#majority of my clothing are things from his job or things mom got but never even opened the packs of and when I tell you they look BRAND NEW

[voidcat]

I mean yeah with increased demand, people giving into “trends” more and more, spread of online shopping and quantity over quality- all of these mixed together and you end up with cheap fast fashion that repeats itself, doesn’t last long, and fabric that usually loses its shiny upon the first wash

is it just me or has clothing quality fucking TANKED recently? like there is no point in shopping at F21, H&M, Hot Topic, (basically anywhere at the mall) etc. anymore. you can legit get better styles and quality from fucking shein

walmart and target have actually good lasting clothes but also they have no style. like i cannot find anything remotely unique or stylish. (their cargo pants are okay. but they are barely even really cargo pants they still play all their fashion "safe")

i've been trying to shop indie brands but still its super expensive and their quality has tanked too ngl :/

[drewsbuzzcut]

Keeping Up With The Barzals

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses fic (editorial edition)

warnings: mentions being parents, having insecurities, mentions vibrators, early issues in a relationship, hints at sex, and I think that’s all… let me know if I missed something. ALSO: this takes place in 2027, so they only have Nolan!

Appealing, show stopping, the symbol that love doesn’t have to fizzle out with the pressures of success, or the responsibilities of true adulthood. I get the opportunity to interview the most famous couple to ever grace our social media feed. Y/n and Mat open up about their lives in the limelight.

A very pristine woman who isn’t afraid to change things up and dirty her clothes, that’s Y/n (soon-to-be) Barzal. From dominating the catwalks to being the best mom she can be, Y/n is a layered masterpiece. Y/n will go to the ends of the earth for her family. If that means she’s helping organize charity events for her husband's hockey team, or turning away jobs to be present for her son, she’ll do it. When asked about it, she said it’s a major privilege to be able to turn away jobs for her kid’s sake and to be able to help raise money for the Islanders.

As a model who is this generation’s icon, she’s awfully real. There’s no hiding or pretending when it comes to Y/n. In my opinion, that’s what makes her so inspiring and likable to everyone. However, don’t confuse her privacy for lying. There’s been many instances when Y/n had to keep aspects of her life private to protect those she loves. Times when the audience wasn’t too kind about her choice.

“There was a time when many people thought I was never around Nolan when he was an infant. It seemed that everyone got used to me posting little updates on my Instagram story, so when it stopped people were confused. People thought that I just hired a nanny and was never around my son. It hurt to hear those speculations, especially because they were so far from the truth. Nolan got really sick. He was only 6, almost 7 months and he got really sick. Mat and I had no clue how he contracted his sickness, but it was scary for a little while. I stopped working for that time frame, and I followed Mat, with Nolan of course. Mat had to continue working, but I just couldn’t be without him while our baby was going through what he was going through, so I traveled to each location he traveled to. I of course posted Instagram stories and posts, because not all my days were bad, but I didn’t and wasn’t going to post anything about Nolan until he was 100% better.” Y/n goes into detail about one of those incidents where she went quiet about certain things in her life.

“So many people think it’s so easy to be productive and encouraged all the time. I go from personality to personality with each photo shoot I work on. Not because I’m trying to be fake about who I am, but because sometimes photo shoots require you to step out of the person you are, and it’s not always a bad thing, but lines do get blurry and your mind gets foggy. It’s actually easier to get lost in emptiness, trying to get your feet to touch the ground. I think that’s why I try so hard to be open with my supporters. I’m holding myself accountable all at the same time. Becoming a mother definitely helped me with some of the fog. Becoming a mother made me stronger. I’m always being my best self for my son. I am also always being my best self for my husband. They’re everything to me.” Y/n gives us a little insight on what it’s like to experience the not so glamorous side of a fast paced lifestyle.

Aside from being a mother and a model, Y/n is the person who is determined. No one has to write a story about her, because she’s already writing it herself. I’ve never come face to face with someone with such confidence that’s still so humble. Y/n knows how to cook, knows how to style any piece of clothing, knows how to love herself and others selflessly, and most importantly, she can write. If you’re asking why it’s important that she writes when just about anyone can write, I mean Y/n really knows how to write. I am lucky enough to have received early access to the first draft of her very first manuscript. The words this woman can write are amazing. That’s just putting it lightly. It’s important that Y/n is such a phenomenal writer, because she has the chance to share her wisdom and thoughts. I happen to think her thoughts can change, if not the world, at least one person’s life.

“Don’t make me seem like I’m all work and no play. I can be loose around all my edges.” Y/n states as we near the end of our interview. As I said, she’s continuously writing her own story even when my pen stops. After hearing her out, I’ve come to the conclusion that she is the life of the party that every 20-something year olds wants to be. She blazes a fierce trail of being true to her indulgences. If she’s craving an ounce of music to fill her veins, she’ll gather her best pals and partake in a night of clubbing. If she craves a big, private party, she’ll rent a huge yacht and let her girlfriends go wild. There’s no barrier that will contain Y/n. She breaks any bounds because for her, living life isn’t about being uniform or perfect. Being a mom, a role model, or just someone who is responsible won’t stop her from being who she truly is. That’s not to say that Y/n is a big time party girl, or that she doesn’t care about herself or her surroundings. She does care, she just knows when not to.

Before kids, Mat and Y/n had one word to describe their relationship. “Sex.” They both splutter with laughter when they see the shocked look on my face. They assure me that “sex” isn’t the word they’d use, but I don’t think that sex is a lie to get a reaction out of me. It’s easy to see just how strongly they feel about each other. They’re playful and very teasing with one another. It’s all very sensual, though. You can feel the heat they radiate when their eyes connect with each other.

“Our relationship is chaotic. The type of chaos that makes you run in circles, pulling on your hair. The type of chaos that you search for when life loses meaning. The type of chaos that is unexpected, but welcomed and makes you feel alive. It’s scary, but only because it makes you feel so much. ‘Chaos.’ It causes pain and happiness, but the happiness is always there. The chaos makes us strive to be better. It makes our love timeless.” Y/n and Mat answer the question with a sureness that’s rare.

Speaking of being timeless, the envious pair are set to get hitched at the end of May. You may have noticed that they’re already referring to each other as husband and wife.

If you’re looking for tips on keeping things fresh, continue reading.

“We don’t force sexual activity. We also don’t plan it, we just let our feelings do what they do best. I don’t know if that’s because our connection is too strong, or for whatever reason we are usually in sync. Maybe it’s our constant teasing. We never go a day without teasing each other. It makes our touches, our kisses, more intense.” Mat explains.

“We also kiss a lot. We will never not kiss each other if that’s what we feel we should do. Lately, people have gotten used to hiding their affection, but they shouldn’t hide it. Embrace it, unless it really does make you uncomfortable. It’s actually so funny because I know Mat wasn’t really the type of person to be into PDA, but it changed when we got together.” Y/n chimes in.

“Yeah, that’s true. I never cared for PDA, but like Y/n said, when you feel it, you feel it.”

It’s honestly crazy that these two only have one child. When I told them that, they both laughed. Y/n was the first one to tell me that their baby boy would be their only baby for a while. Mat was unsure of her words, but nonetheless agreed with her.

The baby talk sidetracked our initial conversation of intimacy, but this type of intimacy between the small family is actually beautiful. They both went on and on about the throes and joys of parenthood. They were both surprised at the fact they were having a baby so early on in their relationship, but they told me it genuinely made their bond unbreakable.

Looking at the way their eyes always gravitate back towards the other’s, and their lingering touches that soothe their anxieties, it’s easy to see why they’re so desirable. It’s not about Mat being an attractive athlete, or Y/n being the most beautiful model, it’s the way they portray the feelings of love and passion.

Here’s their last relationship tip: “Don’t focus on finding the perfect person, or being the perfect person. Be yourself. I know it’s cliche, but be yourself. If you find THE one, they’ll always love you for who you are. Your passion and affection will never dim. If you’re feeling lonely, don’t settle for someone who doesn’t deserve you, just buy a vibrator.”

The so-called ladies man who turns into a puddle at the sight of his wife, Mat Barzal isn’t who you think he is.

As an athlete whose privacy is a bit more respected than the average celebrity, we needed to do a deep dive on New York’s finest hockey player.

Rising to early stardom, the young hockey player was perceived way before he got the chance to grow up. Different outlets vaguely recalling Mat as the playboy, or even a wasted talent. They had no clue who they were writing about, that much is clear. Mat is wise, something he says he learned from Y/n, and he’s not some egotistical man, looking for power. Sure, he’s confident in who he is, but that doesn’t make him conceited. He’s actually smart, despite what stigmas have been formed on hockey’s best. He’s not a one track man.

“Hockey has always been a big thing for me. It’s probably one of my biggest accomplishments, winning the cup and just having outstanding numbers, but my accomplishments don’t stop there. I’m proud of the man I’ve become and the father I’ve become. It’s taken a lot to not get crushed under the words and expectations of people on the outside. I still struggle with ignoring the unnecessary noise. Sometimes it seems like no one’s realized that I’ve grown up. To them I’m still a young boy who received too much too fast. I just want to say that I’m not denying that part of me, but that part of me is also stagnant. I’m not a young boy. I’m a man, a man with a wife and son. I know I’m still young in age, but certainly not my actions. Don’t get me wrong I’m not some grandpa. I get out, I drink and I sometimes act wild. I also know when to be responsible because I do have a son and a wife, whose reputation can easily be reflected off my own reputation.”

Mat Barzal is someone to be proud of. He’s also someone who many want to be friends with; I don’t blame them.

“My party days? I don’t know if my party days will ever be over. My wife, who’s younger than me, is a smoke show. I want to take her everywhere, show her off. She’s the love of my life, why wouldn’t I want to, you know. She’s also keeping me young and active. She usually doesn’t like to go to parties alone, so I’ve become accustomed to attending them with her. Plus, my teammates know how to throw a party, too. I love going to those and so does Y/n. Ever since having a son, it’s been a little harder to party. If it’s a get together, we’ll most likely bring Nolan along because we know there will be other kids there. And no, we’re not drinking or driving with our son around, or in general. If we have Nolan with us, I won’t drink, just simply enjoy the vibes and get drunk off my wife and see her enjoy herself. If it’s just Y/n and me, it’s a whole different story. We will get drunk together, but we will make sure we have a safe ride home through our car service.”

An all-around easy going guy with a great sense of humor, and an undying love for his wife and son. Hockey does not define this man.

For someone (Y/n) who’s so public about a lot of things, it really throws people for a loop when they’re out of the conversation about their relationship. I don’t even have to ask them about it, I see it all the time on Twitter. There are always questions about what’s going on, or if they’re even still together. The biggest speculation I’ve seen is that their relationship is all PR.

I honestly don’t understand the need for people to immediately demote a relationship to a PR one. It’s actually offensive, to the couple at least. I'm going to say it once, and once only, Y/n and Mat are not a publicity stunt. I feel that most people know that by now that they have a kid together, but if you didn’t know, now you do.

“We never thought our relationship would be such a big deal to many people, but anytime I’m not wearing islanders gear or pictured with barzy in the span of 1 minute, magazines are popping out new headlines by the minute. ‘Y/n and Mat: The Breakup of the Century,’ ‘Y/n no longer engaged to the hockey heartthrob.’ People live for us to say that our relationship is perfect. It’s not. That’s a fact. We’ve had so many issues in our relationship, not that we’d share all of them, but it’d just make everyone go ballistic if they knew. Something as complicated and beautiful as a relationship shouldn’t be dictated or have an opinion formed by people who know nothing about the couple and their history. Mat and I aren’t perfect; a big portion of our relationship has been built on our issues.”

Just because they’re a powerhouse couple, doesn’t mean they don’t have their insecurities. Talking with the couple, I learned a lot about how they feel like they have to hide their true feelings due to being perceived certain ways.

“A lot of fans expect us to be indestructible, yet they’re usually the ones tearing us down. I hate to admit it, but a lot of our fights have stemmed from actions of those watching us online. It’s not that we necessarily believe what they’re saying, but some of it lingers in the back of our minds. We then start to pull away and not talk about the way we feel. It’s going to surprise people when I say that Y/n and I have gone to couple’s therapy so early on in our relationship. It was a hard time that I wouldn’t change because it showed each other that we were in it no matter what. Thick and thin.”

“People might be bothered about what I’m about to admit, but I don’t really care. In the nicest way possible. Anytime I see someone talking negatively about OUR relationship, I post pictures of us. We can be doing the most mundane tasks, or out and about, I will post it to rub it in their face. Is it immature? Sure, to some. In all honesty, who wouldn’t show off their man if they’re as wonderful as barzy is. Sorry that y’all didn’t get to him first,” Y/n states, walking over to her husband and laying a passionate kiss on his lips. They’re clearly not bothered by the presence of others when indulging in each other.

a/n: This was something different for me to write, but I loved it and I hope y’all do too!!

[flufftailforest]

Alexi's First Dress:

“Come on kids, we’re gonna be late!” The mousey mom called from the bottom of the stairs up to her two children. 

Alexi was deep into his wardrobe and couldn’t find anything that he would have liked to wear. Tonight was a special occasion as their father had just received a work promotion, and the family was going out to celebrate. Marci, Alexi’s twin sister, wasn’t having nearly as much trouble, as she didn’t really care what she’d be wearing and grabbed the first thing off the floor. A simple green dress with a black belt around the waist. This was enough for her, and so she was just laying on her back, dangling her paws over the edge of the bed, feeling bored.

“Why do we even have to go? I mean, I know Dad’s gotten a new job thing, but can’t he and Mom just go? I wanna just stay here and read my new book!”

Alexi wasn’t listening, the little blue mouse still couldn’t find anything that spoke to him. Pulling his head out the wardrobe, he turned back to his sister.

“Why do all my clothes have to be so… dumb. I don’t like any of them!”

“Just pick something at random,” Marci said, dismissively. “There’s no reason to be picky.”

Alexi did feel like the picky type though. His parents had always thought he was a peculiar boy, as he didn’t like what other boys his age liked. He’d often been caught playing with his sister’s dolls, rather than the action toys his dad brought him, he thought the cute dolls were so much cooler than the Buff Beaver Squadron action set. 

One time he saw his sister get herself a cute little hair bow that she didn’t like, but he thought it looked cool and asked if he could have it. Marci happily let her brother have the bow and even helped him tie it into his hair. However, when he went downstairs to show it off, his mother, who had guests over, instantly snatched it away, saying that it was for his sister, not him. 

His parents always made him feel like something was wrong with him, that he liked the wrong things, giving him doubts that felt like dark clouds over his heart. It always felt wrong to him when he was wearing the clothes that were brought for him, and he wasn’t sure why? Clothes were just an accessory to the majority of the animals here anyway and were mostly only for special occasions like tonight. So why did the shirts and trousers bother him so much? 

Alexi looked at all the clothes he’d thrown on the floor in his search and then picked up a discarded pair of black shorts, thinking maybe these would be okay. However, looking back down at the floor, he saw a flash of yellow under where he got the shorts from. One of Marci’s dresses was left on the floor, since the purple mouse never put her stuff away properly. Alexi picked up the yellow dress and instantly felt an urge, this was the one, this was the perfect thing to wear tonight. 

“Hey Marci, do you mind if I borrow this for tonight?” Alexi asked, casually. 

“Borrow what?” Marci asked, looking over confused. She saw her brother holding the yellow dress against himself, seeing how it looked and she immediately sat up. “You want to wear one of my dresses?” She asked, looking surprised.

“Yeah!” The blue mouse responded excitedly. “Can I?” 

Marci jumped off the bed and had stars in her eyes! 

“Of course you can! You- you really want to?”

“I mean, it’s pretty, it’s fancy, it’s perfect for tonight!” 

“Oh my gosh, yes! You’re going to look so amazing! Put it on, put it on!”

Alexi’s smile brightened up the room and he immediately tried to step into the dress, and pull it up like a pair of trousers. Marci stopped him. 

“No, you moron, it goes over your head; Like a shirt! Here…” 

Marci picked up the dress and began to help her brother, first, putting it over his head, and then pulling it down, followed by helping to pull the arms through the straps. Once the dress was completely on and straightened, Marci stood back and took in the sight of her brother. Alexi couldn’t stop looking down at himself either as the dress seemed like the perfect fit.  

“You look so cute!” Marci said, absolutely loving to see her brother wearing a cute dress like that one. She’d always supported her brother's desires and shared her stuff with him. This was no different, just another level of sharing for the two. “Let's go show mum and dad!” The young mouse then took their twin by the hand and the pair ran down the stairs, with huge smiles on their faces.

“Mom!” Marci called as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “Look at Alexi! Doesn’t he look pretty?” 

“Oh no,” A moan came from the living room as their mother approached the hall. She herself was wearing a two piece dress of beige. “Please tell me it’s not another bow, I just-” Their mom stopped mid sentence. Seeing her son wearing a dress made her freeze, and then instantly she was looking like she was about to burst. “Absolutely not! This is no time for your silly games, young man!”

“What?!” The twins both said, shocked as the mother stormed over to them. 

“You get upstairs right now and put on some proper clothing, I’ll not have you humiliate us in public like this!” 

“But mom,” Marci took a step forward. “What’s wrong with it?” 

“What’s wrong? He’s a boy! Boys don’t wear girls' clothes! Now get upstairs and change, right now!” 

Suddenly their father came out of the living room, he was wearing a fancy blue suit with a red tie.

“What’s all this shouting about?” he asked. “We don’t have time for-” He stopped as he took in the sight of his son in a dress. Alexi looked up at his father, hoping for perhaps some support. The big blue mouse removed his glasses and then pinched the bridge of his nose. “Seriously, Alexi?” 

Alexi looked down at the floor, saddened at the disappointed tone of his father. 

“I was just sending him back upstairs,” the mother said, “in fact, I’m going to pick out his clothes myself!”

“That’s not fair!” Marci whined. “Alexi really loves the dress and looks just as good as the rest of us. What’s the problem?” 

“Dresses. Are. For. Girls! Marci, I don’t know why you’re encouraging this frivolous behaviour!” 

“But I really like it! I do!” Said Alexi, starting to tear up. He couldn’t understand why they were so against it? Why’d he have to dress a certain way, play with certain things. What was wrong with it? Why were there girls only clothes but yet not boys only clothes? It wasn’t fair!

“Alexi…” The father started, seeing his young boy about to break down in tears. “F-fine, okay, you can wear it.” 

“What?!” All three of them said, in mixtures of surprise, happiness and disbelief.

“Look, we’re already late as it is, and if we’re any later, we might lose our reservations. I mean, look, no one can really tell he’s a boy unless we mention something, right? So if anyone asks, we’ll just… we’ll say they are both girls, okay?”

“A girl? I… Can I really be a girl?” Alexi says, his eyes alight with the same spark of happiness that he had when first trying on the dress. 

“Oh my gosh!” Marci says to Alexi with glee in her voice. ”You’re gonna be my sister!” 

“Only if people ask! A-and only while we’re out tonight.” Their father responds, clearly without any other ideas.

“Fine,” Says their mother, giving in. “But tomorrow, we’re dealing with this, once and for all.” 

She seemed to be at her limit, but tonight was supposed to be a celebration, so she tried to push it all down and bury it. Alexi couldn’t stop smiling, she was going to get to go to a fancy restaurant, while wearing such a cute dress. As they all leave the house, Marci grabs Alexi’s hand and they both walk a little ahead of their parents. She then whispers into the blue mouse’s ear. 

“No matter what happens, you’ll always be my sister, if that’s what would make you happy!”

Alexi smiled brightly, like the dark cloud of confusion was finally leaving her heart.

“I would love that, more than anything!” 

Story by @nevelation7

Art by @suzylind

[galaxies-can-collide]

You are the new girl

Pt. 1

Summary: Y/N is new in town and comes across two beautiful boys that both spark and interest in her. Which boy will she choose....

Warnings: Just some cute stuff, romance, 18+ still to come

Word Count: 2.7k words (tbf this whole story is over 10k words)

Author Note: I am new to this whole thing, and this is my first post, so be gentle. But also let me know your thoughts and if you want more? I have written so much of this but am always willing to make changes.

You were new to the outer banks, having moved down only two days ago with your dad. It was just you and him, your mom walked out on the two of you when you were 8 and she never looked back. You did not mind it being just the two of you, he did everything for you, to make sure you had everything you wanted, or at least what he could afford to give you. Your dad was a contract Architect working on a new build upon Tannyhill. He had told me that Mr. Cameron wanted a new pool house where he would put all his boating and scuba equipment. Must be nice to have that kind of money at your reach, you lived a very different life, you and your dad just getting by so when he got this job opportunity he could not pass it up. As for the reason that we had to relocate was because we lived too far away for my dad to have to drive down every day and Mr. Cameron insisted on us living in his second house just off the side of Tannyhill. You were not too happy on the fact that he was up and relocating your whole life for a 1 year contract work but you couldn’t fight him because we really needed the money.  You moved the Friday and spent the whole weekend getting your house sorted for your dad and you while he went to the Cameron’s to discuss the plans for the future pool house, you spent majority of the weekend unpacking boxes and getting everything in order. The house thankfully already had furniture so it was just a matter of unpacking all the little trinkets and things to make it feel a bit more like home, leaving your clothing boxes for last as you knew that was a mountain to climb on its own. 

You had just turned 18 and had made some really great friends in your old school and to have to leave them in your last year of school really put your dad in your bad books and he knew that so he did everything to make your stay great, although it did not turn out too well for him as he was always busy at the Cameron’s, early mornings and late nights and you barely saw him. You moved In the summer so you still had time before school started which you were absolutely dreading being the new kid. You had got to explore a bit during the few days off and you had come to learn that the island was split in two parts, the rich and the poor and even though you would not consider yourself rich you were staying on the ‘kook’ side of the island, much to your dismay as you had come to learn that they were not nice people. You had never met one of the kooks but from what you heard they were snobs who knew they had money and did not care to show it.

The Monday before school started you had decided to go for a stroll down to the docks and came across a group of teens that looked about your age, from the way they were dressed you assumed they were pogues, the poorer side, as they say. You went and introduced yourself in the hopes they went to the same school and were nice, it would be nice to at least know a few people at school so that you were not completely alone. 

 You walked up to them and shyly introduced yourself, “Hi I’m Y/N”, you said and they all looked up a little shocked but soon their sheepish faces turned to smiles as they all introduced themselves. The first was a curly, brown haired girl, “Hi Y/N, lovely to meet you I am Kiara” you smiled and shook her hand the next one who looked a little more put together than the rest was a blonde haired girl, “Hiya, I am Sarah”, you smiled back to her, the next to say hello were two boys almost simultaneously saying “Hello” they soon introduced themselves as John B and Pope. They all seemed lovely, except there was one boy that had not yet said anything, to be fair I do not think he had noticed you coming up to them as he was distracted with something else.

 He would soon draw his attention to you, his eyes glistened a little in the sun and you noticed his beautiful blonde hair and his piercing blue eyes looking directly at you, you smiled as he scanned you up and down, his eyes lingering a little too long on your figure, making you blush a little. You were becoming more aware that the shorts you were wearing were very short and the small shirt covering your boobs was a little to see through, you swiftly crossed your arms across your chest causing the blonde haired boy to blush as he realised he had been staring and you had noticed. He got up from where he as sitting and made his way over to you as he got to you he said so smoothly “Well you must be new here because I would have noticed someone as breath-taking as you walking around her, hi I’m JJ. And it is my pleasure to meet you”, you could not help but blush and let a small smile creep up to your lips and you said a shy “Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N” back to him.

 After all the introductions were done, noticing that JJ had been taking small stares at you thinking you were noticing, Kiara had asked you if you were new to town as she nor the others had seen you around at all. You went on to say, “ I actually moved here around 4 days ago with my Dad, he is an architect and he is currently contracting for some guy named Ward Cameron, we had to relocate cause it was too far for my dad to drive everyday so Ward was nice enough to offer us a place to stay while my dad got to work”, Sarah’s mouth was almost agape but with a hint of a smile, she almost exploded out and said “Oh my God, no fucking way, so you must be the girl staying in our old house” You were a bit confused at first then starting putting the pieces together, your dad had mentioned Ward had 3 kids, a daughter your age, a son a year older and another daughter a few years younger you could not quite remember their names, but you now gathered Sarah was the daughter your age. She immediately ran over and gave you a big hug and continued saying “We are going to be such good friends, well me, you and the pogues”

You all got to talking and found out you would all be going to the same school, all apart from Sarah who was in a more expensive school, one that we could not afford, but I was okay with that as you knew you would have the rest of the pogues. They filled you in on how Sarah was dating John B and no longer really considered herself a Kook as she got along more with the pogues, during your whole exchanging of stories with the pogues you kept noticing JJ’s wondering eye that constantly gravitated toward you but you obviously also had a wondering eye as you and him would make constant eye contact and both smile sheepishly and look away while you blushed bright red. 

 As it got later, you knew it was time to go home, as your dads rules were when the sun goes down and the street lights come on you need to be home, he was unaware of the area and did not want you wondering around alone at night. You said bye to the gang and assured them you would see them the next day at school, Sarah offered to walk with you as you two were staying on the same plot of land, which was nice of her and it gave you time to get to know her and maybe find out more about JJ. But almost poetically just as you were walking away JJ ran up to you and Sarah and grabbed your wrist to make you face him. You were shocked at first as was Sarah but were curious to hear what he has to say, “Hey, uhm, I was uhm wondering if you would like to go for a ride tomorrow after school, I know a really cool spot for a picnic If you would like, get to know the area and me a little more. I mean if that is something you want?”, you could tell he was nervous in asking you from the way he was rubbing the back of his head and frantically searching your eyes for any sign of an answer. He seemed to loosen up a little when he saw you smile and nod your head along with a “Yes, JJ, I would love nothing more than that, after school yea?” he nodded in response and you turned and walked away with Sarah giggling by your side. Your short walk home was filled with little conversations about the area and her relationship with John B and her ex Topper and her brother Rafe. As we got to the fork of the road, one leading to Tannyhill and one to the house I was staying in, I was about to say bye when she invited me over for dinner to meet her family. You felt bad to say no as you did want to meet her family especially as they were giving you some place to stay so you agreed and she shot a big smile across her face and dragged your hand towards the house. 

 As you got closer you realised just how big the house was and just how much money the Cameron’s must have, you were taken back and at a loss for words, it was almost as if she read your mind as you got to the front door as she piped up and said “I know, it is a lot to take in, a bit much if you ask me but that is Ward Cameron for you”

You walked in with her as she introduced you to Rose her stepmother, and Wheezie her younger sister who were both in the kitchen cooking up a storm, you introduced yourself and they were both happy to have you over, Sarah then dragged you upstairs to her dads office where she introduced you to her dad, “Hey Dad, this is Y/N, she is Y/D/N daughter, I invited her over for dinner, I hope that is alright?”, he got up from the desk he was sitting at and walked over to you, he carried himself with wealth and pride and you kind of admired him for the life he has built for himself and his family. He reached his hand out to shake yours and you complied, “Hi Y/N, I am Ward, lovely to meet you. Your dad is a very talented man and I think he will do wonders here”, “Thank you, he is pretty great”, you replied. He continued “Also, of course it is fine that you stay for dinner, next time bring your old man up here too” you simply nodded as Sarah dragged you out of his office and downstairs. 

 But there was a different plan for you, as you exited Ward’s office, you had bumped hard into the chest of a very tall man, as you looked up you stared into these piercing blue eyes and a slight smirk that crossed his face. 

The tall man grabbed your elbows as to stop you from falling over, you immediately started apologising for not looking where you were going. “I am so sorry, I really need to watch where I am going”, you half hated yourself for being so clumsy, he hushed you in the softest voice, “Don’t worry about it gorgeous, you can bump into me anytime” he said with a wink. Sarah then stepped in and I soon realised that this must be Rafe, her brother, although a warning on how handsome this man was would have been nice. “Rafe, back up off her man” Sarah said and you were kind of angry that she did and you wanted to be up close to him and smell his cologne. 

 “Also, stop flirting, you have a girlfriend”, she continued. Your face instantly dropped at the thought of his girlfriend, not that you had a chance anyway. Rafe seemed to have noticed this sudden shift in your demeanour and that intrigued him, although he was taken he had never seen someone so perfect and so soft in his life. It made him want to know everything about her, and where she came from and why she was here which is weird as he had spoken but a mere word to her.

 “This is Y/N, her dad is building the new pool house. I would appreciate if you did not corrupt her as she is staying on the property.” Sarah interrupted the longing look between the two of you, noticing that Rafe’s hand was still holding your elbow, which did not go unnoticed by you either, but you could not bring yourself to pull away.

But after Sarah made that statement he retracted his hand and moved slightly back “You know Sarah, this might come as a shock but not ever girl I meet, I want to fuck. I am taken, remember” Rafe stated harshly, and he cursed himself for saying those words because there was something about you that he could not quite put his finger on but he wanted more. Sarah scoffed and pulled you with her, but just as she walked away Rafe mumbled just loud enough for you to hear, “God, she is so fucking beautiful” as he muttered these words he had caught on that you heard and he blushed at the thought. He winked at you as you were being pulled away and you knew that this would not be your last encounter with Rafe Cameron. 

Rafe’s POV: 

He has just gotten off the phone with his girlfriend, surprise, surprise another fight, he was so sick of the arguments and fights. Quite frankly he did not love her anymore, he hadn’t for a while now and he knew he had to end it. He wanted to chat to his dad and see if he could give him any advice on what to do. As he exited his room and made his way to his dads office Sarah had walked out, but he hadn’t noticed the girl following closely behind her. She had bumped right into his chest and he grabbed her elbows to steady her so that she did not fall over, although when he looked down to see who it was he was taken back by her absolute beauty, he had never seen someone so beautiful and he did not know what to say. He was mesmerised, he wanted to know who this was. He noticed her long blonde hair, that seemed to have lighter streaks all over, but looked natural. He noticed her beautiful green/blue eyes. He was hooked on her smell, let alone her looks. 

After I had finished taking in every inch of her she started apologising, I said to her “Don’t worry about it gorgeous, you can bump into me anytime” and saw a shy smile creep on her lips, probably the most breath-taking smile you have ever seen. Sarah obviously stuck her nose in it and ruined it and said I had a girlfriend, unaware of the fact that we were basically on waters edge. At the mention of a girlfriend her face dropped and I was intrigued, did she feel the same way about me as I did her. But my brain is too slow for my stupid mouth and I said some cocky line that I instantly regretted. I found out her name was Y/N, the most gorgeous name, and that she was staying on the property. This was the best news.

Sarah pulled her away and I mumbled under my breath unable to keep it to myself and she heard me and I was part glad that she did so that she was aware and with that I winked at her and she was gone. I had a feeling that this would not be my last encounter with her, I really hoped it wasn’t 

[servin-up-surveys]

survey #230

When was the last time you consumed alcohol? Good question, idk.

Are you interested in creative writing of any sort? Sure am, I do forum animal RP as a major hobby.

Can you ever see yourself and your ex back together? No, not with any ex.

Did you get ice cream from the ice cream truck when you were little? Do they still have an ice cream truck where you live? Sometimes, yeah. I don't know if we still have them.

What has been the most traumatic experience of your life? Does it still bother you? Losing my first real boyfriend that I made my entire identity and source of happiness and worth. I've healed A LOT and it doesn't bother me much anymore, but I have my moments, especially if I'm listening to a song that brings me back.

Where was the last place you got completely wasted? I've never been drunk.

Have you ever changed the prices of items at a store? Not when it wasn't my job. I might not have ever even gotten to this point on the jobs I had where this was a relevant duty, but I feel like I have before.

Would your parents disown you if you got pregnant? No, I'm a grown-ass adult with parents that thankfully love and support me.

Are you going to any concerts or festivals this summer? I'm sure I'm not.

Any baby names you think you might name your future kids? If Girt and I actually had kids, Miquella or Mikella Lynn and/or Sage Llane.

When was the last time you had sex? I'm going to be the 30 y/o virgin and no I'm not happy about it, but I try to be understanding of my partner's no less than debilitating performance anxiety.

Think back to your most important relationship, was it all your fault it’s over? I honestly think Girt is my most important relationship, and it's not over.

What’s your favorite color? Shades of pink. Mostly lighter ones.

Ever had a black eye? No.

Did your most recent kiss take place in/on a bed? No, his car. He was too tired to come in that night.

Has anyone seen you naked in the last 6 months? No. Even with Girt, I never FULLY take all my clothes off because I'm just too self-conscious. He's basically seen everything at one point or another, I just don't care. I'm more comfortable and less rigid when I'm covered in some places, my lower legs especially.

Last person to cuddle with? Girt.

Do you prefer hot or cold drinks overall? Cold.

Do you know how to tie a tie? No.

Are you a fan of hot chocolate? Do you like it plain or do you prefer to add things like whipped cream or marshmallows? Yes, completely plain. I don't like the texture of whipped cream and once the marshmallows start to dissolve, I don't like that texture, either.

What caused your last injury? I stubbed my fucking toe super hard. I shattered the toenail.

What’s the smallest thing you’ve ended a relationship over? Nothing "small." There were all valid reasons.

Would you rather order a starter (appetizer) or a dessert? Or would you be able to manage a full three courses? Usually, appetizer. I can RARELY manage a full three courses, I'm gonna be suffering.

How do you get most of your news, if you pay attention to it at all? Ha, Facebook, honestly.

Have you or a member of your family been diagnosed with COVID yet? I as well as multiple other family members have gotten COVID at one point or another.

Are you a vegetarian? If so, what persuaded you to stop eating meat? If not, is it something you’d ever consider? No. I had a phase where I tried, but it is simply not sustainable for me. I am too picky with my autism. I would be malnourished if I really tried to dedicate my life this way.

Do you prefer rice or pasta? Pasta, but I enjoy both.

Did you do laundry yet today? If not, do you need to do any before you go to bed? I admittedly don't do my own laundry; my mom likes to do our laundry together to save resources. I am responsible for putting my clothes away, though, once she separates them into baskets.

Have you ever had a friend that you found extremely annoying but put up with anyway? I wouldn't consider that person my friend, soooo...

Who was the last person you sat beside at a restaurant? My mom.

Peaches or plums? Peaches, I guess. I like both. I eat peaches far more.

Do you read books or magazines more? Books.

Would you ever dye your hair blonde? No, only for the purpose of adding color to it.

Who was the last person you took a picture with? Uh... I think Girt?

Do you like Redbull? I've never tried it.

What’s the last kind of Vitamin Water you had? I don't drink it.

Do you like to kill people on the Sims? I was never into the human Sims, I only played two animal versions.

Have you used Limewire before? Of course I have.

Are you or were you in a band? No.

Is the taste of alcohol appealing to you? Not at all. That's why when I drink alcohol, it has to be very light and fruity stuff.

Was your first crush on a male or female? A guy.

Do you think you look better with long hair or short hair? Short.

Have you ever had to apply for disability? Yes, but I didn't get it.

How many of your grandparents are alive currently? None.

What are three emojis you use a lot? Crying, laughing, and the sparkly heart.

Do you follow any sort of special diet, and if so, what? No.

Have you ever had an eating disorder? No. I have binge-eating tendencies, but I don't think it's with enough regularity to be considered a disorder.

Do you have any bruises on you? No.

Are you ticklish? Very.

Did you reject or accept your last friend request? Reject, it was some rando.

Did you have a good childhood? Mostly, yes. There were negatives, especially with my dad and the dangerous neighborhood I grew up in, but in general I had a good childhood.

What pets did you have when you were growing up? God, a lot. Cats, dogs, a lizard, ball pythons, mice, rats, hamsters, gerbils, fish, guinea pigs, my sister had a rabbit, and I might be forgetting some.

Would you ever date someone who had issues with substance abuse? No, I am not getting involved in that.

[TW: CHILD LOSS] Do you know anyone who has had a miscarriage? I know a number of people. This is sadly not uncommon at all.

What’s your last ex's opinion of you? She'd probably be happy to see me dead, and I don't think that's an exaggeration. Shame on me for not keeping someone's confessed Nazism a secret.

Are there any major drama queens in your family? Yep.

Do you like Stephen King novels? I've never read any.

What is one adventurous thing you’d be willing to do? (ex: skydive) Cave exploration, but not in narrow cave systems. I don't fuck with that. I'd only be willing to explore wide caves and not go TOO terribly deep.

How many email accounts do you have? Two that I actually use.

Does the place you work have music playing? What sort? I don't have a job.

What’s your favourite type of donut? Either just glazed or chocolate frosted.

Has someone ever tried to start an argument with you over Facebook? What happened? Oh for sure. Sometimes I'll just ignore people, but more often than not, I'll argue my point. This happened recently and the woman realized she was wrong and just changed her focus entirely and replied in this really funny "oops I fucked up" sorta way. She literally wanted to argue that images you find on Google are never modified or AI, they're cold hard facts. I couldn't fucking believe it.

When you’re at home, do you spend most of your time in your room? No, I'm in the spare room. I lived in bed in my bedroom too long and it was terrible for me.

Do you have a hard time admitting you’re wrong? Not really, no. I suppose this could depend on the topic, but in general, I'm definitely willing to admit when I realize I'm wrong.

When were you the saddest in your life? After the breakup with Jason.

Who in your family has been married the longest? (and how long?) idk

Do you take your shoes off when you come inside? Yes.

What was the first social media site you ever used? MySpace.

Have you ever been catcalled? Not to my recollection.

Have you ever cut your own hair? Nah.

Are you a fan of video games? Yes. I'm not as obsessed as I was when I was younger, but I still enjoy them.

What’s your favorite color combination? Black and gold.

Has anyone besides your family seen you naked? If so, who? Jason, *basically* Girt, I talked about this recently. Oh, I remember as a young child taking a bath with my best friend.

Do you know how to use Photoshop? Yeah. I'm not a graphic design expert or anything, but I know a good deal, especially when it comes to photography-related functions.

Do you have the right time set on your microwave? Yes.

Have you ever been arrested? For what? No.

Where did you go today? Lunch with Tobey for Mom's birthday. Shortly we'll be going to dinner with my sisters.

Where is your favorite person? Maybe at work now? He has to do night shift for a while and I hate it.

What mode of transport did you take to high school? My mom drove me. Occasionally I would ride home with Jason on the bus to his house.

Have you ever made an item of clothing? No.

Who was the last person who cooked something for you? A cook at the restaurant.

Who was the last person who touched your hair? Besides me, Girt probably.

What was the last vegetable you ate? Green beans.

When was the last time you had a sleepover? Girt hasn't slept here in months, we don't do that a lot. He sleeps fine, I usually don't. I need a bigger bed.

[geekandanerd]

Welcome to my rant about my job

My manager told me when I was hired in that we were overstaffed and I'm "lucky" that she was "kind" enough to give me a chance. Come to find out I was one of 4 new hires. Annnnnd they just hired 5 more people in my 4th week and cut me down to 9 HOURS a week here soon.

I'm being quiet fired I think. Since I hired in, whenever I work a shift with the manager she just treats me so bad, and keeps cutting my hours. I'm constantly getting lectured, that I'm not doing enough(my work friend and I tested this out by having us both do the same exact thing but I was the one who got picked out. Oh no we both put a candy on the wrong shelf! But I got blamed for BOTH)

I've heard my Manger talking to customers, justifying the way she talks to me in order to "knock her privileged self down a peg" wtf you mean girl, just because I live with my mom and go to college DOES NOT mean I'm a spoiled lil rich girl. I got my education by working hard for the scholarships I have. I worked my ASS of my whole life just to me able o get to where i am now. If it weren't for the scholarships, I never would have considered further education. I live with my mom cause wtf I can't afford an apartment, bills or really much of anything on the $12 and hour, 9 hour week which actually subtract 2 hours of that for unpaid breaks, that I make.

I have worked hard for the life that I have, and have faced fucking abuse from family and friends, have financially struggled as a family for YEARS. The only reason we haven't lived paycheck to paycheck as a family is because we left my alcoholic abusive father who would steal our money for selfish means. But no. My PRIVILEGED ass needs to be "knocked down a peg".

I'm hoping to stick it out until I can maybe find a paid internship for my major. After all I have textbooks to buy, gas, car insurance, money for the repairs for my car that's literally falling apart(needs repairs biweekly, oh! And trying to find a cheaper replacement for the car as a whole), help for my mom with groceries and rent so she can buy my lil bro some new clothing....oh! And because it's summer our energy bill is higher so gotta help with that. Not gonna touch the fact that I have need to deal with trying to figure out whats wrong with me health wise(cause that's on the backbones for now. Don't have the time to deal with it)

And yes, I am thankful for everything, my moms kindness, my brothers, my moms boss(who's like and uncle honestly. Him and his family has helped us so much), the fact that my family's budgeting and saving since leaving my dad has let us live a lil more comfortably. That my grandparents have been there for us.

Never fucking judge a book by its cover cause you never know what's its about until you open it. And you know nothing about the authors life until they reveal it to you.

I really needed to rant about this so whoever reading this, thanks for listening.

[dryfrooot]

list 5 facts about a favorite sim of yours, and send this to simblrs whose sims you adore ʚ♡ɞ

(don’t know if you’ve done this yet but i thought i’d give it a try🖤)

AWW i adore your sims tooo🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️ this is my first time doing this so ty for the ask!!

here's one of my favorite sims, kyra :P

she's reeeally awkward. During game tournaments she usually barely uses vc, she used to crack some atrociously unfunny jokes, and she was humbled each and every time... The only two people who are truly comfortable with and are used to her awkwardness and her inability to pick up on social cues are her best friends Salem and Benson, and her sister, Lea. They consider themselves as the best trio ever and Salem loves her dry, corny jokes.

Oswald (its a rlly goofy name im sorry) is the landlord of where lea and kyra live. Before her grandparents passed, she would visit them in Copperdale with her dad. He they weren't close but she had interacted with him pretty frequently since he lived on the bottom floor and was friends with her grandparents. After running away with her sister, Oswald accepted them with open arms, and they would often celebrate holidays together. He gave them the upstairs apartment where their grandparents used to live in, and although it's in poor condition, she considers it home than just a place to stay.

Kyra's childhood was really confusing and messy because of her mom's erratic behavior and her father's passive demeanor. Even though her mother is family oriented, her narcissism and struggle with regulating her emotions, has strained Kyra's relationship with Kyra. In one of her mother's fits of rage, years of pent up rage and frustration lead Kyra to gather everything she could, along with Lea, and run away. Since then, Kyra has been doing her best to protect Lea from the painful past. Lea doesn't remember much, but she has a sense of longing for her mother. Once in a blue moon, their father, torn btwn his his inability to confront his wife's destructive behavior and loyalty to his kids, comes to visit and provides them with clothes or leftover food, but he's the only one who knows where they are, being the only shackle to the life they left behind.

Kyra currently works at a local coffee shop, also taking a few odd jobs here and there to make a quick buck. Her coworkers are Lou Howell and Vanesha Cahyaputri. Her and jacob don't really get along too. everytime they're on a shift together he's never on the register to make sure he doesn't steal any money. He likes to poke fun at her whenever he's bored because of her slow, and pretty pathetic (😭) comebacks. She's on good term's with Vanesha due to the fact they both have immigrant parents where they'll share stories they laugh/gossip about together during their lunch break.

Kyra's also saving up to major in computer science and aspires to become a game dev and implement her and her sister's drawing skills to design the characters and other thingamajigs. They go to the library or the boba shop to whenever they can to catch up and talk about their dream game. Salem and Kyra struck up a conversation with a musician performing at the romance festival, (where Kyra also got played by Akira Kibo but that's a whole 'nother thing…) Benson, and he quickly became apart of their friend group. As they hung out more, he soon got tangled in her with her love and passion for this game, and wants to help that game come to fruition and be a music composer for her game.

[denimbex1986]

'The fantasy-romance film All of Us Strangers is finally on Hulu after its theatrical release last year. If you’ve made it to the end of All of Us Strangers, you probably have more questions than answers — and a box of tissues at hand thanks to the emotional final scenes.

Based on Taichi Yamada’s 1987 novel Strangers, the film stars Andrew Scott as Adam, a British screenwriter trying to write a script about his parents (played by Jamie Bell and Claire Foy) who passed away in a car accident when he was a child. He starts to interact with his deceased parents in his childhood home, who appear to be living life just as they were. The movie also centers on Adam’s blossoming relationship with his mysterious neighbor, Harry (Paul Mescal).

“Our job as actors is to build, to service this extraordinary, amazing relationship that Andrew [Haigh] created, and it was really, really easy for us to do that,” Scott told Out Magazine of Harry and Adam’s chemistry. “I think both of us are really interested in playing romantic love. I think it’s something that we both really take pleasure in acting, so it was very, very, very easy for both of us.”

“A lot of the things that Harry’s experiencing, I knew and understood,” Mescal added. “The party culture side to Harry is like a tool that he uses to escape, but in terms of queer culture and in terms of learning…I have a proximity to that in my own life, so it didn’t feel like that part of it wasn’t necessarily eye-opening or anything to me personally.”

Written and directed by Andrew Haigh, All of Us Strangers beautifully tackles grief, loss and loneliness while also telling a queer love story. “All the people in the film are longing for something – to be understood, to be known,” Haigh told The Guardian. “There’s a generation of queer people grieving for the childhood they never had. I think there’s a sense of nostalgia for something we never got, because we were so tormented. It feels close to grief. It dissipates, but it’s always there. It’s like a knot in your stomach.”

Explore the ending of All of Us Strangers below.

How Does All of Us Strangers End?

After Adam tries to introduce Harry to his parents, Harry runs off. Adam takes a few final moments with his deceased mom and dad until they decide that they shouldn’t keep visiting one another so Adam can move on. He says goodbye, and now Adam can begin to process his grief.

Adams returns to his building and heads to Harry’s apartment (remember: viewers never actually see inside his boyfriend’s flat or see Harry out on his own). When Adam knocks on the door, no one answers. Adam goes into the apartment and sees Harry’s body on the bed. He’s wearing the same clothes from the first night he knocked on Adam’s door, asking to hang out.

What Happened To Harry In All of Us Strangers?

Harry has been dead for a majority of the time he’s been with Adam in All of Us Strangers. If you think back to the scene when the couple first met, Harry knocked on Adam’s door drunk and asked him to hang out while holding a bottle of whiskey, which Adam declines. When they run into each other the next day, Harry apologizes — and their relationship begins at the same time as Adam’s ghostly reconnection with his parents.

When Adam enters Harry’s apartment, he notices drugs on the counter and a messy kitchen. Then, he discovers Harry’s dead body on the bed, along with an empty alcohol bottle, suggesting he drank it and died from loneliness that night. So, what does this all mean? Well, everything that happened after their first meeting was all in Adam’s imagination.

In another twist, Harry’s ghost reappears outside his apartment. He slowly starts to put the pieces together that he is dead and no one has found his body. “I’m in there, aren’t I?” Harry asks him, while Adam reassures him that everything will be okay.

Adam and Harry enter Adam’s flat and cuddle on his bed. Adam puts on the song “The Power of Love,” the track playing at the beginning of the movie. As the shot pans, a bright light forms between them and they become one star in the sky out of many in the universe.

Haigh told Time that by the end of the film, “It is basically saying that what is important in life is love in whatever way you manage to find that, whether it’s in a relationship, whether it’s with your parents, whether it’s with a friend.” He continued, “You go through life finding love, losing love, and finding it again.”

Is Adam Dead In All of Us Strangers?

It’s unclear whether Adam is dead now that we know Harry was gone for most of the film. However, there are a few moments in All of Us Strangers point to Adam being a ghost. For example, he lives in a deserted block of empty apartments, which is uncommon for a bustling city like London.

Ultimately, whether you believe Adam is alive or a ghost is up to your perception of the film. Haigh expressed to EW that he doesn’t care for the logic behind the ending of All of Us Strangers and what’s real or what’s not. “It’s about the emotional feeling that you get from it,” Haigh says of the film. “That’s the key.”'

[fastlikealambo]

non fanfic related post but

i don’t know why anything jennette mccurdy writes about HER OWN MOTHER THAT NONE OF YALL KNEW is up for debate. just because you have a great relationship with your mother doesn’t give you the right to question how someone was treated by theirs.

trigger warning: discussion of black moms, parental trauma and mental health ahead.

My mother wanted children but was a product of generational curses and never got over her failed music career. She raised me in shame based parenting meaning that she didn’t teach me to care for my hair or my body but then would get upset and call me disgusting, and cry over her failure as a mother instead of teaching me to correct the problem.  My dad did his best but there are some things he couldn’t teach me that my mother should have.

While my sister became the exact opposite of that to combat the shame, I fell into a pit, I was bullied in school and then went home to bullied by my mother. She would deliberately buy me clothes that were too big for me not because I could eventually grow into them but because this was her image of me.  

When she hugged me, she would squeeze parts the parts of my body she didn’t like and when I hit puberty and developed large breasts, I was no longer a child in her eyes, I was a woman that needed to be controlled.

“You make yourself ugly.” She would say.

While my sister found her escape after college, I moved back home I had no money or plan which is no one’s fault but mine.  At every opportunity for me to rise, she was there to slam me back to earth. When I wrote my first book and had a few family members buy it, she called me selfish because I wouldn’t give the money to my dad for helping me edit it despite the fact that my dad had turned it down and told me multiple times that I deserved the money because I had done the work. 

When my first major significant other died, she left me on the couch crying.

When I was unemployed, she controlled everything that was bought in our household and once I got a job, I bought the things I wanted, the clothes I wanted.  She constantly asked for where I got my clothes from and if they came in her size. If she had been anyone else this could have been seen as  somewhat sweet and cute but it was another form of control.

A year ago, she had a stroke that left her non verbal for almost a month. My dad fell into a depression, my sister was in a different state, so it was left to me to visit her, me to advocate for her care, me to do complicated paperwork so we wouldn’t lose our house.  

She has remained in a rehab facility since her stroke and has told our relatives that we refuse to let her come home and that we put her there to get rid of her. But I still go see her, make sure she has what she needs, brought her a big cake on her birthday.

Because my relationship with my mother is complicated, even my own sister who experienced the same shame doesn’t believe our mother’s behavior growing up was that bad.

To anyone outside of our house, my mother is a sweet and giving woman, the one with the best pasta salad at the church picnic, the first to remember your birthday.

  I know those who read this will balk and say, “ you should cut her out of your life!”

The answer to that is the answer to the jennette mccurdy discourse:

Until it is your mother right in front of you, you will not understand. Your lack of understanding however does not forfeit your capacity for compassion nor respect and that is what jennette mccurdy deserves most of all. 

[scuttling]

Lavender

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 9,244 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad's Best Friend Friend From Work Hotch, Me turning a naughty, smutty story into something way more aka my specialty, Fingering, Unprotected sex, Oral sex, Semi-public sex, Office sex Summary: You absolutely dread going home for vacation, to your sickeningly cheery childhood bedroom and opinionated parents, but meeting your dad's friend from work at a stuffy cocktail party has the potential to make this a vacation you'll never forget.*Requested by anon, severely altered by me 😅 Link to A03 or read below! Most people would jump at the chance for an unexpected two week vacation, but you are not most people. When your boss emailed you to inform you that there had been some kind of glitch in HR’s system and you actually had two weeks of paid vacation that were set to expire, your anxiety had kicked into high gear. There isn’t enough time to coordinate travel with any of your friends, too short notice, and you’re kind of afraid to travel alone, though you’d never admit it, so that’s out.

There’s always the prospect of hanging out at home, catching up on all the shows you started but never had time to finish, doing things you’re always too busy for, like cooking and cleaning out your closet and going to the animal shelter to pet the dogs and cats.

Unfortunately, those dreams are crushed when you accidentally let slip during a call to your parents that you have the time off, and they literally insist you come home, will not let you get off the phone without confirming your plans.

You only live about an hour away from them, but for one reason or another, you rarely visit.

The minute you step into your childhood home, you’re reminded of why you rarely visit.

“There’s my little do-gooder!” Your dad is all but waiting at the door when you arrive, pulls you into a hug despite the fact that your hands are full of luggage. “Let me look at you.” He pulls back, hands on your shoulders, acting like it's possible something has changed about you since you had lunch together a month ago in DC. “Oh, you’ve got that serious lawyer hairstyle now,” he remarks with a chuckle, even though your hair is styled the same way it was at that lunch. He might not mean it to come out this way, but it sounds condescending.

“That would be appropriate, considering I am a lawyer,” you remark, trying to keep the snark out of your tone. You know he always means well. “You look good.” He takes his hands off of you and puts them on his stomach.

“Your mom has me on some kind of greens and beans diet, says it will help me live longer.” You smile, a little awkward, not sure what to say about that—your dad is typically the meat and potatoes type, so you figure some variety can’t hurt, but if you say that you’ll never hear the end of it, and you’ve already got a headache.

“Where is mom, anyway?” You shift your bag on your shoulder, and your dad clues in, takes it from you and starts walking up the staircase.

“Oh, she’s at the gym, then taking care of some last minute things for the party.” You pause at the base of the stairs, sigh softly.

“Party?” You weren’t told about any party. Your dad keeps walking, and you’re forced to follow.

“Yeah, nothing major, just some people from the office and their spouses coming over for drinks tonight. Maybe some of their kids,” he adds innocently, and you can’t help rolling your eyes.

By kids, he means sons: eligible sons to try to set you up with. You wouldn’t mind being in a room full of hot, single men vying for your attention any other time—in fact, it’s been a little while, and your most recent hookup was lackluster, so you’re a bit more tightly wound than usual—but the kinds of men your parents bring around aren’t your type at all. You’re career driven yourself, but all they want to talk about is how they plan to be the youngest partner at their firm, or the clubs they can get into, or worst of all, money. Your potentially somewhat relaxing vacation just went to shit in no time at all.

“I didn’t bring anything to wear to a cocktail party.”

“I think mom got you a dress, honey. Check your closet after you get unpacked.” He pushes the door to your former bedroom open, and you’re assaulted by the color lavender; somehow you’d actually forgotten how purple it is. “You’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.” He sets your bag on the bed—oh god, the frilly purple comforter, you may have actually repressed that memory—and you drop your other luggage there too. “I’ll give you some time to get settled in, maybe order some lunch for us? Vesuvios?”

As irritated as you are about the party, it’s sweet that he remembers your favorite restaurant. You went there for dinner after you graduated from high school, college, and law school, so there are lots of great memories associated with the place.

“Do they adhere to the greens and beans diet?” you ask with a grin, and he puts his finger up to his lips to silence you.

“What mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?” You shake your head fondly, and he slips out of your room and leaves you to it.

You start unloading your clothes into the empty dresser, hanging them in the closet that holds things like your prom dresses, graduation gowns, old cheerleading and volleyball uniforms. Every touch of silky fabric is a memory, and at this point in your life most of them are good, even if they weren’t at the time. It’s kind of nice to remember where you came from, when where you are now can be so hectic, so fast-paced you don’t see the forest for the trees.

Feeling nostalgic, you walk over to your desk, where you spent so much time with your face crammed into textbooks it’s not even funny, and flip through your old stationary set—what teenager had her own stationery? You were a total nerd—and photos you’d taken off the mirror but left sitting in a pile to be packed away eventually.

You snap out of the past after that, finish putting your toiletries away, setting up your laptop and chargers where you want them, then shove your empty suitcases in the closet and grab your phone to head downstairs.

You meet up with your dad in the kitchen, where he is opening steaming takeout containers full of Italian food. You grab some plates from the overhead cabinet and lean against the counter, look over the offerings to decide what you’ll have.

“So how are things at the ACLU?” he asks with a bit of a teasing tone. You’re well aware of the fact that he thinks you could be doing more—translation: making more—in private practice, or working for the government like he does, but neither of those things interest you and he is well aware of that.

“They’re really good, actually. We’re working on a disability rights case now that will probably make national news if we win.” It’s been forever since you had penne arrabbiata, since it’s not very easy to eat at your desk without running the risk of staining your blouse with spicy red sauce, so you load up your plate with it, add wilted spinach for color, a piece of garlic bread because it’s garlic bread. You lick your thumb, and your dad points a finger in your direction in that way that means he’s about to give you life advice.

“When you win; if you’re not confident about your capabilities, no one else will be.” You roll your eyes good-naturedly, nod, because that’s a pro tip you’ve heard time and time again. “If you came to work at the bureau, you’d win more of your cases; Constitutional law isn’t easy.” He says that like you don’t already know, like you haven’t been working in your current department for more than a year. You sigh.

“I’m not really the bureau type, dad.” You take your plate over to the breakfast table, sit down and start to pick at your food. Arguing about your chosen career path is enough to make you lose your appetite, even for your favorite dish. Your dad follows, sits across from you.

“You’re so smart, honey, you could be if you wanted to.” He takes a bite of fettuccine alfredo, points his fork at you. “Hey, maybe you could talk to Jim from the Office of General Counsel tonight—or maybe Aaron. You’d be really interested in the work his team does.”

“Who’s Aaron again?” You don’t recognize the name, so he’s probably not one of the attorneys on your dad’s team, but he works closely with so many departments you might have heard it before and missed it.

“Friend from work. He’s the unit chief at the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They’re criminal psychologists or something. Profilers,” he says, snapping his fingers. “That’s what they call them. They get into criminals’ heads, analyze them and interrogate them. I know you minored in psychology, I bet he could get you an internship.” You laugh at that, because he always gives you advice about furthering your career, but that’s a step backward for you and he can't be so dense not to realize it.

“An internship? I’m a little old for that, don't you think? Not to mention I have a job that I love.” You stab at your food, more than a little agitated by the current conversation.

“Never too late to get your foot in the door, sweetie. It’d be great to see you more, that’s all I’m saying,” he adds, ending on a gentler note, and you sigh. Your mom does it too, but your dad is an expert into guilting you into doing what he thinks is best. Unfortunately, you’ve never handled guilt very well.

“Okay. I’ll talk to him, if it means that much to you,” you promise, and you both smile and make easy small talk for the rest of the meal. The dress your mom bought for you for the party is a black, sleeveless, designer cocktail dress, something more form fitting than you would normally wear—she is evidently trying very hard to find you an eligible bachelor tonight. You pair it with your favorite jewelry, simple heels, and when you head downstairs your mom acts like it’s prom night all over again.

“Oh sweetie, you look so beautiful!” She puts her hands on your arms, spins you around. “You’re looking too thin—must be eating a lot of salads on that paralegal salary,” she throws over her shoulder to your dad, and they both laugh. You wish life were a documentary so there was a camera you could look into with an unimpressed expression.

“I’m a staff attorney actually. Fully accredited,” you add, but it’s no use. If you don’t follow in your dad’s footsteps, you will always be seen as living beneath your potential, and therefore always the butt of these types of jokes.

You love them, really, and you know they love you, but they are not the most supportive pair by a long shot. They made sure you got into a great college, let you follow your law school dreams—and you’re grateful, won’t deny their money is a privilege so many other people in your position do not possess—but that was only because those were their dreams as well. As soon as you told them about taking the position at the ACLU, it was like the tables were turned, and instead of your accomplishments, all they saw was wasted potential.

It’s enough to keep you away most of the time, which sucks, but it is what it is. It’s easier to love them from afar, so that’s what you do.

At the party, you shake hands, talk about the weather, introduce yourself to so many middle aged white guys and their sons that their faces all start to blur together. After half an hour you excuse yourself, head to the bar for a drink, and come to stand next to a middle aged white guy you have not introduced yourself to—this one, you’d have remembered, because he is tall, broad, serious looking, and very handsome.

If you were a dog, he’d have your ears perking up, no doubt about that. Instead, your heart just races a little.

“I have to say, these FBI parties are even less fun than I thought they’d be,” you comment as you wait for your drink. The man lifts the corner of his mouth in a slight smile.

“Get a bunch of men who are past their prime in one room, and all you hear about are the glory days. Can’t get a word in edgewise.” The bartender hands you your glass, and you turn to fully face the stranger.

“Why aren’t you talking about your glory days?” You immediately kind of want to slap yourself. Your social skills have been exhausted tonight, apparently. “I’m sorry, that was rude; I didn’t mean to insinuate that you’re… past your prime.” You give him a brief once over, because he deserves it, is even more gorgeous up close than you’d initially assessed; he chuckles softly, sips on his own drink.

“It wasn’t rude, it was… shrewd.” His own gaze lingers on your face, maybe the neckline of your dress, just a little. “Your father’s really happy you’re here, wouldn’t stop talking about it.”

“Yeah, he's one of the most ambitious people I know; he gets an idea in his head and won’t rest until he’s seen it through.” It’s a quality that sounds good on paper, but when it’s constantly being applied to your life, it’s more tiring than anything. “Right now he’s trying to get me to bully one of these poor guys into giving me an internship, as if I’m not twenty-nine years old with a career of my own.” He wets his lips, laughs again.

“I think I’m the poor guy—Aaron Hotchner. I’m the unit chief overseeing the BAU.” Wow, 0 for 2. This guy’s got to think you’re a complete idiot. He extends a hand and you shake it firmly, melt a little because his palm is so broad, his fingers so thick.

“Right, I’m so sorry. Feel free to tell me right now that I’m not the right fit, and I’ll slink off and hide in a corner somewhere for the rest of the night.”

“No need for that. You strike me as someone who would be a great fit for my team, if that was something you actually wanted.”

You aren’t looking for a career change in the slightest, but you can’t deny it would be tempting to report to this man every day.

“It’s not that I’m not curious about what you do; my dad told me a little, and it sounds really intriguing. I just have a lot on my plate right now. If the offer had come up before I started my current job, I would be all over it.” You smile, shrug. “Unless you could have me intern for the next two weeks I’ll be on vacation, I’ll have to politely decline the offer you haven't actually made me.” You smile, and so does he.

“Now who’s ambitious?” he asks with a raised eyebrow; the way he says it, like he finds it charming, makes your face heat a little. You’ve never connected like this at one of your dad’s FBI events, and even though there’s no way it ends well—if anything even starts—you feel the need to see how far you can go. Even if it’s just a little flirting. Even if it’s just tonight.

“Have you ever been here before tonight?” you ask after a beat. You take a sip of your drink, and he mirrors you. You lean in a little closer.

“Once, briefly. I didn’t get a grand tour, or anything.” You smile—bingo—and reach out to place a hand on his arm.

“Oh, I’d be happy to give you one, if you like. Usually my dad is all about it, but he looks occupied.” You both glance across the room at where he is in the middle of a group of men—still discussing their glory days, no doubt—and Aaron looks at you again, nods.

“Sure, I’d love one.” You show him around downstairs, the backyard, the garage—he doesn’t seem to care about the cars at all—and then go upstairs, show him guest rooms, the master bath your mother recently remodeled; he gets a little closer as you go, and you smile more, flirt a bit. You stop outside the door to your room, block it with your body while you talk about the art hanging in the hall; he’s very good at reading your body language, apparently, because he leans closer to you, puts his hand on the doorknob next to your hip.

“What’s this room?” he asks, feigning innocence, and you put your arm over his.

“Oh, no, we’re not going in there. That’s my old bedroom.” He smiles, and you grimace.

“You mean the room I most want to see now? Come on.” He turns the knob, hears it click, and you cover your face with your hand, sigh.

“This is going to be really embarrassing. It’s exactly the way it looked when I went to college, and that was over ten years ago.” You push the door open with your hand, walk in and flick on the light. Aaron follows, chuckles.

“It’s... purple. Cute.” He makes toward the bed, touches one of the frills on the comforter with his big, broad hand. The juxtaposition of your innocent lavender bedding being stroked by the fingers you can’t stop staring at is a very interesting one.

“No, it’s not cute, it’s horrifying,” you say, and when he walks toward the open closet, you begin to regret this little tour. He pulls out your prom dress, your cheerleading uniform.

“Cheerleader, huh? You don’t seem the type.” He looks over at you, and you push it back into the closet, lead him away from it with your hands on his arms.

“I’m not. It was important to my mom.” The two of you are by your dresser now, and he leans in to look in the mirror, at you standing behind him and not his own reflection.

“I see. Do you always put other people's needs before your own?” You sidle up next to him, and he turns to face you.

“This is what you do, right? You… deduce for a living? Like Sherlock?” That makes him laugh, which in turn makes you smile.

“It’s called profiling, but that’s accurate enough.” You feel a challenge brewing inside you, take a step closer to him.

“Okay… What can you tell me about myself by looking around the room? Remember, this stuff is from ten years ago; a lot could have changed.” He crosses his arms, nods.

“You’re right, but your core values wouldn’t have.”

Slowly, he walks around the room, taking things in, touching things, looking back at you briefly and then rifling through parts of your past. It’s a few minutes before he speaks again.

“I think your father wants you to work at the bureau, and you don’t want to because you’ve always felt like you’d live in his shadow if you followed the same career path. You want to blaze your own trail, do what fulfills you, not let his last name be what moves you up the ladder.”

That’s all scarily true, so you nod, cross your arms, lean your butt against your desk.

“I think you’re afraid of commitment because you don’t think any relationship you’re in will ever measure up to what your parents have.” That stings a little, but he’s not wrong. He points to a flyer stuck to a cork board, something about a charity project you’d worked on that revolved around recycling. “Environmentally conscious: I bet you drive a hybrid, and if your dad bought it for you, it’s a... BMW.”

He glances back, and you encourage him to go on. He points to a copy of your Georgetown diploma hanging on the wall, then picks up a cheerleading trophy on your dresser.

“You were a cheerleader to please your mom, went to Georgetown to please your dad, excelled at both; you’re an only child, so you felt you couldn’t let them down. My question is,” he says, looking up at you curiously, “what pleases you?” The words make your heart beat fast; you lick your lips, tilt your head.

“Not much.” He comes closer, arms crossed again.

“Why?” God, that’s a loaded question for a Friday night, for the first day of your vacation. You absently wonder if he’s going to bill you for this impromptu therapy session.

“I find it difficult to ask for what I want,” you ultimately say, and he moves even closer. His stare is probing, and you speculate that he may have been a lawyer before the FBI. The look on his face is the same one you’ve seen in many courtrooms over your short career.

“Of course you do. You’ve never done it before. You've spent your whole life asking other people what they want from you.”

You feel very seen, and you kind of hate it, but you also kind of like it—that he’s able to dissect you like this is a huge turn on. What that says about you, you’re not entirely sure; maybe that you enjoy being seen for who you are—for all that you are—instead of who you know, or who you could have been, for a change.

“I think you didn’t lose your virginity until college—your second year.” It feels like bringing that up is a bold move for him; he doesn’t meet your eyes when he says it. “I would guess you got drunk for the first time around then, too. Your first year you were trying to navigate the feeling of not being under anyone’s thumb anymore; your second year, you finally felt like your own woman, you wanted to try new things, but it made you feel out of control and you don’t like that. Even now you only drink socially, never to get drunk.” He is directly in front of you now, and he reaches out a hand, brushes it over your cheek. “I also think you gravitate toward men you find inappropriate and unattainable so you don’t have to worry about being the reason your relationships fail.”

He looks into your eyes with a questioning gaze. It’s a painfully accurate take, but he softens the blow with the gentle touch.

“Wow, you’re kind of an asshole,” you breathe, but you smile, and he laughs low.

“Maybe. But am I wrong?” You nod your head, and his face falls a little, so you narrow your eyes to mess with him a bit.

“Only about one thing: I actually drive a Kia hybrid. And I bought it myself, for your information.” He smiles, and you press your hands against his chest; it’s crazy how quickly he drops back into the serious expression you first saw him wearing by the bar. “Are you unattainable and inappropriate?”

“I work with your father; we’re the same age. We play golf together sometimes.” He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, doesn’t back away or remove your hands. You slide them down his body, over his stomach, stop at his belt, and he looks the way you feel: tightly wound, aroused, a little breathless.

“That doesn’t really answer my question, Aaron. May I do some profiling of my own?” You look up at him, curious, and he nods.

“Be my guest,” he murmurs, and you lean back. You rake your eyes over his body slowly—there’s no mistaking your appraisal for what it is. “No ring on your finger, but there’s no way you haven’t been married before. My guess is you’re divorced, and it wasn’t your idea.” You look up at his face, smile softly. “Sorry. You weren’t exactly pulling punches either.” He huffs a laugh.

“You’re right: I wasn’t pulling punches. You’re right about the divorce, too. Go on.” You nod, hum.

“Okay. You have a strong moral compass; you always do what’s right, even when it’s difficult. It’s what makes you such a great leader for your team. You like to go by the book, you’re a Fed through and through—but when it comes down to the bureau or the people you care about, you’ll fight the establishment with all you have. You aren’t a blind believer in the government; you have your criticisms, and you aren’t shy about voicing them.”

“Unlike your father,” he says, and you sigh. “You don’t have an appreciation for his work.”

“No, I really don’t.” Your dad specializes in Freedom of Information Act litigation—he does his best to keep the FBI from actually living up to its commitment to be transparent with the American people, and it doesn’t sit right with you, never has. You may both be attorneys, but you could not be more different if you tried. “But I’m profiling you, remember?”

“Right. Please continue.”

“This might be going out on a limb, but I think you went to law school. The way you speak, and the way you looked at me earlier? It was a little like cross-examination. Am I right about that?” His answering smile actually looks pleased.

“You are. I was a prosecutor for a number of years before joining the FBI. I think it’s something you don’t ever really lose.”

“For better or worse,” you say with a smile of your own. Happy with your assessment, you move a little closer again. “One more thing. I don’t think you’re the kind of man who would normally let a woman take you into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing her. Childhood or otherwise.” You smooth your hands down either side of his tie, over his firm chest and solid midsection. “Maybe you saw something in me you liked?”

“I was... dreading coming here tonight.” He brings his hands up to cover yours, but doesn’t pull them away, just holds them. “If you’ve been to one of these parties, you’ve been to them all—no offense to your father—and I was contemplating a good excuse to leave early, if I’m being honest. Then you showed up at my side—my friend’s mysterious daughter that I’ve heard so much about—and you’re funny, and charming. Insightful. Vulnerable.” He squeezes your hands, presses them closer to his chest. “Beautiful. It’s been a long time since I’ve looked at someone and felt an instant connection. Do you feel it?” His voice is just above a whisper, and you nod lightly.

You aren’t the type of woman to take a man into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing him, childhood or otherwise, but he makes you want so badly you’re almost ravenous—you’ve felt this way before, maybe twice in your life, but neither of those experiences ended with you getting what you wanted. You really hope this time might be different.

“Kiss me?” He takes a breath and then presses his lips together.

“I shouldn’t.”

“I know. But will you?” After a beat, he does, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours, moving his hands to your face as he deepens it.

It’s not a hard kiss, but rough around the edges, your noses pressed together, mouths seeking contact even as you pull apart for breath. He kisses like he needs it, tastes like bourbon, feels like heaven; it’s steamy, wet, makes your chest heave and your pussy throb. When he walks you backward, gently presses your body against your desk, you hop up onto it easily and pull him closer, between your spread knees.

“Aaron,” you sigh over his lips, and his hands move to your thighs, pushing up your dress so he can get closer to you. You glide your fingers through his hair, plant a hand on the desk, then feel something tip over, hear the soft sound of paper sliding over the edge.

Aaron looks down, picks up a lavender envelope; he holds it up with a question in his eye and an enamored look on his face.

“‘From the desk of…’ You had personalized stationery at eighteen?” His mouth is a little red from the kiss still, and he’s teasing you, perfect; you smile, can’t believe this is happening.

“I liked to write to my congressman… and Ruth Bader Ginsburg,” you pant. He chuckles, kisses you a little softer than before, then moves down your throat, sweeps his tongue over your pulse. “Mmm. Right there.”

He pauses to look up at you, hair mussed from your fingers, and you push his jacket off his shoulders; he shifts to full height, helps you take it off, and you drape it over your desk chair, work the knot of his tie loose.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks as your fingers slip down the front of his shirt, freeing his buttons. You unclasp his belt, open his pants, and stretch up for a kiss, touching his face; you nod when you pull back.

“Absolutely. Are you?” He nods too, all serious eyebrows you want to kiss, mouth you want back on yours, on your throat, anywhere.

“Absolutely.” You step down off the desk, run your hands over his arms, then kick off your shoes and walk over to the door, close and lock it; when you pass him again, you guide him to the bed and sit in his lap, clutch at his shoulders and kiss him with as much desperation as he showed you before. There’s a lot of heavy breathing, sighing, moans from you both, and if just kissing is this good, you can’t imagine what he’ll be like inside of you.

When you can find it in yourself to stop kissing him, you pull back and climb out of his lap, present the back of your dress so he can ease down the zipper. He pushes it off, large, warm hands gliding over your body until it hits the floor in a heap unbecoming of the designer label. Your mother would lose her mind.

“You are incredibly beautiful,” Aaron says as he moves his hands to your hips, sliding your panties down and leaning in to press his lips to your stomach. You sigh, press a hand to the back of his head while his mouth explores you where you’re soft and sensitive. You’d like it lower, but there may not be time for that tonight. “What do you want with an old man like me?”

“None of that.” You sweep your hands over his shoulders, sink down onto his lap again, and his hands fall to your bare hips, squeezing you softly; you close your eyes for a moment, so overwhelmed by just the simplest touch. “Like you said: I feel a connection.” Your fingers move to push his shirt open, to lift his undershirt so you can get your hands on bare skin and soft body and hair. He groans, and you kiss him, deep and slow, hands moving to take off both shirts and add them to his jacket on your chair. You take a deep breath, reach out to touch his cheek. “Connect with me.”

He takes your hand, brings your palm to his mouth and kisses it, then drags it down so your fingers slide over his lips; you swallow hard, can feel wetness pooling between your legs, so you slide off of him and onto the bed—however sexy it may be to leave your mark on him, you do both have to return to the party at some point.

Sitting up beside him, you touch his body, ease his pants and boxers down; he takes them off along with his shoes, and you pull the comforter out from under you, push it to the side, let yourself lay back and bask in the look and feel of him as he settles between your knees, leans in for a kiss.

It’s even more intense than before, somehow, his thighs against yours, strong arms supporting him, and you drag your nails lightly up his body, tip your head back and sigh when his lips trail from the base of your throat to your jaw.

He moves a hand low, rubs his fingers between your lips and presses one finger inside you, slowly glides it in and out so you’re moaning, sighing his name.

“That feels so good,” you breathe, and he moves his mouth to yours again, soft and wet, the slide of his tongue sinfully delicious. He adds a second finger, earns more gasping moans, then a third; with the help of a capable thumb stroking over your clit, you come, and he kisses the praise right out of your mouth and then pushes inside you.

His mouth doesn’t leave yours, keeps you close as he thrusts inside, gradually lowering his weight onto you until you feel him everywhere: chest soft against yours, stomachs pressing together as you both work your hips, as your hands grasp his back to keep him close, heavy. Connected.

“You’re perfect. You feel incredible, baby,” he speaks against your lips in a rare moment apart, and you hitch your knees up higher, press the heels of your feet against his ass.

You thought he looked turned on before, but now he looks like he’s being consumed by it, like he wants to thrust deeper into you, make a home in your body and never leave; you would be more than okay with that, to spend the next two weeks beneath him, holding him close, sharing breath and sweat and pleasure so complete it changes you profoundly.

He moves a hand behind your head, cradles it, and sucks wet kisses against your throat—nothing so deep as to leave a mark, but that doesn’t mean you’re not panting, whimpering, begging for more.

“Aaron. Hmm, oh. You’re so gorgeous, I—everything about you.” He pulls away from your neck, peers down at you, and you’re sure you’re a sight to behold in your desperation; your palms smooth down his back, to his sides, and you hug him close, squeeze him hard when he comes, panting your name against your throat and pumping roughly inside.

You meet his every thrust, dig your nails into his hips, and he leans forward, covers your mouth with his and grinds against you until your second blissful orgasm shudders through your limbs. You clench tight around him, moan, then slowly sag back against the mattress, more thoroughly satisfied than you’ve ever been in your life.

He shifts, half on top of you and half off, his kisses gradually slowing, his hands sweeping over your shoulders, your face, your arms. When you’re calm, content, you sigh, kiss his hands and cheeks and lips; you’re warm, and you curl around him, overheated skin on skin, and never want to leave.

“Mmm,” he rumbles against your shoulder, mouthing at it, and you sigh, scrape your nails through his hair.

“Mm hmm. Think I can die happy now,” you murmur, and he shifts up to look at you, a smile curving softly from the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t die on me, now.” You smile too, scoot closer for slow kisses. You’re both happy to lay there, quietly kissing, but eventually it’s clear you need to return to the party in order to avoid suspicion—not that you think anyone would ever guess what just occurred.

You dress side by side, turning to have him fix your zipper, reaching up to help him with his tie. When you’re both technically decent enough to head downstairs, you plan to give him a head start, but the two of you get caught up in one more deeply sensual kiss that almost makes you want to just say screw it and take his clothes off again. He can tell, has the barest hint of a smirk on his face when the kiss breaks, and he punctuates it with a soft press of lips before walking out the door.

With your spare few minutes, you look around the room—and at your rumpled, frilly, lavender bed, on which you just had super hot sex with one of your dad’s friends, it’s still kind of sinking in—and wonder what the rest of your vacation could possibly bring that could top this night. At breakfast the next morning, you find out.

You and your parents are discussing the party, who got too drunk to function, who left with the wrong wife, which of your dad’s friend’s sons you got along with most, and then he drops the bomb on you.

“And see, honey, I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial.” You choke on a bite of scrambled eggs, try to wash it down with a sip of juice; your mom pats you on the back until the moment passes.

“What?” you ask, voice barely a squeak. You clear your throat and try again. “What about Aaron, dad?” He flips the newspaper he’s holding to the next page and peers over it at you.

“I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial. Before he left last night, he told me all about the internship—it’s nice of him to set it up for the two weeks you’re here, so you can get some experience under your belt.” You briefly think about your experience under Aaron’s belt, but it’s really not the time.

He really set you up with an internship—one he knows you aren’t interested in—based on the offhand comment you’d made about squeezing it into your two week vacation. You’d be kind of irritated at him for making the plans on your behalf, but if it means the next two weeks are anything like last night, he’s going to make it well worth your while.

The internship excites both of your parents, and your mom declares it a girls day, takes you out for some new clothes, since you didn’t bring any workwear, for a manicure and pedicure and then drinks. She talks about what a great opportunity this will be for you, and you don’t have the heart—or maybe you just don’t care anymore—to argue about what great opportunities you’ve already made possible for yourself.

Sunday is for relaxing, and not internally panicking about seeing Aaron again. Friday night was incredible, but you didn’t think it would turn into anything, considering he is your dad’s friend, and you’re only here for a couple weeks.

You have to hand it to him, though: if he enjoyed himself as much as you did, and this internship is his way of getting to spend more time with you, he has managed to do what you haven’t been able for twenty-nine years—find a way to please your parents while finally pleasing yourself. Monday morning, you show up at the BAU office to receive a photo ID badge and fill out some paperwork. You don’t actually get to meet anyone from the BAU until after lunch, and when you do, Aaron is nowhere to be seen.

“Hi, I’m looking for Unit Chief Hotchner?” you say to a fair-skinned woman with long blonde hair and a kind smile. “I’m interning for the next couple weeks.” There is a man with her, Black, tall, bald, with very expressive eyebrows; the eyebrows don’t look like they think very highly of you.

“You’re an intern? A little old, aren’t you?” After a beat, his face breaks into a smile, and you roll your eyes, huff a laugh.

“Charmer. Yes, I’m definitely too old to be an intern; do you have overbearing parents by chance?” He raises his hands, palms up, and takes a step back.

“No, but enough said.” The blonde woman laughs, and he nods in your direction. “I’m Derek Morgan, this is JJ Jareau. Come with me, I’ll take you to Hotch.”

You thank him, follow as he leads you across the room and up some stairs.

“So what’s he like, Agent Hotchner?” you ask, wanting someone else’s opinion of Aaron as a boss, a coworker—anything other than the one night stand that wasn’t. You really know so little about him.

“He’s a good guy; smart, fair, great at what he does. A little tightly wound; could stand to live a little.” He looks back at you with a grin. “He’ll probably remind you a little of your dad.”

God. It almost makes you throw up in your mouth a little.

“You know, I doubt it, but thanks for the warning.” He knocks on a closed door at the end of the hall, and a moment later, Aaron answers it. His expression doesn’t change as Derek introduces you, and when he walks away with a friendly pat on your shoulder, Aaron gestures you in. He closes the door behind you and looks carefully over your face.

“Hi,” he says, and you see that hint of a smirk on his face again. You take a moment to appraise the room—there’s a window with blinds that are closed, a desk and chairs, bookcases, a printer, more windows on the far side, a loveseat. You look back at Aaron with a raised brow.

“Hi. What am I doing here?” His expression gets serious, like he can’t tell if you’re pleased or upset with him for the surprise. You sit down on the loveseat, set your bag down, and he sits down next to you.

“I know you wanted to get your father off your back, and you did say if I could squeeze an internship into two weeks that you’d be interested.” You smile a little, because you did say that. “I thought it might be nice to see you a little more, too. You’re under no obligation to stay,” he assures you, briefly looking down, and then he takes your hand. “But surely there are worse ways to spend your vacation?”

You give him an uncertain look, like you’re really trying to decide what you’d like to do, and then you push up your skirt and swiftly straddle his thighs, press your hands against his shoulders. His mouth falls open a little, and you lean in to catch it with yours.

“I have been thinking about you all weekend,” he mutters into the kiss, wraps his arms around your back. “Have you thought about me?”

“Only every night.” He groans at your words, lets his head fall back a little, and you press your lips to the column of his throat, nip softly with your teeth. “Every morning. Every minute.” You bite at the shell of his ear, kiss it, card your fingers through his hair. “Do I have an actual job to do here?” You pull back, and he raises his eyebrows; you can’t help the grin that takes over your expression. “Because if not, I’m going to focus on making this the best two weeks of your life.”

He pulls you in for another kiss, a little rougher than before, deeper, and you tug on his hair, pant against his cheek when you separate.

“In that case, no. You don’t have a job to do here.” You tilt your head, and he smiles a little. “I'm the boss, I make the rules.” That kind of thing has never done it for you before, but you have to admit it’s making you feel some type of way right now. You sweep your hands inside his jacket, squeeze his sides.

“Mmm, yes you do. Hey, do you think there’s enough room for me to fit under your desk?” He wets his lips, and you climb off of him, walk around to check it out for yourself, bending over his desk in your tight black skirt to peek beneath it. You look up to see Aaron is not shy about taking in the view, and you grin. “Spacious.”

He walks toward you, and when he’s closer, his eyes look dark with need; his hands look like they ache to reach out and touch. You step forward, let yourself be caged in against the desk by his arms, and you arch your back a little, open his belt slowly.

“I didn’t set this up so you would feel obligated to do this.” You sigh, lean up to catch his lips in a soft kiss.

“I know you didn’t. But if I want to?” You tug down his zipper, slip your hand inside his underwear, feel him hot and stiff in your palm. “And you want to?” He nods tightly and you kiss him again, squeeze him softly, sweep your tongue between his lips. “Then let’s.”

You take a step back, push his chair far enough out of the way that you can crawl under the desk, come up on your knees; he exhales deeply, then sinks down into his chair, stretches his long legs so they rest on either side of your body, holds his pants open for you. You look up at him, hope he sees how ridiculously eager you are to do this, and you take his dick out, stroke it a couple times, and cover it with your mouth.

“My god,” he sighs, head resting back against his seat. You hold him with both hands, suck deep and wet, moan a little when he spreads his legs further apart. “Your mouth feels so good, baby. Does this make you wet?” You pull off, move one hand to slide up his stomach, clutch his shirt there.

“Very, but I’m patient. Want to make you come.” He wets his lips, sighs, and you dip your head, lick up the length of him before sucking him back down.

He is all perfect, desperate noises, soft grunts and moans, gently palming your head as he gets closer, and you’re pretty sure he’s about to get off when there’s a knock at the door. He mutters a curse, and you squeeze his stomach, determined to make him come in the next five seconds. He looks like he’s going to lose his mind.

“Just a minute,” he manages, his voice strained, and he puts his hands on your arms, but you stroke and suck him quickly, actually sigh in relief when he spills in your mouth; your only regret is that he couldn’t be louder.

As soon as he’s through coming, you duck under the desk to wipe your mouth, and he hurries to fix his fly, to close his belt. There’s another knock, and he exhales, calls for whoever is on the other side to come in.

He accidentally bangs his knee off the desk, winces, and you lean back against it, panting, your heart racing.

“Aaron!”

Your eyes snap closed. What are the actual chances of this? You don’t know enough about karma to have an opinion on it, but you come to the sudden realization that you must have done something wrong in a past life.

“Hey, what are you doing in our neck of the woods?” Aaron asks, managing to sound like he is in fact not talking to the father of the woman who just swallowed his come.

“Looking for my little girl, of course. Had to see what she was getting up to on her first day at the FBI.”

“She’s actually… downstairs. In the mailroom. Interns start at the bottom and work their way up.” You stifle a laugh, because despite your compromising position, that’s kind of funny.

“Oh, okay. Agent Morgan thought she was up here, but I guess she must have snuck by him. Would you tell her I stopped by?”

“Absolutely. She’ll be happy to hear it,” he says, and you think you might be out of the woods, but you hear your dad’s voice again.

“Hey I almost forgot to mention: Monday Night Football tonight, got a bunch of guys coming over to watch the game. You interested?”

“You know, that would be great. You can text me the details. Thanks for the invitation.”

“Sure, of course. I really appreciate you taking care of my girl.” You have to bite your lip this time, and Aaron taps his foot against your hip.

“It’s my pleasure. She’s really wonderful. You should be proud.”

“I am. I’ll text you the details,” he says, and then the door closes and Aaron pulls back, looks down at you beneath the desk. You kind of just stare at each other for a minute.

“Close call?” you say with a shrug, and he helps you to your feet, then lifts you up and sets your ass on the edge of his desk. He grabs your face for a messy kiss, and you cling to him, breathless when he pulls back.

“What does it say about me that I’m turned on again?” he asks, and you shake your head, pull him close for another kiss.

“I don’t know, but I’m really turned on, too. Can you—” That’s as far as you get before he strides over to the door, flips the lock, and comes back to push your skirt up, tug your panties down to your knees so quickly it makes you gasp. He gets on his knees slowly, looks up at your face, and puts his hands on your hips, takes a few deep, thorough licks of your pussy. “Oh, my god.” You put your hand on the back of his head, drop your ass harder against the desk and press your other palm against it for support.

He is as enthusiastic as you were for him, slipping his tongue between your lips, gliding rhythmically over your opening but not pressing in, the tease. It feels insanely good, so much but not quite enough.

“Aaron. Oh, mmm—please. Please.” You sigh, dig your fingers into his hair, and he puts his hands under your ass and tilts you back on the desk, dives lower to start thrusting inside you with his tongue. “Yes, yeah, right there,” you murmur, and you rock your hips a little; your hand slips, sending you further back on the desk so that you’re almost laying back on it, and it makes you feel so deliciously dirty that you groan, grab at the collar of his jacket at the back of his neck.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling back to look up at you, and you nod, frantic; he licks his lips, lifts your legs and puts them over his shoulders, then dips down to stroke his tongue inside you, to press a finger inside alongside it.

“Holy—oh, yes.” You toss your head back, whine, and come around his finger while his tongue flicks in and out until you’re left breathless, spent.

You press yourself up to sitting, and Aaron stands, kisses you deeply, hands on your face while you’re still slick on his tongue. After a couple of minutes, he helps you get cleaned and straightened up, his kisses soft presses of lips this time.

“I should try to get some work done,” he says, but he doesn’t sound like he wants to; after that, you can’t really blame him.

“That’s okay; I brought my laptop, so I can work on some stuff too, if you don’t mind.” He doesn’t of course, and you get set up at the other end of his desk. You’re both plugging away at your work when you’re reminded of something from earlier; you close the lid of your computer and look over at Aaron, head tilted. “I didn’t take you for someone who likes football.” He smiles, taps his pen against his chin.

“I don’t. But I figured you’ll be there.” You smile back.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Maybe I’ll see if my old cheerleading uniform still fits—you know, just to go with the theme.” You open your computer back up, but the look on Aaron’s face out of the corner of your eye is very, very promising. “Mmh, that feels good,” you murmur, one hand on Aaron’s shoulder and the other on his thigh; he is propped up against your pillows, massaging your bare breast and your clit while you roll your hips in his lap. Your cheerleading skirt fits, mostly, but you couldn’t zip it all the way; still, it’s the only thing you’re wearing, and you can’t deny the whole situation is so hot it hurts.

“You feel so incredible. Taking me so well.” He can’t kiss you in this position, and you can tell he wants to—you really want him to—so you feel a little like a tease as you work your ass and thighs atop him. “You know you’re beautiful, but I can’t stop saying it. You’re perfect, baby—in this little skirt?” He moves the hand from your breast to your hip under the skirt, squeezes you there. “So sexy. Do you remember any cheers for me?”

You groan, roll your eyes.

“Not worth the orgasm to embarrass myself,” you say, and he lifts his hips, slams up into you hard. “Mmh. Okay, almost worth the orgasm, but not going to do it.” He lifts an eyebrow, pumps his hips up again.

“Really? Not even if I…” He lunges forward, lifting you out of his lap and making you laugh, then maneuvers you onto your stomach, gets on his knees behind you, flips up the skirt.

“God, Aaron,” you sigh, and he presses his thighs right up against your ass, slides inside, pumps slow and steady while squeezing your cheeks, pulling you back toward him. Your fingers dig into the stupid, frilly bedspread, which will probably turn you on for the rest of your life, now, and you move back against his thrusts, moan.

“Worth it now?” he asks, filling you so completely, and you pant, hum.

“Wouldn’t you rather I just moan your name?” He leans forward at that, hands planted up under your arms, and leans in to speak into your ear; the way he’s pressed against you, the angle is perfect, and you’re right on the edge when his lips brush your throat.

“Yeah, why don’t you do that instead.” It takes about two seconds for you to come, and you aren’t shy about it, let his name fall from your lips in an endless string of praise. He hammers against your ass, the roughest he’s been—and god, does it feel good—then comes inside you murmuring your name.

He pulls out, rolls you over, and you finally kiss, make it count; it’s like the first night, how you can’t get enough of each other, messy, desperate, curling tongues and soft, eager lips, but you know you can’t keep it up forever, because his presence downstairs will be missed much sooner than Friday’s party.

You help him get dressed—in jeans and a blue polo, maybe the only time in your life a polo has made you wet—and then throw on a t-shirt and jeans of your own, head downstairs. You detour for the kitchen to grab a couple beers while he heads into the living room, and then you plop down next to him on the couch and hand him one like you weren’t just defiling your childhood bedroom yet again.

“There you are,” your dad says when he registers your presence—it’s impossible to get him to look away from the tv when a good game is on. “So how was your first day at the office? Think you’re going to like it there?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why I was resistant for so long.” You shift, put your leg under your butt, and take a sip of your beer. “It’s not going to be a career for me, but I have a really good feeling about the next two weeks.”

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[seijorhi]

Bully ~ Part II

Oikawa Tooru x female reader (+ Iwaizumi Hajime)

TW dub/non-con, bullying, slight degradation, voyeurism, filming, implied abuse, one mention of slapping, nsfw

Part I

‘Honey, it’s your choice. Whatever you decide to do, we’ll respect.’

The final whistle sounds, the team gathering up in a huddle and with a sigh you dutifully close your books and begin to pack them away into your bag. They still have to pull down all the nets and tidy up, but that never takes too long and the sooner you’re all out of here the better.

The sooner you can get away from them, the better.

It’s become routine at this point for you to slowly make your way down to the edge of the court while they duck into the locker room; the other third years acknowledging you with friendly enough smiles, the underclassmen no longer staring at you in vague confusion. 

But at this point you’re truly beyond caring what any of them think of your relationship with their Captain. 

Except instead of filing out like the rest of his teammates, Oikawa’s still on the far side of the court, trapped in a conversation with Coach Irihata and Mizoguchi. For a split second, his attention shifts towards you, lingering awkwardly by the big double doors, and you think you catch a flicker of irritation in his eyes – which is unusual, considering that he’s made this game his life and he has nothing but the greatest respect for both of the men before him. 

But it doesn’t really matter, you suppose. You’ll wait for him, whether it’s five minutes or fifty and he’ll either tell you what’s pissing him off, or he won’t and he’ll end up using you to work out his frustrations anyway.

With your parents away for the rest of the week and your house otherwise empty, you can only pray to any god that’ll listen that he won’t try and spend the night. Not that there’s much you can do to stop him, but a girl can dream, right?

The others are heading off, Makki laughing off some biting comment from Kyoutani, but you pay them no mind. Despite being the people you now spend the majority of your time with, they’re not your friends. 

You resign yourself to trudging back up into the stands to wait for Oikawa to finish up when a hand gently wraps around your arm, spinning you around. You start, every muscle in your body tensing on instinct, but as you come face to face with familiar olive eyes you relax – it’s only Iwa.

He regards you silently for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face before he glances over your shoulder to where Oikawa’s still talking with the coaches. 

“C’mon, they’ll be a while, I think. Let me walk you home.”

His place is almost a fifteen minute walk from yours, but you don’t bother trying to bring that up. Instead, you just shrug, shifting the strap of the bag slung over your shoulder, “It’s fine. I don’t need an escort, you know, it’s not that late.”

Maybe it’d be nice for once, walking home without Oikawa’s looming presence over your shoulder. You’re almost positive that he’ll still come by afterwards, especially because he knows as well as you do that there’s nobody to interrupt tonight, but you’ll take the tiny wins when you can.

Besides, you only have to stick it out a little while longer. 

Still holding onto your arm, Iwa’s eyebrows draw together into a slight frown and he bites back a sigh, “Shittykawa’ll throw a hissy-fit if I let you walk home alone tonight. C’mon.”

He’s not asking, you realise belatedly as he firmly but gently starts to lead you out of the gym, not sparing his best friend another glance. And you could probably dig your heels in and kick up a fuss and he’d probably let you go – at least, you think he would. He would, right? He’d listen if you asked him to stop – but what’s the point?

Nobody here actually cares what you want anymore.

Iwa’s different, you suppose. You don’t really know why. He’s just as complicit as the others, maybe even more so – he at least knows what’s going on, even if he refuses to acknowledge it or do anything about it… but that’s not entirely true, is it?

He’s the one to step in when Oikawa starts to take things too far in public. He’s the one to scare off your would be bullies, snarling and glaring at them from his place at your side. Iwa’s the reason you haven’t lost it completely, the one keeping your head above water. He’s a friend you suppose, or at least the closest thing Oikawa’ll let you have anymore.

He’s certainly the only one Tooru trusts with you whenever he’s not around, hence you haven’t heard any indignant shouts from the gym following in your wake despite the grip he has on you.

And Iwa is nice, in his own way. He cares about you, you think – or he cares enough to pretend for Oikawa’s sake. Either way, at least you know he won’t try to pull you down an alleyway and force you to suck his cock, so compared to your other options, he’s definitely the lesser of two evils. 

It’s quiet as the two of you walk, and you find yourself thankful for it. Oikawa’s always talking, he never shuts up, his incessant chatter shattering every moment of quiet, peaceful solitude you try to steal for yourself. 

And tonight, tonight your head’s already too full to pretend to play along with some semblance of chipper friendliness. 

Maybe that’s why you like Iwaizumi; you don’t have to pretend with him. He knows exactly what Oikawa is, and he’s too intelligent to believe that you’re content spending every waking moment by the setter’s side, much less that you genuinely love him. 

It’s a nice night, at least – there’s barely any clouds in the sky. You can see the stars glittering in the inky, midnight blue, and it’s peaceful, you think, with Iwa strolling quietly along beside you. 

Even when the breeze starts to pick up, the late summer night air nipping at your exposed skin. Your jacket’s folded up and shoved somewhere towards the bottom of your bag, but you honestly can’t be bothered to stop and ferret for it. 

“You’re cold,” Iwa states after a beat. Again, not a question.

Nevertheless, you shake your head. “I’m fine,” you reply, perhaps a little tersely, but he’s already shrugging off his own jacket and draping it over your shoulders. Oikawa would do the same thing, more out of a perverse sense of enjoyment from seeing you wearing his clothes than a genuine sense of concern over your comfort.

Still, you don’t fight Iwa on it, pulling his jacket tighter over your body. It’s warm, his lingering body heat making your own cheeks burn a little, and it smells like him, too. Musky, yes, but there’s something almost comforting about the fresh, woodsy scent.

Silence resumes between the two of you, but you feel the weight of his stare as the two of you wander along the path. Iwaizumi’s always been perceptive, more so than most give him credit for, and it’s only another few minutes before he speaks again.

“You’re quiet tonight.”

You hum noncommittally, staring resolutely at the concrete sidewalk rather than meet his pointed gaze. 

He huffs. “You gonna tell me what’s bothering you or not?” he tries again, the sheer bluntness almost enough to make you flinch.

“And what makes you think there’s anything bothering me?” you reply dully, kicking at the small little pebble on the pathway in front of you.

Iwa stiffens just a fraction, but you feel it – the shift in the air between the two of you. It’s the truth you won’t speak, the one he won’t acknowledge. Of course there’s something bothering you; this whole fucked up situation between the three of you. It’s not normal, it’s not healthy, surely he sees that, how the hell can he–

“Cut the bullshit,” he snaps. “You think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been acting lately? Something’s up, and if you think I’m the only one who’s paying attention…” he trails off, and suddenly his hand’s catching at yours, pulling you to a stop.

And when finally you drag your eyes up to meet his, your heartbeat quickens at the scowl written across his face, plain as day. 

“I’m not talking about… that. Did he–” he hesitates, biting down on his lip and you honestly don’t know whether you want to laugh or cry. “Something’s up.”

You could probably tell him to mind his own business, and part of you almost wants to. He might even listen, though he wouldn’t be happy about it, but the thing is, you’re just so tired. Tired of playing girlfriend for Oikawa, tired of being dragged along against your will, manhandled and fucked at every opportunity, tired of pretending that this is in any way okay, and you just want to finally give in and admit it out loud.

You want this to be over, and it’s so close you can almost fucking taste it. 

So you breathe deep, forcing yourself to relax. “My mom got a job in Tokyo. My parents… they’re leaving at the end of next week. Moving. It’s why they haven't been around much lately.”

Iwaizumi’s eyebrows furrow into a frown as he takes a second to absorb the information. “And… you? We only have a few months left until we graduate.”

You allow him a wry smile. “I know. They gave me a choice, I’m eighteen, I can stay here in the house by myself, finish up the year and graduate at Aoba Johsai before moving down with them…”

“Or?” he prods.

“Or,” you continue, “or I can go now. There’s some really good schools down there, I could have my pick. It’ll be a struggle, I know, transferring so late in the term, but–”

Iwaizumi scoffs, cutting you off, “But you’re not actually gonna go, right? You can’t just pack up and leave so close to graduation. You’re staying here in Miyagi.” 

He almost sounds angry– the muscle in his jaw’s twitching and as you stare at him you realise that he doesn’t sound angry; he is angry. His whole body’s tensed like he’s preparing for a fight, and it takes you by surprise. 

Sure, he’s pretty much the only person outside of Oikawa that you’d consider yourself to have any kind of relationship with anymore, but you’d never really thought he’d actually–

“Iwa,” you say gently, “I was gonna go to Tokyo after graduation anyway. Sure, it’s not exactly an ideal situation, but…” 

But it’s your chance to get away from all of this, from Oikawa, and you’re gonna take it and run. Whether or not Tokyo University accepts you, whether it means you have to work three times as hard to adjust to a new school’s curriculum just so you won’t completely flunk your final exams. 

It can’t be any worse than this.

He has to understand that. 

And really, what did he think was going to happen after graduation? You know Oikawa’s plans, and you’ll be damned if you let him ruin your life anymore than he already has, dragging you halfway across the world. You belong here, in Japan. Oikawa can go chase his pipe dreams on his own. 

He swallows tightly, and while the pinched scowl on his face doesn’t falter, his grip on your wrist eases just a fraction. “You were really just gonna leave without telling anybody?” he asks, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

“Who would I tell?”

—

Sure enough, it’s a little after midnight when your bedroom door sweeps open and Oikawa strides in like he owns the place. You watch through half lidded eyes as he starts to shed his clothes, stripping off and tossing them haphazardly onto the floor until he’s just in his boxers. 

He doesn’t say much as he lifts the covers and climbs into bed beside you, merely presses a surprisingly gentle kiss to your cheek, murmuring a quiet, ‘Just sleep, cutie,’ when you try to shift away from him.

He sounds tired, exhausted really, but you don’t care enough to comment, relieved more than anything that tonight he doesn’t seem to have the energy for more. There’d been some part of you that was worried that Iwa might have told him about the walk home – the secrets you’d unthinkingly entrusted to him – but he can’t have. There’s no possible way Oikawa would be so calm right now if he had. 

And Iwa wouldn’t do something like that in the first place. 

It might not have been the most traditional of friendships, and you know he’s still a little pissed off with your decision and the fact you had no intentions of telling him, but Iwa wouldn’t break your trust like that. 

And so with Oikawa’s arms wrapped around your middle, the warmth of his chest pressed up against your back, you allow sleep to claim you once more.

—

You hardly see him the following morning. 

There’s no sign of him when you wake up, though his side of the bed is still warm – you know he likes to run in the mornings; he probably ran home to shower before school. And if you’re grateful to Aoba Johsai for anything, it’s for putting the two of you in separate classes. You’re spared his presence and those of his mooney eyed fangirls, and you can actually focus on learning. Or try to, at least.

Iwa regards you with an unreadable expression when you take your usual seat at the desk next to his, but at least he doesn’t seem as pissed off as he was when he left you last night. You only have a week and a half left until you go, but considering he’s the closest thing you have to a friend anymore, you’re not sure how you would survive if he suddenly decided to give you the cold shoulder.

Still, he is quieter than usual as you both settle into class, and you can’t help your gaze from flickering over to him throughout the lesson, an uncomfortable pit settling into your stomach. Iwa doesn’t so much as look your way, busying himself in copying down the notes the teacher’s scrawling on the board.

You honestly didn’t expect him to be hurt, and as he brushes past you on his way out after the bell rings you begin to doubt whether you should have told him at all. It stings, more than you expect.

Yet the moment you try to follow him, calling out his name, a familiar figure steps in front of you, halting you in your tracks. 

“Hey, cutie,” Oikawa purrs, grinning down at you as he reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair back behind your ear. “I’ve missed you today. Come on, let’s go somewhere a little quieter.”

His fingers are laced with yours, tugging you along before you can even try to voice a protest. You both know you wouldn’t anyway, not anymore. 

Just like you don’t speak up when instead of dragging you outside to the courtyard, or even to the gym, he chooses an empty classroom, kicking the door shut behind him. 

There’s a question on the tip of your tongue, but you don’t have a chance to voice it as he grabs you by the collar of your shirt and smashes his lips to yours. 

Oikawa usually likes to take his time, to drag out your humiliation and reluctant pleasure as he toys with you, but today he wastes no time in shoving you back up against one of the desk, his fingers already yanking down your necktie and prying your lilac shirt open – buttons scattering as it rips.

“Tooru–” you gasp, panic flaring, but his lips curl into a smirk as he forces you back into another kiss.

“Quiet now, cutie, let me take care of my pretty girl, hm?” he growls between panting breaths. “You don’t want somebody stumbling in and interrupting us, do you?”

And your chest tightens, squeezing around your lungs like a vice, your gaze flickering back to the door – shut but not locked.

“Tooru,” you whisper again in a panic, clutching at the lapels of his blazer as he draws back enough to level a gaze at your chest, bare save for the virginal white lace bra you’d unthinkingly chosen that morning. 

His grin widens, but there’s something cold and utterly unflinching in his eyes as they flicker up to meet yours. “Lean back,” he tells you.

You shake your head, “I d-don’t–”

His hands are on your shoulders, abruptly shoving you backwards. “I said,” he coos as you sprawl back onto the wooden desktop with a startled squeak, “lean back for me.”

It’s been months since you’ve fought him, but as he flips up your skirt, fingers grazing possessively along the cotton of your panties and he sighs contentedly, sheer panic floods your system, overwhelming your better judgement. Before you can stop yourself your knees come up as you desperately scramble to right yourself, to put an end to this–

The slap to your cheek isn’t all that forceful, at least not compared to what you know him to be capable of, but it still takes you by surprise, the sharp, burning sting only registering as the shock of the blow fades.

Oikawa’s no longer grinning, his face twisted into a terrifying glare as wide, teary eyes stare back up at him. “Baby, you’re really testing me right now. You want to act like a disobedient little bitch, kick up a fuss, bring everybody running so they can see what a needy little whore you are, spread out on the table for me?” He snatches at your panties, harshly wrenching them down your now prone legs with one hand, the other reaching for his belt buckle, “You think you have a choice here? You think I give a fuck what you want?”

Your ears are ringing, the sound of your own heartbeat drowning out almost everything else.

It’s not the first time he’s hit you, or even the hardest, but with that one slap all the fight you have left just dissipates. You don’t even flinch when he spits directly onto your pussy, his thumb harshly spreading his saliva over your cunt – you just bite down on your lip to stifle the sob that threatens to burst.

And victory shines bright in his eyes at the sight of it. 

“Good girl, you know who this pretty pussy belongs to, don’t you?” he croons with saccharine sweetness, even leaning over to press a tender, affectionate kiss to your swollen lips. 

And you’d squeeze your eyes shut and try to imagine that you’re somewhere else, anywhere else if you didn’t know how much he hates it when you do. So instead, you lie there pliant and trembling, humiliation burning hot as he spreads your legs, pressing your thighs back towards your chest as he slots himself in between them.

“You look so good like this, you know?” he muses with a soft little chuckle as he leisurely strokes his cock, letting the flushed tip brush teasingly along your folds, nudging at your clit. “Prettiest little thing, and all mine, aren’t you, cutie.”

Tears well and spill soundlessly down your cheek, but your only answering is the hiccuping breath you draw in, your fingers finding purchase on the edges of the desk as he guides it back to your entrance.

It doesn’t matter that you’re not nearly ready for him, that his spit and the pre-cum that’s beading at his slit isn’t going to help ease his passage in the slightest. He’ll fuck you how he wants to – and you’re too broken to try and stop him.

Yet instead of savagely plunging in like you expect him to, Oikawa stills, regarding you with a tilted head and a cruel smirk. 

“Fuck,” he curses quietly, the sound almost reverent as he stares down at you. He shakes his head, another soft laugh bubbling out, “I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of seeing you like this, but if you’re going to be running off on me so soon, maybe I should take a little memento, what do you think cutie?”

Your stomach drops, dread creeping down your spine as Oikawa reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, opening up the camera and flicking it across to video. 

“I mean if this is going to be our last time together, don’t you think we should make it special?” You jerk, your breath coming out in short, harsh pants but you can’t move, can’t seem to lift a single finger as he leans in closer, bringing his lips to your ear, “That way we both have something to remember this by.”

And as his breath ghosts the tiny hairs on the shell of your ear he laughs again, pressing another quick kiss to your flushed, tear stained cheek. “Aw, don’t cry, cutie. You brought this on yourself.”

You don’t have a moment to prepare yourself, his hand slamming over your lips to muffle your shrieks as he thrusts his hips forward, sheathing himself in your tight little cunt with a choked moan.

“F-fuck, baby,” he grits out, biting down on his own lip as he relishes the vice like grip your pussy has on his throbbing cock, “Smile for the camera.”

Your back arcs up off the table, fingernails digging into the wood as he draws his hips back slowly, letting you feel every inch of his cock as it drags along your walls until it’s only the tip that remains inside of you.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts – a sharp and throbbing pain that only grows with each passing second. 

There’s something sadistic in his grin as he angles the phone down to where your bodies meet, your lewdly spread thighs, your glistening pussy in perfect view as another glob of saliva joins the first, pooling over your sex, sliding down his cock.

“You have no idea how perfect your pussy feels, baby,” he pants, slowly filling you up once more – your own wails stifled by his hand. “You’re mine, all fucking mine, aren’t you?”

There’s no hiding from the camera as he fucks you, slowly at first, but picking up his pace as the slick starts to build, your warm, velvety walls sucking him in deeper, squelching obscenely with every thrust. And between the sounds of his balls slapping against your ass – skin hitting skin as he fucks you roughly without care – and Tooru’s own satisfied moans, your muffled whimpers and cries go unheard. 

And just when you think your humiliation is complete, he takes his hand from your mouth, his thumb returning to your clit, teasing at the sensitive nub with slow, measured circles that have you keening, shaking beneath him as he stuffs you full. Slowly but surely that searing ache gives way to pleasure, a slight shift of his hips and his cock’s hitting that sweet spot he’s all too familiar with – and another strangled moan slips out.

“You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?”

You shake your head, fingernails digging into the wood, biting down harshly to keep yourself quiet as you feel that familiar heat pooling in your core, wanton pleasure flickering through you with every swipe of his fingers, every harsh thrust.

“No? You sure about that?” he laughs at the desperate whine that slips from your lips, “I wanna hear it, baby. Cum for me.”

But you can’t, you can’t make a sound, the door’s not locked, the door’s not locked and anybody could walk in any second, but you can feel it coming, your legs shaking and toes curling as your control slips–

“Cum,” Oikawa demands, his own voice a husky, shivering growl, and this time you’re helpless but to obey.

Your orgasm crashes into you like a wave, suddenly sweeping your legs out from under you. You arc up off the table once more, white hot pleasure exploding as you shiver and quake, your pussy clamping down on his cock and gushing as he fucks you relentlessly through it, chasing his end while drawing out your own.

And you’re so lost in the bliss, the pleasurable rippling aftershocks short circuiting your system that you don’t even realise that he’s pulled himself out of your cunt, stroking his slicked up cock with harsh pants–

Not until you feel the hot spurts of his cum hitting your stomach, a choked moan resembling your name shattering the fuzzy afterglow, dragging you harshly back down to reality.

There’s a twisted, self satisfied smirk on his face as he watches the cold realisation sink in, your eyes filling with fresh tears as your gaze flickers between him and the phone in his hand, still filming.

“You’re not leaving me,” he says, still a little breathless. “You’re mine. Isn’t that right, Iwa?”

No.

Please god, no.

Blood drains from your face, the pit in your stomach plummeting as his smirk widens and he turns his head to glance over his shoulder. You don’t want to look, can’t bear to, but it’s like trying to rip your eyes away from a car crash; your body moves with a will of its own. Heart pounding, nausea churning in your gut, you follow his gaze to find Iwaizumi by the door; jaw tight, arms folded across his chest, staring impassively back at you.

And that last little piece of you breaks.

[well-fuuuck]

The Link's Parents

These are just some headcanons I had on the Link's biological parents (or where I give the boys more trauma than they already have). I have a lot more thoughts on this topic than I originally thought, so this is a long post lmao.

Just a slight warning, this post does contain some triggering topics - bad parenting, absent parents, parents dying, alcoholism, allusions to abuse, allusions to suicide (nothing too explicit, and I don't think its too bad, but just as a warning)

So just stay safe, my friends

Warriors - he came from a poor family that lived in a poor area of castle town. His dad worked two jobs, so was rarely home while his mom was a seamstress. She worked from home, taking odd jobs from neighbors and fixing and making their clothes. Warriors has a sister (hi Linkle), but his parents weren’t able to feed so many mouths. When Linkle and Warriors were 9, they sent Linkle to a family friend who lived on a farm where she grew up to be a shepherd. It devastated them to send her away, but they wouldn't have lasted through the winter with so many mouths. When Warriors turned 18 he joined the knights, mainly just so he could earn money that he could send to his parents. A lot of people died during the war with Cia - including his parents.

Time - His father was a knight of Hyrule and his mom was a shopkeeper in castle town. They met during the Hyrulean civil war - Time’s father had gotten severely hurt and his mom had volunteered to be a nurse out in the field. His mom was treating his dad and they hit off. Because of his dad’s injury, he was sent home away from the war. They never married (their relationship was more of a fling than anything else), but had Time, and the war got worse. Time’s dad was sent off to fight again after he recovered from his injury but died in battle. This resulted in his mom entering Kokiri forest (to escape the war, but also she never had wanted to be a mother in the first place) and leaving Time there.

Twilight - his parents were young, dumb, and in love when they had him. His father thought he had been ready for fatherhood but heavily underestimated how much energy and time and selflessness it took. The father left the picture fairly early on (twi was probably around 2 or 3). Twi doesn’t remember his father at all. His mom stayed and cared for him until one day it had just been too much. Being a single mom is hard, and she couldn't handle it anymore (much like the father). The only thing Twi remembers is the image of his mother’s back walking away from him, leaving him to his own devices in an unfamiliar forest. He was eight and was still eight when Rusl found him, covered in dirt, twigs, and other various kinds of muck. Twilight doesn’t remember how long he was in Faron woods alone or how he even managed to stay alive by himself.

Hyrule - I'm pretty sure it's canon that Hyrule is a foreigner? Like he's not Hyrulean, which is kinda ironic considering his hero title. Anyway, his parents come from a far-off land across the ocean somewhere (who cares about the destination? I sure don't). Hyrule got his adventurous spirit from his mother, who was constantly traveling and finding new places to explore. His father was a hunter. The two met when his father found his mother trying to help a rabbit get his foot out of a bear trap. The rabbit would have been Hyrule's father's dinner, but his mom was adamant about healing the rabbit. The two hated each other at first, but they kept running into each other. Eventually, his father found Hyrule's mom in a precarious situation involving vines, a monster, and a broken leg. The two eventually were able to talk, get closer as Hyrule's mom's leg healed, and they had Hyrule. When Hyrule was still a baby (a year or two at most) there was a major outbreak of some serious sickness. Everyone who got sick died. When Hyrule's parents got sick, they didn't want Hyrule to fall to the same sickness - so they sent him away with some other people who were leaving on a boat to a land called Hyrule. A place that would be safe from the sickness.

Wild - well, it’s canon that his dad was a knight, we all know this. But he had two dads, one a knight, the other a chef in the town of Hateno. The two had met when the knight was stationed in Hateno for a while. The chef would cook meals for the knights, and maybe he would make a little extra something for that one special knight with the pretty blue eyes. And who wouldn't fall in love with a chef that cooked you special meals and flirted with you till sundown? So the two eventually got married and had Wild through a surrogate. When Wild was 3 they had another baby through another surrogate, a baby girl. Wild would grow up to be a knight like his father, and grow up to love cooking just as much as his other dad.

Legend - I know a lot of people are a fan of Legend being Zelda's sister...but meh. I'm just gonna create a whole new story for Legend's parents. Both of his parents were Hyrulean knights, both were stationed in Kakariko village (which is how they originally met). Legend's dad spent weeks trying to 'woo' his mom (Legend's mom was already infatuated with the guy from the start, but she liked the attention he was giving her when she teased him). The two dated for a long time before getting tying the knot (they dated for five years, then married on a whim without telling anyone). They were also married for a while before having Legend (almost another 5 years). Legend grew up with two happy parents for about ten years, before his mom was killed in a robbery gone wrong. His dad did not take it well, he stopped showing up to work, stopped eating, drinking, he stopped taking care of himself. Legend doesn't really remember how long that period of his life lasted, but he knew when it ended. His dad couldn't live without the love of his life, so he went to go be with her. From then on Legend went to live with his uncle.

Wind - his parents were childhood best friends on Outset Island. They grew up together and, honestly, married out of convenience. Don't get me wrong, they genuinely did love each other but it was more platonic than romantic. They had Wind, and four years later they had Aryll. They were...okay parents, if not a tad neglectful. Wind's mom never actually wanted to be a mom, but what else was there to do on a tiny island that she couldn't get away from? So, she held a small bitterness towards her children, felt as if they were anchoring her even more to the island. The father was happy to stay on the island; he was a very peaceful, go with the flow kinda guy. But he knew his wife wasn't happy, so in turn, he wasn't happy either. For their tenth anniversary, they decided to take a vacation. They had heard about Windfall Island and decided that it would be nice to have a getaway for their anniversary. They left Wind and Aryll with their grandma, told them they would be back in two weeks, and set out for Windfall. Wind and Aryll anxiously awaited the two week mark, but when it finally came there was no sign of their parents. Wind doesn't know if his parents got caught in a storm and got lost (or died), or just...decided to not come back. (you can choose whichever option you like best, but either way its sad so)

Sky - his parents were a bit of a...controversial topic among the Skyloftians. The two had known each other for a while, not friends just acquaintances, really. When they were 17 they decided to...ah have some fun time, the horizontal tango if you will. Anyway, that ended up with Sky being born to the two of them, with the couple not even married yet. They decided to not get married, though, because they didn’t love each other and knew that if they married it would just create bitterness between the two of them. So they raised Sky between the two of them just as friends and quickly became best friends. One year, maybe a year or 2 before the events of Skyword Sword, a plague hit Skyloft. Sky’s parents were two unfortunate ones that died early on from the plague.

Four - His parents were really in love and were a popular couple around town. They had been childhood friends, and that developed into them falling in love and marrying. They were married for two years before getting pregnant. Unfortunately, Four’s mom died in childbirth. His dad was wrecked after his wife died and drowned himself in some liquid courage. Four's dad was almost always drunk and couldn't take care of Four. Four’s dad ended up giving Four’s custody over to Grandpa Smith (four was probs around 2 or 3). Four doesn’t see his dad very often and doesn’t have any positive feelings towards him. Grandpa Smith and Four were close before his adventures - but they got even closer when Four needed help with the splitting and re-merging himself together.

[atlafan]

The Good Life - One Shot

a/n: okay so we have business man!Harry, and co-worker Y/N, but also she’s the boss’ daughter???? friends to lovers???? smut??? not proofread????

words: 14.5K

If there was one thing that Harry hated, it was a spoiled brat. He hated when people got whatever they wanted without even working for it. If he ever had kids, he would teach them the value of a dollar. You, however, were an exception to that rule.

Harry steps out of his office, and smells his favorite scent in the world. There was this perfume you’d wear that smells like raspberries. You were officially home for summer vacation, and you had to be here visiting your mother, who was Harry’s boss.

“Carol, is Y/N here?” Harry asks his secretary.

“Yes, she came by to have lunch with Cheryl. She just finished grad school, can you believe it?”

“That’s incredible…so that would make her what? Twenty-three?”

“She turns twenty-four later this summer.” She smiles.

This was good, Harry was only twenty-seven, so that wasn’t that big if an age difference. Carol knew Harry had a crush on you, even though he had never admitted it. He’d been working at the company for five years, so he’s known you for a while now. He’s always kept his distance, though. You went to a private school in high school, and you used to come to the office in your uniform after school. You were a senior at the time, but Harry still felt weird being attracted to you at that time. And sure, Harry’s had a couple of girlfriends that he really liked, even loved. It’s not like he was obsessed with you or anything. He just…thought you were cute.

You and your mother come out of her office giggling. Harry stands up straight and makes sure his tie isn’t all out of sorts.

“Harry, good I’m glad you’re here.” Cheryl starts. “You remember my daughter, Y/N.”

“Sure, hi.” He smiles.

“Hi, Mr. Styles.” You smile.

“Oh, honey, no need to be so formal, especially now that you’re joining the team.” Cheryl beams.

“What?” Harry asks.

“Harry, I know you and I usually discuss new hires, but Y/N officially has her MBA, and well, she really wants to work here.”

“I have since I was a kid. I’m really excited.”

“She’ll be your new assistant. Gotta start her somewhere.”

“But…that’s Carol’s job.”

“Carol is the office secretary, not a personal assistant. You’ve been asking for one for quite some time. I thought you’d be more excited.” She raises an eyebrow at Harry.

Harry looks at Carol, and Carol just smiles nervously.

“I think it’s great.” Carol says. “But a girl with an MBA…that’s a little too entry level, don’t you think?”

“Well, I certainly couldn’t start her as an associate director.” Cheryl laughs.

“It’s okay, I know I need to work my way up. I have, like, zero experience. This’ll be my first real job, so I really don’t mind being Harry’s assistant. I’m good at answering phones and writing messages down.” You smile. “I won’t disappoint you.”

“I didn’t think you would. This’ll be great. When do you officially start?”

“Monday. I was just coming by today to pass in some paperwork to H.R.”

//

Before the end of the day, Harry knocks on Cheryl’s door. She tells him to come in and he sits down.

“What can I do for you?” She smiles.

“So…why’d you choose me to work with Y/N? There’s plenty of people here that could use an assistant.”

“To be honest, Harry, I trust you. You’re close in age with her, you can give her advice on what it’s like just starting out. You were just a mail boy when you started.”

“That was when I was just an intern when I was still in school.” He chuckles.

“And we just loved you so we hired you. You’ve grown up a lot over the last five years, and you work so hard. I think she could really learn a lot from you. I’ll let you in on a little secret too, she actually asked if you needed an assistant.”

“She did?” He perks up. “I mean, uh, did she now?”

“Yes…I think she may have a small crush on you, but don’t mind her. If it makes you uncomfortable I can have her-“

“No!” He takes a deep breath. “No, it’ll be fine. She probably won’t like me much once she gets to know me anyways.”

“She knows you well enough. You’ve been to the house enough times for parties.” She laughs. “In fact, I’m hoping you and Amy will come skiing with us again this winter.”

“Oh, uh, Amy and I broke up.”

“Oh no.” She frowns. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

“It’s okay.” He shrugs. “Just wasn’t mean to be, but I’ll totally come skiing.” He grins. “Could be dating someone else by then anyways.”

“Very true.”

//

Monday morning you show up bright and early. You had a nice light purple blouse on with a black pencil skirt. Your mom had taken you shopping for some new work clothes, and you loved them. You had stopped off at a coffee place and grabbed a ton of different coffees and doughnuts. You wanted to make a good first impression. Most people knew you as Cheryl’s littler girl, but you were almost twenty-four, you weren’t a little girl anymore.

Harry always went to the gym before work, and would eat his breakfast in the breakroom before changing. He stops short when he sees you bent over the table making everything look nice.

“Morning.” He says, and you stand up straight right away.

“Hi, Harry…uh, coffee?” You gesture to the table of assorted drinks.

“Maybe in a bit.” He scrunches his face at the drinks. “Any of those just black?”

“Um…no…do people actually like black coffee?”

“I do.” He smirks. “You’ll want to know that. As my assistant, I’ll expect a coffee on my desk every morning.”

“Oh, uh, alright-“

“Y/N.” He chuckles. “I’m just teasing, I can get my own coffee.” Harry shakes his head and reaches to open one of the cupboards. He pulls out a box of protein bars and takes one out.

“No doughnut either?”

“Hmm….” He peers over and sees a chocolate glazed. “Save that one f’me?”

“Sure!”

“Thanks, I’ll have it after lunch.” He slings his gym bag over his shoulder. “Now, I usually go change in my office, so, don’t come in.”

“I won’t…do you always go to the gym before work?”

“Yup, helps wake me up, gets me ready for the day.”

“Cool.” You smile.

Everyone else in the office was very quick to snatch up the things you brought in, gaining major brownie points. Your mom was happy to see you take a little initiative. For most of the day you sat in on various meetings. You and Harry didn’t even have much time to talk. He shares his calendar with you so you can see when he’s busy, and you share yours with him as well. You had a nice size desk right outside his office. You brought some things with you to decorate it, pictures of friends and what not. Right before lunch, a few people come over to Harry’s office, women. One of them is about to open his door, but you stop her.

“Sorry, Mr. Styles is busy.”

“It’s okay, I’m a friend. It’s almost lunch.”

“But he’s on a call.” Your eyes peer over to the screen where you can clearly see on his calendar that he’s busy.

She sucks her teeth and looks at the other women.

“Fine…guess we’ll see him later then.” She sighs and they all walk away. A few moment later Harry slowly opens his door.

“That was brilliant, thank you.” You turn to look at him. “Those three always try to have lunch with me, it’s pretty annoying. Now I have a barrier that they have to get through.” He checks his watch. “Gotta go. Have a good lunch.”

“Thanks, you too.”

You go into Harry’s office and place the doughnut he had asked you for on his desk. When he gets back he smiles and picks it up.

“Wanna split it?”

“Sure!”

It looked so small in his large hand. You take the half from him and eat it happily.

“Come in around four, we can talk about your first day and what the rest of the week will look like. Sorry things have been so busy.”

“It’s okay, I feel like I’m already learning a lot.” You tuck some hair behind your ear. “I’m really glad I get to work for someone so chill. I was worried I was going to get stuck with Phil.” You laugh.

“Yeah, that would’ve been boring. He’s been here nearly thirty years. Think he has grandkids your age.”

“Gross.” You say and it makes Harry laugh.

At four you come into his office with a notepad. He had loosened his tie a bit, and his sleeves were rolled up.

“I’m really glad this place has A/C.” You say.

“Believe it or not your mum had to fight for that. It was before I started, but she made it happen.”

“Probably the hot flashes.” You start laughing and then you stop. “Sorry, TMI.”

“It’s alright. Didn’t think she went through the change yet.”

“Well, you know my oldest sibling is like…thirty-two right?”

“Ah, forgot you were the baby.”

“Hey.” You pout. “I may be the youngest, but I’m not a baby.”

“You’re the most fun. Your siblings didn’t even ski last year on that trip. They just sat around.” He rolls his eyes. “Anyways, let’s talk about your first day, how was it?”

“Good! I was a little nervous, but it was good. A lot to take in, but I’ll catch on.”

“Where do you see yourself going?”

“I want my mom’s job someday.”

“Ambitious.”

“I’m willing to work for it.”

“Well, you’ll have to wait a little while because when your mum retires, I’m hoping that spot’ll be mine.”

“Okay, so I’ll take your job in the meantime.” You smirk.

“Sounds like a plan.” He chuckles. “Anyways, you have a chance to look at my calendar?”

“Mhm, you have a lot of meetings this week.”

“That’s right, so I’ll need you alert for the phone. Oh, and some meetings I’d like you in on to take notes. Makes it easier for me to pay attention if I don’t have to have my laptop in front of me.”

“Okay.”

“This is your first real job, so I wanna make sure you know about burn out. You’ll accumulate time off, use it. Same with sick time. Mental health is important and you may feel overwhelmed at times. You’ll probably feel really tired by the end of the week. Make sure to check in with me about how you’re feeling. If there’s something you need, we’ll make sure you get it, okay?”

“Thanks, Harry.”

“Just paying it forward. This can be a really great place to work, you just need to know the right people. You know Carol, obviously. She’s the best. Don’t be afraid to go to her for help. She was amazing to me.”

“Yeah, her daughter used to babysit me.”

“Right.” He clears his throat.

“I think you’re the only person here that never saw me with braces.” You laugh. “I think you came on when I was, like, a senior in high school.”

“Sounds about right.”

“You were always so polite. I couldn’t believe it. When I got to college I always hoped the boys would be like you, but they weren’t.” You shrug.

“Okay, well, I think that’s enough for today. Why don’t you head home?”

“Would you mind walking me down to my car?”

“Oh, well, I’m not done for the day yet. I usually stay until six just to wrap things up.”

“Okay, then I’ll stay too.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

“You’re not allowed to. Your day ends at 4:30.” He runs a hand through his hair. “But I could take the stroll down to the parking garage with you if that makes you feel more comfortable.”

“If you don’t mind, I felt sort of sketched out this morning.”

“I get here at the same time every day. You can just wait for me if you want in the mornings, and we can walk up together.”

“I’d like that.”

//

Working with Y/N was great. Harry absolutely loved it. You kept him organized and taken care of. You stalked the cupboards with his favorite protein bars, and had started picking up his coffee, just because you wanted to. He always praised you and told you how much he appreciated everything you did.

You were good at your work too. He could give you a project and you’d have it done within a couple of days. You were determined and efficient. He could definitely see you moving up fast, which sort of made him sad. He’d keep you forever if he could, but that would be selfish. He thought his little crush on you would be distracting, but it wasn’t. It almost made you get along even better.

Your mom always hosted a company Labor Day party. You had a huge backyard with a large in ground pool. You couldn’t believe how fast the summer went by, but you were happy to be in a routine. You loved this pool party, and now you were there as an employee. It was always catered with the best food, and your friends would come by. This year, though, you didn’t invite them. You wanted to seem professional with everyone. You even wore a one piece bathing suit with a little sheer skirt tied around your waist.

You were walking around, mingling, when you saw Harry walk in. Usually he brought some pretty date, but the only thing in his arms was a platter of food he offered to bring, and some beers. You were excited that he hadn’t gotten back together with Amy, or that he had met someone new.

“Harry!” You exclaim when you go into the kitchen.

“Hi, Y/N.”

“You don’t look dressed to swim.” You tease him.

“Not really planning on it this year.”

“But it’s so hot out.”

“Drinks will keep me cool.” He winks at you and cracks open one of his beers. “Does it ever get annoying to have so many people around your house?”

“Well, technically, this isn’t my house anymore. I moved into the pool house last month and started paying my mom rent. I wanted to have a little more freedom, you know? But it’s just her in this big place now so I felt bad wanting to fully leave. She said she’s putting the rent money in an account for me so one day when I do buy a house or something, I’ll have something to start with. Plus, it gets me in the habit of paying bills.”

“Look at you, becoming a real adult.” He nudges you and you both go outside. “You’ll be twenty-four soon, right?”

“Mhm, next weekend. I’m going away with my friends. I’m leaving early Friday, don’t forget.”

“Got it on my calendar.”

He smiles and walks away. Of course he does, he wanted to talk with the other, older people at the party. Your mother adored Harry, she always had. Your step-dad liked him a lot too. You were sipping on some wine while the sun was setting, and the party was dwindling. You go over to Harry who was backed into a corner by one of the ladies from finance.

“Harry?”

“Oh, hi! So glad you found me, how about a tour of the pool house?”

“Sure!”

“Excuse us, she’s been dying to show me all day.” Harry says to the woman. He grabs your wrist and leans in. “Walk fast, or she’ll follow.”

You giggle as you both basically sprint away. You key into the pool house and lead him in.

“Oh, wow, this is actually really cool.”

“Thanks! We sort of used it as a guest house anyways, so it didn’t need much work. Just some paint and new furniture. It’s like a little one bedroom apartment. I love it. My friends can come over and we don’t have to worry about being quiet or keeping anyone up. It’s been working out great for everyone so far.”

“I’m happy for you.” He says, looking around. “It’s nice having privacy, isn’t it? I remember when I had saved up enough to move out.”

“Do you have your own house?”

“Haven’t bought any property yet, no. Suppose I could, but I’m fine renting for now. My place isn’t small though.”

“How come you haven’t yet?”

“I don’t know, I just figured I’d buy a house with someone, you know?” He sits down on the arm rest of your couch. “I mean, what if I bought a house, and the girl I was with wanted a different house? I’d want to make it ours. I’ve always wanted to buy my girl the house of her dreams.”

“I thought you didn’t like buying things for people.” You smirk. “But I suppose that’s really sweet.”

“It’s one thing if it’s a gift. I just don’t believe in giving people every little thing they want. They should work for it, you know?”

“My mom was really good about that when we were growing up. She said no all the time. I mean, we were spoiled a little, but at least we’re not brats.”

“True, you could be way brattier.”

“Hey.” You put your hands on your hips.

“Just teasing.”

Just as you were about to step closer to him, your mother opened your door.

“There you are, people are leaving, and…oh…am I interrupting something?” Cheryl asks, a little too eagerly.

“No, mom.”

“She was just helping me escape from Beth in finance.”

“She’s gone.”

“Great, coast is clear.” He stands up. “Better get going myself. Thanks again for a great party. Sorry Ed had to be traveling.”

“You’ll have to come over for dinner next time he’s home.”

“Sounds good, love hearing his traveling stories.”

He gives your mouth a hug, and out he goes. You glare at your mother.

“I’m so sorry.” She says. “I did interrupt.”

“You certainly cooled things by saying that.” You groan. “I finally got him alone, we were talking about things other than work for once! He likes the way I decorated.”

“Honey…Harry’s a little older than you, and you’re fresh out of school. He may just be looking for different things, we’ve talked about this.”

“It’s not like I’m right out of undergrad. I have my MBA, and I’m doing really well at work.”

“You are, you’re doing amazing. Come on, help me say goodnight to our guests.”

//

Harry had already gone to lunch when you were packing up your things to leave early for your girl’s weekend. You notice a card on your desk. You open it and smile. A Visa gift card slides out.

Don’t spend it all in one place. Don’t check your email. Have a great time, and happy birthday. – H

You bite your bottom lip and try not to squeal. That was so sweet of him. You pack up your things and head out. You send him a quick text saying thank you for the gift and out you go.

He missed you the rest of the afternoon, but your thank you text made him smile. You told all of your friends about Harry. He had given you a $100 gift card, which was way too much. He had to like you, there was no way he would have given that much money to just anyone.

//

For Thanksgiving, your family did things a little untraditionally and went skiing. It was something your mother’s family used to scrape together to do, and she continued the tradition with you and your siblings. She bought a huge house in the mountains when you were young. Her friends would come too, sometimes Ed’s parents as well. It was just for people to get together for an entire week, and then share a good meal.

Harry and his girlfriend at the time, Amy, came last year. To be fair you had brought a boy with you too, but it was nothing serious. He would be joining again this year, and he wouldn’t be bringing anyone with him. The house had separate wings, so guests wouldn’t be on top of each other.

There were some other young people there too, along with your siblings and their partners. You were excited to spend time with so many people. None of your siblings wanted anything to do with the family business, which you couldn’t understand. You loved working for your mom.

“Harry!” You hear your mom. “How were the roads?”

“Not too bad yet, just a bit icy.”

“Y/N, help Harry to his room. Look at all the things he’s carrying.”

“She doesn’t need to-“

“Don’t be silly. I’m used to helping you.” You giggle.

You carry one of his bags to his room.

“Thanks.” He walks around and makes sure he has his own bathroom like last time. “Perfect.” He smiles. “I can’t wait to hit the slopes. Is your mum making that green bean casserole again for the holiday? It’s so good.”

“Actually, uh, I make that.”

“Really? Should have known.” He smiles. “Which wing are you in this year?”

“Oh, I’m right across the hall from you actually. My siblings have babies and I didn’t want to risk losing sleep. Is that okay that I’ll be so close by?”

“Definitely. I don’t know who else is going to be here, so it’ll be nice to have a friend so close by. Sure you don’t mind spending so much time with your boss?”

“You’re, like, the best boss ever. Don’t mind at all. Besides, you’re on my turf now.” You step closer to him.

“Oh, is that right?”

“Mhm.”

You hear your name being called from down the hall and you sigh.

“You’ll ski with me tomorrow, right?” He asks before you leave.

“Only if you use the hot tub with me. Gonna need to relax after a long of day of hitting the slopes.” You wink and off you go.

Your mom and Ed make a huge dinner for everyone that night. People were drinking and having a great time. You all head to bed early so those that plan to go skiing and snowboarding, can.

//

The next morning you get all your gear on, and head to the kitchen. Harry was sipping on his black coffee.

“Should I have made that for you?” You smirk and fill your own mug, adding a little creamer to it.

“You’re off the clock, remember.” He takes another sip. “Want some eggs?” He points to the pan of scrambled eggs he made up for everyone.

“Sure! Thanks, Harry.” You beam.

You both share a nice, quiet breakfast together until everyone else comes racing in. Someone makes bacon, and breakfast sausage to go along with the eggs. Harry offers to drive you up to the mountain, no one really seems to notice.

You and Harry have a great day taking runs together. You stop off for a quick lunch at the lodge. Just as you were bringing over a couple of hot chocolates you see him talking to some random girls. You watch as he laughs along at some joke. You hated watching him flirt. He was too good at it. You walk over and hand him his hot chocolate.

“There she is.” He hooks his arm around you and takes the cup of hot chocolate. “Told you ladies my girlfriend would be right back.” He looks at you with a please help me face. “Thanks for the drink, babe.”

“My pleasure.” You kiss his cheek. “Who are your new friends?”

“Oh, we were just leaving.” One of them rolls their eyes and they all leave.

“Nice touch.” He lets go of you and takes a sip of the warm drink. “Mm, this is good.”

“They were bothering you?”

“They invited me to some party. They have to be in college or something. I told them I had a girlfriend. Sorry about that.”

“No worries, it was easy to play along.” You both smile at each other, and he blushes slightly. “Hope it’s okay that I did that.”

“Didn’t mind at all.”

After a few more hours, your legs were starting to get sore. You take a shower the second you get home, and you all eat another big meal together. Ed gets a fire started. Some people play card games. Harry even gets into a game of poker with some of the guys. You announce you’re going to get the hot tub started.

“Oh, that sounds like fun.” Your sister says.

Your mom watches as Harry gets up from his chair to go to his room to change.

“Janey, honey, stay inside, would you?”

“Why?”

“Because I think Harry’s going to join your sister…”

“So?”

“So, why not give them some privacy?” Ed says.

“Ah, I see, so you’re letting her work for you as a way to match them up?” She scoffs.

“No.” Your mother sounds offended. “I just think they’d make a cute couple, and it’s much more appropriate now, so-“

“Mum, she works for him…”

“There’s nothing against it in our H.R. policy. As long as they disclose things if they decide to date, it’s not a big deal. You also didn’t ski all day. You can use the hot tub tomorrow.”

//

You get a two piece on and throw a robe over yourself. You go outside to the back deck where the large hot tub was, and get the jets started. You slip your robe off and get in. A few minutes later Harry comes out with a t-shirt and trunks on.

“Alright if I join you?”

“Yeah! I basically asked you to yesterday.”

You look away as he takes his t-shirt off. You look at him once he’s in. You knew Harry was littered with tattoos. You’d seen him without a shirt on plenty of times. He’d been coming to your house and family gatherings for years. Your mom was really good at creating positive work environments where the boss didn’t need to be this person to be feared. She was a woman of the people, and that’s how you wanted to be. Harry had learned a lot of leadership skills from her, maybe that’s why he was such a great supervisor to you as well. You watch as a sigh leaves his lips and it makes you smile.

“What’s better than this?” He asks, looking at you.

“Not much.”

“Do your legs hurt much?”

“A little. I stretched quickly when I got home.”

“You looked great out there today, you’re fearless on those black diamonds.”

“Oh…thanks.” If your cheeks weren’t already flushed from the steam, they would be from his compliment. You knew he just meant your form and not necessarily your clothes, but still.

“Did I tell you that Paula invited me for Thanksgiving?”

“No!” You gasp. “You’re kidding?!”

“Nope.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “Jocelyn did too, as if neither of them knew I hang with your family. I told them and they were shocked I wanted to go skiing with the boss again. Your mum’s like family to me at this point.”

“You also don’t really celebrate Thanksgiving.” You giggle. “Why go to someone’s home you barely know when you can basically just go on an early winter getaway?”

“Exactly! I don’t understand the women we work with, honestly. The second the picture of Amy left my desk it was like…I don’t know they stopped seeing me as a colleague and more like prey.”

“Does it bother you that so many women flirt with you?”

“It’s not just the women.” He smirks. “And no…not really. It’s mostly harmless. It’s not like they’re putting their hands on me or anything. And it’s not that none of them are attractive or anything.” He sinks a little further in and rests his head on the back of the cushion provided. “I just don’t want to date someone I work with.”

Your heart falls into your stomach. Why would he say something like this to you? You two sort of flirted at work, but mostly things were professional. He met you every morning to walk you upstairs, and he’d always bring you down to your car. Even if he was in a late afternoon meeting, he’d excuse himself at 4:30 to make sure you got downstairs okay.

“I mean, what’s there to talk about when you get home? I suppose if you work in separate divisions that’s not so bad. But the other person knows what you do all day. Seems a little boring.”

“But on the flip side, that person would know exactly what you’re going through and would be able to relate and understand your schedule. Why did you and Amy break up?”

“Uhh.” Harry has to really think about it. It was so long ago now. “We had started talking about moving in together, and she couldn’t understand why I would never try to get out of work earlier so we could go look at places. I stay late so I can leave my work at work. I would try to explain that to her. And then when I would come home early I’d have to be on my laptop answering emails. She didn’t feel prioritized, which I understood was annoying.”

“See? Someone you work with would totally understand.”

“She was also a couple years older than I am, and I could tell she felt like her clock was ticking.” He shrugs. “I wasn’t ready for all the steps she was, at the time.”

“You do tend to date a lot of older women.” You chuckle. “I think one time you brought a woman almost ten years older than you to one of our dinner parties.”

“I used to go out with a lot of divorced women.” He smiles.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I was young and it was easy to not commit to them. Some of them had kids and stuff, it was an easy out.”

“So you would date just to…fuck and then leave, essentially?”

“I wouldn’t phrase it like that, but I think deep down I saw it as a way that I could be with someone without fully needing to commit. Again, I was young and stupid.”

“You’re still young.”

“And maybe just a little less stupid.”

“Only a little.”

“And what about you? I think I’ve seen you bring every type of guy home with you. Jocks, artists, short guys, tall guys…”

“It’s easier to bring someone to family functions, you know how it is. Some of them were just friends. I never knew which things you were going to come to.” You say nonchalantly.

“Why would me being there matter?”

You realize now what you’ve admitted.

“You know, there’s a fridge out here full of wine, why don’t I-?” You start to get up, but he puts his hand on your shoulder to sit you back down.

“Just answer the question, Y/N.”

“Well…if we’re talking about being young…I obviously had a crush on you…back then.” You were starting to sweat, and it wasn’t from the steam popping out of the bubbles and jets. “I mean, what other teenage girl liked visiting their mom at work as much as I did? I remember the first time I saw you too, I came in after school to drop something off since I was able to drive myself, and I nearly passed out. You were talking with my mom and I felt too nervous to walk up to you. I never felt more like a child in my life. I gushed to my mom about you, and she told me you actually weren’t that much older than I was.”

“So you’d come around more just to see me? You never said more than hello?” He smirks.

“I was way too nervous. You know I almost asked you to take me to my prom?! How embarrassing.” You laugh. “One of my friends took me, obviously.”

“I remember when you came to the office in your dress.”

“It wouldn’t have been so weird if we got together. I was eighteen my entire senior year.”

“You still had a lot of growing up to do. Eighteen legally means you’re an adult, but other than that you’re still just a kid.”

“I realized that the second I got to college. I had a major culture shock. I mean, I was able to do my laundry myself, unlike other kids, but I definitely learned that a maid wasn’t coming around to make my bed or take out the trash. I grew up even more in grad school when I had my own apartment. My mom paid for it, but still.” You shrug. “I was really on my own.”

“Are you happy you went to grad school right after?”

“Yeah, I don’t think I would have gone back if I hadn’t just done it. You have your MBA, right?”

“Mhm, got it a couple years ago through this online program your mum helped me find. It was the only way I was able to move up the way I did.”

“So…it doesn’t totally weird you out that I had a thing for you?”

“Nah.” He smiles. “It’s flattering.”

You may have been willing to expose yourself, but Harry wasn’t. How could he say he had a thing for you too? It still felt weird to him. There was a reason he kept his distance from you. Now, things were less weird. You were twenty-four and he was twenty-seven, almost twenty-eight. You weren’t a child anymore.

“And it’s not weird to say this to my supervisor either?” You cock an eyebrow at him.

“We’re off the clock, away from the office. Besides that, I won’t be your supervisor forever. You’re doing really well, you’ll move up soon.”

“Thanks.”

You desperately just wanted to lunge at him, throw your whole body and mind at him and have him fuck you right there in the hot tub, but the jets slowly came to a stop.

“Think that means we’re supposed to get out. Not supposed to stay in these things long.”

You watch as Harry stands up, your eyes following the droplets of water falling from his chest. He gets out and grabs a towel quickly. He picks up your robe and hands it to you. He looks in the other direction as you stand up and grab it from him.

“Fucking cold out.” He says and you start giggling.

You both go inside and go to your wing of the house.

“You looked away when I got out.” You say as you reach your doors.

“Pardon?”

“When I stood up and got out, you looked away.”

“I was just trying to give you your privacy.”

“Why?”

Now Harry was sweating.

“Because I’m not a guy who ogles women, okay?”

“Are you sure about that? I see the way you glance at me in the office. You’re always complimenting my clothes.”

“You wear nice clothes. Right now, you’re not wearing much, so I didn’t look.”

“My, what a gentleman.” You step a little closer to him. “I don’t mind if you look.” You whisper and then step away from him. “Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight.” He swallows hard as he watches you walk into your room. He goes into his room and locks his door. He wasn’t sure if you were playing a game, but he wouldn’t play it…not while on vacation with your family.

//

The next day he finds himself on the chair lift with your mother. You all had enjoyed a nice breakfast together before heading off to your various activities.

“Sleep well, Harry?”

“Yeah, beds are super comfortable.”

“You don’t mind having it to yourself this time around?”

“Not at all, I can really stretch out.” He chuckles.

“How was the hot tub? It working okay?”

“Uh…yeah…how did you know I used it?”

“Well, the second after Y/N left to go change you got up as well. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist.”

“She had mentioned it the night before. I asked her to ski with me yesterday, and she had said yes, but only if I joined her.”

“Right.” She smiles. “Was it just you two out there?”

“It was.”

“And how was that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you enjoy spending time with my daughter? Outside of work, I mean. You both work so well together. You’ve helped her out a lot there, you’re almost like a mentor now. She’ll move up quickly. She’ll be your equal before you know it.”

“She’s very bright.”

“She is. Anyways, outside of work, you both also make a great pair.”

They both jump off the chair once they’re at the top of the mountain.

“What exactly are you saying, Cheryl?”

“I’m saying I’m okay with it.”

“Okay with what?”

“If you wanted to date her, ask her out, whatever, I’d be okay with it. She’s grown woman, she can make her own choices. I would just hope you two weren’t scared to go for it because of me.”

“Cheryl…I…”

“If you don’t like her like that, then I apologize for overstepping. I’m not one of those overprotective people that’s going to stand in the way. I just ask that if you two decide to date, you disclose it with H.R. and keep things as professional in the workplace as possible.”

Before Harry has a chance to say anything, she begins her run down the mountain. He was thoroughly confused. Had she essentially just given him her blessing and permission to ask you out? He wanted to, he really wanted to, but was now the right time? On a fucking family vacation?

//

After the tiring day of taking a crack at snowboarding, you realized skiing was definitely the winter sport for you. Harry had just finished showering and gotten dressed in a sweater and pair of slacks. You were hanging out in your room, just taking some time to scroll on your phone. You hear a knock on your door.

“It’s open!” You call, not looking up from your phone. You were laying on your stomach, with your feet hanging in the air as your knees were bent. Your door opens and you sit up immediately when you see it’s Harry. He leans in the doorway.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“How was your day?”

“Good, I tried snowboarding.”

“That’s nice. I went skiing with your mum.”

“Oh, I bet she enjoyed that.”

“She did.” He looks you up and down and squints at your comfy clothes. “Get dressed.”

“Why? We don’t need to be fancy for dinner.”

“Yes we do, because we’re going out tonight.”

“Oh, well no one told me.” You say, annoyed that the messaged hadn’t been relayed. You suppose it made sense since you’d all be cooking a lot once Thanksgiving actually came around.

“You’re misunderstanding me.”

You stop short as you reach your dresser.

“Then explain.”

“You and I are going out to eat. I’m taking you out.”

“Why?”

“So we can be alone.”

Your jaw nearly drops. Both of your eyebrows raise at him. It wasn’t exactly the nicest way for him to ask. This was how he spoke to people in meetings sometimes so they knew he meant business. It always sent a surge through you to see him be so…powerful.

“Would you like that?”

“Yes.”

“Alright then, you’ve got thirty minutes.”

With that, he grabs your door handle and closes your door for you. You were stunned, but giddy. You pull out a cute sweater and a pair of jeans to wear with a nice pair of boots. You fix your hair and makeup, and you’re ready to go. Harry was waiting for you in the living room. He had already told your mother he was taking you out for dinner, and she had told everyone not to make a big fucking deal about it. He hands you your coat and out the door the two of you go. He opens the car door for you, and then he gets in on his side to start driving.

“So, where are we going?”

“Do you remember that Italian place we went to last year? I’ve got a craving for pasta and bread, lots and lots of bread.”

“Skiing all day will do that to you.” You giggle. “Works for me.”

“Good.”

His glove covered hand reaches for your and he intertwines his fingers with yours, resting the conjoined fist on your thigh. He doesn’t look at you, he keeps his eyes on the road. This was his subtle way of saying that was, in fact, a date. You give his hand a little squeeze to let him know that, in fact, you were okay with it.

Once you’re at the restaurant, he opens your door for you again, and leads you inside. You stay close to him for warmth, it was freezing outside.

“Hello, how many?” The hostess asks.

“Two, please.” Harry says.

“That’ll be fifteen minutes. Here’s a buzzer. Feel free to grab a drink at the bar while you wait.” She smiles and he takes the buzzer from her.

“Wanna grab a drink?” You ask him.

“No, we can just get a bottle ordered for the table.” He notices your slight disappointment. “Is that alright?”

“Yeah, makes sense.”

You both wait awkwardly until the buzzer buzzes and you’re brought to a table. You take your coat off and hang it on the back of your chair, and he does the same.

“You can pick the wine.” He says, smiling. “I’m fine with whatever you like.”

“Well, I’ll wanna pick out something that would taste good with our meal. I was thinking chicken parm.”

“You know, so was I.”

“Perfect, then a bottle of red…some merlot maybe?”

“Sounds good to me.”

A waiter comes over with water and bread, and takes your full order. You butter your bread and take a bite.

“Mm, so fresh.” You say, and dab your mouth with your napkin.

“It’s delicious. I won’t even be mad at myself if I fill up on it.”

The waiter comes back with the bottle of wine and opens it for you both. He pours the glasses and leave you alone after. You both clink your glasses together and take a sip.

“So.” You say.

“So.” He repeats.

“Why is this happening?”

“Because…I-“

“I thought you didn’t want to date people you worked with.”

“You’re the exception.”

You were the exception for a lot of things. Harry only exclusively dated older women, and here you were three years younger than he was. He hated spoiled rich kids. But here you were, not so spoiled, but definitely rich. He hated brats, but here you were, knowing full well how much of a brat you could be if you really felt like it.

“Well, don’t I feel lucky.” You say, sarcastically with a smirk of your own.

“Do you not want to be on a date with me?”

“No, I do. I have for a long time, obviously.”

“Obviously.” He repeats.

“How long have you wanted to take me out for?”

“Too long.”

You smile and bite your bottom lip as he smiles and takes a careful sip of his wine.

“You know you’re cute, come off it.” He says.

“Oh, so you only like me for that fact alone?”

“Not true. I like a lot of things about you, but I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of listing them.”

Your food is brought over and you both thank the food runner before diving in. He watches as you elegantly twirl your spaghetti with your fork onto the large spoon so you don’t make a mess. He starts with his chicken.

“This is as good as I remember.” He says. “Much better company this time around though.” He grins and it makes you blush.

“I agree.”

It’s a good date, a really good date. You were able to open up to him about things you wouldn’t normally. You talked about what your friends were doing with their lives. He talked about his friends as well. Some of them were married, some of them were traveling. He was sort of just in the middle, and fine with it. You don’t finish all of your food, the plates were far too big, but you both wrap it up to take it home. Someone was bound to eat it. You’re both given minty chocolates and Harry squares up the check.

“Thanks for paying.” You say as you get your coat back on.

“Don’t mention it.” He says, taking your hand and leading you out of the restaurant.

When he pulls into the driveway of the large house, he only pulls partially in before parking, keeping the car on, heat blasting.

“What are you doing?”

“M’not ready to go in yet. Not sure I want our date to be over already.” He unbuckles and turns slightly to look at you. You unbuckle as well so you can look at him comfortably.

“Good thing it went well, could make the rest of the week pretty awkward.”

Harry laughs at that and nods his head. He grabs a tic tac from his console and pops one in his mouth.

“Want one?”

“Please.” You hold your hand out and he shakes the small container so one comes out. “People don’t value tic tacs enough. They’re the perfect little mints, you know?” You say, sucking on it.

“You’re really cute, you know that?” He leans his are on the steering wheel so he can rest his chin on his palm. He was smiling at you, just truly enjoying your company. “I have that thought at work nearly twenty times a day, and I never get to say it loud.”

“Well, you should. Nothing wrong with an ego boost, right?”

“Y/N.” He chuckles. “Why would I say something that could so easily make you uncomfortable?” His mouth forms into a straight line. “I would never want to make anyone feel uncomfortable where they work. Why do you think I keep my distance, physically? I never lean over your desk, or get too close to you.”

“I appreciate that a lot. You definitely make me feel comfortable.”

“Good. I’d feel terrible if I ever did something…”

“Harry.” You put your hand over the one he wasn’t resting his chin on. “It’s all good.” You smile. “You’ve always been really professional, and respectful.” You give him a reassuring smile. “But we’re not at work right now, so if you wanna get a little closer to me…I wouldn’t mind.”

“So, what you’re saying is…” He lifts his chin from his palm and gently cups one of you cheeks. “If I were to kiss you right now, that would be okay?”

“More than okay.”

He smiles and leans in. You close your eyes in anticipation, and smile once his lips are on yours. You always wondered if something like this would ever happen with him. It mostly happened in unclear, faded dreams. His hand gently moves to the back your neck to pull your closer to him. Your hands find the front of his jacket so you can also tug him closer to you. It was difficult kissing in the front seats of the car, but you were trying to just focus on the way he kissed you.

He sighs happily against you. You get a little carried away and take his parted lips as an invitation to gently bite down on his bottom lip. You let go of him and look up at him through your lashes. He doesn’t let you get to far away before he slots his mouth over yours, and you both essentially grope each other. The windows in the car were starting to fog as you both started breathing heavily, and you weren’t even kissing with tongue! Not yet, anyways. You both still easily tasted like Italian food, the tic tacs only helped a little. Harry could feel the front of his pants tightening and that was when he decided to pull away.

“Right.” He clears his throat and adjusts his jacket. “They’re probably wondering, uh, where we are so.”

Before you can say anything, he throws the car in drive and gets you the rest of the way up the driveway. He gets out and opens the door for you. All you do is smile. You couldn’t stop even if you wanted to. When you get inside various people are hanging around the fireplace. Some people are playing cards, and your mother was in the kitchen getting certain dishes prepared so there was less to do on Thanksgiving itself.

“Hey, you two.” Ed says, with a smile. “There’s some hot chocolate in the crockpot if you’re interested.”

“Thanks, Ed.” Harry smiles and takes his coat off. “Would you like some?”

“Please.” You say and hang up the coats.

Harry gets two mugs and fills them up with the homemade drink. Cheryl smiles at the two of you as you walk in and take a sip.

“How was dinner?” She asks.

“Good, we went to that Italian place we all went to last year. Still just as good, if not better.” You tell her.

“Glad to hear it.” She smiles. “Everyone’s just been relaxing. I think tomorrow we’re taking a trip out for a little hike, and then in the evening we’re going to look at those ice castles. They look so much better at night. Then taking a break on Thanksgiving of course. Too much cooking to do.”

“Sounds good, mum.” You finish your drink and stick the mug in the sink. “Think I’m gonna go get cozy for the night.” You give her a kiss on the cheek and give Harry a look before going to your room.

Cheryl smirks at Harry.

“What?”

“You had a good time, then?”

“Yes.” He chuckles and rinses out the two mugs. He leans against the counter and crosses his arms, studying Cheryl. “What’s your angle with all this? Mum’s usually like me, but you’re really adamant about this.”

“As Y/N’s mother, I want her to be happy. She’s gushed about you for years, and well, you’re both at an appropriate age now, I think it’s fine if you date. I know you really well, Harry. You’re not the type to hurt a girl. Even if it didn’t work out, I know you’d still be sweet about it. I trust you with her. No other angle than I think you could make her happy, I think you could make each other happy. Things didn’t work out with my first husband, that’s why divorce is a thing. Ed and I make each other happy, I didn’t have that before. I see the way you two look at each other. You have something, and it would be silly to not go for it.” She puts her knife down that she was using to chop some vegetables. “I suppose it seems like I’m trying to pimp her out, doesn’t it?” She laughs.

“Little bit.” Harry laughs with her.

“Well, I don’t mean to. She can make those choices on her own.” She looks in the direction you had walked off. “Something tells me she’s waiting for you.”

“And you’re alright with that.”

“Well, maybe just don’t get busy while we’re all under one roof, but it might be nice to have an after date chat, don’t you think? Hang out a little?”

Harry laughs and shakes his head. He makes his way down the hall where his bedroom is. He uses the bathroom, brushes his teeth, and then changes into some sweatpants. He puts a long sleeve bed shirt on as well. He opens his door and sees yours is a crack open. He taps on the door frame.

“Y/N?”

“It’s open.” You say, this time a little less loud. He opens the door and sees you on the bed in your pj’s, snuggled up. “Come in.”

He smiles and closes the door behind him. He sits down on the edge of the bed.

“Wanna watch a movie? This TV has a chromecast.”

“Great idea.” He climbs up the bed to sit next to you as you set everything up. You put an easy going comedy on.

You lean back and he puts his arm around you so you can both get really cozy. It didn’t take long until you both passed out. You woke up in the middle of the night with Harry’s arms wrapped around you, his pelvis pressed to your butt. He liked to spoon, he could sleep comfortably like this with you. You sigh and fall back to sleep easily.

//

Harry woke up before you. He presses kisses to your temple before getting out of your bed. When you turn over you feel where he slept was still warm. He must have gotten up to start his day. You were a sweaty mess after your hike. You couldn’t wait for the sun to set so you could go to the ice castles and see them all lit up.

Harry held your hand the entire time, he even wraps his arms around your chest as he walked behind you, pointing out different ways the lights hit the ice. It was very romantic. Or, it would have been if your siblings weren’t around with their kids. But nonetheless, it was nice.

The next day you all help cook and set up for a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner. You sit right next to Harry, and he holds your hand under the table. You had driven up with your mom, but you opt to drive home with Harry the next day. You both were desperate to just be alone together.

“Do you want me to drop you off so you can unpack and all that? I can come grab you later if you want.”

“That’d be great, and I can just drive myself to your place if that’s easier.”

“Whatever works.”

He helps you get all your things inside, and after a few minutes of kissing, he leaves you to go take care of his own things. You shower and freshen up after unpacking, and then hop in your car to Harry’s. You weren’t sure what your evening would look like, but you didn’t really care. You were just happy to maybe do a little more than kiss.

You text him when you get to his place, and the doorman lets you in. You get into the elevator and head up. You knock on his door and he opens it, yanking you in and shoving you up against the wall next to the door. Clearly, he wanted to do more than kiss as well.

He had one hand cupping your cheek, and the other on the side of your neck to keep you in place. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. His hands drift down your sides, and you feel yourself being hoisted up. You wrap your legs around his waist and he carries you down the hall to his bedroom. You tug at his hair as your tongue slips into his mouth. His molds to yours as he sets you down. He groans into you and it sends a shiver up your spine. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Get on the bed.” You tell him. He sits down, but your shake your head. “Sit all the way back, I’m not kneeling on the hard wood.”

His eyebrows fly up when he realizes what you’re talking about. He quickly gets back further on the bed. You crawl on, and sit on his lap. He kisses on your neck while you roll your hips down on his. His hands slide to your ass to grope and squeeze at you. You nip at his lips before getting of his lap and settling between his legs. Your fingers fiddle with the button and zipper on his jeans.

“Is this okay?” You ask, looking up at him.

“Yes.” He breathes. “Do whatever you want.”

You grin and slide your hand inside his jeans, palming him above his boxers. His head rolls back from your touch alone. It was something he’s wanted for so long. You tug his jeans down, he lifts his hips to help you, and you get them all the way off. You lift his shirt slightly to kiss on his tattooed stomach as you work your way down. You tug his boxers down and his hard dick springs out, slapping against his stomach. Your eyes grow wide and you look up at him.

“Jesus.” You say under your breath as you start to rub your thumb over his tip.

“Fuck.” He breathes as his head rolls back again. He felt like he was being pampered.

You let go of him, only for a minute, to get some spit on your hand. You start pumping him up and down, slowly at first. You gets yourself settled on your knees, leaning forward so your ass was in the air, and you kiss his tip. He looks down as you swirl your tongue around him before sinking further down on his hard dick. You couldn’t take all of him, even if you tried, so you pump what won’t fit. One of his hands slides down your back and down to your ass to squeeze at you. His other hand works through your hair to hold it back for you. He moans out when you swallow around him and really start bobbing your head up and down.

“Feels so good, Y/N, fuck.” His hips buck up involuntarily, causing you to gag slightly on him. “Sorry, babe.”

You squeeze one his thighs to let him know it’s okay. Your eyes flicker to his tiger tattoo, and if you weren’t sucking him off you’d smile at it. Harry was so interesting. You couldn’t wait to learn everything about him. Like right now, you couldn’t wait to learn how he tasted, how he really tasted.

“Oh god, fuck, I’m gonna come.” He says through gritted teeth. “Y/N, you don’t have to, ah!”

One of your hands slides up to his throat. You just needed him to shut up for a second so you could focus on the task at hand. His eyes were wild while he looked down at the scene before him. Your little hand wrapped around his throat while you sucked on him vigorously. You move up to just suck his tip while his come shoots into your mouth. You suck and suck until he can’t stand it anymore. You pop off him and let his throat go free. You make eye contact with him while you swallow.

“You…you didn’t have to do that.” He says, while trying to get his breath.

“I know, I wanted to.” You wipe the corners of your mouth, and tug his boxers back up. He winces slightly from the sensitivity.

“Alright.” He lifts his shirt up overhead and pins you down, you giggle at his sudden movements. “Your turn.” He unzips, your pants, but you stop him.

“I can’t.”

“Wh-why not?” He pouts.

“I got my period this morning.”

“Of course.” He sighs and hangs his head.

“Sorry.” You giggle and runs your hand through his curls.

“It’s okay, know you have no control over it.” He sits back up against the headboard and pulls you into his arms. “That was really nice, thank you.” He pecks your lips and you smile.

“My pleasure.”

“Want me to order something for dinner? I haven’t had a chance to go grocery shopping yet.”

“How does Chinese sound?”

“Perfect.” He kisses you again before getting off his bed. You lay back and sigh. His bed was really comfy, you could get used to this.

//

Monday morning everyone was feeling refreshed from the holiday. You and Harry drove separately since you still finished work earlier than him. He walks you upstairs like always, only this time before he goes into his office to change out of his gym clothes, he gives you a kiss and a pat on the bum. He knew he had to be careful, though, not too much PDA in the office.

Once he was changed he comes out of his office. You had his coffee ready to go like always. He takes it happily, but decides to speak up.

“I wanna start getting my own coffee.”

“Why?” You frown.

“I feel weird with you doing that kind of stuff for me now that we’re…involved.”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it?” You smirk.

“Hanging out, dating, whatever.” He shrugs. “Getting me coffee doesn’t fall under the umbrella other tasks as assigned.”

“But it did before?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Only because it was an excuse to have a nice chat in the morning.” He smiles and sips his coffee. “You understand what I’m trying to say, though, right?”

“I do.” You smile at him, and then bite your lip. “Um…when do you, I mean, should we…”

“Let’s see how things go before we go to H.R., yeah?”

He could read your mind, and it gave you some relief.

“Okay.”

He winks at you and goes back into his office. He had a ton of emails to answer from being off last week.

“Y/N?” He calls for you and you go right in.

“Yes?” He shoots his eyes at you. “Mr. Styles.” You grin.

“If I forward you a few emails, could answer some people for me? I hate to make you the middle man, but some of this doesn’t need my attention.”

“Of course! Happy to help.” You smile.

“Thanks you.” He smiles back. “Would you mind closing my door? I have some calls to make.”

You nod and close the door behind you. He forwards you about ten emails, but you didn’t mind. It gave you something to do. You worked fast, so you often would get bored. He’s in and out of his office once his calls are made. When noon finally rolls around he comes out of his office and drums his fingers on your desk. You were standing up, thanks to having that kind of desk, and had your earbuds in. You raise an eyebrow at him and pause your music.

“Yes?”

“It’s lunch time.” He grins.

“So it is.”

“Would you like to join me?”

“Where?”

“Just in my office.” He shrugs.

“Alright.” You smile. “I just need to heat my food up.”

“Great, come in when you’re all set.”

You go to the breakroom to grab your good. You lean on the counter next to the microwave as you wait for your food to heat up. Paula and a couple of other women walk in.

“Oh, hi, Y/N.” She says.

“Hi ladies, have a good Thanksgiving.”

“Yeah, it was good. Probably not as good as yours though. Must be nice to go skiing.”

“It’s an old family tradition.”

“Well, it’s not just family though, is it?” She scoffs and grabs her good out of the fridge.

“Everyone that goes might as well be.” The microwave beeps and you grab your food. “Is there a problem?”

“Not at all.” She shrugs and puts her food in the microwave. “Must be nice, is all.”

“What?”

“To just get everything you want all the time.” Another woman says.

“I don’t…I work really hard for the things I have.”

“Right, must be nice to just pay mommy rent while you live in her pool house.”

“She’s alone a lot. My step-dad is a pilot, he’s not home with her when she’d like him to be. I wanted to move out and she asked me if I’d want to live in our…you know what? I don’t owe any of you an explanation. You can just be bitter.” You scoff and leave quickly. You go right into Harry’s office and sit down with a huff.

“Everything alright?”

“No.” You shake your head and angry stick your fork into your lunch. “There’s a bunch of bitches that work here, and I’m annoyed.” You sigh. “You don’t think everything’s been handed to me, do you?”

“I think you’ve lived a very blessed life, but your mum’s done a good job raising you. I’ve seen you act like a real brat before, but I wouldn’t call you spoiled or anything.”

“Gee, thanks.” You roll your eyes.

“Tell me what happened, what’s going on?”

“Paula and her crones were a little rude to me in the breakroom.”

“They’re just mad because I don’t pay them the time of day, and they’re jealous you work for me. I’m sorry you’re getting the brunt of that.”

“It’s okay…maybe we should go to H.R. sooner then. If they find out about anything before we disclose…they could just make it worse. The whole thing just feels so high school, it’s fucking stupid. Grow up.” You shake your head and take a bite of your food. You look at him. He had his chin resting on his palm, smiling at you. “What?”

“Nothing, you’re just cute when you get all fired up.”

“You think everything I do is cute.” You chuckle.

“You got me there.” He takes a bite of his own food. “We can go down a bit before you leave for the day if you like. I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable with anything. And…I mean…do you want me to talk to your mum?”

“About what?”

“I can tell her that the other women have been rude. I can tell her what they’ve said to me before too. Or I could just straight up talk to them myself. I don’t care.”

“Let’s just go to H.R. first.” You take a sip of your water. “I don’t wanna add fuel to the fire.”

“Fair enough.” He sighs. “So, how would you like to come over tonight? I have stuff to make this chicken and noodle dish in my instant pot. Only takes like thirty minutes once it’s altogether.”

“That sounds amazing, but I can’t. I make dinner with mom on Mondays. We make a big casserole that we can have during the week. You could come over if you wanted. You know how much she loves when you come over for dinner.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“You wouldn’t be, please, come to dinner.”

“Alright.” He smiles. “Um…” His voice gets a little quieter. “How’s your, uh, are you still, um…?”

“Yes, I still have my period.” You chuckle. “I promise, once it’s done, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that.” He stands up from his desk and comes over to you. He cups your cheeks in his hands and leans in to kiss you. Just as his lips were on yours, there’s a knock on his door. “Jesus Christ.” He groans. He walks over to the door and opens it. “Yes?”

“Hi, Harry.”

“Oh, hi, Jennifer.”

“I came by because I have some of that pumpkin br-“ She stops when she sees you sitting. “Sorry, am I interrupting?”

“Just a little lunch meeting.” You say, standing up. “Lots of emails and meetings to get through this afternoon. Mr. Styles wanted us on the same page. Excuse me.” You stand up and look at him before leaving.

“Leave it open, please.” He says to you and you nod.

“Anyways, I brought you that pumpkin bread you like so much.”

“Ah, thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” He takes it from her and he puts it on his desk.

“Well, you raved about it last year, so I made sure to make more.” She blushes. “How was your break? You went skiing with Cheryl’s family, right?”

“Yeah…it was fun. I get along well with everyone.”

“Must be nice to be so close with the boss.”

“I suppose.”

“Anyways, um, do you have plans Friday?”

You hear her ask it, and your eyes widen with rage. You never really realized how much people through themselves at him.

“Uh, well, this is sort of awkward, but I’m sort of seeing someone, and I’ll probably be seeing them Friday, sorry.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry, Harry.” Her face goes red. “I had no idea.”

“Well, that’s the funny thing about having a personal life, it’s, uh, personal.”

You can’t help but laugh when you hear him say that. You clap your hand over your mouth so they don’t hear you. You watch Jennifer leave his office in defeat. He comes out to you.

“I’m so sorry you had to hear that.”

“Oh, it’s fine.” You shake your head. “So, you’re seeing someone, huh? I wonder how long that’ll take to spread around.” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Very funny. What did you want me to say, that I have a girlfriend? Haven’t really had that conversation yet have we?”

“Conversation about what?” Your mom says. “Harry, we have a meeting in five, get your laptop. Phil’s in on this one.” She rolls her eyes. “Hi, honey.” She smiles at you.

“Hi.” You smile back. “Can Harry join for dinner tonight?”

“Course he can, happy to have him.” She looks back at Harry. “Let’s go.”

Harry grabs his laptop and follows your mom.

//

Around 4PM, Harry grabs you so you both can go see Mary in H.R.

“Hi you two.” She smiles. “To what do I owe this visit?”

“Mary, Y/N and I are, uh, seeing each other.”

“Oh! Well, that’s great. Is it serious?”

“It could become serious, it’s still new.” You say. “We just wanted to do the right thing and disclose it.”

“And did this start on company property?”

“No.” You say at the same time.

“Alright then, let me get the forms. Y/N, you know things could get sticky with Harry being your supervisor.”

“I know, we’ve discussed it.”

“And…your mother…?”

“She’s thrilled.” You say with a smile.

“Alright, here you go. Fill these out and bring them back to me tomorrow morning.”

“Can do, thanks Mary.” Harry smiles.

Harry walks you out to your car and gives you a quick peck on the cheek goodbye. He tells you he’ll be over around seven for dinner, and you tell him to bring something to sleep in.

//

“Wait, so has everyone in our office hit on you?” Your mom asks Harry as she spoons him some lasagna. “Why did you tell me before?”

“It wasn’t really a big deal.” He shrugs.

“It’s bound to get around that he’s seeing someone, and it’ll only be a matter of time before everyone finds out it’s me.”

“Well, then, they’ll just have to deal with it, won’t they? We’re all adults.” She shakes her head as she sits down. “If anyone has an issue, they can bring it up to me.”

Everyone takes a bite of the lasagna.

“Mm, well done, Y/N.” Your mom says.

“Yeah, it’s delicious.” Harry smiles at you.

“Thanks.”

After dinner, you and Harry say goodnight to your mom and head out to the pool house. You settle in on your couch for some TV and much needed snuggles.

“Does your mum ever leave to visit Ed on his routes?”

“On the weekends sometimes, why?”

“Well, if you don’t wanna be alone on the property, you can always stay with me.”

“Aww.” You kiss him on the cheek. “Thanks.” You shift yourself so you can straddle his lap, and bury your head in the crook of his neck. He wraps his arms around you and rubs your back.

“Feels nice to just do this.”

“Mhm.” You nuzzle into him further.

“Comfortable?” He chuckles.

“You have no idea.” You kiss his neck and sigh. “Wanted this for so long, Harry.” You kiss his neck again, and linger a little this time.

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“You’re gonna get me all riled up, and I can’t do anything to you that I want to.”

“I could just take care of you again, I don’t mind.”

“But I wanna be able to take care of you, Y/N.”

You lift your head so you can look at him.

“Just a few more days, then I’m all yours.”

“Can’t wait.”

“So…do we really have plans Friday night?”

“Sure.” He smirks. “Anything you have in mind?”

“I need to go to the mall to do some holiday shopping. Feel up to it?”

“The mall on a Friday after work?” He raises his eyebrows. “You’re serious?”

“I’m an expert shopper.” You peck at his lips. “And if you come with me you’ll get a reward.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that.”

//

Friday after work, you and harry drive out to the mall. Everyone at work seemed pretty cool the rest of the week. Maybe a memo went out? You tried not to question it. All you could focus on was how cute Harry looked in his suit while walking around the mall with you. You at least had the sense to change.

“Let’s see, mom’s been looking for a new baking set, so let’s stop in at Crate and Barrel, first.”

“Sounds good.”

Harry basically just follows you in and out of a ton of different stores. He’s a perfect gentleman and carries all your bags. You insist you can carry some, but he tells you you’re crazy, and you just keep walking. Eventually you walk by a Victoria’s Secret. You hadn’t shopped there in a really long time since it was super overrated, but a wicked idea comes over you.

“Harry, are you getting hungry?”

“Starved.”

“Why don’t we go to Chipotle? Just have something quick? I need to stop into a couple more stores. You know what I like form there, right?”

“The tacos.”

“Exactly, why don’t you head in and I’ll meet you, yeah?”

“Works for me.”

You watch him walk away before going into the store. Your period ended Wednesday, but you two hadn’t had time to get intimate. You look at a few things, and fine a cute little turquoise set that you think he’d like.

“Would I be able to buy this and then go change into it?” You ask the woman at the register.

“Of course, miss.”

You find Harry in Chipotle, and scarf down your tacos. He gets everything you bought into the car and off you go.

“Mine or yours, babe?” He asks.

“Let’s go to yours. Your bed is so comfy.”

“So is yours.” He rubs his hand over your thigh.

“I do my best.” You chuckle. “But I’d definitely rather go to yours tonight.”

He smiles and takes the exit for his apartment. You tell him the bags can just stay in the trunk for now. You both get upstairs, and he sighs with relief when he gets his tie off.

“Just gonna change.” He says to you.

“That’s a good idea, I’ll do the same.”

You follow him in and he raises an eyebrow at you.

“Where’s your bag?”

“Oh, I just figured you’d be give me something to wear.”

“Sure!” He turns to his dresser. “Do you want sweatpants, shorts, just a big…” he turns back to you and his jaw drops when he sees your lingerie. “When…where…what’s happening right now?”

“Why do you think I sent you off to get food?” You stroll over to his and run your hands up his chest. “Do you like it?”

“You look incredible. Been dreaming about this.”

He wraps his arms around you and kisses you. You moan when his hands run down your back and down to your ass.

“I’m gonna treat you so well, make you feel amazing because you don’t deserve anything less.”

He lays you down on the bed and strips down to his boxers. He hovers over you and kisses down your chest. He sucks on the fleshy area that’s spilling out of the top of your lacey bra. His hands move around your to unhook it, and he gets it off of you all the way. He sucks on each of your nipples, swirling his tongue around, really putting a show on for you.

“You always smell so fucking good, I love your perfume.” He says as he kisses down your stomach.

“I knew you liked it.” You run a hand through his hair. “I just had to keep wearing it.”

“Drives me crazy. It’s the sweetest smell in the world.”

He sucks a nice bruise on your hip while his thumb trails over the lace material of your panties. He could see that you’re wet for him already, he can feel it to once his thumb pushes gently inside. You groan while he does it.

“Please, don’t tease me, Harry.”

“But that’s the best part. Gotta really make sure you want it.”

“I do, I swear, please, just take them off.

“You went to all this trouble to buy these for me, shame for them to go to waste.” He kisses you through the material and your hips buck up towards his mouth. “So reactive.” He smirks.

“You know, I could easily just go home and do this myself, so if you want to-“

“Don’t be like that.” He pouts and hooks his fingers into his panties. “I’m simply trying to savor the moment. I’m about to see this precious little cunt for the first time. You have no idea how honored I feel.”

He slides your panties down your legs and tosses them aside. He kisses both of your knees before spreading your legs apart. He gazes at you.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Harry.” You giggle and kick at him. “Stop it.” You were starting to blush.

“Can’t help it.”

He gets settled between your legs and spreads you apart with his thumbs. He uses his fingers to rub around your already slick folds. He sucks the same fingers into his mouth and it makes you bite your bottom lip. His middle finger runs along your center before slowly pushing inside. You gasp when you feel the cool of his ring hit you. He pumps it in and out of you, just trying to gauge how tight you may be.

“When was the last time?”

“When was the last time what?” You grunt.

“You’re really tight, not complaining, but I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I don’t know, um, I can’t really think right now while you’re doing that.”

“Alright.” He takes his finger away from you completely and you whimper.

“The last time it was someone, and not just one of my dildos was over the summer, alright?”

“When do you use the-“

“Not that often, only sometimes. I’ll fucking let you use one on me sometime if it means you’ll just keep working me over, please, Harry.” You pout at him.

“Can’t say no to that can I?”

He uses both of his hands to keep your legs open, and he dives right in. He licks all around you and sucks on your clit harshly.

“Oh my god.” You tug at his hair just as hard it makes him groan against you.

You feel his teeth graze over the little nub, and it makes you clench around nothing. You wanted his fingers again, but he needed his hands on your thighs to keep you open. He pulls up from you.

“Ride my face.”

“What?!”

“Come on, come sit on my face. I’ll fuck you with my tongue, it’ll feel great.”

He lays back with his head on the pillow and gestures for you to come to him. You shrug and straddle his face. You gasp when you feel his tongue on you again. You grip at his head board, and your eyes roll into the back of your head when you feel the slight scruff on his chin rub up against you. He gets his tongue inside you, and you essentially start riding it. His hands grip your hips, pressing bruises into your plushy skin.

“Oh my god, Harry, holy shit.”

The bed was shaking at this point. You thought you might be hurting him, but when you looked down his eyes were closed and he looked like he was in pure bliss fucking you with his tongue.

“Fuck, oh my god, fuck, fuck!” You scream as you feel your release come.

You feel Harry suck on your cunt so he doesn’t miss a drop of anything. He slowly lifts you off of him so he can get some air. His mouth, chin, and a little of his nose were wet with your slick.

“Sorry.” You use your hand to clean him up.

“Don’t be.” He licks his lips. “You taste so fucking good, could do that for hours.”

“How about you use your dick instead?”

“You’re ready for that? We don’t have to move that fast if you don’t want to.”

“Harry, I really want you to fuck me. I’ve wanted you to fuck me for five fucking years, please.”

He grabs you by your throat and pins you down on the bed.

“No need to beg, darling, all you had to do was say you wanted to.” He lets you go and kiss your lips. He stands up off the bed and takes his boxers off. “See, I’m getting nice and naked for you.” He smirks. “Do I need to use a condom or…?”

“Nah, I have an IUD. Wanna feel you.”

He smiles and gets back on the bed. He pumps himself a couple of times and spreads you back apart. He pushes inside you and you can’t help but moan loudly. You’ve been dreaming of this moment for so long, and so has he. It’s incredibly satisfying.

“Ngh, you’re so fucking big, it feels so good.” Your head rolls back as he bottoms out.

He starts moving slowly as he buries his face in your neck. He sucks on your soft skin and lets it go with a pop.

“Fuck.” You breathe.

He snakes a hand between the two of you so he rub at your throbbing clit. You knead one of your own breasts, but he swats your hand away so he can do it.

“You just need to tell me what you want, want you like, and I’ll do it, okay?”

“Okay.”

He dips his head to suck on your nipple and your hands move to his back to dig your nails in. You start tightening around him when you feel his fingers rub your clit with more precision.

“Oh, shit. Oh my god, Harry!” You were panting. You felt like your heart was going to beat out your chest. Your back arches when you come again.

“Feel so fucking good, Y/N.” He fucks your through it, and wait for your to calm down before pulling out. You whimper at the loss of him. “Don’t worry, got a nice position for us I think you’ll like.

He sits up against the head board, and gets you in his lap, facing away from him. You were on his dick again and it felt amazing. You back was flush with his chest, and your head was on his shoulder. His tongue was in your mouth while one of his hands was rubbing your clit in rhythm with his thrusts, and the other was snaked around your chest to keep you in place.

His mouth leaves yours so he can kiss on your neck and shoulder. He looks down at the way he’s rubbing you and then at your face. Your head was rolled back into his shoulder and you were biting your bottom lip.

“Feels good, babe?”

“Feels amazing.” You tighten around him.

“Wanna come together?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, just hold on for me.”

He stops rubbing you, and moves both of his hands to your hips. He moves you up and down faster so you were basically bouncing up and down on him. He was hitting your g-spot perfectly.

“Harry, fuck!”

“Hold on, Y/N.” He groans. “Almost there.”

“Harry, please!”

“One second.”

All of the blood in your body was rushing to your ears, you felt like you couldn’t hear anymore. Your vision was starting to go blurry as well. He nips at your earlobe and then you feel his breath on you.

“Come for me, baby.” He whispers and that’s when you let go.

You feel his warm come shoot up inside you. You cry out as your orgasm prolongs. It was so good, so very good. You both slowly catch your breaths from the ordeal. Your legs felt like gelatin as you stood. You desperately needed to pee.

When you come back out he tosses you a large t-shirt. You giggle and put it on, and then crawl into bed with him. He throws his arm around you as you snuggle up to his chest.

“I don’t wanna sound clingy, but I hope you know, I’m never letting you go.” You say, pressing kisses to cheek, neck, and chest.

“Lucky for you, I like clingy. M’not letting you go either.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, and you both get settled into a goodnight’s sleep.

//

After basically staying in bed with Harry all weekend, you found it difficult to concentrate at work. You had so many scenarios in your head, but the one you wanted most was for him to bend you over his desk, but he made it clear with you that the office was off limits. He explained that he didn’t want to do anything to risk losing his job. You had to respect that.

The holidays came and went. You each got each other something small since you had only been together for about a month, but you spent the New Year together and it was just wonderful. Most people at work knew you were dating Harry. It was hard not to when he’d randomly get you flowers to keep on your desk, or when he might steal glances of you during a meeting.

Once summer came around again, and you had been there for an entire year, you were up for a promotion. You were excited because it involved you having your own office, but you were sad that you wouldn’t be handling things for Harry anymore. You had to train a new assistant, and you were even less thrilled when you saw it was just some girl fresh out of her undergrad. You thought you’d be jealous, but you watched how Harry was with her. She was to only call him Mr. Styles, and he did the same things with her as he did with you. He never got too close, the door was rarely closed if they were alone together, and a picture of you was front and center on his desk. No room for funny business.

He loved staying over at your place, and swimming in the pool with you, especially at night, and especially when your mom was away. You could get away with skinny dipping, which meant getting away with getting fucked in the pool. You’d cook together and hang out almost every night.

“Hey.” He says to one Saturday afternoon as you both were laying out by the pool.

“Yeah?”

“I’m in love with you.”

“Harry.” You chuckle. “You say it like you haven’t been saying it for the last six months.” All he does is pout at you. “I’m in love with you too.”

He smiles and goes back to facing front, taking a sip of his drink. Life was good, life was very, very good.

[nightfall-kachiniko]

How about mikasa with a Pregnant s/o? I hope you get better btw!

Ah thank you anon! I hope I do aswell! And I love mother kasa concept! :D

『Mikasa with a pregnant s/o』

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[ MAJOR! AOT SPOILERS UP AHEAD! ]

THIS CONTIANS MAJOR SPOILERS REGARDING TO 139 AND CHAPTER 138

- after you guys left the survey corps,she practically BEGGED you both to be parents. And all thought you wanted to, you wanted to spend some years alone with her.

- Ever since Eren passed away, your girlfriend never smiled the way she used to. But that all changed when you told her you were pregnant with a baby girl. This woman bursted into tears smiling a smile you hadn’t seen in a while. She picked you up and spun you around the room kissing you as you to began to cry tears of joy.

- You told her you were pregnant with a small version of her scarf, hinting at it. And as soon as she got it, she looked at you shocked, making sure you were serious, “d-darling are you serious..?” She said a small smile on her face. She looked at the small scarf and the baby clothes that laid in the box that you gave her as a gift, twirling around the outfit examining it.

-you gave her a soft nodd as you wiped away a tear, “Your going to be a mommy” you said with a smile. She put down the baby clothes and looked at you, still in shock. “Your not joking R-right!?” She said a bit more happier. “No I’m serious!” You said, beaming with a smile.

-she scoffed a bit as tears began falling down her face. Mikasa smiled as she picked you up, twirling you around, while crying tears of pure happily ness and joy. “T-this is all I’ve ever wanted” She said, kissing you while wiping away the both of yours tears.

- Throughout your whole pregnancy, all she would do would show you support in every way possible. She may be a bit over baring at time but this woman just wants to insure that your safe and well token care of. If you try to even pick up something, she’s scolding you, saying its dangerous and what if you fall or trip? All you’ll hear is, “y/n! Be careful dear! Let me take care of that.”

-Oh you best believe she gives you baths. One wrong move and you could get hurt, to her at least. Mommas wants to take care of youuuu ૮₍˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶₎ა! Plus, if you think she’s overprotective then, SHEESH BUDDY YOUR IN FOR A RIDE DURING AND AFTER PREGNANCY.

- This woman goes out her way to make sure you and the baby are safe. She doesn’t like you going out into town since a ton of people would crowd there and god for bid if someone knocks into you.. Let’s just say they are gonna get beat to the ground.

- For names, i think she’d like something unique, mystical even. I think she’d like something like a word that means a unique feeling, like the word Heriath; Homesickness for a home you can’t return to, or that never was. That’s my OC’S kid with her’s name anyways lol. Lacuna, Moira, jouska and others i think she’d like! You suggested if it was a boy that you wouldn’t mind naming the baby after Eren. She turned to you and smiled saying that she loved the idea of that, but, she couldn’t call him that without bursting into tears. You understood completely and was accepting of that aswell : D

— AND BOY OH BOY WHEN YOU WERE IN LABOR- Mikasa tried her best to stay calm. You both decided earlier on to have an at home birth with (just in case) a widwife to make sure you were okay. She held your hand and hugged you as you gasped for air, pushing as hard as you could. Mika would tell you things like “It’s okay baby.. your doing such a good job..” hike holding your hand, reassuring that you would be okay.

- When the baby came out, all you both could do was cry. I’d say if its a girl, she’d look more like mikasa with black hair and her Asian eye shape with your eye color. But if it was a boy, they’d look more like you with mikasa’s eye shape and mouth shape.

- She knows how sentimental of a moment you both as parents were experiencing, so she made sure you as the one who gave birth should hold the baby first. She kissed your head as you held the baby, caressing your hair.

- when mikasa held the baby, the first thing she did was wrap the baby in her red scarf. After Eren died, she turned the meaning of the scarf around. Eren showed her how to live, so she made a promise to show you how to live. And now that she has a baby, another piece of family, she vowed over her life to keep the both of you safe and sound.

- Her first words to your both’s baby was “I will always protect you, I promise you, over my life” She was so happy to be a mother. After all the chaos, she was so happy to finally live peacefully with the person who she loves the most.

- She has SO MANY DAMN RULES FOR WHEN ANNIE AND ARMIN COME OVER LMAO- No holding the baby standing up. All sharp objects aren’t allowed on you when touching the baby. No turning into a titan or she’ll cut off your face (these mainly apply to Annie LMAO) But after a while she chilled down. Annie was allowed to hold the baby ofc ofc.... Under MIKASA’S supervision ÙnÚ.

— the day your baby first walked, mikasa Litteraly cried at how big they had gotten and you had to calm her down like “Mika! Chill they aren’t even 1 yet and your already acting like they are going off to join the military!”

- Oh and speaking of military, your baby’s not going into the military- Hell n o. Momma mika would lose her shit even at the thought of her baby going out into gunfire. So if you wanted a military baby, sorry its not happening with her kid.

- The baby’s first words were “Muma” which was when they were referring to you. Everything this child does makes her so emotional. Litteraly even if the baby just picks up a spoon she’s almost in tears. She a proud momma dont let her down >:3

- I think our both’s baby would call her a unique version of mom. Like they would call Mika “Ummie” or “ummuma” But sometimes they’d just call her “mommy” so your momma and she’s ummie and mommy. (Lmao you call mikasa mommy too dont lie ;)

-OMI- YOUR KID AND ANNIE AND ARMINS KID ARE LIKE BEST FRIENDS. Your baby loves when they come over so they can see armin and Annie’s kid :D! AND OML- YOUR BABY LIKE LOVES ANNIE- She calls her “auntie awnnie” and always likes pulling at her bun while mikasa just stands and watches from the kitchen, eyeing annie down making sure she ant gonna touch her bby 😤

- Your child LOVESSSS Annie’s titan roar and everytime she comes over, they beg for annie to turn into a titan and do the roar. All you’ll hear is, “awuntiie awmmie! Titan! Titan!! 🥺” While annie rolls her eye with a small “fine” As she goes outside and transforms into her titan, roaring while your chid giggles. MIKASA HATES IT SO DAMN MUCH- SHE’LL ALWAYS SAY “You better be careful or I’ll kill you”

- of course, over the years Mikasa lightened up to annie and they are now best friends, but she cant help it... Over protective strong momma. but she wont allow armin to do it since his titans to big and dangerous ad trust me armin completely understands.

- Overall, she’s such a good momma. Always caring for you and her baby, making sure you both are safe and okay. She wouldn’t ever wish for a different life when she’s with you, and the sweet little one you two made <3

BRO THIS WAS SO LONG TO WRITE -

[shurisneakers]

shut in [14]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: anxiety, violence, guns, death, ptsd, swearing, abuse

Word count: 6.3k

A/N: last chapter you guys :’’’’) im too emo about a fanfic i s2g. there’s an epilogue but this is the official last chapter. 

i really appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

You had only heard of the warehouse before, never actually seen it.

Its reputation preceded it. It was only mentioned in passing as a place for the worst of the worst.

It was murky and smelled like rust, concrete and rotting corpses. You had no doubt a few of them would be littering the place. A few tube lights shone over you graciously like a spotlight, barely illuminating the area. 

The room you were in was utterly silent. The only exception were noises outside the door; loud shouts and clanging of metal. You assumed it to be people in the other rooms. Your assessment on how tight the ropes were coiled around you earned a few grunts and odd squeaks, but nothing major. 

You were bound to a chair, of course, with knots you had used before on others. It felt like a convoluted form of irony. It was firmly nailed to the ground to prevent you from using it against captors. You were gagged; pretty well, by the look of it. 

A noise from beside you threw you off track. A quick look to your left and you found Sam in a similar predicament. He shook his head slightly, implying that it was useless to find an opening. At least he was alive and breathing. 

“Are you done?” A voice came from behind you, echoing within the four walls. “I really want to get going and you’re taking too long.”

You knew who it was. It was impossible for you to mistake it at this point.

“Don’t mind the noise outside. We’re just torturing a bunch of people to death.”

You roll your eyes out of sheer instinct. The footsteps slowly moved towards the front of the room, heavy and deliberate. The expensive material of his suit shone under the light as he edged in front of you. Only he’d wear Armani to a murder.

The dramatic fuck clearly rehearsed it.

“Hey Buttercup,” Ransone smiled, distinctly proud of himself. Your bite on the bundle of cloth haphazardly shoved in your mouth tightened. “Been waitin’ on you for a while now. Wilson’s no good company.”

You sneak a glance at Sam’s side profile and he looks relatively untouched. There were a few cuts on his face that you could make out under the harsh light but that was it. 

“You can’t get out of those, if you're wondering.” He gestured to your current set up. “I told you, Sam. I save my warehouse for special guests. All your fun tools are gone. Took ‘em when you were brought in.”

As your eyes adjusted to the lighting, you faintly make out the presence of two men in the corners of the room, stiff as cardboard. His security. 

“Oh! Except this.” He brandished the paper airplane you had brought with you in the utility belt. He’d use anything to potentially get a rise out of you.

“Gettin’ sentimental now, are we?” He tested the tip of the plane with his finger. 

You prayed he wouldn’t destroy it. It had more value than he was willing to bet on. 

“You must be asking yourselves why you ended up here,” Ransone mused, looking at the plane from all angles. “No need to worry, I’ll tell you.”

You didn't expect anything less from him. Everything about this felt cinematic; the inconvenient lighting, the men standing in the corner. This man oozed drama over efficiency. 

“When I was just starting out, people warned me. Told me I wasn’t going to get anywhere, that we’d always stay in the same position because that’s how it’s been for all these years.” He tested the plane, holding onto the body sturdily.  

“There were too many big names already. We were one of them, of course. My father did a good job of giving us a solid foundation.” He pulled his wrist back like he was going to launch it, only to never actually do it. He carried it through the air, simulating its flight pattern.

“You remember my father, don’t you? The guy who cut off someone’s finger because they didn’t finish the job.” Ransone really only had one story to tell about his father and he worked it to death. Other than a few handful of times, his father never bothered about his presence much from what you heard. He favoured the ones who were brutal and Ransone- well, he was a glorified theatre kid. 

“Of course you do. He was an incredible man.” He laughed crisply. “But he had no real ambition. No drive. I told him we could have been at the top, the ones parents warn their kids about. He didn’t listen to me. He never really paid attention.”

His tone got wistful in the end, eyes distant like he was living the scene out in his head. 

“So obviously when he died, I had the chance to really make a difference. Really set us apart. Ten Rings and Hydra had their own niche; they had some ties with the military and the government and whatnot. Crazy motherfuckers, all of them.” He shook his dead in distaste. “But Serpentine- that was closer to home. Same market as us.”

You wondered how long he would take to get to the point. The only distraction you had were the noises that continued outside. An odd gunshot here and there really pulled your attention away from the story.

“Serpentine with their stupid code names. They really thought they were all that.” He sounded embarrassingly like a bitchy teenager. “Who do they think they were fooling with the Norse Gods thing, huh? Naming your leader Odin, his wife Frigga.”

“I fucking hated them,” he spat, face twisting into anger. “Told them to watch out, that I’d end their legacy. They laughed in my face.” 

He spun around, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he pointed to Sam, “That’s where you come in.”

Sam looked thoroughly irritated with the show that was going on in front of him. If he wasn’t gagged you had no doubt he’d have a few comments to pass. Ones that would get the both of you killed. 

“I told you to kill their leader. One job. You fucked that up.” Sam recalling the story of his first mission flashed in your memory. “Let that old nutjob into your head and allowed him to escape. We didn’t know where he was for years.”

“I let it go because I thought Serpentine was done for. Radio silence after Odin disappeared. And they were, until a few years ago when I get news that they have a new leader. Odin’s son, the new heir.” He waved around his hands, mocking the last part of his sentence. “Word on the street was that he wanted to kill whoever murdered his mother in front of his eyes.”

“I thought that was hilarious. You know why?” He laughed humourlessly. “Because that was you. You were the one who killed his mother. You remember that? Your big mission?”

“You killed my mom,” he jeered, unmoving.

“I’m sorry. I had to.” Your voice was quiet. Your hand clutched at the hood of the car to keep your balance. “But I don’t want to hurt you. Go.”

“He wasn’t supposed to be there. No one had even heard of him. His brother’s too soft to take on anything like this. He’s some farmer in England now. But he was supposed to be Odin’s only son. Yet somehow, the only person who could have known this other son existed and actually seen him… was you.”

“Turns out he’s like you. A secret adoption. No record of him anywhere.” You didn’t blink, not once taking your eyes off him in case he decided to go wild. “He should have died that day. You were supposed to kill them.”

Only Ransone would justify killing a kid because it fit his agenda. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before, and though he tried very hard to shove his ideology onto you, you never complied.

“Goes by Loki now, another stupid codename. Trained by his father who this idiot let go of.” He gestured to Sam callously, “and mad about the murder of his mother that you committed. Serpentine came back pretty quickly after he took control.”

A particularly loud sound of metal slamming would have made you jump had you not been tied down. Ransone swung around in anger, loudly cursing at them for ruining his train of thought. He muttered some more curses under his breath before plastering a fake smile on his face and continuing.

“I’ll admit, he’s a sneaky one. But they grew faster than any other cartel. They somehow knew all our connections, all our targets, our key players. It wasn’t possible,” he shook his head low as he paced up and down slowly. You knew where this was headed. “Unless we had someone giving them information from the inside.”

He stops to look at you.

“I would have forgiven you, Y/N, I really would. You know how I am about second chances.” He looked at you, eyebrows upturned with regretful eyes. “But then you had to go and spy on me for two years.”

You could see Sam turn to you from the corner of your eye, assessing your reaction. You didn't extend the same courtesy to him. You didn’t have any reaction.

“We found out very late, of course. I taught you well,” he chided, his inescapable  narcissism making an appearance once more. “But then we had to figure out why. Why you’d betray me and everything I’ve done for you.”

“I still can’t figure that out.” You wanted to scream at him, everything he had taken away from you, everything he forced you to be. “I treated you the best out of everyone I had. You had the best training, the best resources. You wouldn’t have made it anywhere if I didn’t drag you out of that shithole orphanage.”

You had heard of blissfully ignorant, but he was well beyond that at this point. 

“Didn’t take too long to connect the dots. What, with Wilson’s great act of charity and your lack of better judgement, both of you managed to fuck up enough to screw me over years later.”

“I initially was only going to have you killed, Buttercup,” he admitted nonchalantly, like your life had no value. “But then we found out that Sam’s been lying to me for a long time too. Been hidin’ his friend a few states away.”

“It was meant to be,” he cooed. “Such a similar past. You could have met each other before, you know? Pierce wouldn’t be the first time you were at the same house on the same day.”

You couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like if you had known Sam earlier. Would you have been friends or would you have been forced to kill each other in his sick ‘survival of the fittest’ game?

“It felt poetic to have you both die together, you know? On a mission gone wrong. A full circle.” God, he spent too long planning something elaborate when he could have just put a bullet in your head and ended you the day he found out. Fucking weirdo.

“Made sure I sent you to the same place at the same time. Pierce was dead long before you came, the poor fuck. But then again, collateral damage. No mercy.” He shrugged. “Had everyone at the ready. You should have died that night.”

“But like everything you do,” his voice suddenly rose like a child throwing a tantrum, “you fucked that up for me too. Escaped with his stupid fucking car.”

“None of those useless agents could find you. How could they?” The beauty was that Ransone must have spent too long looking when you were basically right there, just miles away. “You didn’t go to one of our locations and Serpentine hides their safehouses well.”

You still remembered the relief when the door accepted your fingerprint. 

 It was a long shot but you didn't have anywhere else to go. You weren’t even sure that this house existed.

Another loud crash arrived from the outside with noises that sounded like more gunshots, making Ransone jump this time. Just how many people were being tortured here?

“Keep the volume down, you stupid fucking imbeciles!” he screeched, pounding at the metal door. The decibel reduced, but still continued on.  

He dragged his palm across his face in exasperation, talking under his breath to himself. He shook his head before turning back to you.

"Oh, by the way, don't think about escaping. Got every last one of my best agents out here after that stunt you pulled at Pierce’s house,” he says offhandedly.

He takes a second to regroup, get back into character.

“So we released your pictures to the public. Can’t go very far if people are looking for you constantly. It was the only way we could get you to stay in one place.” Ransone raised his shoulders casually. “We had every lowlife out there waiting for one of you to show up.”

“We eventually had someone report Wilson in a town a while away from Pierce. I was making my way there but then you sent me your location on your own. Had men outside your house that night.” He paused, peering at the plane in his hand.

He finally let it go, watching as it barely went any distance before nose diving to the ground. Your eyes trailed after it, hoping he wouldn’t crush it with his foot.

“This is the worst fucking paper plane I’ve ever seen. The balance is completely off.” He stared at it in wonder, picking it up again and shoving it back into his pocket. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. “Anyway one of them heard you talkin’ about how you’re leaving the next day so we just got ready at the door.”

“Et voila.” He grinned, spreading his arms. “Here we are. Brilliant, wasn’t it?”

Unnecessarily long, but you weren’t going to complain. 

“Oh, I forgot you can’t talk.” His mouth quirked downwards into a ‘whoops’. 

He took a long pause right in front of you before his hand reached out to cradle your face. “I wouldn’t let those idiots kill you, Buttercup. You deserved better than that.”

He stared unnervingly into your eyes, looking for a hint of anything, any sort of remorse. He wasn’t going to find any. You wished he saw nothing but hatred. 

“It’s why I had to kill you myself.” He sighed when you pulled your face away the best you could from his palm in disgust. “But I’ll do you a solid. I’ll give you a chance to beg for forgiveness. Maybe if you’re good enough I’ll let you go.”

You knew he was lying. He had no intention of doing that. He only wanted you to grovel in submission, plead for your life for a fucking power trip.

He ripped off the tape that was over your mouth, making you flinch at the burn. He pulled out the cloth faster than you could spit it out at him.

“Go ahead,” Ransone said smugly. His ego would outlive all of you. 

“Him first.” Your mouth was dry and your lips felt chapped. You had clearly been knocked out for a while by then. You had no idea how far away you were from the original location.

“What?” His smile dropped to a frown rather quickly.

“Him first.” You mentioned towards Sam with your head. 

“That’s cute.” He laughed, stopping when you didn’t join in. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“I’m not saying shit till he does too.” You were bemused, monotonous. You just wanted to get this over as quickly as possible. 

“Fine,” he huffed when your expression didn’t change. “It’d be fun to watch him beg anyway.”

You hear the rip of the tape from his face, the scrunch of the material before he balled it up and threw it on the floor.

Sam shook his head furiously, forcing Ransone to take a step back swiftly before he hit him. 

“Right.” Ransone clapped his hands together. “Let’s get star-”

He was interjected by another loud bang followed by a series of gunshots. Another victim massacred. He groaned in frustration, stamping his feet at the constant interruption. The universe was determined to not let him finish his monologue in peace, and for that, you thanked her.

You looked at Sam, nodding slightly. He gave you a small smile in return, calming the nerves you were beginning to feel.

“Where were we?” Ransone did not look happy; a vein was dangerously visible on his forehead. Now would not be the best time to do anything that angered him. “Yes, go ahead. Beg.”

“Ransone,” Sam began, exhaling lightly. “We knew.”

The smile on Ransone’s face faltered. “What did you say?”

“He said we knew,” you cut in. “You melodramatic fuck.”

Ransone’s grin faded abruptly and it was by far the most satisfying experience you had ever experienced.

“Yeah, we figured it out ourselves a while ago.” Sam had the slightest smirk on his face. “Y/N did, actually.”

“Fuck,” you cursed.

You could feel his muscle shift as he looked at you. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You opened your mouth but shut it again. How do you explain it to him without sounding utterly ridiculous?

“I need to tell you something and I need you to hear me out before saying anything,” you pulled away from him, shuddering at the sudden cold that enveloped you. 

“I’m listening.”

“I think it’s Ransone. He’s been trying to kill us.”

“Why?” He didn’t sound judgemental, hardly even fazed, like it was a completely plausible suggestion. You couldn’t express how glad you were.

“The guy you didn't kill, if he’s the old head of Serpentine, then... I know his son.” Your mouth was dry as your mind raced to piece it together. “He’s the one I didn’t kill.”

“What?” Sam’s eyebrows furrowed, and you could see him trying to figure out the connection. “How are you so sure?”

You closed your eyes, letting out a deep exhale. “I’m going to need you to not react to what I’m going to tell you.”

“Okay...” he trailed off. 

“I’ve been working with him for two years. Passing information on to him about Ransone.”

“Wait so that means-”

“I’m the spy. And I think Ransone figured it out. He wants to kill me.”

“You knew,” Ransone stated. He looked like he was in a daze.

Sam looked at you once before nodding. “If you would shut up and let someone else talk for once, we would have told you a while ago.”

“It helped that you confirmed details about Pierce’s death without us having to tell you.” The last conversation you had with him replayed in your head verbatim. “There’s no way you would have known he was dead before we got there unless we told you. Or you did it.” 

“We knew you had agents outside the house. Kinda expected that when we gave you the address,” you shrugged the best you could, “Sam’s security cameras got all of them.”

“Made sure that one fuck behind the tree could hear us planning outside,” Sam added. “He wasn’t very stealthy, by the way.”

“Have you decided on a day?”

You nod, looking straight ahead into the darkness. “Tomorrow.”

“You sure? Our timing has to be right.”

“Yeah.” Your voice is coarse. “I’ll have to tell him.”

He nodded, leaning his elbows on his knees. He was too tall for the stairs, almost like he was crouching instead of sitting.

His voice dropped to a whisper like it’s a secret only meant for you.

“You knew you were going to be ambushed.”

“No shit.” You nodded. 

The loud bangs continued outside the door but you paid no heed to it. The closer it got, the more your stomach jumped, hoping that more people you pissed off didn’t storm in. You had quite a list anyway.

“You knew they were coming,” Ransone appeared like he had gears turning in his own head, trying to add everything up on his own. “Then why didn’t you run?”

“Well, we kinda needed all of you in one place.” 

“Huh?” He blinked, not listening to all the commotion that was going on around him. If he didn’t, he was choosing to focus on this instead.

“We had to take out all of you at once,” you disclosed, fidgeting with the rope to see if it would give. “Kinda knew you were waiting to kill us yourself when we gave you the location and nothing happened immediately. You’re too much of a sissy to kill us without backup so we wanted you in one place with the rest of them.”

You tilted your head towards the two men standing in the corner.

“You knew all this while and lied,” Ransone jeered, face twisting into something rather indiscernible; a nice mix of shame and rage.

“Not like we had another choice, man.” You just knew Sam was rolling his eyes. “You think I would voluntarily listen to you monologue like an idiot?”

“You did gag us,” you added, trying to buy as much time as you could. “That’s on you.” 

The ropes were still tight as could be and the chair wouldn’t budge. Even your feet were too tightly tied together to do anything. It was what you expected, but that wasn’t going to stop you.

“Shut up!” Ranone’s face was hideously red.

“You rehearsed it, didn’t you?” Sam called out, taunt in his tone. “With the lighting and shit.”

“He doesn’t have to. He does one a week to some poor fuck who has to listen.” 

You couldn’t believe the both of you were teaming up to bully a man who literally held the fate of your lives in his hands. It was something you never imagined yourself doing.

“How do people take you seriously?” Sam laughed. More than yours, his remarks seemed to be ticking Ransone off. 

Ransone let out a guttural cry, knuckles so white you were afraid they were going to break. He whips around, stomping over to pull the gun from the hand of one of his bodyguards.

“Easy there, DeNiro, that’s not a stage prop.” Sam chided.

The concrete in front of him suddenly cracks loudly. He looked up, slightly taken aback. 

“Next time it’ll be your fucking face,” Ransone snarled, waving the gun around like a maniac. You send a cautionary glance to Sam, telling him to back off. Ransone was volatile. He would act without thinking. 

“Why did you kill everyone I was friends with, Vincent?” you asked slowly, trying to divert his mind. 

He turned to you, a crazed look in his eyes.

“Why did you take everyone from me?” The more you asked, the more it became about genuine curiosity rather than a distraction from shooting Sam in the head.

“Take everyone from- none of them were going to last anyway!” He throws his hands up in the air angrily. “I was saving you from yourself. From the eventual pain.”

His face was desperate, and you for a second forced yourself to think from his perspective. He looked like he truly believed in what he was saying, like he genuinely thought he was supporting you. Like he cared. The thought that maybe he truly wanted to help you was the only way you could comfort yourself for so many years. 

“If you were in pain, you wouldn’t perform. I was only pushing you to your full potential,” he continued, a wild smile on his face mixed with eyes rimmed red like he was ready to cry. 

Your stomach sank, even though you hated it. It wasn’t about you, it was about what he could get from you. 

There was silence. Even the noises outside seemed to have stopped, all waiting for your next move.

“You’re a sick, conniving fuck,” your words waver, and you hope it hits him as hard as it can, “And I can’t wait till you’re dead.”

His face morphed from one of helplessness to slow fury once more. Manipulative prick.

“Do I have to remind you that you’re the one tied up?” He wipes at his nose, voice returning to normal. “The only reason you’re alive right now is because I need to know why you let yourself be captured so willingly.”

Your incessant need to know everything stemmed from him and the paranoia he induced in you from when you were a kid. Everything you thought was wrong about you came from him.

“We told you, you overdramatic fuck.” Sam drew the attention away from you thankfully. You took a deep breath, stabilizing yourself. 

“What, that you needed the team in one place to take us out?” Ransone asked, to no one’s answer. “You and what army?”

“Well, the one who’s been here for a while now,” you pipe up.

No one says anything. Pin drop silence reigns free. 

“You said he’d be here,” Sam hissed at you. “How much longer do we keep this going?”

“He said he would,” you argued back, feeling the heat creep into your cheeks.

“What the fuck are you both talking about?” Ransone asked, but you continued to ignore him.

“What are we going to do if he-”

The door violently exploded off its hinges, sending debris flying everywhere. You clenched your eyes shut and ducked your head to avoid getting smacked in the face with rubble

The dust hadn’t even cleared before multiple rounds were fired. You flinched when your ringing ears hurt more at the sound of gunshots. 

You struggle against your ropes, trying to get to Sam. They only get tighter until suddenly your arms break free. Your neck and legs soon follow as you shrug off the ropes that were cleanly sliced off.

Your ears were still getting used to the chaos when you notice someone humming behind you. It took a second to register that it was a fucking Britney Spears song. 

“What took you so long?” You coughed, waving the air in front of you to clear it as you stumbled towards Sam.

“I wanted to make an entrance,” Loki said dismissively, following you. “I think I may have overshot it by a few seconds.”

You fell to your knees in front of Sam, quickly moving to untie the familiar knots. He lifted his head to look at you, a thin layer of dust covering his face.

“Are you okay?” you asked in concern, simultaneously untying as fast as you could. It was one you had used many times before; a complicated knot that guaranteed you wouldn’t have been able to make it out of the bondage.

“I think my leg’s asleep but other than that I’m good.” 

You give him a small smile, thankful that he wasn’t hurt enough to lose his dry sense of humour. Your hand involuntarily reached up to brush some dust off his cheekbone. The intensity with which he looked at you had you swallowing thickly.

You snapped out of it quickly, working on freeing his legs as Loki took a step behind his chair to cut the rest of him loose.

“This him?” Sam mentioned to Loki, massaging his wrist to return some feeling into it. 

“You can just ask me, you know,” Loki commented, but clearly not taking any offence. 

“I’m sorry about your family, man.” 

You didn’t expect Sam to say that, and from the looks of it, neither did Loki. He stopped for a moment, before continuing to cut the last rope.

“You let my father go,” he said, sawing the last part off, “and although I personally think you should have killed the miserable old bastard, he made it clear that he owed you one.”

The both of you stood up. You glanced around the room, noting how both of Ransone’s bodyguards were on the floor, bullet holes riddling their body. 

He himself was beside them, lying facefront on the ground. Armani suit be damned.

“How many more are outside?” Sam asked, tearing your attention away from the bodies on the floor.

“All taken care of.” Loki put the knife back into its sheath on his thigh. “We made quite a commotion. I’m surprised he didn’t do anything.”

“He’s a little dense,” Sam remarked. Most of the noises you heard earlier weren’t just other victims being tortured, although you knew that it was still a large fraction of it.

“Should we go?” you asked, doing a quick sweep of the room. You found nothing moving among the pile of rubble.

“Unless you got anything else left to do.” Loki gestured to the large hole in the wall where the door was.

“I think we’re done.”

He simply nodded, spinning on his heel to walk out the room when someone yelled from behind you. 

You all halted what you were doing, slowly turning to look at where the noise was coming from.

“Don’t take another step,” Ransone warned, a gun pointed straight at you, barely able to stand straight. He looked worse than you’d ever seen him. His suit was torn and he had a few streaks of blood down his face. His hair was tousled and unkempt, rougher than it had ever been before. “Or I swear I’ll-”

“Oh, shut up,” Loki interjected, firing a shot into Ransone’s stomach before anyone could even react. He returned the gun to its holster that you didn’t even notice was there on his waist. “He talks too much.”

Ransone staggered back until he hit the wall, knees buckling beneath his weight as he slid to the ground. The gun he pried off his bodyguards lay where he was standing previously. 

You ignored Sam’s uneasy questions as you took a step forward. 

You picked the gun up, cautiously making your way to Ransone. You crouched next to his body. He looked at you before looking down. You followed his line of sight, watching as he lifted his hands. They were covered in blood. 

“How’d he know where to find you?” Ransone’s voice was more subdued than you’d ever heard him.

You reached over, slipping your fingers into his jacket pocket and pulled out the paper airplane that was flattened due to the impact.

“Hey, you can put a message in it. Maybe one of those button trackers, a microphone. The possibilities are endless.” He laughed, folding another one out of the limited supply of paper he had left.

You unfolded it, letting a small object, not bigger than a button, fall into your palm. He stared at it before realisation dawned on him. 

“I knew you’d take all my weapons, but you wouldn’t get rid of this,” you disclosed, folding the paper plane back to what it was and gently putting it into your pocket. It was still salvageable. “Not if you could use it to hurt me.” 

You watched him take a shaky breath, flinching when more blood rushed out of him. 

“You can still help me, Y/N. We can get out of here together,” he rasped. “Think about everything we’ve been through. We can work it out. I love you.”

You involuntarily let out a strangled cry at the last part. It was nothing but a last ditch attempt to persuade you, pull you back in.

“Look- look at me. Buttercup,” he croaked when you wouldn’t oblige. “I love you. I’m your home.” 

You finally look at him. Look right into his eyes, red rimmed and fading. You look for it, the adoration he spoke of. The care he promised. Anything to make sense of why he would tear you apart time and time again. The love he had for you.

You find nothing. Gray eyes look back at you blankly, desperately, in pain.

“You never were,” you whisper, standing up abruptly. 

You raised your arm, pointing the gun at him. He sputtered out more half baked apologies, unaware of anything that was coming out of his own mouth.

You clench your eyes shut, pulling the trigger. He lets out a cry when the bullet lodges in his shoulder. 

You take a step back, letting the scene imprint itself in your brain of him powerless on the ground at your will. If you followed what he preached, you’d have ended his life right there. No mercy.

But you weren’t him. And you didn’t ever want to be.

“I need to do something too,” you heard Sam say. You can feel him near you, brushing against you for a moment as he gently reached for the gun you held. You gave it to him, feeling him squeeze your hand in reassurance. 

Ransone looked at Sam as he stood beside you. He fired a single shot into his leg, clearly hitting bone. You hear the same wail from before, mixed with sputtering as blood leaked from his mouth.

“That was from Riley. He says fuck you.” Sam let his hand fall again. “All yours, man.” 

“You already know what this is for,” Loki said simply. 

You chose not to look away as he shot the last round right into his forehead. Ransone’s head slumped over. Dead, glassy eyes stared beyond you. 

None of you say anything. Just stare at the lifeless body in front of you.

“It’s really over, huh?” Sam’s voice is quiet, like he's having trouble processing what just happened.

You don’t answer. Only take a step towards him, and intertwine your fingers with his, continuing to stare at the corpse of your lifelong abuser. 

____

The sun was beating down on you. You didn’t expect it to be evening when you stepped out of the warehouse. 

“Where are we?” you asked, shielding your eyes from the sudden brightness that left you squinting.

“Middle of nowhere, I’d say.” Loki stares with disdain at the old building that looked worse for wear. “Would it kill the man to have a bit of taste?”

That reminded you. “Thanks for the house. And… sorry we showed up uninvited.”

“You didn’t do too much damage to it, I hope.”

You looked at him guiltily, mind flashing to the many bullet holes that decorated the back wall. “I’ll pay for the repairs.”

“Forget it. It’s of no use since everyone knows it exists now.” He dismissed with a wave of his hand. “So, Y/N. I guess that concludes our deal?”

“I guess it does.” You nodded,

Sam wraps his arms around your shoulder and you lean into him with a sigh, allowing the comfort his touch brought to seep into you. 

“How’d you guys make a deal anyway?” he inquired. You closed your eyes, chest rising and falling steadily.

“Well, I was going to kill you at first,” Loki explained offhandedly, gesturing to you. “But then-”

He trailed off.

You remember, clear as day, when Loki confronted you in the early hours of the morning outside the park you went on runs. He had a gun pulled on you before you could fathom what was going on, before you could even realise who he was.

“But then?” Sam prodded.

“Did he make it?”

“He did,” you divulged the information you had found out a while ago. It was a messy confrontation to say the least but you got out unscathed.

“Saw something that I recognised,” he said dryly, eyeing you up and down. “We were both pulled into something we didn’t have a say in. Stuck, you could say. I just thought that it was a win-win situation if we worked together to kill that idiot back there.” 

“So you agreed to spy on him,” Sam concluded. “You got revenge. What was your incentive?”

You look at Loki who just smiled at you. You return one half heartedly.

“I’d say freedom is a pretty big reward, wouldn’t you?” And it was. You couldn’t even begin to explain the weight that would be lifted off your shoulders. “I can’t guarantee you’ll have a perfectly normal life. Might have to change your identity, move around a bit.”

“Everyone’s looking for us as wanted criminals,” Sam voiced everything you were forgetting about in the surge of emotions rushing through you.

“I got some connections,” Loki said dismissively. You peered at him from under Sam's arm. “I can have it traced back to a dead mobster in a warehouse, no problem. If they think it’s a gang war there’s no way they’ll try to get too involved. Consider it a gift from my father.” 

Sam nodded, relaxing slightly now that most things were taken care of.

“That’s sorted then.” Loki examined the barren land that surrounded you. “You’re going to need a ride back to civilization, aren’t you?”

“If that’s possible.”

“I’ll have someone drop you off. You got any place to go? At least to stay low for a while.”

You didn’t have anyone. The only one you had was the man beside you. Nothing was settling in at the moment, and you realised that it would be a long road until it did. But you had a shot. A real shot at something even resembling recovery. 

Sam and you looked at each other before he turned back to Loki and nodded.

“New Orleans.”

Next part

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