorgeously, that in itself could be her accessory. her hair was pinned back with loose tendrils falling around her face, and her silver necklace sat at her collarbone. she didn’t often dress up like this, but tonight wasn’t just any night. harry had asked her to play a part, and she intended to do it well.

a knock at the door brought her out of her thoughts. her heart skipped a beat, and she quickly gathered herself, giving one last glance in the mirror before padding to the door. she opened it to find harry, his dark curls neatly tamed, a black suit tailored to perfection, and a bow tie hanging loosely around his neck - unfinished. he stood there for a moment, his eyes sweeping over her from head to toe, and for the first time since they’d met, she swore she saw him falter.

“wow.” he breathed, blinking as if trying to steady himself. “you’re breathtaking.”

Y/N smiled softly, feeling a warmth creep up her neck. “you don’t look too bad yourself,” she teased, gesturing to his unfinished bow tie. “though i think you need a little help.”

harry chuckled, stepping inside as he fiddled with the fabric. “never could get the hang of these things,” he muttered.

Y/N stepped closer, her fingers gently brushing his as she took over, expertly tying the bow. they stood there, inches apart, her gaze focused on the task while harry watched her intently. the air between them seemed to crackle, and for a brief moment, the world outside their little bubble ceased to exist.

“there.” she whispered, smoothing the collar of his shirt. her hands lingered for just a moment longer than necessary, her eyes flicking up to meet his. “all set.”

his gaze held hers, something unspoken passing between them. he swallowed hard, the tension from the nights before returning, but this time, it felt different - heavier, more intimate.

“ready?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N nodded, though her heart raced in her chest. before shutting the door; she reached over to the coat rack, pulling out a black shaw to wrap around her shoulders. “ready.”

as they stepped outside and made their way down the dimly lit street, the autumn air crisp and cool against their skin, harry reached out and placed his hand on the small of her back, inches below the bare skin revealed by her dress - or lack there of. it was a simple, but the way his hand felt closer than before sent goosebumps over her skin like a tidal waves. it wasn’t just for show anymore; there was something genuine in the way he touched her, something that made her feel more grounded than she had in days.

they arrived at the event after a wave and a whistle to a taxi - a grand estate, the kind that screamed old money and exclusivity. the soft hum of jazz music filtered out into the night air as they approached, their shoes clicking softly against the cobblestone driveway. Y/N squeezed harry’s hand slightly, her nerves bubbling to the surface.

“remember,” he whispered, leaning down so only she could hear. “you’re my girl tonight. no questions. just follow m’lead.”

Y/N nodded, her resolve strengthening as she straightened her posture. she could do this. she wanted to do this. it wasn’t just about the story anymore - it was about him. the world he was caught up in, the danger he carried on his shoulders. she wasn’t going to let him bear it alone.

they stepped through the grand doors, the warm glow of chandeliers illuminating the opulent room. men in tuxedos and women in sparkling gowns mingled, the soft clink of champagne glasses and muted laughter filling the air. harry’s hand never left hers as they wove through the crowd, his grip steady and reassuring.

moving through the throng of people, harry’s demeanor shifted. he was calm, collected, every inch the confident musician with connections to powerful people. he greeted a few familiar faces, keeping Y/N close by his side, his arm occasionally resting around her waist in a way that felt both protective and possessive.

at one point, they stopped by a group of men deep in conversation. one of them, a tall man with slicked-back hair and a knowing smile, turned his attention to harry, then to Y/N. his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face.

“this must be the lovely lady we’ve heard about.” the man said smoothly, extending his hand to Y/N. “arthur’s told us quite the tale.”

harry tensed beside her, but Y/N met the man’s gaze steadily, slipping her hand into his for a brief shake. “it’s a pleasure,” she said, her voice calm despite the unease creeping up her spine.

the man’s smile widened, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “likewise. you know, we’re always curious when new faces come around. especially ones as..captivating as yours.”

harry’s grip on her waist tightened, his jaw clenching ever so slightly. “she’s with me,” he said firmly, his voice low but clear. “and that’s all you need to know.”

the man raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t press further. instead, he gave a slow nod, his gaze lingering on Y/N for a moment longer before turning back to the group. “of course. enjoy your evening.”

as they moved away from the group, harry’s tension didn’t ease. he guided her toward a quieter corner of the room, his hand still firmly on her waist, though now it felt more like a shield than a gesture of affection.

“harry.” Y/N murmured, glancing up at him. “what was that about?”

he didn’t respond immediately. he ran a hand through his curls, his eyes scanning the room. “they’re watching us,” he muttered. “arthur, the others..they’re testing me. testing us.”

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, but she didn’t waver. she placed a hand on his arm, grounding him, bringing him back to the present. “m’not afraid,” she whispered, her voice steady. “are you?”

harry’s gaze softened as he looked down at her, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. he placed his hand over hers, squeezing gently. “ ‘course not.”

for the rest of the evening, they stayed close, a united front in a world full of shadows and whispers. and though the stakes were high, Y/N felt a strange sense of calm wash over her.

as the night wore on, the atmosphere in the grand estate only seemed to grow heavier. the elegance and tinkling of champagne glasses became a backdrop to the undercurrent of suspicion and subtle power plays. Y/N could feel it - the tension in the air, like a taut string waiting to snap.

harry remained by her side, guiding her through the room like a chess piece he was careful not to lose. every so often, he would lean down and murmur a soft reassurance in her ear - small words meant to comfort, though they were as much for him as they were for her. when he was sure no one else could hear, he would occasionally feed her bits of information of those in the room. things she could write down later.

they drifted from one group of people to the next, exchanging pleasantries with men and women who, by all appearances, were simply enjoying a lavish evening. but she could see the way their eyes lingered too long on her, the flicker of curiosity when they spoke to Harry. she was an outsider in their world, and she knew it.

as they approached another cluster of guests, Y/N’s gaze was drawn to a tall man at the center of the group. he stood out, his dark suit impeccably tailored, and his brown locks slicked with gel gleamed in the soft glow of the chandeliers. arthur. his eyes landed on them almost immediately, a slow, calculated smile stretching across his lips as he stepped toward them.

“harry,” arthur greeted, his voice smooth but with an underlying sharpness. his gaze slid to Y/N, lingering for a beat too long before returning to harry. “and his daphne.” he winked, laced with a teasing undertone. it struck something in Y/N, like a foreboding whine on a cello vibrating in her chest. daphne. apollo. the huntress he fell in love with. a journalist ravenous for truth.

harry’s grip on Y/N’s waist tightened slightly, but he kept his voice steady. “arthur. you’ve made your introductions previously.” his tone left no room for further taunts, referring to the night before.

arthur’s smile didn’t falter. if anything, it grew more amused. “ah, yes. but i’m afraid I didn’t get the chance to know her better.” he looked at Y/N now, his sharp gaze flickering over her dress, his lips curving into a smirk. “you do make quite the striking pair. no wonder people are talking.”

she felt the weight of his words, but she didn’t waver. she offered a polite smile, her hand resting lightly on harry’s arm. “i’m afraid i don’t pay much attention to gossip.”she said, her voice calm and measured.

arthur chuckled, a low, menacing sound. “smart girl. but in this world, my dear, what people say can be just as dangerous as the truth.”

before Y/N could respond, a woman joined the group, her gaze sharp and calculating. her long, dark dress shimmered as she moved, and she carried herself with the grace of someone used to commanding a room. her blonde hair was pulled into a bun, adorned with pearls.

“arthur,” she purred, placing a hand on his arm. her eyes flicked between harry and Y/N, and a knowing smile curled her lips. “i see you’ve finally met harry’s companion. been the talk of the evening.”

he inclined his head slightly, his shoulders relaxing. “indeed, i have. a pleasure.”

Y/N could feel the weight of their scrutiny, the way they were testing her, pushing for a crack in her composure. but she kept her head high, refusing to let them see her falter. she wasn’t here just for harry’s sake - she had a job to do, a story to uncover. this world, as uncertain as it was, held the key to something much bigger than any of them.

harry, sensing the tension rising, spoke up again, his voice cool. “it’s been a lovely evening, arthur, but i think it’s time i took her for some air.”

arthur’s eyes glinted with amusement. “of course, harry. i’ll see you as the night continues.”

the was a subtle threat buried in those words, but harry didn’t take the bait. instead, he nodded curtly and gently guided Y/N away from the group, his hand firm on the small of her back.

they found a quieter corner of the grand ballroom, away from the prying eyes and sharp tongues. Y/N exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, her nerves finally catching up to her.

“what was that?” she whispered, turning to harry as soon as they were out of earshot.

harry ran a hand through his curls, his expression tense. “he wants t’rattle me. but i see it in his eyes, he’s fallin’ for it. slowly.”

“and what happens if he doesn’t?” Y/N asked, her voice soft but steady.

he met her gaze, his green eyes filled with something unreadable. “he wont, dove. i won’t let that happen.”

she swallowed, feeling the weight of the evening pressing down on them - the stakes higher than she had anticipated. this wasn’t just a simple gathering of the city’s elite; it was a power play, and she was right in the middle of it.

but she wasn’t alone.

he reached for her hand, his fingers lacing through hers as he pulled her a little closer. his voice was low when he spoke again, almost too soft to hear. “y’doing so good, yeah? jus’ keep following m’lead.”

Y/N nodded, feeling the warmth of his hand steady her. his praises allowed a heat settle between her thighs as well, his cool breath a contrast that allowed her breath to hitch.

they lingered in the corner for a moment longer, the noise of the party humming in the background. Y/N could feel the weight of harry’s eyes on her, the way he seemed to be thinking about something he wasn’t ready to say. but before she could ask him what was on his mind, a familiar voice interrupted them.

“there you two are.”

Y/N turned to see louis approaching, a relaxed smile on his lips with a flute of champagne in his hand. his easy demeanor provided a brief respite from the tension that had been hanging in the air. harry’s hand loosened slightly around hers, though he didn’t let go.

“didn’t expect to see you tonight, lou,” harry greeted, his voice still holding an edge of caution though a small smile tugged the corner of his lips.

he shrugged casually, swirling his drink before taking a sip. “figured i’d pop in, someone’s gotta supply the alcohol.” his eyes flicked between the two of them, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “you two seem to be handling the attention well.”

Y/N glanced at Harry, sensing the subtle shift in his stature. he was more relaxed with louis around, but she could tell he was still nervous. it was as if he was waiting for the next move, the next subtle threat hidden behind a pleasant smile.

lou has been a friend of harry’s since arriving to america, having worked behind the bar alongside with him before the opportunity of music presented itself. louis had a kind heart with a tough exterior. he wouldn’t have expected him to be in this line of work, but louis explained it was necessary to support his family. the economy struggled, and jobs were few and far between. he’d rather risk being caught bootlegging than burning alive in a factory with a boss who couldn’t care less.

the shorter brunette raised an eyebrow, catching the tension between them. “arthur giving you a hard time?”

harry’s jaw tightened briefly before he nodded. “he’s testing the waters.”

he chuckled, shaking his head. “sounds like him. loves to push people, that one. see how far they’ll go before they crack. but don’t worry, mate. he’s all talk tonight. no one’s going t’make a scene here.”

Y/N couldn’t help but feel a little relieved at his words, though she still couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. the event had an air of sophistication, but beneath the polished surface, there was a current of something darker - something she was only beginning to understand.

louis set his empty glass down on a nearby table and turned to Y/N, his expression softening. “y’holding up alright? not the easiest crowd for a newcomer.”

she smiled, though she felt the evening pressing down on her. “i’m fine, really. just trying to keep up.”

he gave a small nod of approval. “you’re doing more than keeping up, love.”

harry shot lou a warning look, but he waved it off with a smirk. “relax, H. they’re impressed. they don’t know what to make of the relationship yet, but that’s good. keep ‘em guessing.”

she was in a role tonight - harry’s partner, his girlfriend as far as the others were concerned - but it was a game, and she was still figuring out the rules.

before any of them could say more, the sound of a glass being tapped echoed through the room. the buzz of conversation faded into silence, attention turning toward the center of the ballroom where arthur now stood, a drink in hand and a smug smile on his face.

“ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his voice commanding the attention of the room. “i’d like to make a toast. to good company, to old friends, and to the future that lies ahead of us all.”

there was a murmur of agreement as glasses were raised, but Y/N noticed the way arthur’s eyes lingered on her and harry. a smile spread across his lips, a glimmer in his brown eyes.

“to new faces,” he added, his gaze locking onto Y/N. “and to the fresh opportunities they bring with them.”

Y/N’s stomach tightened. the toast was meant for her - thinly veiled, but it was there. she could feel harry tense beside her, his fingers pressing gently into her waist. he didn’t move, but she could sense the shift in him, his calm facade now cracking under the weight of arthur’s words.

“cheers,” the brunette finished, his glass raised high as the rest of the room followed suit. the clinking of glasses filled the air, and then, just as quickly, the room returned to its previous hum of conversation and laughter.

but she could feel the change. arthur’s toast had been more than just a public greeting - it was a message. she wasn’t just a guest here anymore.

louis leaned in slightly, his voice low. “watch your back tonight, love. arthur doesn’t like loose ends.”

harry shot a pointed glance toward his friend before tugging on Y/N’s hand toward arthur’s direction. she smiled softly at lou before quickening her stride to keep up. “saying our goodbyes.” he mumbled, “we’re leaving.”

his pace was quick and purposeful as they made their way across the extravagant room. she followed closely, her pulse racing as she felt the weight of arthur’s gaze settle on them before they even reached him. it wasn’t just a casual departure - it was strategic. harry knew how to play his cards.

arthur shot them a wide grin, a knowing look flashing in his eyes. he tilted his head slightly, swirling the golden liquid in his glass with a lazy grace. “leaving already, harry? night’s still young.”

he didn’t falter, his voice calm but firm. “got t’get her home at a decent hour. just came to say goodnight.”

arthur’s eyes flicked to Y/N, his smirk lingering. “a shame. was hoping to learn more about your muse.” his words were light, but there was a distinct undertone of menace.

Y/N stood a little straighter, refusing to shrink under his gaze. she smiled politely, though the steel in her eyes matched harry’s. “m’sure we’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted in the future.”

he chuckled softly, the sound sending a chill down her spine. “i look forward to it.” he glanced back at harry, raising his glass slightly. “safe travels, old friend. see you soon.”

harry gave a sharp nod, his grip on Y/N’s hand tightening just enough to signal the need to move quickly. “of course. goodnight, arthur.”

without another word, harry guided her swiftly toward the exit. the cool night air hit them like a wave as they stepped outside, the tension in the room left behind but still clinging to their skin.

Y/N exhaled sharply, her breath visible in the cold as she glanced at harry. “what now?”

he ran a hand through his hair, his jaw clenched as he looked down the dimly lit street. “take y’home and help you write.”

she nodded, hoping to shake off the lingering unease that wrapped around her like a shroud. “do you think he’ll try anything?” she paused, glancing up at him. “he seemed interested.”

he held onto her hand, guiding her down the long driveway and to the sidewalk. “interested in you, yes. but it’s more about power for him. wants to see how far he can push, wants to have an aspect of control over me to keep me from leaving. i don’t think he knows.”

as they walked down the neighborhood to meet the main road, he kept a pace brisk. his fingers were still interlocked with hers as if anchoring them both. once turning a corner and being met with the lights of the city, harry waved down another taxi to bring them back to her apartment. the ride was quiet, the low buzz of a radio echoed a host’s incoherent words along with the sounds of the tires against the road. he guided her up the steps of the complex after being dropped off, reaching for the keys she had told him to hold onto and allowing the door to open.

hey both settled in at the coffee table, shoes having already been taken off but they still resided in the evening’s attire. harry softly told Y/N things to write down, her hands flicking out the prettiest handwriting he’s ever seen. “i still feel guilty.” she murmured, continuing her movements. “for making your life more difficult.”

he shook his head, softly placing his hand across her paper to stop her writing. “nonsense.” his tone was soft, but firm. sincerity. he sighed, pulling her soft, cold hand into his. the pen rolled off the edge of the notebook, falling onto the rug. “arthur has a way of getting in someone’s head, makin’ them doubt themselves.” he paused, thumbing gentle circles on the back of her hand. “but s’nothing. i know you’re smarter than his antics.”

she nodded, her cheeks turning a tinge of pink. his touch was soft and electrifying all at once, a rubber band stretching in her belly threatening to snap. the grip on her hand went loose, his lips parting ever so slightly. her hair was down, having taken out the clip once she walked through the door. the sight of her sitting on her heels across the small table was a teasing in it of itself. his chest tightened as he let go of her hand, scooting around the coffee table to sit beside her. her perfume was light and floral, and when he noticed her chest start to rise and fall more hastily he felt himself twitch. “Y/N..” he trailed off, voice barely above a whisper. he kept his hands on the table, nervous to act on the thoughts that bounced around his head.

the pads of her fingertips trailed along the fluffy rug until she reached his thigh, her touch light and meticulous against him. “harry.” she whispered, almost breathless. “can we still pretend?”

his hand met hers before he gripped her wrists lightly, halting her movements all together. “pretend?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. of course he knew what she meant, but watching her cheeks blush into a darker shade of pink made his pulse quicken. “pretend you’re still mine?”

she nodded sheepishly, a heat pooling between her thighs pathetically. she wriggled her wrist in his grasp, her lips in a slight pout. “treat me like your girl.” she pleaded quietly. “just for a while longer.”

harry hesitated, eyes burrowing into hers like he was searching for answers. her eyebrows furrowed with need, eyes clouded with a desperation that pulled harry away from her eyes. he tugged on her wrist, gently pulling her into him as she tried to scoot her bum across the space between them simultaneously.

he cupped her cheek with his other hand, capturing her lips in a searing kiss that sent her heart racing. she melted into him, the kiss deepening as he maneuvered her wrist-in-hand to his lap, bounding her to him. the warmth of his body against hers ignited a fire within her, and she felt herself yearning for more. he bunched her grown above her knees ever so slightly as he pulled her onto him, his large hands kneading the flesh of her bum as his tongue swiped past her lips, brushing hers.

with a sudden shift, harry broke the kiss and guided her to sit on the sofa, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. "relax, sweet girl.” he murmured, hands trailing up her soft legs and dragging her dress back up along with it.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as he settled between her legs, trailing gentle kisses from her knee, up her inner thigh until he could see the thin fabric of her panties clinging to her wet cunt. his hands looped around her thighs and spread them apart. the cool air against her skin sent shivers through her body, heightening her senses. she leaned back against the sofa, her heart pounding in more places than her chest. "harry," she gasped, her hands tangling in his hair hesitantly as he continued his exploration, his mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake. the anticipation built within her, and she could feel herself aching for his touch. she knew what was he was intending to do, though she’s never felt it before. she lost her virginity in high school, but only heard the idea of a man’s face between her folds through her best friend. she believed it to be a fantasy, only existing behind her eyelids as she fingered herself underneath the covers - until now.

"just a taste" he mumbled, his voice low and sultry, but it sounded as if he was talking to himself. his lips grazed over the wet spot of the fabric, the gasps that fell from her lips melodic, and he wondered if he could mimic the melody on his guitar. his thumb grazed up her covered folds, pressing down on her clit hidden between. she hissed, his fingers finding themselves looped around her underwear, pulling them down in a swift movement. he bunched up her dress a bit more, nearing her core as he gazed up at her through his eyelashes, an eager grin on his lips before he pressed a soft kiss against her most sensitive spot. his breath was hot against her, hands gripping the place where her hips and thighs met. his lips brushed over her folds before he spoke, “y’trust me, Y/N?”

her fingers remained threaded in his curls while she nodded feverishly, which only earned a tsk from harry. he placed a few kisses on her inner thigh and around her folds, the girl squirming underneath his hold. “my girl would use her words.” he taunted gently. he inched closer to her core as she whimpered multiple pleases. the sensation was foreign and electrifying, a shiver cascading down her body.

he placed a tentative kiss on her bud to get a feel for her sensitivity. her back arched involuntarily as she tried to pull his face closer to her dripping cunt. he responded eagerly, tongue flicking out to taste her - a jolt of pleasure shooting through her. his lips enveloped her clit, sucking and lapping like it was the best flavored lollipop in the local candy shop. although he only promised a taste, he would go against his word - already addicted to the way she felt against his mouth. “this okay?” he asked against her, keeping his movements the same until she answered.

“yes-” she whimpered, riding her hips against his face. “more, H. please.” she breathed, desperate for his movements to continue. the sensation wasn’t anything compared to her fingers - intimate and raw, filled with a heat that threatened to consume her.

his tongue flicked hungrily as he explored her with deliberate care. he licked and sucked, tongue swirling in ways that made the coil in her belly tighten. she bucked her hips against him, strings of desperate moans falling from her parted lips. nothing existed outside of this moment, including the neighbors behind thin walls. she cried out profanities that mixed in with his name, harry continuing his assault on her cunt. the knot in her tummy tightened, threatening to release - but she didn’t want it to end just yet. his mouth was ecstasy against her, and she wanted to ride out this high as long as she could. he didn’t rush, his tongue moving in slow languid strokes. his left hand trailed softly down her leg, his thick fingers sitting at her her entrance before he slowly pushed two in, feeling her walls clench tightly around him.

he couldn’t stifle the small groan that escaped him, reverberating against her pussy as he flicked the tips of his fingers upward. he leaves sloppy kisses around her thighs while his thumb encircles her clit greedily, watching the sight before him as if it was the first colored film with clear audio. “har-“ she moaned, having trouble forming coherent words. “m’gonna-“

“y’gonna what?” he asked lowly, quickening his place. “tell me, dove.”

her moans were messy, getting louder as she nears her release. he removes his hand, gripping onto her hips again and pulling her flush against his face. she could feel the tension coiling in her core, the pleasure mounting in a way that was both overwhelming and intoxicating.

she was on the edge, teetering on a precipice she had never experienced before, and harry seemed to know it. he slowed down, drawing out every moment, savoring her reactions, until Y/N couldn't take it anymore. her back arched, her hands gripping the sofa as her body gave in, the pleasure crashing over her like a wave.

her body trembled, every nerve alight as she rode out the overwhelming sensation, harry's touch steady and grounding. his mouth never left her core, lapping at her as he drank in every drop of her release. and when the waves of pleasure finally subsided, she collapsed back against the cushions, her chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.

harry lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he climbed back up, resting beside her. his lips and chin glistened with the remnants of their passion, placing a gentle kiss atop her head.

once the tremors subsided, he stood up in a fluid movement, taking her hand into his as he gently pulled her up from the couch, guiding her to the open bedroom. he helped her sit on the edge of the bed, combing his fingers through her disheveled hair. “y’clothes in the dresser, dove?” he almost cooed, to which he earned a nod. he crossed over to the dresser with flowers etched into the wooden surface. he pulled out a thin, white nightgown, helping Y/N out of her dress to slip the gown over her head with care.

he leaned over the bed as he helped her get into the spot against the wall, tucking her blankets her frame. before he could step away, her fingers caught his, her expression weary and but wanting. “pretend a while longer?” she frowned, “don’t go.” she pleaded, fingers slipping from his as she patted the spot beside her.

“y’want me to sleep here?” he thought out loud, his gaze tender as it lingered on her. “y’sure?”

she only nodded as harry began to shrug off the blazer, undoing his belt that hugged his slacks around him. his fingers struggled with the bow tie, a sigh falling from his lips as he put a knee on the bed, leaning over with a small smile. “requires your assistance.”

she giggles quietly, undoing the bow tie before he pulled away and stripped down to his boxers. the moth on his abdomen fluttered with every breath as he slipped into the spot beside her, head resting flat against the pillow as she pulled herself into his side, draping an arm lazily around his torso, head on his shoulder. “thank you f’today.” he mumbled, tracing slow patterns along her back through the fabric of the nightgown.

she hummed, eyelids heavy as her breathing slowed. she listened to his heartbeat, the warmth of his skin a perfect contrast to the coolness of the blankets. it felt like heaven against her. she drifted further into slumber as she parted her lips, whispering out, “thank you for everything.”

[zirconika]

I would love if you could write a fluffy negan x fem!reader one shot, there is genuinely not enough!!! I can’t think of any prompts tho I’m sorry 😭 but if you’re not able to write it then it’s all good🫶🏻

déjà vu

⇚ NAVIGATION || MASTERLIST

PAIRING: Negan Smith x Fem!Grimes!Reader WORDS: 3.6k SUMMARY: Being in charge of guarding Negan’s cell has given you plenty of opportunities to spend time with him against your will, but you unexpectedly end up bonding with him. Which is why nothing could have prepared you for finding out that you’ve met before and how. (Reader is Rick’s sister) WARNINGS: fluff, blood … idk what to say just read it!!!  SETTING: post-negan alexandria A/N: oh my god nonnie u r absolutely correct i just checked there’s a concerning shortage in negan fluff so ask and you shall receive!!! ps im nawt sure what u had in mind so i hope this works 

You hated Negan. End of story.

“Why do I have to be the one to do all this?” you’d complain to yourself every time you were handed the food you’d have to deliver to his cell. But you knew why. Your grief and your injury made you a liability than an asset out in the field, thus you found yourself assigned to something worse than desk duty—Negan duty.

The day your brother presumably died, you were so close to reaching him. Just a couple more steps ahead of you and you could have saved him…

But upon the explosion of the bridge had you skidding away, having you hit your head down on the harsh surface of the ground, blood spilling from under the back of your head as well as your broken leg… It had gotten blurry, but it happened nonetheless.

You were bedridden for a week, and you hated it—being left all alone to bear the weight of your grief. The communities were in shambles, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to lead just like your brother did.

When you got better, the ‘council’ refused to let you out, assigning you instead to managing the damned prisoner you had never once bothered to visit for any reason ever since he got locked up.

Now, there you were everyday, feeding the sick bastard canned tuna for breakfast. 

“Where’s the other guy?” he had asked you on the first day you stopped by. Without a word, you gave him his plate, only to sit down across from him, your arms crossed. 

“Doesn’t matter, I’m just doing my job.”

“Goddamn,” he said, that grin of his spirited as ever. Fuck this guy. You started to think of ways you could poison his meals without anyone knowing. “They gave you the fun work from home job? Not cool!”

The first time you met Negan was when he came by Alexandria. You weren’t there when the line-up happened, but it changed Rick. You’d never seen your brother so lost, disconnected from himself and everyone.

He didn’t eat the first meal you brought him, or the second, not even the third.

For a while, it was just like that—you glaring at him while he talked all about… Well, Negan talked about everything. He never seemed to shut up. At least when you were around. When you got better, you began going out again to go on supply runs and when you returned to fulfill your tasks of distributing his food, you also began to notice the change in him.

“Took you long enough,” he said. This time, he really took the time to dig in. “How was the outside? Fun?”

“It was alright,” you said. You’d been against holding a conversation with him, having carried the anger you thought your brother deserved to harness against him. But you’d been feeling so alone the entire time, you decided talking wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. “Found a box of canned goods, so that’s that. Good thing I don’t have any assholes taking half of whatever I got.”

“Ha ha,” Negan deadpanned as he continued eating. “I was worried you’d never show up. Been meaning to finally talk to someone.”

“What, you don’t blabber your ass off to any of the guys who’ve visited you?”

“Hell no,” he responded, looking at you as if what you just suggested was the worst thing in the world. 

Racking your mind on why on Earth would this dipshit find you entertaining to talk to despite you not holding any form of conversation throughout your entire time together last time, you decided there was only one possible reason. “You think I’m easy to crack.”

“No, are you crazy?” He looked up at you with a grin on his face as he ate his meal from his seat. “You just seem like the listener type. A lot of you Grimes do.”

You wanted to ask what he meant by that, but you kept your mouth shut. You let him talk his ass off until he finished his food before you wordlessly took his plate. 

As you were about to leave the room, he called out to you. “This gonna be a regular thing?”

“I hope not,” you said as you stepped out and closed the door behind you, with no intention of making this your daily routine. 

Except it eventually did. You don’t know how it happened, but it just did, and you let it. At one point, you started bringing him the food you cooked for yourself, asking him if it was good.

“Are you kidding me?” Negan said in between chews of the spaghetti you made. “I’d go as damn far as saying you might’ve beaten me in my own game.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpanned, parallel to what he’d replied to you on the first day of your routine. “You’re just trying to get me to open your gate for you.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s the thing that just tickles ma balls.”

“Fucker,” you laughed.

You brought him all sorts of dishes you tried to cook. You would’ve asked Carol for help, but years after Rick’s death, everyone maintained a sort of distance from each other. It didn’t help that the Kingdom was hours away, and if you brought any of the food you made, it would’ve been rotten by the time you got there thanks to the heat.

It surprised you how easy it was to talk to him. Some days, you’d forget he was even a prisoner, but more of your friend. Then you’d remember everything he’s done and you’d become distant at times. Negan never commented on it, but he noticed it.

Michonne wanted to ask about why you were making food suitable for two people, but even she felt the gap between the two of you. You loved Michonne, but there was definitely a rift there somewhere.

The only time you’d hang out was when you were at the dinner table with her and the kids, and even then the two of you would only talk about whatever it was the kids wanted to talk about.

You were more close to Judith. For one, she was also fun to talk to. 

You and Negan had that preference in common—talking to Judith Grimes.

It was thanks to Judith you found out about something. After reading to her in bed, you noticed she seemed to still be wide awake. “What, you’re not sleepy yet?”

“I’m not allowed to tell you,” she said, seemingly scared of something. You wondered if Negan had threatened her, that maybe his kindness towards you was in preparation for something sinister.

“Tell me what?”

Judith beckoned you to come closer. You oblige. To your surprise, your niece leaned into your ear to whisper, “Someone has a crush on you!”

You had a feeling who she was referring to. “Who?”

Judith backed away, sinking into her blanket. “I can’t say!”

“Well, what did this someone say?”

“I can’t tell you! Goodnight, Auntie!” And then Judith covered her blanket over her head, guilty about what she’d said. Could it be?

“You’re really not gonna tell me?” you teased your niece. But you knew that once Judith’s made up her mind, that was it. You watched as the blanket shifted left and right out of Judith shaking her head. “Alright, then. Good night, baby.”

Alas, you weren’t able to have your questions answered when you found out about Negan escaping. 

You couldn’t find the words to describe how you were feeling, because it felt wrong to admit you even did feel anything. Maybe he was just using me so I wouldn’t notice his plans to escape… Did he always have plans to escape? Did he get out because of me?

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

When he returned, he looked forward to seeing you again. While waiting, he fidgeted with his fingers. Negan Smith was a man of boastful performances; he always knew how to exude confidence in any situation. Coming back into his cell, he was so sure he’d have a fun time slipping back to your old routine together.

His heart almost leapt out of his throat when the door opened for the second time. The first time, he thought it was you, but he just got a whole lecture about everything. 

It bored him to death. He’d returned. There was nothing for him out there, and even if there was… It didn’t matter anymore.

You had to ignore the familiarity in what he called you…

“Hey, gorgeous. Missed me?” He excitedly watched as you came in, his friendly grin faltering when he realized you came in with the food he was originally given during his first few years of imprisonment.

Canned tuna.

“What, no new meal you want me to test today?” he asked, albeit nervously. To Negan’s dismay, his confidence was wavering. “Hellooo?”

Instead of sitting or standing right next to his cell, you sat at the spot you’d taken on the first day. You crossed your arms. 

“Oh, you’re pissed.”

You stared at him coldly. It bothered him, really. He’d gotten so used to seeing you with a warm, friendly smile on your face. He thought he’d have the luxury of seeing it again as soon as he returned.

Instead, he was met by your cold script, “Finish your meal.”

Negan began to strategize, thinking of how he wanted his play to be. In an attempt to reclaim his confidence, he decided to play the stubborn card, saying, “Nope.”

But you weren’t in the mood to play. “Alright, then don’t eat.”

“Fine,” he challenged.

But you weren’t the kind to back down either. “Fine.”

You were curious to know the story behind that subtle flash of recognition in his face that disappeared as soon as it came. It piqued your interest, as you recall having this conversation a long time ago… 

Deja vu, you thought to yourself.

To your surprise, Negan shook his head. “Jeez, just got goosebumps. Got deja vu there for a minute, it’s insane.”

Though you were intent on maintaining distance from the prisoner, you couldn’t help but ask. It surely was easy to talk to the guy, you had to give him that. “You felt that, too?”

“Felt what?”

“Deja vu,” you clarified. Negan watched as you stood up to approach his cell. “Like it happened before.”

“Is it just me, or are we literally doing some batshit telepathy right now?” Negan jokes. “Makes me think it’s a soulmate thing.”

“It’s not a soulmate thing.” You wrap your fingers around a bar of his cell, contemplating where you might have had that conversation. The first time you met Negan, you felt as if his voice was familiar. 

You searched the deepest crevices of your mind, trying to recall a time in your life when you might have possibly met the prisoner. One look at him and you knew he was doing the same.

Nothing came to mind. 

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Except for one. Holy shit. He wasn’t sure, but a part of him felt like it was yanking something out from a library in his mind.

He set it aside for now. He wanted to talk to you first, properly. “[Y/N], this is gonna be a strange request but… Could you come in?”

“What?” you ask, snapping out from your focus. “Why would I do that?”

“Just get in the damn cell.”

“How do I know you won’t trick me just so you could slip out?”

His face screwed up into a frown. “Because I’m not even gonna try. I came back; I chose to. Because of you.”

“What?” you ask again, lost more than ever. It felt wrong that you were expecting something. This was Negan.

The same Negan who…

You shook your head. And you don’t know what force of nature propelled you to be stupid, but you oblige with his request. You sat down next to him on his cot in his cell.

Your backs were to the wall. It felt comfortable somehow. You eyed the stack of books he’d sped through reading whenever he was alone.

Negan set the plate of canned tuna aside, putting his hands on his lap. “You know why I came back?”

“Because you’re an idiot?”

The prisoner laughed, and an unsaid guilt clawed at you from the back of your mind, saying whatever this was… It was wrong. But with Negan, you never felt like you were alone. Which is why it sucked when he left.

“No, stupid. Because there was nothing for me out there.”

“What makes you think there’s something for you here?”

He looked at you this time, his eyes free of the malice you were used to seeing constantly present. “You.”

You had to scoff. “Me?”

“Yeah, you.” He thought back to all the times you’d sat right next to him with bars separating the two of you. How he’d never felt so welcomed except for in your presence. 

How he waited for you to visit him. How he was constantly excited for the next time you’d come. How he’d get frustrated whenever it was someone else who’d open the door.

“Thought I was done for,” he confessed. “Until you came and I… I told myself I’d make amends with you out of respect for your brother and your nephew, bless their souls. Then you started visiting me by routine. I knew it was your job, but I never felt like I was behind bars whenever I was with you.”

You didn’t know what to say. 

“It means I like you, if you didn’t get that.” He nudged your elbow, looking at you as if he were already expecting you to turn him down. “I just wanted to tell you so you’d understand.”

“I like you, too,” you blurted out.

This time, Negan was the one who couldn’t seem to find the right words to say, much less at least even any words at all. 

“Rick dying like that… It changed me. Changed everyone, really. Nothing was ever the same and I couldn’t do anything about it. I felt alone, and I’m grateful you were there when I grieved. It just… Feels wrong to feel this way about you.”

Negan nodded. “I get it.”

You felt his hand on top of yours, rubbing it. He didn’t even realize he’d done it, but he left your hand alone when he noticed he did. You wish he didn’t. 

But you had to be brave. Shamelessly, you grabbed his hand in yours, lacing your fingers with his. Negan let you. “You suck at this game, asshole.”

And the two of you froze. He knew where he knew you from, and so did you.

“Ho-ly shit,” Negan started. “Are you GorgeousArsenal777?”

It all made sense now. Holy shit, indeed. “You’re SaviorNutsack69?”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Way before the apocalypse, Negan had made it his personal mission to destroy every single child XBOX Games. First was Gears of War. 

But he decided he wanted more than just a game with a co-op campaign mode. He needed to obliterate opponents in a ranked multiplayer combat game. It wasn’t that he hated them, he just needed a win…

He found a guaranteed win when he matched with MrPuddingCyborg. It was an easy win, really. It was very clear that whoever was behind that avatar was a newbie, thus it was easy for Negan to rank up.

“Fuckin’ loser,” he said, turning on his mic. “I bet you picked that username ‘cause you thought it was cool, didn’t you! It isn’t!” 

“Your technique sucks!” a little boy on the other end said, furious.

“Pants pisser,” Negan said one last time before beginning the game. “Are you shittin’ your pants now? What’re you gonna do, tell your mom?”

The growling on the other end stopped, meaning the kid turned off his mic. Negan scoffed, sensing victory from miles away. “What a fucking crybaby.”

Looking for the same benefits of winning, he requested a rematch. MrPuddingCyborg accepted. Negan leaned back, knowing it was gonna be a cake walk when—

You were killed by MrPuddingCyborg.

What?

Negan’s avatar respawned, but his tactic was used against him.

You were killed by MrPuddingCyborg.

You were killed by MrPuddingCyborg.

You were killed by MrPuddingCyborg.

It went on like that for a while until the two words he most dreaded to find on the screen flashed before him: GAME OVER.

Game over? No way. 

Negan ended their match, frustrated to find that his failure jeopardized his progress in getting up to a higher rank. 

Affected by his loss, Negan kept playing with two different players before finally getting to the third player.

Negan grinned to himself, gripping his controller with the drive to defeat everyone, but for now, GorgeousArsenal777 would be the one to get the heat.

To his delight, he got the first win. He exclaimed with a mischievous laugh. “Haha! One for Virginia!”

But that was just it.

Negan watched in horror as the player obliterated him in every round. He could already imagine his rank getting lower and lower…

He turned on his microphone. “The fuck’s that about? Are you trolling me right now?”

“Troll you for what? Coins you don’t have?,” taunted a girl on the other end as they waited for the intermission time to finish so they could leave the lobby and play another round. “Checked your account, saw you’ve been here for half a year and you’re still in a mid-tier rank. News flash, you suck at this game, asshole.”

“Game on, Gorgeous.”

“Suck my nutsack,” said the voice on the other end. Somewhere almost ten hours away south of Virginia, you clutched your nephew’s controller with a burning desire to destroy the gaming career of this fucker who pissed off your nephew. 

Negan watched in poorly disguised horror as the words notified him of his losses on the screen.

You were killed by GorgeousArsenal777.

You were killed by GorgeousArsenal777.

You were killed by GorgeousArsenal777.

“Listen here, Gorgeous,” he started. Whatever relaxation Negan had was gone. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, concentrating more than ever. “I am gonna make you regret that you ever got a console.”

You snorted. “I’d like to see you try.”

Negan was dead serious. “Fine.”

“Fine,” you fired back. And just in time, you sent a bomb his way, killing him for another time.

You killed SaviorNutsack69.

While you waited for the next round in the lobby, you and your nephew watched as SaviorNutsack69 approached your avatar. The two of you couldn’t help but snicker as he did.

His mic turned on again. “You’re a cheat.”

You resisted calling him a virgin seeing that he came from Virginia, acknowledging the presence of your eleven year old nephew sitting right behind you with his legs crossed, giggling.

“I could’ve beaten this guy,” Carl said with a laugh.

“I know, pumpkin.” You gave the kid a warm smile before turning back to the screen, eager to destroy this man further. “But guys like SaviorNutsack69 deserve to be obliterated.”

You turned your mic back on. “Not my fault you suck. Look at your avatar, dipshit.”

You and Carl snickered on your end, giggling.

The guy on the other end laughed mirthlessly. “I do not appreciate you talking ass about my Limited Edition skin.”

“Sorry you’re not more appreciative,” you quipped, resisting the urge to laugh out loud. “And sorry you can’t rock a leather jacket like I can.”

Negan hated leather jackets, thought it was too hot. He preferred those loose zip-up hoodies. But was not gonna tell GorgeousArsenal777 on the off chance that she uses it as substance to say he just couldn’t pull it off.

“I can so rock a leather jacket, shitface.” 

“Oh, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.” And then he left the lobby before the game could start. You and your nephew burst out laughing at the thought of the dude getting a leather jacket.

He was nothing to the two of you three minutes later, because you let Carl play with his account after that. But SaviorNutsack69? He was not the type to back down from a fight even long after it had ended.

700 miles from Georgia, SaviorNutsack69 got up from his chair and drove to the mall. He ran into the edgiest store he could find with purpose and unapologetically purchased the coolest leather jacket he could find.

And the rest is history.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The two of you sat there in silence, the thought of having met before all of this…

It was refreshing—the prospect of destiny. Or maybe it was just a coincidence. Either way, it made you an ounce closer to him. 

He grinned. Negan thought back to the leather jacket he abandoned before returning. “Hey, you’re the genius behind my look.”

“Guess I am,” you mused.

Your shoulder brushed against his, and you could have sworn there was electricity there somewhere.

“Feels like a rocky start to a love story, huh?” he asked, looking at you expectantly.

“You think this is a love story?” you asked him nervously.

Negan thought about it for a second, grinning. “I don’t know, do you?”

“Well,” you started. You paused before standing up and leaving his cell. Before leaving, you looked back at him with a smile. “We’ll see.”

“See what?” Negan stood up, holding the bars of his cell only to realize that it wasn’t locked.

“If you’re as bad on garden duty as you are on Call of Duty,” you taunted him with the same spirit you had from all those years ago. “Maybe then I’ll consider if it’s a love story.”

And that was it. You liked Negan, but that was just the beginning of a whole new story. You just knew you were lucky enough to have gotten the chance to meet again.

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[tsukumomei]

OKOKOK in my mind in the “puppy love” fic, reader is moving to spain

and then three years later sae comes to spain cause he gets scouted by re al you know the story

and so they meet again ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 (they have cute “dates” if you will, where she shows him around spain and what not 🤭)

now idk if you’re taking requests at the moment, or even want to write a part two for this, but i (and many others i feel like) would LOVE to see this!

no force though, if you do wish to write it take your time, and if you don’t it’s all fine too!

much love, xoxo 💋

a/n: This is actually insane because this is EXACTLY what I had in mind for a bonus part! I was originally going to end it when they saw each other again, but I took your request and wrote about their dates too. Enjoy! Mwah! I wouldn’t consider this a part 2, though—if I ever write one, it’ll still be from Rin’s POV. But I’m open to writing more bonus parts for this fic, so feel free to send me an ask! ^^

—RIGHT WHERE WE LEFT OFF

ft. Sae Itoshi

a bonus chapter for Puppy Love

synposis: Sae moves to Madrid after getting scouted by Real, but he has two problems. One—he hates it. The city feels unfamiliar, foreign, nothing like home. Two—he’s determined to forget about you. But the harder he tries, the more his own mind betrays him—because no matter what he does, everything leads him right back to you. wc: 3.1 k

The shuffling in Sae’s carry-on grows more frantic as he impatiently searches for that notebook from you.

It was the first thing he stuffed into his bag.

Flipping through the worn pages, his eyes finally land on the last one—covered in messy scribbles, but the only thing that stands out is a single line written in red ink at the bottom:

"Wait for me. ❤️ Y/N"

Sae presses his thumb against the words, as if touching them could somehow bring back the past. Could somehow make you feel real again.

He leans back into his seat, staring out at the endless stretch of sky beyond the plane window, but it’s not Madrid he’s thinking about. It’s you.

This morning, back at the house, he’d been kicking a soccer ball around the backyard, the steady thud of leather against concrete filling the quiet air. Rin was there too, watching him with a knowing look before finally speaking up.

"Nii-chan, it was just puppy love."

Maybe it was. Maybe Rin was right.

But if it was just puppy love, why is it still lingering?

Why did he still worry—that if you ever came back, that you’d be mad at him for not being there?

It’s been three years.

The chances of seeing you again were close to impossible.

—

Sae steps into his new apartment in Madrid, rolling his suitcase inside as his manager gestures around the space.

“This is your living room,” his manager begins, flipping on the lights. The apartment is modern, minimalistic—exactly what Sae expected. “Kitchen’s over there. Fridge is stocked for now, but you’ll need to do your own groceries after this week.”

Sae nods, setting his bag neatly by the couch.

“The bedroom’s down the hall,” the manager continues, walking ahead. “Bathroom’s connected. There’s a desk if you need to study or review game footage. Wi-Fi’s already set up.”

Sae peeks into the bedroom—plain, clean, nothing extravagant. Just a bed, a nightstand, and a small window overlooking the street below.

“You’re across the hall?” Sae asks as they return to the main area.

“Yeah,” his manager confirms, crossing. “If you need anything, just knock.”

Sae scoffs lightly. “I’ll be fine.”

His manager gives him a once-over, then exhales. “Good. Then I’ll leave you to settle in.”

With that, the manager steps out, leaving Sae alone.

The moment the door clicks shut, Sae gets to work. He unzips his luggage, methodically putting his clothes away, setting his toiletries in the bathroom, and neatly stacking his training gear by the closet. He takes mental notes of what he needs—more food, basic supplies, maybe an extra pillow.

Once everything is in place, he pulls out his phone and dials home.

His mother picks up almost immediately. “Sae?”

“I just landed and got to the apartment,” he informs her, his voice steady. “Everything’s fine.”

“That’s good,” she says warmly. “Have you eaten?”

“I will soon.”

“Don’t just eat whatever’s fastest. Make sure you’re getting proper meals.”

Sae hums in acknowledgment before adding, “Tell Dad I made it safely. And Rin, too.”

“Of course,” his mother says. There’s a brief pause, then a softer, knowing tone in her voice. “It feels real now, doesn’t it?”

Sae leans against the counter, staring at the empty space around him. His new home. His new life.

“Yeah,” he murmurs.

After a few more exchanges, he hangs up, setting his phone aside.

His eyes drift to his carry-on, to the one thing he hadn’t put away yet.

The notebook.

The worn cover, the slightly frayed edges—he traces them with his fingers before flipping it open once again. The pages are filled with your handwriting, messy yet familiar, scrawled with thoughts and doodles from years ago.

It’s ridiculous, really. He hasn’t seen you in three years. He has no idea where you are, if you’re still in the same country, if you even remember him the way he remembers you.

But memories flood in anyway. The afternoons spent at the park, your determined expression when you first crashed his soccer game, the way you always talked too much but somehow, he never minded. The way you scribbled on his arm once with the same red ink you used to write—

"Wait for me. ❤️ y/n"

Sae exhales sharply and shuts the notebook.

Maybe it really was just puppy love.

He stands, grabs his wallet, and heads for the door.

He needs to get out, get familiar with the city. He’s going to live here now, after all.

—

The city is foreign, unfamiliar—Sae hates it.

He was never one for traveling. The only reason he’s here is to play soccer at an international level, but outside of that, it feels suffocating in a way he never expected.

The streets are too loud yet too quiet at the same time. He doesn’t understand the conversations happening around him, the unfamiliar syllables blending into meaningless noise. The people pass by in a blur, all strangers, none of them acknowledging him beyond quick  glances.

It’s not like he’s stupid enough to get scammed—he’s careful, always aware of his surroundings. But that doesn’t change the fact that he doesn’t belong here. It doesn’t change how frustrating it is to have all this free time and nowhere to go, no one to turn to.

The city is alive, buzzing with movement, but it only makes the loneliness feel sharper.

—

Today marks his second week in Madrid.

Sae realizes just how useless he is when it comes to directions.

The sun is already beginning to set, casting a golden glow over Madrid, and he has no idea where he is.

The street signs might as well be in a foreign language—which, technically, they are. He squints at them, but the unfamiliar words blur together, useless in helping him find his way. And as for Spanish? Well, he knows about as much as a toddler forming his first sentence.

Great.

Of course, it’s at a time like this that he remembers you.

Because you were always the human GPS between the two of you, navigating streets like you had a built-in map inside your head. You always knew the right turns to take, the fastest shortcuts.

And right now? Right now, he is the one most in need of that skill.

Rin thinks Sae is perfect, so he probably doesn’t even know about this little flaw of his.

Sae scoffs to himself, shaking his head. It’s ridiculous that, even now, when he’s supposed to be moving on, he still finds himself thinking about you.

He exhales sharply, pushing the thoughts away.

Enough.

With renewed determination, Sae steps onto the crosswalk, telling himself—again—that it’s time to leave his childhood love in the past.

But by the time he reaches the middle, doubt creeps in—just enough for him to hesitate, just enough for him to misstep.

And just enough for him to accidentally bump into someone walking from the opposite direction.

"Perdón," the girl mutters, barely sparing him a glance—until she does.

She stops short, eyes widening in surprise.

"Oh."

Sae blinks.

"It’s you."

For a moment, the city fades into the background. The people rushing past, the hum of conversation, the faint honking of impatient drivers—it all disappears.

You look different now. Your hair is dyed, a little wavier than before. A stylish bag hangs off your shoulder, outfit effortlessly put together in a way that makes you stand out even in the middle of Madrid.

But to him, you’re still the same stubborn girl who once barged into his soccer game with Rin, the one who never asked for permission—just demanded a pass like you belonged there. The one who never looked at him like everyone else did.

Your eyes are the same. That’s what catches him the most. Time has changed a lot of things, but not that. They still hold the same warmth, the same quiet confidence.

Sae wonders if he looks different to you, too. If you notice the way his shoulders have grown broader, the way the exhaustion lingers under his eyes. If you can tell that beneath all the fame and titles, there’s still a part of him that never stopped waiting for you.

Neither of you speak. Just stood there, caught in something neither of you were prepared for.

Sae exhales, then—without thinking—extends his hand toward you

But before you can take it, a sharp whistle cuts through the air.

"¡Oye! Move it!"

The traffic officer’s whistle cuts through the air, snapping both of you out of your daze.

Startled, you both turn at the same time, realizing the light has already turned green—and you’re still standing in the middle of the crosswalk.

Reality has always had a way of interrupting you two, hasn’t it?

Sae clenches his jaw, frustration flickering across his face. Meanwhile, you weren’t handling it any better—because instead of just walking away like a normal person, you were flipping off the traffic officer and hurling a wooden spoon at him.

Where did you even get that? Sae has no idea. And honestly, he’s not sure he wants to.

But then he feels you grab his arm, yanking him across the street as you break into a run—both of you fleeing from the traffic officer, who Sae can only assume is cursing you out in rapid Spanish.

And just like that, his expression softens.

—

“Whew, that was close,” you say between heavy breaths, still catching your breath from all that running.

Sae glances at you, unimpressed. “Maybe if you didn’t throw a spoon at him, we wouldn’t have to run.”

You roll your eyes, waving him off. “Oh, please. That guy already hates me. This isn’t even the first time, you know.”

Sae raises a brow. “Not surprised.”

You nudge him with your elbow. “Hey! Rude.”

He exhales sharply, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “What did you do to piss him off before?”

You smirk, tilting your head playfully. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Sae gives you a look—unamused but intrigued nonetheless. “I would, actually.”

You grin, pretending to think. “Let’s just say… it involved a churro cart, an old lady, and a very, very unfortunate slip on my part.”

Sae stares at you for a moment before shaking his head. “You’re a menace.” 

You flash him a cheeky smile. “And yet, here you are, running away from traffic officers with me.”

He huffs but doesn’t argue. Because, somehow, you’re right—because he’s relieved that he can finally talk to someone other than his manager, and just as relieved to see that you haven’t changed at all.

Isn’t it ironic? The very day he decides to finally let go of your memory, fate throws you right back into his life.

But something nags at him. You haven’t asked about Madrid, about why he’s here. It’s like you’re not surprised at all, like it’s the most natural thing in the world to bump into him on the street.

Sae narrows his eyes slightly before speaking. “Hey, you’re not gonna ask?”

“Ask what?” you blink at him, confused. Then, as if remembering something, your face lights up. “Oh! Where are my manners?”

Before he can react, you throw yourself at him, wrapping him in a warm embrace.

Sae stiffens, caught completely off guard. But before he can say anything, you sigh dramatically against his shoulder. “I missed you so much! I can’t believe you followed me all the way to Spain. Oh, you really do love me.”

He clicks his tongue, exasperated. You’re being an idiot again—definitely pushing it.

But he doesn’t argue. He doesn’t deny it.

Instead, after a brief hesitation, he exhales and wraps a single arm around you, listening as you ramble on like no time has passed at all.

—

“Maybe I should put a tracker on you.” you tease, walking a step ahead of Sae as you lead him through the narrow streets of Madrid.  

He exhales sharply, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I would’ve figured it out eventually.”  

You throw him a look over your shoulder. “Yeah, sure. After getting lost for another three hours.”  

Sae doesn’t bother denying it. Instead, he follows as you turn into an alleyway, stopping in front of a small, unassuming café tucked between two buildings. 

“This place has the best tostada con tomate in the city,” you say, nodding toward the café. 

“The old man inside—Rafa—he always yells at me for ordering too much, but then he sneaks me an extra pastry for free.”  

As if on cue, the door swings open, and an elderly man steps out. His eyes land on you, and a slow grin spreads across his face. “¡Ah, mira quién es! La niña que me arruina el negocio.” (Ah, look who it is! The girl who’s ruining my business.)  

You laugh, stepping forward to greet him. “Don’t lie, Rafa. You love me.”  

Rafa scoffs but affectionately ruffles your hair before turning to Sae, eyes narrowing in scrutiny. “¿Y este quién es?” (And who’s this?)  

“My amigo,” you reply smoothly, though there’s a glint of mischief in your eyes. “He just moved here, so I’m showing him around.”  

Rafa studies Sae for a moment before nodding in approval. “Bien. Come inside. I’ll make sure he eats something decent.”  

Sae barely has time to protest before you’re dragging him through the door, the scent of warm spices and grilled meat immediately filling the air. The restaurant is small, a little tucked away from the busier streets, but it’s lively, filled with laughter and the soft hum of conversation.

When the food arrives, you dig in without hesitation, taking a bite and immediately letting out a dramatic sigh. “Oh my god,” you moan, clutching your chest like you’ve just ascended to heaven. “This is it. This is what happiness tastes like.”

Sae raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You sound ridiculous.”

“You sound jealous,” you retort, shoveling another bite into your mouth. “You haven’t even touched your food.”

Sae watches you for a moment. The way you eat so shamelessly, without a care for how you look, is something he vaguely remembers from when you were kids. Some things never change.

“I’m just letting you be the poison tester,” he mutters, finally picking up his fork.

You roll your eyes. “Please. If Rafa wanted to kill me, he would’ve done it years ago.”

Rafa, passing by, snorts. “She’s not wrong.”

Sae sighs, finally taking a bite. He won’t admit it, but it’s good. Really good.

Just as you’re finishing your plate, you glance at your phone and stand abruptly. “Be right back. Don’t go running off without me.”

Sae only scoffs in response, watching as you disappear towards the bathroom. The moment you’re gone, Rafa leans against the counter, wiping his hands on a towel before turning to Sae with a knowing smirk.

“She talked about you before, you know,” Rafa says casually.

Sae tenses slightly. “Did she?”

Rafa nods, chuckling. “Not by name. Just 'some guy I used to know who’s hopeless with anything besides soccer and even worse with emotions.'”

Sae huffs. “Sounds like something she'd say.”

Rafa shrugs. “Well, if you’re sticking around, you better get used to her dragging you everywhere. She’s got a habit of making lost people feel at home.”

Sae doesn’t respond, just looks at him, expression unreadable. Rafa only chuckles, shaking his head as he wipes down the counter.

A moment later, you return, eyes narrowing the second you spot them. “What’s this?” you ask suspiciously, sliding back into your seat. “What were you two talking about?”

Rafa smirks, tilting his head towards Sae. “Oh, nothing much. Just sharing stories.”

You gasp dramatically, pointing a finger at Sae. “You weren’t talking bad about me, were you?”

Sae finally speaks, deadpan. “Wouldn’t need to. You embarrass yourself enough.”

You scoff, reaching over to steal a piece of food from his plate. “Unbelievable. I leave for one second, and you two become best friends conspiring against me.”

Rafa laughs. “Don’t worry, querida. He’s not that easy to befriend.”

You nod sagely. “That’s true. I had to force him to like me.”

Sae rolls his eyes. That was true for most people, but definitely not for you.

He liked you from the get-go, like there was a gravitational pull towards you that he just couldn't escape from.

The day continues like that.  

You don’t take him to the usual tourist spots—the grand plazas or famous museums. Instead, you show him the Madrid you love.  

A tucked-away bookstore where the owner lets you sit and read for hours without buying anything. A tiny family-run tapas bar where the food is cheap but incredible, and the owners greet you like family. A rooftop spot where you swear the sunset looks better than anywhere else in the city.  

Everywhere you go, you introduce him like he belongs there.  

By the time the sky turns golden, Sae realizes something.  

This isn’t just a city to you. It’s a home.  

And for the first time since moving here, Madrid doesn’t feel so unfamiliar to him anymore.  

Maybe it’s because he’s finally seeing it through your eyes.

And maybe that so-called puppy love Rin kept telling him about is beginning to grow into something more.

a/n: "Puppy Love" is the one and only beloved Sae Itoshi fanfic franchise that will remain untouched by despair. I wholeheartedly believe that at some point during his four years in Spain, Sae had his dreams crushed and utterly heartbroken. But in this au? nah. no angst, no career-crushing disappointments, Just endless, tooth-rotting fluff and relationship bliss. The kind of soft, sweet moments Sae would never admit he enjoys. Because for once, he deserves to have something go perfectly right.

[airybcby]

How about hiori with 🫐 and 🍫

i love hiori omg

a hiori yo chocolate blueberry

જ⁀♡⊹｡° something about you

♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event !

♡ content — hiori yo x gn! reader, gn! reader, one bed trope, reader has slight feelings for hiori, hiori's sadism mentioned like once, talk of hiori playing pro, some cuddle moments, awkward kinda, not my best but i fear idk how to write for hiori well

♡ synopsis — Living with the resident ' nice guy ' , hiori yo, for this simulation was supposed to be good for you...until you're faced with any strangers sharing a space's worst nightmare... a singular bed

The apartment was... cozy. That was one way to describe it. Small but clean, with just enough space for the both of you. The only glaring problem was the single bed that sat against the far wall.

Hiori noticed it first, freezing mid-step as his gaze locked onto it. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he glanced at you, his blue eyes uncertain.

“There’s only one bed,” he said softly, as if you hadn’t already seen it.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “It’s fine. You can take it.”

His head snapped toward you, his brows furrowing. “No way. You take it.”

“Hiori, it’s not a big deal—”

“It is to me,” he insisted, his voice uncharacteristically firm. “I’ll take the couch.”

You looked at the small, uncomfortable couch in question, your heart twisting. You knew him well enough to understand why he was being so stubborn. Hiori had always been the type to put others first, even at his own expense.

“I’m not letting you sleep on that,” you said, crossing your arms. “We’re both mature. We can share the bed. It’s just sleeping.”

He hesitated, clearly torn. But after a long moment, he sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Alright. But I’m staying on my side.”

The first night went without incident. Hiori was almost annoyingly still as he slept, his back turned to you, his arms tucked rigidly at his sides.

The second night, though, he loosened up—or at least that’s what you told yourself when you woke up to find him lying on his back, his hand resting near yours.

“I didn’t cross the line,” he said as soon as he noticed you were awake, his voice light but his gaze serious.

“I didn’t say you did,” you replied, though your heart was racing.

The days passed, and despite the awkwardness, you settled into a routine. Hiori would tease you endlessly, but there was a tenderness beneath it that made your chest ache.

“This isn’t weird for you?” you asked one night as you lay side by side, staring at the ceiling.

“What?” he replied, his voice soft in the dark.

“Sharing a bed. Being here. With me.”

He was silent for a moment, then said, “No. Is it weird for you?”

You hesitated. “No. I guess not.”

“Good,” he said simply, and that was the end of it—or so you thought.

The moment it all came crashing down was during the final week of the simulation.

You woke up one morning to find Hiori’s arm draped over your waist, his face inches from yours. For a moment, you froze, your heart racing.

He stirred, his eyes fluttering open. When he realized the position you were in, he didn’t pull away immediately. Instead, he blinked at you, his expression unreadable.

“Morning,” he said finally, his voice low and raspy.

“Morning,” you whispered back, your cheeks burning.

And then, as if the weight of the moment was too much, he pulled back, sitting up and running a hand through his hair.

“Sorry,” he said, his tone back to his usual sweet tone, though his ears were red. “Guess I forgot to stay on my side.”

“It’s fine,” you said quickly, sitting up as well. “It’s not a big deal.”

But it was. You both knew it.

The next morning, he avoided your gaze entirely. The easy banter that usually filled the space between you was gone, replaced by a heavy, stifling silence.

“Hiori,” you began as you packed your things on the last day, your voice trembling.

“I’m sorry,” he said abruptly, cutting you off.

“For what?”

“For crossing a line.” He didn’t look at you as he spoke, his hands busy folding a shirt that didn’t need folding. “I shouldn’t have—”

“You didn’t,” you said quickly, stepping closer.

He finally looked at you then, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite place. Regret? Longing?

“You don’t get it,” he said softly, his voice laced with frustration. “I can’t—I don’t want to hurt you.”

Hiori Yo? Hurt you? In what world would that be possible? But you didn't know him like you thought, how his brain worked, how he was just a bit of a sadist.

And, in the end, he was still an egoist, still a soccer player who's was going to play pro.

He refused to bring someone into that life when even he didn't know how it would play out.

“Hiori,” you whispered, your chest tightening.

“This was supposed to be pretend,” he continued, his gaze dropping to the floor. His usual smile still on his face, although his eyes looked sad, “But I think we both know it hasn’t felt that way.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you thought he might say something else. But he just shook his head, his jaw clenched.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice barely audible.

You swallowed hard, fighting back tears. “So that’s it?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he zipped up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder.

As he walked toward the door, he paused, his hand resting on the frame.

“For what it’s worth,” he said without turning around, “I wanted this. More than I should have.”

And then he was gone, leaving you alone in the quiet, empty apartment.

this is so bad but i didn't wanna make him "i'm such a baby , pls help me" fanon hiori when he's a meanie but i didn't know how to make it fit the story

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[nouvxllev]

Absolutely love your work! And was ecstatic when I found out you also did Emma myers! And you write so well!! 🥹 I don’t know if you’ll be up to this, so don’t feel the need I know your probably a busy bee. But I wanted to know since you do Emma myers, if you’d be willing to to do a cc Walker aged up fic, maybe where cc is in college, and she’s in a relationship with reader (I absolutely loved your jealous Tara fic) but I was wondering if you could do cc, but make it a little more soft, and possessive? Like Cc is more afraid that reader will leave her? And just soft smut? (Sapphic of course) if not then I understand. I also wanted to know if once A good girls guide to murder comes out, will you be doing pop x reader? Because Emma is so cute as pip! ❤️❤️

would it kill you to look at me instead?

Pairing: CC Walker x Fem!Reader

Summary: ^^ request!!

Words: 5k (i was not expecting that damn)

Warnings: soft smut, slight angst. actually idk if its cut out to be angst, possessive cc aaaaaaa, author forgot how to actually write good stories

a/n: thank you so so sooo much!!!! and i was absolutely in love with agggtm when i read the book (i even got the whole series on my bookshelf!) so ofc ill be doing a pip x reader soon. hope i got to your expectations, anon.

masterlist.

"CC, what's up with you?"

Ava trailed after her, CC's shoes skittering along the hallway like some kind of menace, the slam of her door from her dorm was still echoing in Ava's ears.

Despite having just finished training five minutes ago, CC's steps were quick. Like they were avoiding any sort of conversation, she didn't even know why or where she was going.

"CC, please, you haven't even talked to me in a week!" Ava caught up to her, nearly tackling the girl to keep pace with her steps.

"Okay, what?" The blonde turned around abruptly, wind catching in her hair. She almost could roll her eyes if not for Ava being the sweetest being on this earth. "What, for fucks sake, what is so wrong with me?"

"That." She gestured using her pointer finger while the shorter girl pulled her lips into a thin line, "You keep snapping at everyone, and you've been staring daggers at the squad all week. It was mild at first, but now you look like you want to bury them in front of their families."

Ava leaned in further, squinting her eyes as she crosses her arms, "...Also you have these deep eyebags under your eyes."

CC's shoulder slumped, letting out an heavy sigh while her eyes closed. It burns, burns like fucking hell.

"I—"

Ava jumped forward, her eyes furrowing almost immediately, "Don't say because of exams since you're doing pretty good in terms of academics. You're even top in your classes."

"Well, fine. It's—"

"Don't say soccer too because I know your eyebags only come out of hiding when it's tournament or championship season."

"Okay, Wyatt—"

"Yale is like a million miles from us, CC. Also you don't even text Wyatt unless you need something."

"Well, I..." CC fidgeted under her, her head tilting left and right, "We've, my girlfriend have.... Have been fucking. Sex. Alot. Major, huge sex. Like, up and down, sideways, horizontally, transversally—"

"Alright, no," Ava pulled out her hand and stopped her, her other pinching the bridge of her nose, "Not in any universe would I want to hear about you and y/ns sex life."

CC chuckled, the only laugh she could ever muster. "Look, college's been kicking my ass lately and I'm just tired, really. Nothing to worry about." In all truth and oaths, she was.

She was tired.

For all the different reasons. Might even be petty ones.

So tired of hearing that one name—Clarissa Grey—coming out of your, admittedly so attractive, pretty mouth. She was a transferee yet she already caught your attention with a single 'hey, i'm new here, can you show me around?'

It had been five weekdays, not even counting weekends where Clarissa horribly clung onto you outside of school, of having your presence found nowhere but with that girl.

Normally, CC would spend every waking hour, if not for soccer, with you and you only. Clinging to your arms, holding your warm hands, tip-toeing to kiss your pretty lips she so adored, bringing you to the most expensive places you wanted, and most especially waking up with you in the early morning with your body sprawled atop hers.

It was bliss.

Was.

Now that CC was constantly being pulled to practice she couldn't spend as much time as she wanted with you. Meanwhile, Clarissa had you wrapped around her arms.

In short, Clarissa Grey is and will forever be a pain in the ass.

Clarissa—Insufferable, torturous, agonizing, intolerable, girlfriend-hogging—Grey.

She hated her.

Well, not hated. It's a strong word, a word she couldn't ever describe your, her forever beloved girlfriend, friends. Yet this girl got on her nerves more than ever.

And she's pretty sure this girl's been trying to get into your pants more than CC ever does after a rough game.

Clarissa was fine at first. CC wasn't those controlling partners who didn't allow their other to have friends; in fact, she was happy that you found a friend in the new transferee from across the world.

Now she felt like she was about to butcher the girl from mouth to anus if she ever so much as catching a wind of her presence of how she was constantly stealing you away from her.

CC took months just to muster a hi and introduce herself (through text mind you) and she didn't even check her phone for weeks after it. New girl did it in one damn day.

How could one even out-girlfriend a girlfriend of three years?

Now whenever it hits midnight and CC is finally in your arms all she could hear is:

"I'm so sorry baby, Clarissa made some plans for us."

"Sorry, CC. I have something to do with Clarissa on that date."

"Clarissa wanted to…"

"Baby, is it alright if Clarissa invited me to…"

"CC! Check it out, Clarissa just…

It's ridiculous and all CC could say was a simple yeah sure and a nod like she wasn't going to bash Clarissa's head in with a soccer ball.

She'd admit that even you get the end of the stick with her attention sometimes because of her first-class popularity that always seemed to stick around, but either way she felt really bad.

Jealousy was a stupid emotion which a stupid college girl, mind you, like her was stupidly experiencing. She was 19 experiencing her old 13 year old problems if she met you a bit more earlier. But who wouldn't get jealous?

She had the same interests as you, the same personality, likes the same movies as you, you both had an interest in whatever artist you were listening too.

She practically hung out with you everyday with how the both of you took the same classes and courses. The two of you were perfect on paper.

Clarissa wasn't some soccer-obssessed girl who doesn't spend her time in training for championships that you found yourself spending every second with her if CC wasn't around.

She has a great fashion sense without looking like whatever a 'teenybopper' is or someone dressed like Adam Sandlers.

She's probably great at cooking.

She kept her room impossibly clean as if it were brand new that you found impressive everytime she invited the both of you to her dorm.

She had this amazing ball of sunshine whenever she entered the room like it was a plague.

She probably followed what her mom told her to be when she gets into college.

She was pretty too. Her hair all shiny and she carried absolute grace and poise. Who wouldn't like her?

And that smile of hers? You found it nice. Charming, captivating. Even CC found it enchanting, it was all so surreal.

You liked her, most of all.

Shit.

Not that CC could ever doubt your loyalty to her; hell, she could invite every former crush and celebrity crush you had, and you wouldn't even bat a single eye towards them. You'd even try to desperately find the girl even if she wasn't in the room.

She doubted herself.

Who was she if not for you?

She just missed you. So much. It's killing her.

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

"CC!" You yelled, a smile creeping up your lips as you watched her jog up the bleachers in her new shoes you bought for her as an anniversary gift, it was an understatement to say that she loved it.

You watched how her exhausted face broke into a slight smile that managed to never fail to make your heart grow a garden of flowers trying to mimic her beauty, her eyes lighting up by the mere sight of you.

When she finally reached you, she practically melted into your inviting embrace. You held her chose, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she caught her breath, her exhaustion from practice matches slowly going away from being in the comfort of our arms.

You feel how her breaths gradually steadied, her heartbeat turned into its normal pace, her hands snaking up to your back while she buried her head into you, subtly peppering gentle kisses along your neck.

"Y/n..." She murmured, pulling her head away slightly and turning to the side.

Your arms stayed lingered around her waist, "Yeah, baby?"

She shook her head, eyebrows slightly knitting themselves as her gaze drifted at the seats as she inched closer to your ear, "Why... why is she here?" She squeezed your hand that was wrapped around her.

You followed her line of sight to where Clarissa sat on the bleachers right next to you, watching the players off to the side at her own time.

"Well, she wanted to come along with me," you explained with a shrug, "so I brought her here." A soft smile gracing your lips as you glanced at CC who didn't match your sunny expression.

"You guys done yet?" She looked up at the both of you, her voice was oddly monotone and disinterested. Unlike a few moments ago where she was clinging onto your arm while laughing.

You lowered your arms from CC's body as you sat beside Clarissa, gesturing to your girlfriend to slightly introduce her even if they already met a couple of times.

You didn't miss the way CC's face twisted into a grimace one as she crossed her arms, mumbling a slightly less than thrilled exclaim, "Fantastic."

"It is fine for me to cheer you on, right?" Clarissa smiled. Way too innocently at CC as if she wasn't just staring her down, the change in her tone didn't go unnoticed.

"Yeah. Yeah sure, whatever." CC replied, albeit the response came through gritted teeth as she picked up a waterbottle that sat beside you.

Clarissa smiled, laughed even, before leaning her head against you. "We have something to go after anyways, right y/n?" She looked up at you, innocent eyes that definitely didn't mimic yours as you stuttered out a response.

"We do? I didn't—"

"Okay, no, that's—!" CC's reaction was swift, immediately pulling you closer to her side, her hand having a firm grip on your arm as her voice rose in frustration yet faltered.

CC paused, seemingly collecting herself. You turned to her, confusion etched in your face, while Clarissa had a slight tug in her lips.

"That's... perfect. Amazing," she finally managed to say, letting go of her tight grip on you before standing up. "Sorry, I really have to go, I think they're calling for me. Enjoy whatever plans the both of you have."

You hear Clarissa giggle as you watch CC walk down the steps, her waterbottle discarded onto a nearby trashcan. It wasn't even half done. "Guess she doesn't like me, huh?"

A soft sigh escape your lips, your mood officially worried and concerned about CC before turning to Clarissa, "Yeah... Yeah, sorry, we have plans?"

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

Nothing could be more worrying than allowing your girlfriend CC-can't-really-monitor-her-liquor-properly-Walker attend a night party held by her teammates as some sort of 'pre-celebration' before a game.

You were already deprived out of her presence, being that you always stuck with that new girl you couldn't really find time to hang out with your girlfriend no longer than 30 minutes.

Not to mention what happened a few hours ago.

You miss her so much its tearing you apart. Unfortunately you're the book definition of a people pleaser so you took the courage to show Clarissa around for a few weeks until she got comfortable with the setting.

Most of the times CC would invite you to come along with to parties. Rejection often means she would be clinging onto your back like a koala and making out with you until the words associated with your academics disappeared from your mind.

Now she just entered the dorm, gave you a single kiss without explanation, and a simple text minutes later just stating 'ill be at a party. see you midnight xx.'

That in itself made you worried. No normal breathing CC Walker would ever use perfect grammar or would her be's or you's spelled correctly without any missing letters.

So imagine your surprise when she arrived two hours before twelve. Wasted and slightly teary-eyed, her pretty eyes avoiding looking at your direction. It was an understatement that the sight broke your heart.

"CC?" You rushed to her side almost immediately, ignoring the concerns of the amount of tasks you had on your desk.

You were met with silence. "CC, baby, are you alright? Did something happen?" you asked softly, "love, hey, look at me." You reach out to steady her as she swayed on her feet more and more in her intoxicated state until she reached her bed.

She shrugged off your touch, feeling a nagging sting in your heart that burned a void inside of you. You watched as she mutter something unintelligible under her breath, gritting her teeth as she stared at the ground.

"CC, talk to me." You carefully sat with her against your bed, fetching her the water that has been sitting on your desk, tilting your head to get her attention.

Her head turned to you, her eyes glassy and unfocused. Her pretty eyes that you adored were almost teary-eyed, "Would it kill you to look at me instead, y/n?"

"CC..." you tilted your head, your eyebrows furrowing, "CC... what? What are you talking about?"

"Why are you always with her? Clarissa?" Her name almost felt like poison in her mouth, awaiting to be spit out in venom, "Why is she always with you when I'm not around? Why are you always looking at her even if I'm mere inches away from you?"

She shook her head before you could respond, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "It's dumb. I know you're allowed to spend time with your friends. And even more to her since she's new and everything. You could spend time with anyone and I wouldn't care but I—" She took a deep breath, "Every time I see you with her, it's like… like she's much more of a good girlfriend than me you know? Because she likes you. It's kind of clear."

You couldn't feel anything but that gruesome feeling that's eating you apart. You could feel your heart tearing your own self apart as she spoke more.

"She looks at you as if you're hers, y/n. Not to mention she's always touching you, calling you names, always going out of her way to be alone with you... I mean, she asked you out as a joke. Multiple times."

"CC I never thought…" You feel a lump forming in your throat, her words heavy on your heart that were surely more heavier on hers. "I'm sorry, CC."

You reached out to cup her cheek, her body turning to face you, your thumb gently wiping a stray tear that fell on her face. "I'm so sorry, CC. You're not losing me. You will never lose me," you whispered, "I care about you more than anything. More than I breathe. I'm so sorry I made you feel like you were losing me. You have my whole heart, my body, my very soul."

Her gaze softened slightly, you could see that familiar glint you always loved to look at when you locked eyes with her. You missed it. "Is that a promise?"

Gently, you brushed your fingers against her cheek, pressing delicate kisses to her soft skin. "Far more important than a promise. I'll keep it like an oath on my life."

You let your arms wrap around her, feeling her slumping against you, curling against herself between your arms like she was trying to drown all of her burdens for you. "I'm just afraid that you'll leave me. I'm sorry for blowing up on you. I'm sure Clarissa is great."

CC felt warm, comforting, a presence that made you feel like everything to her, how she always kept you grounded. "It's alright, CC. I've been there before, don't worry. And for the record, I'm kind of getting tired of showing her around. Just a slight bit. I'll try introducing her to some people."

CC smiled against your neck, "You don't have to ignore her completely, baby. It's fine. I think my insecurities just got the best of me."

She's as comforting as the day you met her. The comforting sense of love, how you'd wake yourself up everyday just to see her face. Even if your heart gives out, you'd work through turmoil for it to beat for her. Even if you're tired, you'd manage enough energy for her to enjoy life with you.

"I'll never let you doubt my love for you again. No one could ever replace what I'm feeling with you, no one could ever replace you. You're simply everything baby, everything that life never gave me and everything life never offered."

You press a tender kiss to her forehead before making your way to her lap, pulling her collar and capturing her lips in a soft yet deep kiss.

CC responded eagerly to your kiss, closing her eyes while she let her hands wrap around your waist as she parted her lips to invite yours in as her tongue slipped between them.

With a low groan of ecstasy, you welcomed her intrusion, your own tongue fighting with hers yet you surrendered almost immediately, every touch of her in on your body sent shivers down your spine, leaving you craving for more of her.

You could feel her hands sliding under your shirt, the simple warmth of her touch, how her fingers glided smoothly against your skin and trailing to your chest was like reassurance that you were wanted and loved by her, how you were only hers.

"Baby…" you managed to murmur between her assaulting kisses that only seemed to spur her on as you went limp on her body, "have I ever told you I love the way you talk..."

You couldn't help but grin at the soft chuckle that escaped her pretty lips at your words, her kisses only growing more fervent as CC pressed herself against you all while she looked up at you with those eyes, waiting for you.

"The way you smile…" you trailed off, tugging at her shirt, tracing your fingers along her jawline, "the way you get jealous, the way you get so competitive sometimes, the way you look so lovely every waking moment, it's intoxicating."

You kissed her deeply, savoring the taste of her lips as you softly bit at her bottom lip, your voice turning husky and needy with desire, "Most importantly, I love the way you fuck me into your bed every night. You know no girl could drive me insane like what you're doing to me right now."

You didn't miss how CC's breath hitched at your words, how her eyes darkened with desire almost immediately as she pulled you by the collar of your shirt and flipped the both of you around. her hands roaming all over your body as she mumbled to her breath.

"I want you," she pleaded, "I need you, y/n, please." It wasn't a question, she needed this.

You wrapped your legs around her waist, pulling her close, feeling the heat of her body on top of yours as you mumbled a weak 'yes.'

CC took her time in showering you with the amount of kisses she wanted to give you, offering everything you needed with tenderness you never thought existed, the special attention that she always showed to you, worshipping every inch of your body.

She looked up at you, noticing the way your eyes closed, uncertain of whether it was out of pure bliss or discomfort. "Y/n, is this okay?", she asked softly, squeezing your hand that laid off to the side.

That was the thing about CC that you always adored, how she took the time to make sure you were comfortable in whatever she was doing. Whether she was rough or not, she was still so gentle with you, treating you as if you were porcelain about to break.

In the span of three years, her sweet and caring nature never faded no matter how much time you'll be spending time with her. She was the sweetest girl that only you knew.

You smiled at her, "Yes, CC, everything is okay. Just remind me of how much I'm yours to handle."

She nodded before returning to her usual, pulling up your shirt until it was completely off your body, "You're always so gorgeous…" She whispered against your skin, pressing her lips on your body, trailing down your chest. Each touch was gentle and tender, all just for you to feel cherished.

"I'm gonna take it off, okay, sweetheart?" CC murmured before she was lifting up your hips herself, her fingers sliding into your waistband and discarding your shorts and undergarments off to the side.

You gasped at the sudden cold air hitting your warmth as CC knelt below you to get the perfect view of your pretty pussy she so adored.

You suck a moan under her hot breath against your clit, her arms wrapping around your thighs to pull you in, "Baby, please…"

"I'll get there, pretty girl." CC whispered, taking soft licks of your juices, lapping them as she inched a little further into your warmth, groaning against you.

She looked up, watching how your body reacts with her each touch she had on you, whether she should follow your wants or what she needs to be satisfied.

She could see the flicker of pleasure in your eyes, the way your breath hitched, how you sound with every whine that elicited from your glossy lips, the way you try to cover your moans with your palm.

CC moved away, your needy whine didn't go unnoticed, her lips brushing against your wet clit before wrapping around the needy warmth and sucking gently, your body instinctively creating the perfect arch, your hips rolling into your face as you chased to get the most friction out of her mouth as she held you down by her arms.

But just as you felt nearing an orgasm, CC pulled away, only leaving you panting and wanting more.

She towered over you, spreading your legs as she leaned in closer, the sight of your juices on your lips turned you on even more.

"What do you want, baby? Tell me," she whispered, leaning in closer and planting soft kisses along your face as she waited for your answer.

"You… want you.. inside," you whispered, "want all of you, right now, please…" you moaned as the words spilled out of you in a desperate plea, discreetly rolling your hips against her thigh.

CC smiled down at you, her touch gentle and loving as her hands trailed down below to caress your soft skin before giving you what you wanted, while the other hand held up your head, showering you with praises after praises.

You kissed her back, feeling her fingers slowly inching towards your entrance that sent shivers down your spine. You tried to kiss her once again, trying to drown out your rather loud moans yet your efforts failed.

"Such a good girl, you're taking me so well..." CC praised you, smiling against your lips, "You're so pretty like this, baby. All just for me." She inserted all three fingers inside of you, stretching you out in the most delicious way possible.

"F-fuck! CC, please," you moaned, looking up at her as she looked right at you back, covering your mouth with only your palm. Getting caught having sex with your girlfriend at night in a literal college dorm wasn't in your applications at all.

CC, however, seemed unfazed as she panted, rolling and curling her fingers inside of your warm heat, always finding that one spot that had you seeing stars. "Are you close?" she asked, speeding up her pace.

You could only nod frantically in response, feeling a knot tightening in your stomach, "Yes, yeah, I'm close," you gasped, your body almost trembling in pleasure.

"You know, Clarissa is only a dorm away from us." She took hold of your wrists and held them high above your head, her grip still soft to touch, like she was still trying to take care of you. "You're going to scream my name. Not 'baby', not 'love', not Clarissa or whatever her name is. Not anyone."

Your eyes widened in surprise, your mouth opening to protest, but you were cut off before you could speak.

"I want everybody to hear that you're mine, especially her." She continued, her fingers pushing deep into you as you arched your back, "I want her to know how good I'm fucking you, how well you're taking every inch of me. Tell them what a good girl you are for me."

In your clouded haze, you desperately nodded with half-lidded eyes that stared back at her, your mouth half opened as she kept eliciting pathetic moans and whines from your lips.

"M' gonna cum, baby… CC, please," you whimpered, your voice strained and coming out in choked sobs, feeling the knot tightening deep inside of you. CC relentlessly pushed you closer to the edge, your back arching as she whispered praises after praises.

She released your arms from her grasp and you immediately wrap them around her neck, pulling her impossibly close to your body, her fingers thrusting deeper inside of your pussy while her thumb traced your clit in circles.

"Don't hold it, y/n. Cum for me, pretty girl, it's alright," she whispered as you brought her close to your neck, pressing one last kiss to your skin, satisfying everything inside of you with one last thrust.

You cum almost immediately after, "CC! F-fuck!" you moaned, making sure everyone can hear you. Your walls clenched around her fingers all while she still tried to pump them in and out of you, her hand slick with your cum that went nowhere but down her palm.

You wrap your legs around her waist, seeking support in her body as your own trembled in pleasure, your back arching as you gradually went down from your high, "M' all yours, CC! S-shit, you're fucking me so well!" you gasped, your words coming out in ragged breaths as you were brought to a back to back orgasm.

While you were coming down from your high, CC was already showering you with kisses all over your body, whispering sweet nothings, words of praises and adoration that automatically flowed on instinct from her lips, "I'm right here, y/n. God, you're so so so perfect."

When she felt your body begin to relax, going limp on CC, she gently withdrew from you, reaching out for a nearby stand to grab a pair of tissues. She wiped her fingers clean and gently cleaned the beads of sweat that formed on your forehead.

"You did so well, baby," she murmured, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips. "I'm so proud of you, pretty girl. I love you so much."

CC slid her arms under your body, lifting you up and placing you against the headboard, taking note of how your eyes were shut close and your breaths were slightly labored. "Y/n? Y/n, are you alright? Was I too much?"

You chuckled softly, opening your eyes to meet her gaze as she settled into your lap, her arms wrapping around you protectively. Like you'd run away and never return into her hold. Her eyes were too pretty, too full with love and care for you, almost as if you already died and went to heaven.

"You were too soft, actually." you laughed, leaning in to kiss her, tasting her natural lipgloss with the mix of your juices; an odd taste you'd say. "Is that what jealousy gets to CC Walker?"

"Definitely not," she replied almost immediately. "But seeing you with her makes me feel like I am. I needed to feel close to you, for you to feel close to me…" Her voice trailed off, her words faltering. She was always the one who talked alot about her feelings, yet it always seemed so distant and struggled.

"Well, you're not really mine mine since, of course, you don't really belong to anybody. Hell, even I don't own you and no one should think that! But you know I just—"

You reached up to cup her cheek as you cut her off, your thumb brushing lightly against her skin, a gentle smile playing on your lips.

"Oh, you know a girl batting her eyes at me won't change the way I feel about you. That's completely ridiculous," you reassured her. "You're always going to be my top 1. You have my birthday on your jersey for fuck sakes, who couldn't say no to that?"

Her lips curved into a smile, a relief expression is what you'd assume. "Guess you've brought up a solid argument," she laughed, leaning into your touch. "I'll run you a bath, okay?"

"I'll come with," you were already trying to stand up until CC pushed you back down.

"As... a trophy winner of an international soccer team, I suggest you lie back down. Maybe watch a couple of movies or two and let me do the taking care part." She leaned on your forehead and walked to the shower, already gathering your clothes and towel.

You sat up from the bed, a stupid smile across your face as you watched this girl do everything for you. Oh, the way she was so sweet for you was unbelievable. "Don't you need a degree for me to believe you?"

"Yeah!" She yelled across the room, "But I am your girlfriend and you believed me when I said I almost quit soccer because of a shoulder injury when in actuality it was my mom. So." She shrugged, already entering the shower and turning on the faucet before returning back to you.

"You're simply awful." You smiled as you watch her come back with a water and her laptop. "I love you." You say as you kiss her forehead.

"I love you too. So much." She smiled, "but one thing." She sat beside you, rising up a blanket to cover your naked body as she waited for the bathtub to fill. "You have to promise me that you'll keep your eyes on me. And me only."

"Still on Clarissa?"

"Unfortunately so."

You chuckle. "Then, I promise on my life that I'll keep my eyes only for CC Walker. And CC Walker only."

"Forever?"

"Forever and Always."

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

a/n: this is longer than i anticipated it to be

[kentuckyfriedmegumi]

tess’s guide to writing kiss scenes (featuring itafushi)

this is for @sunnyyflowerrs and @kat-likes-writing btw

bye so i am not that good at writing these idk why i’ve been asked to make this.  i read other people’s stuff and their kiss scenes and i’m like hnnnghghfhsnksj GIVE IT TO MEEEE!!!!! but alas… i shall deliver what the people want.

before we get into the step-by-steps of writing a kiss scene, i want to go over the general things i try to highlight in a scene that helps me when i write them. there’s the general way that kiss scenes go–build/tension, the kiss, post-kiss. wow, what a shocker, right? but overall, when i am writing a kiss scene, i like to highlight the feelings, the movements, and the energy. feelings being what the characters are feeling of course, movements being what they are doing, and energy being the overall charge in the scene. what is the context? is this a happy kiss? is it desperate? is it fast? is it soft? is it intimate? is it sexual? once you establish the tone of the scene, you are able to start building it.

let’s go.

1. the build up

as you get into building a kiss scene, there’s a lot of high tensions and emotions happening. a kiss is a very intimate form of contact and when you have two characters who are going to kiss, you need to set it up in a way that feels natural.

let’s take a desperate kiss for example. let’s say in this situation, megumi and yuuji both nearly died, and megumi was especially hurt (there will be light angst prob, sorry):

Yuuji stumbled towards the boy on the ground. Fushiguro was lying on his side, back towards him, breaths short and ragged. Guilt rippled through Yuuji the way a stone ripples through still water, jagged as it washed over him. “Fushiguro?” he asked. He could hear how pathetic his voice sounded, small and hesitant as he waited for an inevitable answer. Please answer. Yuuji dropped to his knees, feeling the pain of the fight finally settle in. The adrenaline was wearing off now, everything ached and he had cuts all over. He was sure he looked like hell and he could feel the blood caked on his face slowly dry and crust over. But nothing mattered because Fushiguro was right there. He could be bleeding—he probably still was—he could be missing an arm, he could he dying. It didn’t matter. Everything was shut out, locked away from his mind. Everything other than the body in front of him, chest rapidly rising and fall. He saw a small a shift and instinctively Yuuji reached out towards Fushiguro, only stopping not even an inch away from his shoulder. His hand was left hovering over him, scared to touch him, scared to cross that line. He wasn’t sure he could stop himself if he did.

in what i’m writing, i’m trying to show yuuji’s specific focus on megumi. this is a desperate kiss scene, so what i am trying to go for is this sense of i nearly lost you, so nothing matters other than the fact that you are right here with me.

notice that for this, i have feelings, movements, and energy.

feelings. yuuji is WORRIED, poor guy, all he can think about is whether or not meg is okay. i’m highlighting yuuji’s own pain and injuries, and immediately tossing them aside. yuuji does not care if he is hurting, all that matters right now is if megumi is okay.

movements. yuuji is placing himself near megumi, he reaches out for him, but he stops himself. this creates ~tension~ which makes for a juicy kiss scene. having some sort of tension also helps the build as emotions are rising. even in less /dire/ kiss scene builds, there may be some sort of tension going on. maybe they are both shy, maybe one of them isn’t sure the other likes them back, maybe they’re just plain nervous.

energy. this is the charge of the scene and mainly relies on surrounding context. this may be a bit easier to write based on how the scene is going. for this kiss, what is the overall tone of this that you’re going for? is this romantic? is it comforting? it’s important to have that extra layer so the reader has a better understanding of both characters’ emotions and motives as they reach the kiss.

2. the kiss

the kiss itself is the climax of the scene, everything is leading and converging to this very moment (no pressure right?). when writing a kiss, the feelings, movements, and energy are all VERY IMPORTANT because this is what the readers are reaching for when the scene starts.

let’s have a slow/soft kiss now. for this one, megumi and yuuji have been ~in love~ but they haven’t kissed and this is their first one. the build for this type of scene would focus a lot on the jitteriness in the characters. write in things such as trembling hands, increased heart rates, LOTS of blushing. aight, time to make these boys kiss, you get build and a kiss now:

Itadori was looking at Megumi. His cheeks were tinted a soft rosy color, and Megumi adored the way his eyes shone, despite his overall fidgety demeanor. He was usually so confident and easygoing, why was he so nervous now? Megumi wasn’t really in the position to ask questions, he could feel the heat rising to his face as Itadori looked at him. he smiled and Megumi could have melted right there. His eyes were so warm, his smile was so warm, Itadori was so warm. Megumi could feel his pulse quicken and he felt like his head was spinning in circles. But it was impossible to miss the way Itadori’s eyes flickered down, away from his eyes, a bit lower on his face. Megumi swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. “Megumi,” Itadori said, stepping closer. Megumi’s face was surely as pink as the hair of the boy in front of him. he nervously fidgeted with his hands, unsure of what to do as the ever-increasing warmth that was Itadori stepped even closer. Megumi searched his eyes as he took one more final step forward. Itadori stopped for a moment, gauging a reaction, as if he was making sure this was okay. Megumi could feel his breath, their faces just inches apart.   It was like time slowed. Itadori shifted, his hand coming up to Megumi’s face, as if Megumi wouldn’t want anything more than what was about to happen. He felt warm calloused hands lightly brush his cheek and Megumi jumped slightly at the contact. Itadori was already starting to lean in when he stopped at the sudden movement, worried that Megumi was going to rebuff him. Megumi reached up with his own hand, grasping Itadori’s arm and holding him in place. their eyes met. They stood like that for what felt hours and seconds all the same before Megumi started to lean in too, eyes half-lidded as they fluttered from Itadori’s gaze to his lips. Their breaths mixed and Megumi just knew that Itadori could feel his racing pulse beneath his fingers. It didn’t matter. With one final resolve, they both moved in. It was like everything in the world stopped. A burst of warmth spread from Megumi’s chest throughout his body, enveloping him as he sighed into the kiss. Itadori’s lips were soft. Megumi could feel a light tremble that was probably, definitely from the nerves, and he was certain that he was probably, definitely trembling too. Itadori’s hand on his cheek moved a bit lower, fingers ghosting the nape of Megumi’s neck. They tangled in his hair while the pad of his thumb rubbed softly behind his ear. Instinctively, Megumi’s grip on Itadori’s arm tightened. As a result, Itadori pressed himself into Megumi further, other hand snaking around to his back and pulling him against his chest. And god, Megumi wanted to melt. They broke apart, only for a moment, before Itadori moved back in and resumed the kiss. Megumi could feel his mouth part slowly and Itadori responded in kind. Both of them moved with gentle, subtle motions, taking in small breaths in between. Megumi shifted his head, tilting slightly to the right, allowing Itadori to deepen the kiss further. They kept the pace slow, their kisses light. Megumi’s heart was racing a million miles a minute and his mind was overflowed with only thoughts of Itadori—the tenderness in his touch, as if Megumi was the most precious thing in the world to him.

ayyyyyy look at that kiss!! once again, we got the big three.

feelings. for this scene, it was important to show that megumi is nervous (capital n), but he WANTS this. he wants yuuji to kiss him and he wants to kiss yuuji. when they finally do kiss, there’s this overwhelming feeling where all of his anxieties finally calm. notice how i focus a lot on megumi’s feelings to convey the importance of this kiss for them. i also highlight yuuji’s nervousness in meg’s perception through his actions. the constant glancing at his lips and the way he moves in slowly to kiss him help show that yuuji is just as nervous as meg is.

movements. a lot of people thing that writing kiss scenes are awkward and i can see how they would be. you don’t want to focus TOO MUCH on what they’re doing, unless you’re writing more explicit content. in this snippet, i have brief descriptions of their actions, but a lot of movements are also focused outside of what their mouths are doing. yuuji brings his hand from megumi’s cheek to his neck, his other hand comes his back and pulls him closer. but you don’t want to focus too much away the kiss. i bring it back to that by writing how megumi is the one who deepens the kiss, parting his mouth and allowing yuuji to take over.

energy. this kiss scene is meant to be soft and tender. notice how i sort of drag it out bc the boys are supposed to be a lil nervy. i convey the energy by using descriptors of their subconscious actions, bc the body is also reacting to the kiss. heart rates are increased, they’re looking at each other’s lips, they’re lips are trembling. but i also have the feelings and movements be really soft and slow. they don’t crash together, they slowly gravitate towards each other.

3. post-kiss

this part is probably the easiest to write. both characters are coming down from their high and there’s a swirl of emotions that starts to die down. usually nerves dwindle as both characters soften. depending on the situation, you can have them soften into each other, or perhaps they pull apart in regret.

bc i’m cruel, let’s do both! sorry in advance…

Fushiguro was kissing him. It should have been the best thing in the world. It was the best thing in the world, but all Yuuji could focus on wasn’t the heat from his body, the grip on his shoulders, or the soft press of Fushiguro’s lips against his own. All Yuuji could think about was the endless list of lives that he had taken. The people that he should have saved, that he could have saved if he had just died. Fushiguro was kissing him, and he didn’t deserve it. But couldn’t he be selfish? Just this once, could he take what he had always wanted? Fushiguro had asked to be saved, he had asked for Yuuji’s support. Yuuji wanted nothing more than to give that to him. He wanted to give it all to him. And so he did. Yuuji stepped closer, grabbing Fushiguro’s collar and pulling him further in. He could feel a small gasp before he swallowed it with a kiss. Fushiguro was kissing him, how could he not kiss him back? The feeling of Fushiguro’s hand carding through his hair stopped everything. His touch was gentle as he tangled his fingers through Yuuji’s hair. There was a certain tenderness in the way that he moved. No. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to be touched, kissed, loved as if he were a good person. Not after everything he did. Not after everyone he killed. And he especially didn’t deserve it from someone like Fushiguro. No, Fushiguro deserved so much more. Yuuji deserved nothing. So he pulled back, his grip on the collar loosening. Yuuji had to force his hands down at his sides as he took a step back. He was still quick to notice the way Fushiguro followed him, only briefly, before he pulled back with a certain look on his face. The kind of look that Yuuji hoped to never see again. “I’m… sorry,” Yuuji said. Fushiguro stiffened and his gaze fell. “No,” he said, face dark as he turned away from Yuuji. Suddenly, everything was so much colder. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have k– I shouldn’t have done that.” It wasn’t you. It’s not you. It’ll never be you. I’m a monster, I’m a murder, I don’t deserve you. You could have so much more, so much better than me. A million thoughts raced through Yuuji’s mind—so many things that he wanted to say to assure Fushiguro that he didn’t pull away because he wanted to. “We should probably get some rest,” was what he said instead, “before we go to the third years.” “Right,” Fushiguro replied. “It’ll be a long day, I’m sure.”

eeek sorry, chooms. i’m just trying to provide ~variety~ here in my kiss scenes. whipping these up on the spot means i just sorta write whatever comes to my brain. this kiss meant to be angstier. it’s bleaker. yuuji’s thoughts are dark and self-depreciating. he kisses meg back, but he immediately feels bad about it because he feels like he doesn’t deserve it. this translates to his movements, with him gripping the collar in desperation, but immediately pulling back and restraining his himself at the end of it. as for the energy, notice how in this kiss and post-kiss how there’s an overall darkness in the tone. there is less focus on the kiss itself and what they are doing and more so in the dark thoughts plaguing yuuji’s mind. this adds to the post-kiss, as it sets up his regret in kissing meg in the first place.

Let’s do another one:

Megumi rushed in, crashing his lips against Itadori’s as the grip on his arm tightened. Fuck Sukuna, fuck the higher ups, fuck everything else in the world. They were crazy for thinking the world could ever just be free of Itadori Yuuji. Megumi wouldn’t allow it. Not when he was right there in front of him, real, and alive. Megumi could feel Itadori stiffen in hesitation for a moment before he was met back with the same fervor, the same desperation Megumi had kissed him with. All of the noise of the outside world, all of the noise in his head silenced immediately at the feeling of Itadori’s lips moving against his. His hand was quick to make its way to Megumi’s face, caressing his cheek with a gentleness that he was definitely not kissing him with. Megumi didn’t care about that, though, so he tilted his head and let his arms fall around Itadori’s waist and pulled him flush against himself. A small gasp escaped from Itadori before it was immediately swallowed by the kiss. Megumi drank him in like he was dehydrated and Itadori’s lips were a cold glass of water. They could have stayed that way for forever. Allowing their pace to slow, Megumi’s grip on Itadori loosened. They morphed into a kiss that more loving and intimate. It was as if the rush of emotions slowly recessed back into the ocean of Megumi’s mind—not repressed but rather settled into something a bit softer. When they parted, Megumi held Itadori close and rested his forehead against the other boy’s. He was smiling. That same goofy, stupid smile that he smiled when he was about to watch a movie with Megumi, or when Megumi summoned his Divine Dog, or when he was cooking with Megumi. The smile that Itadori reserved only for him. “Hi there,” he said. Megumi gave a small smile in return. “Hi.” He could tell his heart was racing, he was probably blushing too, but all he could think about was that he kissed Itadori. Even crazier, Itadori kissed him back. Megumi couldn’t help the small chuckle the escaped his lips before it was too late and Itadori was giving him a small nudge. “Are you thinking about me?” Itadori teased. “Shut up,” he said with no real annoyance. “Fine.” And suddenly, Itadori was kissing him again.

For this post-kiss, we have them softening to each other. The kiss was a big boiling point of emotions as megumi kissed yuuji, then after the kiss, they part and it’s a sweet, loving moment between the two of them. we have megumi’s feelings being read about yuuji, we have his movements in resting their foreheads together, and we have the energy shift from a passionate kiss to an intimate moment.

overall

i mean that’s basically it! i didn’t plan on it, but i wrote four kiss scenes (well, three kisses and one build to a kiss) and broke down my little formula for each one. i hope that this provides some enlightenment in how to write a kiss scene and i hope my ramblings make sense here. i was always of the belief that kiss scenes were super hard to write, but after writing one for IYTFPTGFMTFILWH, it just sorta all clicked for me. i hope that this guide helps it click for you too, fellow author.

if anything, i hope you enjoyed the itafushi kisses. happy itafushi friday.

[esvcort]

cw: suggestive, nsfw, dubcon-ish(?) if u squint

author's note: my first post, woohoo!! this is literally just an idea dump, very cliché scenarios and idk what this is actually lolll

the kamisato clan's head finds out about your hobby in an unexpected way. he made the effort to finish all of his tasks for the next two days, an act to spend more time with his lovely wife, having been mostly absent for the first few months of your arranged marriage. it was late in the afternoon when he retired to your shared room, waiting for you to return from your trip to inazuma city. you picked up a hobby to busy yourself with, as he wasn't always around the estate. you have developed a liking for reading books from the yae publishing house, going there at least once a week. his eyes find your desk on the side of the room, with papers haphazardly scattered all over it. he chuckled to himself, shaking his head at your surprising messiness. in an attempt to tidy up the space, his eyes catch some words on the paper in your neat handwriting.

the fireflies had already lit up the night when you arrived. you slip off your geta when you reach the entrance of the estate. your feet are slow and quiet as you walk towards the room, clutching the newly bought books and writing materials close to your chest, afraid to disturb your husband, who must be resting at this time. your eyebrows raise in surprise as you slide the door open to reveal ayato sitting on the edge of the bed.

"my lord! why are you still awake this late at night?" the title you call him makes him smirk. he stands up from his position and stills in front of you. a smile paints his face, and your eyes automatically drop down to the beauty mark under his lips.

"i thought i told you not to call me that, sweetheart." ayato gently pried the materials from your hold and put them down on your nearby desk. an small noise bubbles from your throat as his warm and lithe fingers brush against your hand. "i am your husband, and you are my wife. i believe we're past such formalities, don't you think?" his lavender eyes stared at you as his figure loomed over your own, and he waited for your response.

"i, uh," you stammered nervously as his towering presence created an intimidating aura. you stepped backward, leaned your hands and sat slightly on the desk for support. "i didn't think we were affectionate enough for each other to cross such a line, my lord."

he laughs a little, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "i suppose, so. although," your heart beats faster as he slowly walks towards you, leaning in close, close enough for your noses to brush each other now and then. this is the closest you've been to ayato in the span of your marriage. the unusual proximity does wonders for you; your heart beats faster, and your senses are heightened. you can feel the warmth of his body as both of his hands cover your own, effectively trapping you against the table. your husband leans over to whisper in your ear. "i would believe you if your insistence on calling me "my lord", didn't remind me of something."

"a-and what may that be, my lord?"

"'my lord's hands slowly inch up the supple skin of my thigh under the fabric, all the while pinning me on his desk.' sound familiar, darling?" your eyes widen in shock, and a strange feeling like electricity crawls all throughout your body.

"that- it's for a book i'm writing!" you turn your head to defend silently, followed by an audible gulp.

"why didn't you tell me you were writing such a book for the yae publishing house, hmm? is that why the books you buy also have such explicit themes, sweetheart?" more embarrassment comes over you in the mention that he has seen the content of your books. you guess the additional plain paper covers you had put over them were not enough.

"well- it- it helps for reference?" you answer, unsure and embarrassed that you had just indirectly admitted your inexperience. ayato lets out a breathless laugh and smirks. he faces you and takes your chin in his hands. he looks down on you; his light purple eyes pulling you into him, hypnotizing you away.

"darling," he purrs, and the deep rumble of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. your breath gets caught in your throat when his hand moves to your shoulder and carefully pushes you down on your back on the desk.

"my lord," you call out weakly, getting lost as you feel him settle himself between your legs. his tall figure hovers above you as his hand reaches the hem of your yukata. he bends down and kisses the corner of your open mouth. the desire to be touched was consuming you.

"if you wanted reference," he bucks his clothed hips on yours and takes pleasure in the pant you breathe out. your legs wrap around his waist, feeling hot as he continues to grind down on you slowly.

"i could show you much more than what your meager book has."

likes and reblogs are much appreciated!!

[nonexistence1199]

Let me hold you tight (Chuuya x Reader!)

Fanart by 57and13 (X/Twitter) Line divider by @strangergraphics

. . .Currently playing: Payphone - Maroon 5 Tags: angst, fluff/comfort, open ending, swear words, idk anything else to tag:P

What the fuck is happening?!

Chuuya’s breath hitched when his eyes landed on the familiar figure in front of him.

He doesn’t even remember when the last time he saw that girl - the girl who was once his dearest friend.

Yes, he hasn't seen her since she left the Port Mafia. Not even a fucking single glimpse of her.

So why is she here, coming up to him?

-… Hey.

Chuuya continues to stare blankly at his ex-”friend”. And with a slight scowl on his face, he covers all the inner turmoil inside him at the moment.

-Hello, Chuuya..

Y/n mutter, look at Chuuya. The air hangs with an uncomfortable tension, until Chuuya breaks the silence.

-… How are you doing?

It's a question, a simple question, but Chuuya’s voice held a certain softness to it as he asked - the softness that he desperately wanted to hide from the world, from her, from the terrible liar that had betrayed him and his hopes.

-.. I don't know. Maybe better..

She lets out a slight sigh, before returning to her normal facade, smirking with that annoying attitude that Chuuya absolutely hates.

- ..how about you?

Chuuya narrows his eyes again, clearly not buying the fake smirk on Y/n’s face. He scoffs, and once again, he could feel his irritation on the verge of exploding.

-Cut the bullshit, we both know you’re not doing any better.

He says to the former executive bluntly, his voice returning to normal as he rolls his eyes at her. Chuuya’s eyes remain locked onto the other’s eyes as he gives her a small frown, studying her expression carefully. But after a few seconds, he sighs and looks away.

-… Honestly, I’m not doing any better either.

He mutters, looking down at the floor before his eyes slowly look back up.

-"That was expected-"

-"What, you think you can see straight through me, huh?"

Chuuya crosses his arms over his chest, huffing in exasperation. She is in no position to act “I know it all” when she is the one who is guilty this time.

-"No, Chuuya, it’s just because I think there’s no way someone who works for the Port Mafia could be fine"

-"You’ve got that right. And it is entirely your fault"

He mutters before he looks away again, avoiding eye contact. He’s annoyed and frustrated, but Chuuya is trying his best not to show it in front of her - not now. He falls quiet after that, his arms clenching his sides tightly.

Why did she care so suddenly? Why did she even bother to come back? What is she up to, and-

-"I’m sorry"

Chuuya’s eyes snap wide as he hears her response.

She apologizes, doesn’t she?

-"What..?!"

-"I mean it. It’s… my fault. For leaving you and following Dazai’s steps. I shouldn’t have left you in the first place, I should never-"

Chuuya swears he could feel his heartbeats drop. His mind is at a loss for words, and before he could think, the words spilled out from his mouth.

-"Y-You don’t have to say sorry-"

He stumbles a bit with his words, surprised at how he suddenly got soft. Chuuya clears his throat and quickly reverts back to his usual attitude.

-"... Tch, I don’t need you to pity me."

Desperately trying to hide his trembling voice, he snaps. He finally says it - the thoughts, the feelings that he has been bottling up for too long.

-"And why do you even care, huh? After all these years, running away like a coward? I can’t understand you. You can’t just fuck something up and then stand here and simply say sorry!"

Y/n purse her lips. He is right - she is the one to blame. And with a quiet, raspy voice, her next sentence almost makes Chuuya’s heart crack.

-"Doesn’t it feel lonely?"

Fuck. The way she says it with such genuineness. The way her gaze directed towards him, almost pleading - for what? His forgiveness?

-"I-..You.."

-"..Listen. I-it's just... I know I screwed up by leaving you alone and following that bastard but…"

-"Yeah, you did"

Chuuya cut her off. Yes, she screwed up. And he’s mad as hell.

-"And so what?"

-"..I miss you"

-"..."

Chuuya’s jaw dropped.

Miss him? She missed him?!

His heart sank, and his mind went hazy. He’s not even sure if he heard her correct or not.

-"... I... I don't know. I shouldn't have left you alone... I know I shouldn't..."

Chuuya can’t stop himself anymore; he closes the distance between them, and suddenly pulls Y/n into a tight hug. He hugs her as tight as he can, as if she’s going to disappear at any moment.

-".. Shut up. You’re here now, that’s what matters."

He buries his face in her shoulder. The steady rhythm of her pulse. The familiar scent of her perfume. Her filthy warmth, everything - all the things about her make him feel weak in the knees.

-"Ch-chuuya..?"

-"Shut up… Just.. Just shut up and let me hold you..."

Even if it’s just for a while, please let me hold you tight.

[chil-aglia]

𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 |ROTTMNT| (Male OC)

A Step Closer

Be sure to read the tags on my Ao3 so you guys know what you’re getting yourselves into.

Art is done by me, PLEASE feel free to make your own art and idk tag me in it or something—

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

The mask never came off. It practically stuck to Giovanni’s face ever since he got it. But no one told him to remove it, they understood that this mask was special to him, a real gift he ever received in years.

Giovanni was adjusting to the family life, it wasn’t perfect, but he became less jumpy around his brothers and father, still on edge and he frequently has nightmares, but he made the effort of slowly coming out of his shell.

Still, he felt odd. It was like this was all still a dream to him. He can still feel the slimy and squishy tentacles of the Krang crawling along his body, choking him, suffocating his windpipe. He sometimes just shivered and felt sick whenever he just recalled them. But he didn’t want to burden or worry anyone, so he kept these feelings to himself.

He knew it was unhealthy to do that, but he didn’t want to risk ruining everyone’s mood just because of him. 

Giovanni was currently sitting in Splinter’s chair, cross legged as he watched his brothers act out scenes from the movie they were watching. They started introducing him to Lou Jitsu movies, A.K.A. Splinter’s old movie star life before he was mutated into a rat.

Giovanni didn’t understand any of it. But he kept patient and watched on. He supposed this was normal for his younger brothers to act out these scenes, Mikey told him that they have seen all the movies countless times that it was embedded into their brains, they knew all the lines and all the action.

Giovanni was impressed.

”Hot soup!”

Giovanni flinched when Raphael suddenly threw Leo and Donnie behind him, the twins crashing on the floor and landing in front of Giovanni who panicked that they were hurt as he looks down at him, arm stretched out hesitantly as though he was scared to touch them.

But he blinks when they laughed and sat up, cheering and clapping for Raph praising him on the performance. 

Giovanni sighs softly in relief as he got back to his original position. 

“Hey, you guys smell that?” Leo spoke up, sniffing the air, his brothers copying him. “Ugh, yeah…what is it?” Mikey made a slight disgusted face as he follows the stench. He walks towards Giovanni and blinks at him, Giovanni tilting his head in puzzlement.

”Whew! It’s Gio!”

What’s me?

Leo slides in and gave a brief whiff as he pokes his tongue out in disgust. “Eugh, yeah…guess you haven’t had a bath for some time. But it’s time for you to get clean.”

A what?

Noticing the confused expression, Leo widens his eyes before turning to the others. “Uh, oh. He doesn’t know what a bath is. Someone gotta bathe him.” He explains as Mikey immediately shakes Donatello’s shoulders.

”I volunteer Donnie!”

”Wait, what?!”

Leo grins and slings an arm around his twin, “Thank you for volunteering bro. Go have fun!” 

He shoves Donnie gently over to Giovanni who stared at him as Donnie gags a bit at the smell. “Why do I have to be the one to give him a bath?” He groans over to the boys who laugh sheepishly at him. 

What’s a bath?

Giovanni perks up, a little curious about this ‘bath’ they kept speaking of. Was it good? Safe? Something for him to eat? 

“It’ll be fine. Besides out of everyone here, you seem to interact with Gio the least! This is good for you two to be more aquatinted!” Raph smiles in assurance as Donnie glares before sighing and shaking his head.

There was no way out of this was there? 

“Very well. I’ll have Giovanni here come out squeaky clean!”

Donnie wasted no time and grabs the oldest brother and drags him away to the bathroom. Giovanni lets Donnie take him away, but he couldn’t help but gulp. He was nervous being left alone with the soft shell.

He enters the bathroom that he’s only been in probably once. And that was just by accident when he was looking for one of the rooms of his brothers to return something they left behind in the living room.

Donnie closes the door, making Giovanni flinch and turn around. “All right, now, do you know anything about bathing?” Donnie asks in a more begging tone, but to his disappointment, Giovanni just shook his head.

”Sigh….all right. Guess I have to do everything.”

He huffs and walks over to the bathtub, turning the tap on as water pours out. Giovanni leans over Donnie slightly to get a better look, however since he now closer, Donnie had to resist the urge to gag.

”Boy, you really do smell.”

”I smell?” Giovanni mumbles in confusion as he steps back and sniffed his arm, but he didn’t smell anything out of ordinary. “You probably don’t smell it because you’re already used to your own scent. But trust me, you need a bath.”

Donnie looks to the tub and turns it off once the water was at a reasonable level. “Okay, get in.” He gestured as Giovanni remained where he was, feeling anxious of getting in. Donnie blinks at him, “Well? Chop, chop. The water will get cold.” He encourages but Giovanni just shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

Donnie hums in thought, he was hoping this was going to be easy but of course he should’ve expected that Giovanni would be uncomfortable with getting into something that he had no idea about.

”Look, it’s safe. It’s just water.”

Donnie placed his hand in the tub, splashing the water lightly. “It won’t hurt you. Promise.”

Donnie was just winging this, feelings and making others comfortable was suited for Mikey. But since his brothers oh so kindly gave him the task of bathing his oldest brother, he didn’t know what else he could do.

Relying on visuals to help Giovanni become more comfortable with the idea of getting into the tub. He was surprised that it seemed to work as Giovanni walks over and hesitantly dipped his finger into the water.

Giovanni relaxed at the feeling before he raised his feet up and hopped over the tub lightly, placing both feet into the water. “Yessssuh!” Donnie grins, a step forward in the right direction.

”Okay, now sit down in the water.” He instructs, to which Giovanni listens as he squatted down before sitting in the water. He shivered at the weird feeling of being almost submerged.

Donnie gazed at the grey mask around Giovanni’s face, “We should take this off, so it doesn’t get wet.” Donnie points out, tapping lightly at the mask as Giovanni points but nods.

”All right…but I’ll get it back?”

”Course you will.”

Giovanni unties his mask and handed it to Donnie who placed it on the sink counter. “Well, guess we should start scrubbing.” 

He grabs a loafer and soap, turning in the direction of Giovanni who looks between the items in curiosity and nerves.

-----

Giovanni discovered a new kind of love. He loves baths. Loves being in water. 

Donnie had been the one to witness all the chaos that Giovanni brought when it came to being bathed. At first, he shivered and almost avoided being scrubbed, but then when Donnie eventually managed to touch him and start slowly, he saw the changes in his brother in an instant.

Giovanni was purring at the sensation. It was like his body went on autopilot, he began slowly sinking into the water before he completely submerged, blinking and looking up. 

Donnie had deadpan, watching his brother not coming up. And since he was a turtle, he knew that Giovanni could hold his breath for a while. Donnie had to drag him back up to the surface since he didn’t want to stay in the bathroom any longer than he already has.

But of course, with Giovanni’s new-found love for water, it wasn’t easy. Whenever Donnie turned away for a second, he would hear the rippling of the water in the tub, looking back to see Giovanni being completely under water.

But none the less, Donatello managed to clean his brother, draining the tub and drying him off with a towel. He gave back the mask to let him tie it on himself before opening the bathroom door and announcing out loud.

”I’ve done it! Behold, a clean Giovanni!”

-----

Mikey received a phone call from April, he was in his room painting away until he saw his phone lighting up with a picture of April’s smiling face coming up.

”Chello!”

April chuckled on the other end when Mikey picked up, “Hey Mikes. How’s it going? Haven’t heard from you in a while.” She greeted, as Mikey smiles happily. “Sorry about that. It’s been quite busy here. We’re all helping our brother out and—“

”Whoa, whoa. Back up. Brother? Who?”

Mikey widens his eyes in realisation. They forgot to tell her about Giovanni. “Ohmigosh! We’ve been so caught up; we forgot to tell you about him! Okay, so, you remember that mutant turtle we brought back to lair to get him treated?”

”Uh, yeah. You guys never told me what happened to that guy.”

Mikey beams as he stands up, pacing around excitedly. “Well! Long story short but he’s actually our older brother. He was, uh…trapped in the prison dimension for years, until we brought him back.” He explains the short version, but he grew weary at the silence from April.

”Uh…Apri—“

”You have another brother, and you didn’t think to tell me?!”

Oh, she was mad.

Mikey chuckles sheepishly, “Yeah…sorry about that. But hey! Maybe you can come and meet him?”

“Meet him? Uh…I don’t know, he might not like me.”

Mikey blinks but shakes his head, “Nonsense! Everyone likes you. In fact, bring Casey with you too. That way you two can meet him. His name is Giovanni by the way.”

”Giovanni. Your pops sure likes those renaissance names. Look, I’d love to meet him but…I don’t know.”

”Want me to ask him? He’s in the living room.”

”What? Uh…yeah okay.”

Mikey nods, even though she couldn’t see it, as he skips out his room and runs to the main living room, noticing Leo and Donnie fighting over the remote while Raph and Giovanni watched the twins. Raph was already used to their antics, so he just looked bored, whereas Giovanni was sweating anxiously. 

“Hey guys! April’s on the phone!” Mikey announces, as Raphael turns to greet his little brother, “Tell her I said hi!”

Mikey smiles and looks to Giovanni, “Hey, Gio.” He calls out, immediately Giovanni looks over to him upon hearing his name, “I was wondering, how would you feel about meeting our friends, April and Casey?”

All the brothers froze and glance over for Giovanni’s reaction. “Meet…who?” He questions softly, he tried to remember if he knew these guys, but their names weren’t familiar to him. “Ah, you only met them once. But you were unconscious, so does that technically count? Anyway, they’re cool people, but if you’re not up to meeting them, that’s fine too.” Mikey assures with a gentle smile.

People? Ah…he means humans right?

Giovanni hums in thought, before he gave a slow nod. “Okay. I would like to meet them.” He agrees, which shocked the others, but Mikey was excited none the less, placing his phone back to his ear.

”He said he can’t wait to meet you two! When do you think you and Casey can come?”

“Well, Casey still has homework catching up with. And I gotta study for a bit…but maybe we can come over later tonight?”

”Sounds good! I’ll let the guys know. See you then!”

Mikey bids his goodbyes and grins at his brothers, “They’ll come by later tonight. That all right with everyone?” He asks to which they nod, until Leo hesitantly spoke up, his eyes trained on Giovanni.

”You sure you’re up to meeting new people? Heads up, they’re human so…”

Giovanni tilts his head at him in confusion, “Should I…be worried?” He asks out of curiosity, as Raph shakes his head and sweats a little awkwardly. “No! No, not at all. It’s just…well, we don’t want them to accidentally trigger you. You said that humans before in the past captured you…?”

Giovanni glanced down, nodding to Raph’s words. “That was the past though. I barely remember those people. Besides…you guys have friends that are human. Me, meeting them was bound to happen at some point.”

He gave his brothers the best reassuring look he could muster, “I’ll be okay….”

-----

Stop shaking, stop shaking, stop shaking!

Giovanni tried to not show it, but he was shaking like a leaf. He had assured his younger siblings that he was fine when meeting their human friends, but now that it was actually happening, he couldn’t help but be smothered in anxiety.

He was waiting in the kitchen area; Mikey having been the one to go greet Casey and April and bring them over. The others remained with Giovanni, all noticing the nerves radiating off him, but they didn’t want to startle him out of the blue. Giovanni perks up when the sounds of multiple footsteps got closer, ahead of him entered Mikey with two humans by his side.

”And voila! Gio, come meet April and Casey!” Mikey waved him over, his older brother showing hesitation but complied and walks over. The humans blink at him, surprised to see Giovanni walking over as the last time they saw the mutant he was unconscious and injured.

”Whoa! Hey, how are ya? I’m April O’Neil! I’ve been a friend of your brothers for years.” The female human smiles warmly, extending a hand out to shake, but Giovanni just eyed the hand and gave her a slow nod in greeting.

The younger human, a male, clears his throat as he awkwardly waved. “Hi, I’m Casey Jones. Um…I haven’t been around here long, but uh…I know your brothers too.”

Mikey slung an arm around Giovanni, “Casey’s from the future. So, he kind of knows us for a while too. Uh, with our future selves at least. Time travel is kind of weird to explain.” Mikey rubs his head as Giovanni was more focused on the fact that Casey was from a different time.

”Future? Time travel is a thing here…?”

Casey blinks, “Uh, well, I was sent here by Master Michelangelo. The one from my time, to help stop the Krang invasion.”

Upon the mention of Krang, Giovanni tensed, eye going wide and body being stiff. It was quite noticeable as Casey quickly apologised. “Sorry! Uh, I wasn’t thinking.” He rubs the back of his neck, wanting to smash his face into a wall.

“Hey, Gio? You okay bro?” Leo softly spoke, walking over to him as Giovanni snapped out of the daze and nods. “I’m fine. I’m okay…sorry, haven’t heard that name in a while, so…”

He clears his throat and face a tiny assuring look. “I’m all right.”

Donnie waits for some time to pass before he couldn’t help but comment about something. “Say, Casey, since you’re from the future, how come you’ve never told us about Gio?” He questions, eyes narrowing in thought as Casey straightens up slightly.

”Right, um…well it’s because I wasn’t sure if you guys have already met him or not.”

”Even if we did, you didn’t mention him once.”

Giovanni tilts his head curiously at the conversation as Casey frowns a bit. “Well, to be honest with you all…I actually never met Giovanni in my time.” He informs, the silence growing as well as the tension.

”But…you knew us?” Raph stated, puzzled by this, but Casey nods in understanding. “You see, in my time, Giovanni wasn’t around. But I had no idea if he was alive or not. No one told me. Whenever he was brought up, my master's would have this sullen look and didn’t speak about him.” Casey starts off, looking between the brothers for their reactions.

”There were a few pictures of Giovanni around, but they were old ones. I think he vanished when he was maybe in his mid 20s or early 30s? And whenever anyone did talk about him, they only told me stories of his deeds and their memories of him. Apparently, I only knew Giovanni when I was still a baby, but since I was, well, a baby, I don’t remember him much.”

He frowns softly and turns to Giovanni who was taking in the information. “I’m sorry…I wish I knew about your future self, but I don’t. I like to think that future you is still out there somewhere, but realistically…” He pauses but he didn’t need to say anything else as Giovanni inhales some air.

”It’s okay…um, if anything I’m sorry.”

”Huh? Gio, why are you sorry?” Mikey looked at his older brother with confusion on his face as Giovanni continued to hold Casey’s gaze. “I’m sorry that you didn’t get a chance to get to know me. And uh, I’m sorry if future me disappeared or something.” He says softly with a sad look, which Casey immediately saw and shook his head in slight panic.

”I’m not mad or anything! Sure, I would have loved to see you more in my time, but it’s fine!”

He breathes in to calm down as he offered an assuring smile, “I could…tell you stories about him if you’re interested?”

”I…I’d like that. But maybe another time though.”

”Sure. Whenever you want.”

-----

It had been a few days since Giovanni met April and Casey. He had surprisingly warmed up to the humans rather quickly. His brothers all saw April as an older sister or something and saw Casey as part of the family.

Therefore, Giovanni was rather comfortable with them as well. He might’ve not seen them as siblings, but he knew that they had a special place in the family.

Giovanni walks along the hallway of the lair; he paused when he his brothers all heading to the exit of the lair and heading to the sewer tunnels. “Where are you all going?” He innocently questioned, taking a few steps forward as Raph turns to him with both an awkward look and assuring one.

”Patrolling time. It’s been pretty quiet topside ever since the…well, that.”

Ever since the Krang came here.

”But, we figured we check out everything to make it’s all good. Don’t worry, we won’t be gone too long.”

Leo cuts in and gave a thumbs up. “We have it all under control bro! It’ll hopefully be a quick surveillance around New York, and we’ll be back home.” He assured as Giovanni slowly nods, watching them bid their farewells and headed off inside the sewer tunnels.

He heads back inside the safety of the lair and raised his head to stare at the ceiling. His expression distant and deep in thought.

Topside…he actually hasn’t left the lair since he first arrived. But now that he thought about it more, the more he was curious about what the outside world was like. He felt…a little lonely being in the lair while his brothers ventured outside without him.

”Something wrong?”

Splinter walks towards him, noticing how Giovanni was standing there looking at the ceiling. “Yeah, um…well, when can I go to the surface?” He asks, which briefly startled Splinter who blinks owlishly at him. “Ah…curious, are you? Well, that’s to be expected, it was a matter of time before you wanted to explore more of the world.” He smiles at Giovanni who nervously fiddled with his fingers and shifted his feet on the spot.

”The outside world is both a beautiful place and also a dangerous one. Especially for your brothers and yourself.”

Dangerous…?

He gulps, feeling a little unsettled. “I know that sounds scary, and it is…your brothers have made quite a few enemies, and they often get into troublesome situations. If you were ever to go topside, you’ll know doubt find yourself in situations that may require you to fight.” Splinter explains truthfully, as he noticed how on edge Giovanni grew upon listening to him.

He knew that this was probably going to put off going topside for Giovanni, but he had to tell him. For his own safety.

”Actually…do you know how fight?” Splinter changes the topic, as Giovanni stared at him in thought. “I…remember being trained by the humans in lab coats, but I hardly ever used that training when I was sent to the prison dimension.” He explains shortly, scratching the back of his neck as Splinter hums in understanding.

”Come with me.”

The rat walks off as Giovanni follows. Not knowing where he was being led to until he saw the familiar room of the dojo. To be perfectly honest, he’s probably only been in here once, and that was because he heard noises coming from inside, only to find his brothers training whenever they had time.

He was puzzled, why he was brought here, focusing his attention back to his father who walks to the centre of the dojo and looks back to face his son.

”I want you to spar with me.”

Spar….?

Giovanni had to think about it for a moment until he realised what he meant. “Fight…? I-I can’t fight you!” He shakes his head, instinctively stepping back to gain distance.

”You can’t? Or you won’t?”

”Both! I…I don’t think I have the heart to attack you.”

Splinter softly pouts at his son, he could tell that Giovanni didn’t like the idea of bringing harm to him, but Splinter needed to see where Giovanni's abilities were at in a fight.

”I’m sorry…but sparring with you will help me determine where you are at. So, I may help you.”

Help me…?

He bites his lip, looking to the side as he rubs his palm against his arm. He can’t fight his father…he hasn’t fought properly in a long time. He barely fought the Krang, he would just get lucky and escape or they let him go.

He remembered using Leo’s sword to block an attack from Prime, but that was about it. 

“I don’t know what to do…” He whispers, his voice soft and small as Splinter’s ears flatten in sympathy. “I know it’s…strange. To hear me request that you fight me. I just want to see what you’re capable of so that I know where you need more training in. If you want…we stop at any time. Just say so.”

That seemed to ease Giovanni’s mind. He just needed to say stop and Splinter will pause and not fight him. He could…he could work with that.

”Okay…if you promise that we won’t spar anymore when I say stop.”

”Promise.”

Giovanni looked over his father’s face, looking for any sort of lie on him. But he saw none and he relaxed his muscles. He walks over to the centre, standing in front of him as he awkwardly got into a defensive stance. Splinter watches until he was ready.

Giovanni gave a nod, silently telling him he was ready.

Splinter charged at him. He was swift for an old rat guy. It shocked Giovanni who barely had time to react as he held his arms up in an ‘X’ stance above his face as he blocked the kicks.

”You just fight back my son! Defence will not always be with you!”

But it’s safer.

Another hit, from Splinter’s tail. Giovanni winced, biting the inside his cheek as he kept his position.

”Attack my son. You will not hurt me. I promise.”

Attack…

He froze when a recalled something…a memory.

-----

Giovanni’s past self gasps in horror and pain when Sister Krang threw him to the side harshly. “What a pathetic sight. Why aren’t you fighting back Vermin?”

It hurts…

Sister Krang jumps up and landed on Giovanni who wheezed and let out a yelp as he felt his lungs being crushed slowly at the pressure. “You’re boring me. Fight back Vermin, show me the desperation of living in your eyes…attack me.”

Attack. Attack her. Attack to live. 

Attack..

Attack.

Attack—

-----

Giovanni was brought back to reality as he looks up, face sweating as he sees Splinter jumping up in the air, but in Giovanni’s eyes, he saw Sister Krang being the one to jump towards him instead. Thrusting out one of her tentacles at him. 

It was Splinter’s tail that thrusted at him. Whatever the case of who it was, Giovanni reacted none the less. He dodged, jumping back as he managed to grip the tail, it surprised Splinter who didn’t have time to register what was happening as Giovanni pulls Splinter towards him. 

When he was close, Giovanni lets the tail go and round house kicked Splinter, knocking him to the side as the rat skids along the ground, groaning lightly and looking up in shock. Giovanni pants as he eyed his father. 

He runs towards his opponent, Splinter quickly got back up and dodged the incoming kicks and punches. But he wasn’t expecting Giovanni to be so fast, one moment he was in front of Splinter, then in a blink of an eye he was behind him, punching his father in the back, which sent him flying to the wall.

Splinter shakes his head, keeping his eyes focused on his son who stares back.

He’s good…I’m honestly surprised that he was able to knock me down a few times.

Splinter runs forward, using Giovanni’s blind spots and kicking him in the side. The mutant turtle gasping and gripping his side, stumbling back.

But he still needs some help in a few areas.

The two continued to spar for some time, sweating and panting as Giovanni dodged and attacked. Splinter doing the same thing. Learning more about his son as they went.

Eventually it got to a point where they were both tired and Giovanni uttered out a small but loud enough ‘stop’ for Splinter. Who, as promised paused the fight and sat down to catch his breath. Giovanni crouched to the floor, panting as well as he stared down at his shadow. “My son…you fight well. A little rusty, yes. But you’ve surprised me today.” Splinter smiles exhaustedly as he stands up and walks over.

”I’ll have a think about what I can do for you. You rest and hydrate.”

Giovanni blinks up at him, nodding in agreement and understanding as he witnessed his father leave the dojo. When he was alone, Giovanni sat on the ground, legs crossed as he placed his hands over his head.

He didn’t want to say anything. But sometimes, during the spar, all he saw was the Krang attacking. 

He grips his head tightly, closing his eyes firmly as he felt his lips tremble. 

He was still traumatised by them. But Giovanni expected that to be the case, it wasn’t natural for someone to get over their trauma so quickly. That takes time.

But…the sparring did make him feel better in a way. That despite not fighting properly in years, he could still hold his own.

He was close…to going to the surface with his brothers.

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A/N: Ayy, you get to see Giovanni in action. Kind of. He still hasn’t gotten his weapon yet, but that’ll come soon.

I APOLOGISE FOR ANY GRAMMAR MISTAKES THAT WERE MADE, I TYPE REALLY FAST AND OFTEN DON'T SEE THEM UNTIL I ACTUALLY PUBLISH THE CHAPTER. 

quotev - 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 |ROTTMNT| (Male OC)

Ao3 - 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 |ROTTMNT| (Male OC)

First chapter here

Next chapter here