#my joint pain gets really bad though so i didn’t expect it to help much

[littlestarbigsky]

having thoughts and feelings abt sodapop curtis and his knee injury from his rodeo days :):

- guys he was SO scared when it happened :((

- it happened when he got bucked off a horse and when you fall you’re supposed to get the hell out of there so you don’t,, yanno,, die. and he tried to push himself up and run but his knee just gave out under him and he was just curled up on the ground genuinely so scared that he was gonna die

- he was pretty much a crying mess on the ground with his parents and pony and darry crowding around him and he’s just apologizing bc he knows that he’s hurt really bad and that they don’t really have the money for what he’s gonna need

- he tore his acl, not badly enough to need surgery, but they know he can’t safely compete in a rodeo probably ever again

- and golly that’s a gut punch for him bc i don’t think he’d figured out that he liked cars yet, and rodeos were the one thing he was really good at, he hadn’t realistically thought of it as a career, but working with horses was the only thing he’d ever wanted to do

- he’s in the hospital for a while that day, like i’m gonna say it was probably like 7-8 hours in the emergency room before they gave him some crutches and a splint and sent them home

- he is very okay with his mama babying him while he’s there tho lol he’s got mama helping him drink his juice box and fluffing up his pillows every two seconds. she doesn’t mind ofc bc she just feels so bad that she won’t be able to give him the best care (they really couldn’t afford surgery even if he needed it, and they def can’t send him to physical therapy)

- bro was NOT cut out to be on bedrest while his knee is healing he literally can not sit still for more than 5 minutes and he just gets bored with all the stuff they do to keep him occupied (cartoons, board games, mama even tries to teach him to crochet, which goes abt as well as you’d expect)

- unfortunately all this means his knee never really heals right, and even if it did it’s pretty normal to have residual pain after an injury like that

- he has a little limp when it gets cold (heavy on this one- dry, cold, air is not good for bad joints)

- he also 100% does that thing where he’ll be on the couch complaining abt his knee hurting and darry will ask if he’s okay and soda will just say something like, “yeah, it’s gonna rain tomorrow, though.” (side note: that’s a real thing !!! it has to do with moisture changes in the air)

- i also think that if he’s super emotional (which happens a lot lol) his knee will act up (ik it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense but i’ve had this happen, i *think* it has something to do with muscle tension),, he could barely walk after their parents died and he was wincing the whole week pony was missing

- whenever there was a rumble before soda was healed, darry literally had to find someone to babysit him and make sure he didn’t try to sneak out and fight with them

- heat works wonders on bad joints so they have like four of those microwaveable heating packs

i might cook up a fic about this tbh i’m having a pain flare w my knees and hips rn and i can’t do anything lol

[devilsflowermantis]

omg the cbd gummies are great. my joints are still killing me but my body feels more relaxed lately and it’s helping my muscle pain. i also get pain when i think which has been better with it too. i just feel better and more with it

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

Day 7: Suffering in Silence / Chronic Illness

@febuwhump prompt: Suffering in Silence @badthingshappenbingo prompt: Chronic Illness

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: Wrecker, Omega, Echo This story is inspired by this post by @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius. This was one of the first Bad Batch posts I ever saw on Tumblr, back before it was my fandom, back when it was my mutual's fandom and kept cluttering my dash and I was wondering what it was all about. The consideration of the downsides of the Batch's mutations is what what got me interested in the characters and really stuck with me. Anyway this fic imagines Wrecker as a chronic pain sufferer. Enjoy. Word Count: ~640 Click here to read on AO3

Synopsis: Omega wants to play, but all Wrecker wants is rest.

It was one of those days when everything hurt. Hurt if he moved. Hurt if he didn’t. Hurt if he curled up, or stretched out, hurt if he was touched, hurt if he wasn’t. Hurt despite cold or heat or massage and hurt despite the painkillers Tech had passed him without comment.

It felt so futile. He knew his body was strong. The strongest of them all. Knew as well there was nothing wrong with his joints. That had been closely monitored. No, nothing physically wrong. Just agonising pain that danced through his senses, radiating out from each joint and leaving his muscles feeling like lead.

He could still do his job. Could push through, clear his mind, remind himself there wasn’t actually any damage to his body, that he could push past this imagined discomfort and come through for his brothers when they needed him.

But today there was no mission. Today was downtime, stuck on the Marauder, and that almost made it harder. Nothing else to focus on. Nothing to take his mind off the all-consuming, ever-present pain.

He lay in his rack, wincing with every small shift of position. Nothing to do but watch a holo on the small data-pad screen and pretend he was paying attention to the story, not to each niggling ache in his body.

“Hey Wrecker-”

Those were Omega’s chirpy tones,

“Want a game of dejarik?”

Wrecker dragged his thoughts away from his own misery to look at the blonde clone girl, bobbing on her toes beside his bunk with a smile on her face.

He didn’t want a game. He wanted to be left alone.

With a groan he painted on a smile that he hoped she believed. “Sure kid. Gimme a minute and I’ll be there.”

Closing the holo and discarding the datapad, he took his time sitting up in the bunk. He swung his legs over the side, planting his feet on the floor. Rolled his neck and his shoulders to ease the imaginary stiffness that wasn’t stiffness at all, just pain, just a signal along his nerves with no origin that felt like it should be accompanied by stiffness, even though he had full range of movement.

Pushing to his feet, he couldn’t hide the pained expression that fleetingly crossed his face as his body protested the movement. But then, his body protested all the time. That was the problem.

He caught Echo’s sympathetic look from the bunk opposite. The disabled reg was reading, also on downtime. He was the one who was closest to understanding.

“Need anything, Wrecker?” offered Echo quietly.

Wrecker summoned his usual grin, throwing a thumbs-up at his team-mate. “Nah,” he said, in a much stronger voice than he was feeling. “I’m fine. Jus’ needed a minute, an’ now I’m all rested up. Ready for action!”

Echo gave him a knowing look, and Wrecker’s smile turned strained. It was easier to say everything was fine. No point complaining. It wouldn’t get him anywhere. There wasn’t anything the others could do to help.

“All set up, Wrecker!” chimed Omega’s enthusiastic voice.

“On my way!”

Wrecker held his arm out, and Echo tapped forearms. It hurt just a little, more than a gentle touch should. A gentle touch shouldn’t hurt at all. But it was nicer to feel connected by those touches than it was to avoid the pain, so he endured.

Seeing Omega’s delight as she beat him at the game – again – didn’t relieve the constant low-grade ache in his body. But it was a distraction. He could concentrate on her dazzling smile, and push away the uncertainty of his situation a while longer.

Omega didn’t know about the phantom pain. She didn’t need to. He was her brother, and he would ignore all the discomfort in the world if it meant seeing her smile.

[moxfirefly]

Holding hands during a stressful situation and bridal carry but I'm going in a direction you least expect, one that doesn't follow the reader!!

I want it to be casey and raphael MWAHAHAAHAHAAA!!!!

Can't wait to see what you come up with

Of course I could trust you to finally push me to do a Casey/Raph snippet!!!!!! We made it lads!!!

Rated Fluff with a dollop of Angst

Raphael was used to taking bumps.

A scrape wouldn’t faze him, a smack, a punch, hell he’d fallen out of plane and lived to tell the story. He was built for damage, it was no joke he was considered a tank.

So it really knocked the wind out of him to see how humans couldn’t take one third of what he did.

And it really sent him into a spiral to see Casey Jones of all people hurt.

Things had gotten quite out of hand on their first patrol alone. Leo and Mikey were to far away and Don and April had been stuck doing some tech shit he couldn’t even begin to understand. So it had left him and Jones to figure shit out on their own.

Casey was no chump though, he couldn’t handle himself and then some.

But again, human flesh, human bones..

Raph had barely managed to catch him when a few of Shredder’s Foot soldiers decided to gang up on him and quite literally thought him at Raph. A slip, a fall and they had both fallen through a sky light. Raph had reacted as quickly as possible, shielding most of the damage from Casey.

It still didn’t stop him from hearing that crunch of something either breaking or fracturing. Once he’d shaken out his own cobwebs he found Casey on his side, holding himself and coughing. It seemed that this place had been abandoned long ago, the dust and lack of lighting was all Raph needed to know. Their only source of light was literally the moon and the broken hole his body had created when they fell.

“Case?? Hey man, talk to me, what’s yer damage?” Raph was just getting to his feet, a few his own joint popping. Casey hadn’t spoken yet, he was simply whimpering and groaning. As Raph approached he noticed that while he had taken the brunt of it all, it hadn’t been enough to save what simply looked like a broken leg. “Ah shit Case, c’mere” Raph knelt down beside him.

“Is it bad?! I don’t wanna even fucking look, cause I’m about to fucking cry” Casey propped himself on his elbows, face scrunched up in pain.

“News flash dickhead, yer crying” Raph sheepishly announced. He wanted to lighten the mood before he had to really deliver the worst news.

Raph went to get up but Casey hand shot out to grip his. “Hey man! Don’t leave a fallen soldier behind” He coughed out what could’ve been a chuckle hit Raph couldn’t tell. His green eyes fell on his and Casey’s joined hands. Never stopped amazing him just how different he was from humans, and while Casey wasn’t a short man by any means, his hand still dwarfed his by a mile.

Raph gently gripped it, noticed how nothing didn’t snap or break, if anything Casey gripped his more tightly. “I ain’t going nowhere, just gotta do something about ya leg, get ya outta here fast” It surprised him further just how calm his sounded, too gentle for his usual rough demeanor but then again Casey was literally crying from the pain and in that moment he gutted him too much.

“W-what? Like make a splint or however you call that shit?? Shit man is the bone sticking out-“ He went to look but Raph squeezed his hand and distracted him. “Might be a clean break but it still hurts like a bitch, just don’t look alright? I got ya” Call it autopilot but he couldn’t help but rub a reassuring circle over Casey’s hand with his thumb, and well, Casey didn’t seem to mind.

It took him a few second time slip out of Casey’s grip but he found a some pieces of wood. Raph looked about for anything he could use to keep the two piece of wood secured to Casey’s leg but he was drawing blanks.

“My shirt? Just use-“ Casey gripped the hem of his t-shirt but so unfathomable panic overtook Raph and he shook his head. “It’s fine, I’ll just use-yeah fuck it” He gripped his mask tails and went about untying them. His throat felt dry, why had he felt so nervous? Why did he feel so nervous?

Mask off, he placed the pieces of wood against Casey’s leg and secured it as best as he could with his mask, Casey inhaled sharply and smacked the floor but soon enough it was over.

“There, you’ll be back in the ice rink in no time, be a shitty hockey player like usual” That earned him a laugh from Casey who naturally flipped him off. “Guess I’m cancelling this months practice, fuck this is gonna suck” He did his best to sit up, pain written all over his features.

It didn’t occur to Raph that it was quite probable he would have to carry Casey out of here. They had to get to a safer spot before alerting Donnie.

“I-uh, gotta pick ya up man, get us both outta this shit hole, yer good?” He knelt and wrapped an arm around Casey’s back before scooping him up in what could only be described as a bridal carry.

“Be gentle with me, will ya?” Casey smirked, features still in pain but his humor never faltering.

Raph swallowed several times.

Why did he feel itchy? Like his skin was talking to him? Especially now that he felt Casey close to him. The way his head has plopped against his shoulder in exhaustion, the way an arm hand come up to rest on Raph’s shoulder.

He liked the shape of Casey’s back, like the way his hand firmly held him, secure and close.

He snuck a look down just as Casey looked up, face dirty and specks of blood.

“…Ya good?” Was all Raph could muster to ask.

“I’m good” Casey replied softly, corners of his mouth lifting.

Raph committed that into memory, Casey’s dirty blood speckled face, hair askew and matted by sweat.

He dug that image into the back parts of his brain.

Why did he like Casey Jones smiling up at him so much?

[jenomark]

I want to request nct dream reaction to them having a bad day and struggling to tell their s/o, but they finally open up and feel really happy💕 please make it super fluffy

Mark: In a pair of powder blue pajamas with his hair dripping wet, Mark sat on the edge of his bed and stared off into space. You didn't know where his mind went whenever he seemed absent. You were gentle with him, letting his mind wander where it needed to go in order to replenish itself. Mark worked so hard, and you could see the wears and tears on his face and body, the way his shoulders sagged, and the dark circles underneath his eyes. "Hey," he said, turning toward you, no idea of how long you were standing there. "I'm done washing up." You nodded and walked over to him, sitting behind Mark on his bed and reaching for his hair brush. Slowly, you brushed his hair back from his face, the intimacy of the moment helping Mark relax. "This feels nice." he said, leaning back against you. "You have no idea how bad my day was. I could use a little tender love and care." Mark smiled dreamily and closed his eyes. You didn't know when he would talk to you about everything, but you hoped you could see him be truly happy and satisfied again.

Renjun: "It feels a little bit like swimming in the deep end." Renjun said, looking down at this hands. "I like it there, but I'm scared I might drown." You were listening intently, your entire body facing him, your eyes trying to catch his. But Renjun could only look down at this hands as he recounted how he'd been feeling lately, his honesty making your heart hurt. You didn't know what to say, which was fine because he had asked you not to say anything. "I don't even know if I like to swim." he said with a humorless chuckle. You yearned to reach out for his hand and to kiss his mouth. You thought his words were killing you slowly, but then he smiled so brilliantly you could feel warmth touch your chest. "It actually feels much better saying all of this out loud." Renjun said. "I know there is no one else I would rather say this to. I'm so happy you're mine and you're here for me."

Jeno: It was unlike Jeno to be so distant. Usually touchy-feely and full of cheerfulness, Jeno's smile never quite reached his eyes. You played with his fingers, softly rolling your thumb over each joint, before enclosing your hand around his. Jeno watched you closely, his eyes scanning your body language for signs of what he knew to be true: you wanted to help him, to ease his pain. "Ah, I don't really want to tell you what is bothering me." he said. "It will just make you worried, and I hate seeing you that way." You prepared a whole speech about why he should trust you with his struggles, but Jeno shushed you with a flick of his eyes. "But..." he continued. "I think I really need you right now." Jeno squeezed your hand tighter and tried to smile genuinely, to show you that he was being honest. He didn't want to talk about it, but he knew that sometimes, he needed the help.

Haechan: His jokes were quick and witless. You could tell that something had been annoying him since he got home from work, because he wasn't trying to tease you like usual. Haechan was quiet, his words short. "What?" he asked when he caught you staring at him. "Something happened." you said. "Do you want to talk about it with me?" Immediately, Haechan forced out laughter and began to act like nothing was ever wrong. When you didn't react, he let the silence consume him. "Can you tell me everything is going to be okay?" he asked. "Just this once, even though it might not be. Can you tell me there are better days waiting?" You went to him and sat on his lap, holding his body against yours and rocking him slightly. "Everything will be okay." you said. "Bad days come and go. Tomorrow will be better." Looking down, where his face was pressed against your chest, you saw the beginnings of a small smile.

Jaemin: You were rubbing his tense back, your hands working over his shoulders and down the sides of his arms. Jaemin moaned in reply. He didn't have to say anything for you to know that he had a rough day, because it was written all over his face. You were expecting to massage him, maybe help him feel more relaxed, but you were not expecting Jaemin to start talking. He turned to you with a serious look on his face. He looked worn down and tired, but still as handsome and as youthful as ever. "You give me good advice." he said. "Really? Do I?" you asked, your voice a little too chipper in your attempt to keep the conversation lighter. Jaemin noticed how upbeat you were and widened his eyes in surprise. Suddenly, it was like he was trying not to laugh at your change of tone, or how terrified you looked, like you had done something wrong. Jaemin released his laughter, the sweet tinkling of it easing the atmosphere. When he was done laughing, Jaemin nodded. "Right." he said, pecking you on the lips. "I feel much better."

Chenle: His mouth hung open, his pink tongue shooting out between his lips before moving along his bottom row of teeth. For minutes, Chenle had been eager to share something with you. You didn't want to force it out of him, so you just waited. Daegal was on your lap, her fluffy white head begging for your attention, but Chenle's sweet face was all you saw. "If I told you something, I think it would make me feel better. But I don't know..." Chenle said. He raised his eyebrows, as if surprised that he was the one who had spoken. You listened intently, placing one of your hands over his. "Ahhh..."he said, shaking his head and looking down at your hand on top of his. "I'm not good at things like this." You smiled to show him that it was okay, that he could keep talking. Chenle opened up his mouth, and suddenly, all of the words were pouring out in long sentences. When he was finished, he looked pleased with himself that he had managed to share a little part of himself with you. Chenle kissed you and smiled brightly. "As expected, you always make me feel like I'm on top of the world."

Jisung: It was a bad phone call. Jisung's body stiffened, his long arms sticking to his sides. "I'll be right back." he said, already walking to his bedroom so that he could be alone. You could tell his day wasn't the best, and that the phone call had made it even harder. Feeling sympathy for your boyfriend, you stood outside of his closed bedroom door and touched your fingers to the wood. "Jisung?" you called. "Can I do anything? Do you need anything?" You wanted to give him his space, but you didn't really want him to go through anything else alone. Without saying anything, Jisung opened the door, and you could see how emotional he was getting. "Come here." you said, opening your arms. Jisung went into your open arms for a hug, and you could feel his entire body relax against you. It didn't take too long for him to open up about his hardships, his trust in the palm of your hands, and his heart always with yours.

[watchmegetobsessed]

Dead Or Alive - Harry Styles

a/n: oof okay hello! this is a little different, i guess? but im very excited to share this with you! don’t ask me how i got the idea for this, no clue but it was stuck in my head for days before i finally gave in and started writing it. please share your thoughts and comments on it, i would love to read them!! hope you’ll enjoy it!

pairing: Wanted!Harry x BountyHunter!Reader

warning: violence, talks of drugs, murder, guns, i really lost track of it lol

word count: 15.2k

masterlist

The man in the handcuffs growls in pain again, but you just yank him forward, not in the mood to deal with a whining girl trapped in a six feet tall disgusting looking, oily-faced bald man in his forties.

“Y/N! What do we got today?” Jeremy greets you at the front desk, thumbs hooked into his belt as he watches you tug the guy into the hall of the station, pushing him down to the nearest seat as you step to Jeremy who is already handing you the paperwork.

“Dennis Delgado. Took me a few days to find him, but he couldn’t hide forever,” you grin proudly as you grab a pen and start filling the papers out.

Jeremy walks over to Dennis who just looks up at the officer in disgust. It’s not enough that he is a child molester disgusting prick, he is racist on top of everything and now Jeremy is enjoying having the higher ground, Dennis trapped in his handcuffs while Jeremy will be the one to get him behind bars for a long time.

“Nice one. We’ll have a lot of fun with this one,” Jeremy chuckles. “Want me to ring up your brother?”

“Is he in? Would love to have a word with him,” you nod smiling. When you’re done with the papers you hand them over to Stella, the receptionist who gets to work with them right away so you can get your money.

“Sure, I’ll get him for you on my way,” Jeremy nods, grabbing Dennis by his arm, pulling him along on his way to the elevators. “Come on you scumbag, you have a cell waiting with your name on it.”

The two of them disappear and you get into a little chit-chat with Stella while she is finishing up the paperwork. Leaning against the counter you look around, officers come and go in the hall, all of them dressed in their uniform and for a moment you picture yourself wearing the same outfit. At one point in your life it seemed to be part of your future, but now it would be the most ridiculous sight. Y/N, the best bounty hunter in the region in a police uniform? That’s not happening.

The elevator dings and your brother, Robert walks out. He on the other hand, made this vision happen. He has been an officer for about ten years now and though at first he was outraged that you chose the not so gracious lifestyle of a bounty hunter, but you soon became his unofficial partner, handing him over a wanted person every few days, making his work easier. Everyone at the station knows that Robert is the one who plays by the rules, doing everything according to the handbook, the perfect officer, always working to keep up the peace in town while you are… Well, you are a rebel. You could never play by the rules, always sneaking ways to do things according to your desires. You never liked if someone wanted to tell you what to do and how to do it, you are not a team player or either one that can easily managed by higher forces. It didn’t take long for you to realize your nature will never let you be an officer so you chose the other path that’s somewhere near joining the police, but still playing by your own rules.

Being a female bounty hunter wasn’t the easiest when you started off at the young age of seventeen. In desperate need of the extra money after the tragic passing of both your parents, the two of you had to get along on Robert’s slim, beginner paycheck. He was only twenty-three, started working at the station just a year prior, you knew you had to help him out. He kept bringing up cases, worked on them through the nights and when he passed you on the couch from exhaustion, you sneaked your way into the dining room and looked for easy targets. Speeding tickets, light drug trafficking, whatever you could deal with as a high schooler.

Robert hated the idea of you dealing with wanted people, you had endless fights about it, but you were too stubborn to stop and besides, you liked the adrenaline rush you got whenever you caught another one and brought them back to the station. Loved the stunned and shocked looks on the older officers when you managed to catch a bigger fish. It took Robert a few years to come to peace with your choice of lifestyle and now he doesn’t even try to talk you down. Instead, he keeps bringing you cases that pay well and he knows you’d like them.

“Who did you catch this time?” he grins at you, walking up to you and he envelopes you in a short hug.

“Just got Dennis Delgado, Jeremy took him.”

“Poor Dennis, he’ll have a rough evening,” Robert chuckles. “Did you get your money?”

“Stella is already working on it,” you nod towards the lady behind you.

“Oh, I’ve got you, Sweetheart,” Stella pushes herself back from her desk and walks over to you with an envelope filled with your reward.

“Amazing, thank you, Stella,” you grin at her happily. Dennis was worth a little more than the usual, you are well covered for the rest of the month thanks to him.

“Do you have something coming next?” Robert asks, hands on his hips as he watches you put the money away into your backpack.

“Not yet. Got something exciting for me?”

“An old friend,” he nods with a small smile. He reaches behind the counter and grabs a flyer, handing it over to you, a familiar face staring back at you from the photo this time.

Harry Styles is a name you’ve heard plenty of times and you know him well by now. You actually went to high school with him, you were just never in the same group. He was labeled as troubled all through his teenage years, his parents were brutally killed when he was just a kid, he was tossed around from one foster family to the other, moving around town every few months. It was no surprised when he got into some darker circles, he almost got kicked out of school right before graduation but somehow managed to stick around to get his diploma at the end.

You have actually handed him in a few times before. Never for anything bigger than drug trafficking or robbing smaller shops downtown, Harry is actually not as bad as people tend to portray him to be, he was just not blessed with the best background as most people. He is a smart guy and would never hurt anyone for real, this is why you are now staring down at his flyer shocked.

He is wanted for the murder of a local man who was found dead a few days ago in his home, Harry’s hair was found near the body with no other evidence.

“Are you sure about this?” you ask Robert with a concerned look. This doesn’t feel right. Not that you know Harry that well, but it’s very unlike him.

“Very much. His hair was the only thing we found near the body of Dave RIchards so evidently, he is our number one suspect.”

“I don’t know, this doesn’t sound right,” you think to yourself, staring down at the mug shot of him that was taken the last time you brought him in for selling weed to underage kids. You remember it exactly, because bringing Harry in is always… fun, if you could say that.

That last time, he was already expecting you, waiting around in his usual motel room that is somewhat considered as his home.

“My Y/N! You arrived earlier than I expected!” he greeted you when you kicked his door in. He was sitting in the middle of the double bed, rolling a joint as always, not a care in the world about your arrival.

“You knew I was coming?” you cocked your head to the side walking in and stopping at the end of the bed, watching him finish the joint and simply light it before taking a big puff.

“Of course. I was informed I’m on your list again, just thought you’d give me a few more hours, but it’s alright.” He waved around carelessly before holding out the joint in your way, offering you to try it.

“No thanks, I don’t trust your sketchy stuff.”

“That hurt!” he gasped dramatically, placing a hand to his tattooed chest that was partially on display since his shirts are never buttoned all the way up.

You brought him in that day, stopping for McDonald’s on your way to the station before handing him over to Robert. He was actually a great guy, nice sense of humor and good looks, you never thought otherwise, he was just moving around in different circles than you so you were left with the few jokes he always cracked when you took him in every few months.

“Well, it’s not your job to question his innocence. Want to take the job or not?” Robert asks you.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll find him,” you nod and fold the flyer, sliding it into your back pocket.

Normally, you take the rest of the day for yourself after turning someone in, but this situation with Harry just bugs you way more than to just go home and pretend like it’s not all you can think about. Harry is not a murderer, he would never randomly kill a man, he is not a psycho, just a guy with a rough background and some poor life decisions.

You know the route to the motel like the back of your hand. Arriving to the dodgy parking lot you park your car in the far end before taking one last look at the flyer. Then you push it into your backpack and get out, heading to Harry’s room with firm steps. You see no lights on, the door is closed and you almost don’t even get closer, thinking he is not here when you see someone move around inside.

You are almost at the door when a hand covers your mouth and an arm wraps around your body, pulling you back forcefully. It takes you a moment to recover from the shock as you are yanked backwards, but as you are being dragged towards the alleyway next to the motel you elbow your attacker in the stomach before kicking them in the knees. The hands fall from around you and turning around you pull out your pocket knife, ready to cut throats right away, but you are shocked to see Harry hunched over, groaning in pain as he holds his arm to his stomach.

“The fuck, Y/N?!” he growls, his chocolate curls falling forward, they’ve definitely gotten longer since the last time you saw him, he could easily put them up into a bun now. “What was that for?” he whispers in disbelief, his green eyes meeting yours in a scowl.

“What the fuck do you mean? You attacked me!”

“I didn’t attack you, I was trying to fucking save you!”

“From what?!”

“From the fucking asshole in my room who is four times bigger than you and would have probably shot you the moment you kicked my door in like you always fucking do!”

It’s just now processing in you that if Harry is here, the person you saw in the room can’t be him and he surely looked bulky. Harry runs his hand through his hair, straightening up from his hunched position before he sighs tiredly. He looks… worn-out, even more than he usually does. The dark circles under his eyes and beat-up knuckles are new, he usually looks fine despite everything that goes on in his life, but this is a version of him you haven’t seen. He has definitely been through some shit lately.

“What are you doin—“

“No time for questions now, we have to get out of here,” he cuts you off, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the alleyway to another parking lot on the other side of the motel. You spot his old jeep right away, but you yank your hand out of his hold, stopping in your tracks.

“Wait, my car is there!”

“We’ll come back for that later, but they can’t find you here with me or they’ll be after you as well,” he explains, grabbing your hand again as he pulls you towards the car and this time you follow him blindly.

You get into his jeep without even questioning it, not even caring that he is a man who is currently wanted for murder. Your instinct is telling you that you’re completely fine with him and you believe it. The two of you head out of town, taking the route to the next town nearby, but he takes a turn to the left, the jeep rolling onto a dirty road leading along fields filled with wildflowers. You have a guess where you’re going, there are some abandoned cabins near the woods that used to function as vacation homes, but they were slowly left to stand empty for eternity when a luxury resort was built on the other side of the woods.

“Care to tell me what the fuck just happened?” you ask him calmly, turning to look at him. He has one hand on the wheel, while his other elbow is resting on the armrest, fingers tapping on his chapped, pink lips.

“I’m in… deep shit, Y/N,” he admits with a sigh, eyes glued to the road ahead of him.

“No shit, you killed someone?”

“I didn’t,” he states, his eyes meeting yours for a moment to emphasize his truth. “It was a fucking set up and now they are after me every way possible.”

“Who is? And what did you do to get into so much trouble?”

“I’ll tell you about it when we arrive, okay?”

You sit in silence for the rest of the ride until you finally arrive to the cabins. You follow Harry inside one of them and it seems like he has set his base up here a few days ago. There’s a double bed with blankets thrown over it and a few mismatched pillows, a sports bag with his clothes and a few grocery bags on the dusty kitchen counter, candles everywhere since there’s probably no power in the cabin. You wonder how long he has been camping out here.

“About a week ago I got a visit from Hugo McKain, you’ve heard about him?” he asks as he grabs a bottled water from one of the grocery bags and fills up two plastic cups, handing you one of them.

“Sure. I’ve heard that… he is a big fish,” you nod.

“Yeah. He wanted me to work for him, but I sincerely rejected the offer, however it didn’t sit well with him. He threatened me that if I’m not selling his stuff, then I won’t sell anyone else’s stuff,” he explains, walking over to the bed and he sits at the edge, staring at the cup in his hands. “He gave me another day to change my mind, but I said that I don’t want to get involved with any of the heavy shit he deals with. I was hoping he would just willing to forget about it, but apparently, he is not the kind to just let shit go,” he chuckles bitterly. “A few days ago he sent two of his men after me, but I was able to run away. I was ready to pack my shit up and just leave the state forever, but then the fucking asshole framed me for the murder of that guy. A friend called me to let me know that I’m the only suspect in the case and that my face has been sent out already everywhere in the state. Hugo made it impossible for me to leave, I would be caught the moment I stop to pump fucking gas in my car,” he growls in annoyance. “So it’s a whole shit show, the police and Hugo are after me and I’m fucking stuck here.”

You stand there at a complete loss of words, because though you have no evidence if he is telling you the truth, you just know he is and the situation is fucking miserable. Harry drinks his water and throws the cup into a plastic bag that serves as a trashcan, his fingers running through his hair nervously.

“Do you know who killed the guy?” you speak up after some silence.

“Yeah, one of his men called Axel, he is a proper idiot, I’m actually surprised he didn’t leave his DNA back, just mine,” Harry scoffs.

“If you know they are after you, what were you doing at the motel?” you ask, leaning against the wall, curiously eyeing him as he glances up at you.

“Knew you’d come after me, didn’t want them to pull you into this mess too.”

Your eyebrows rise at his words. He went back because of you? Harry notices your surprise, a smug smirk tugging on his lips.

“What? Couldn’t let them lay a finger on my Y/N, right?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at him. He has always been so flirty with you since day one, always trying to pull your leg, chatting your ears off in hopes that he can finally drag you to bed one day. But you never give in, it all stays just some empty flirting and a playful banter.

“So what are you going to do now?” you ask clearing your throat. There’s just always been something in the way he calls you his Y/N that makes you a tad bit nervous.

“That’s an excellent question to which… I have no answer,” he truthfully admits.

“You can’t hide here forever.”

“You tryna’ lure me into going to the station with you?” he asks with a grin. “To be honest, I’m surprised you haven’t cuffed me yet. You love that stuff, don’t you?” Harry stands from the bed and strides over to you, the height difference between the two of you forcing you to tilt your head up a little as he smirks down at you, enjoying that he has successfully made you blush. “Question is, have you been the one in the cuffs?”

You part your lips with the intention of answering, but nothing comes out. Harry smirks down at you, so full of himself before stepping away.

“Anyway, I think I’m just gonna lay low here for a while and then hopefully I’ll be able to sneak out of town at one point.”

“You wanna stay here?” you ask looking around. The place is fine for just a few nomad days, but staying here for more seems impossible. There’s no electricity, probably no water, some of the windows are broken in, the temperature must drop drastically in the nights so close to the woods.

“Not that I have any other choices,” he huffs, opening a bag of chips from the groceries.

“Don’t you have any friends who can share their couch with you for a while?”

“You think anyone would want to hide a dude who is wanted for murder and who is also in trouble with Hugo McKain? Baby, even if any of my friends were willing to help, I wouldn’t take it. I wouldn’t want to pull them into my shit. Besides, Hugo is probably already keeping tabs of all my friends, he has the connections to know everything about me.”

“And what about me?” you suddenly ask. Harry freezes, eyes flickering at you in confusion.

“What about you?”

“Would he look for you at mine?”

Now it’s his turn to rock a stunned expression, eyebrows shooting up as he stares back at you. He wasn’t expecting it, but truth is neither did you. However it doesn’t take him long to turn it into something entirely sexual.

“You know, if you wanted to see me in your bed, you should have just asked.”

Luckily, you don’t fall under his spell this time. Rolling your eyes you put the cup to the nearest surface and head to the door.

“Alright, changed my mind. Have fun camping out here on your own,” you mumble, reaching for the doorknob, but he is quick to get between you and the door, stopping you from leaving.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I was just not expecting you to make that offer, alright?” You take a step back, folding your arms on your chest. “Were you serious about that?”

“It seemed like an option. I doubt you’d be expected to be at my place.”

“And you’d actually let me stay there?”

“I guess a few days wouldn’t hurt. Until you figure out what to do.”

Harry stares at you in awe, like you just did the best thing ever for him and the thought that he never had anyone to do such favor for him is kind of heartbreaking. He might be a pain in the ass sometimes, but there’s just something in him.

You help him pack his stuff back into the jeep, leaving the weathered cabin empty again before you head back to town. Harry drops you off a few blocks from the motel so you can walk back to your car, you glance at his door just once, it’s still closed but they could easily still be there.

Harry is already at your place when you arrive to your building, waiting around in his jeep, he has put a beanie and sunglasses on, keeping his head low. As he follows you up to your little apartment, you actually realize that Harry is about to move in with you for the upcoming days, he is going to live in your place, you’ll share your home with him. How crazy does that sound?

Unlocking the door you walk into your small apartment. It’s just the perfect size for one person, a decent kitchen with a small dining table, a living room that also functions as your study, your desk filled with folders and flyers from previous works. Then you have a little bedroom and a bathroom opening from the living room. It’s cozy and homey, but definitely not the setting you would have ever imagined Harry in.

“So, the couch is a pull out, I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow, make yourself… home I guess,” you tell him walking into your bedroom to get him everything he needs. However, he is following you into the room, already snooping around in your private little space.

As you grab him a blanket and pillow, you find him inspecting your clutters on top of your dresser, your jewelry, perfumes and makeup stuff is just thrown out there, and he seemingly takes an interest in your rings.

“Never seen you wear any jewelry,” he huffs as you walk up to him.

“Don’t like them on me that much,” you admit. “Here,” you give them the bedding and usher him out of the bedroom before he gets way too adventurous and starts digging into your lingerie drawers.

When the pullout is all set up and Harry has settled in a little, you are faced with the fact once again, that Harry is in your home and about to spend the upcoming days here with you, since he can’t really roam around the streets.

You make sandwiches for the two of you and sit at the small dining table, eating in silence until you speak up.

“I can ask my brother to help find the guy who did it. There has to be a way to get you out of this.”

Harry glances at you, chewing on his food before putting the sandwich down, swallowing the bite.

“Not really if they don’t find evidence.”

“I’m sure we’ll find something.”

“We?” he smirks at you playfully, earning a blush from you again. You hate the effect he has on you, he is clearly a good-looking guy, you always thought that, even in high school. Thanks to his troubled name, girls easily fall for his bad guy behavior, they just never really saw that being a so called bad guy wasn’t just about the looks, with a slightly similar background you could imagine how hard it really was for him. Though he never really let it show. He is always this whitty, cocky bastard who is ready to flirt his way into your pants whenever the opportunity is given.

“If you keep up with the teasing you’ll find yourself on the street one morning,” you warn him and he just holds his hands up with a smug grin.

“You are the boss lady here,” she chuckles softly before returning to his sandwich.

For the rest of the evening you bury yourself into some other work stuff, you always have a few smaller gigs going on that are easy money, Harry in the meanwhile makes himself comfortable on the couch, watching your tiny TV in silence, letting you do your thing. It’s nearing midnight when you wrap it up and head to have a quick shower. Standing under the hot water you take a few minutes to collect your thoughts and just simply try to get used to the thought that you are in fact hiding a man who is wanted for murder. It’s going to be some pretty interesting days you have ahead of you, that is for sure.

Putting on your oversized t-shirt and cotton shorts you leave a clean towel on the counter for Harry in case he doesn’t have one before heading out.

“Towel is on the counter. Sorry, I don’t have shower gel for men, but the soap is unscented so feel free to use,” you tell him walking out, only to find him already waiting around the door, leaning against the wall. His eyes fall down the length of your uncovered leg, a smirk tugging on his lips.

“If you’re the kind who sleeps naked, feel free to get rid of the textile.”

“Are you a naked sleeper?” you ask tilting your head to the side.

“I can be, if you want me to be,” he grins smugly and you just roll your eyes at him.

“Good night, Harry,” you sigh walking into your bedroom and shutting the door behind you, only allowing yourself to let out a shaky sigh when you are out of his sight. Leaning against the door you hear him shuffling around until the bathroom door closes and the water starts running. You try your best to ignore the thought of Harry currently in your shower naked as you climb to bed and pull the covers over your head. You need the coverage, hopefully it’ll help you with your wandering thoughts.

“Thought you’d deliver Styles by now,” Robert teases you when he meets you at the station the next day. You left Harry at your place, sincerely asking not to trash your home while you’re away and headed to the police station in hopes that your brother might be able to help him out.

“Uh, no. But actually, he is the reason why I’m here,” you tell him with a nervous chuckle.

“What? Did he hurt you or something?”

“No, nothing like that. Can we please talk in your office?” you ask and he nods, leading you up to his office.

Once the two of you are settled and secluded from the rest of the officers, you just decide to start right in the middle and not waste your time beating around the bush.

“Harry didn’t do it. He was framed.”

Robert gives you a surprised look as he leans back in his seat on the other side of his desk. He thinks about your words furrowing his eyebrows before scratching his neck.

“How… do you know that?”

“I just know. He is being framed by Hugo McKain, it was one of his men who killed the guy, not Harry.”

“I have a feeling that your source about this was none other than Harry himself.”

“Does it matter?”

“It does, because of course he would try to defend himself!”

“Harry is not a murderer, Robert,” you snap. “He always owns up to his mistakes and he would never do anything to hurt others. Yes, he is troubled and did a lot of illegal shit in his life, but never anything that could hurt others. He became a target because he didn’t want to join Hugo.”

Robert stares at you for a while, probably trying to figure out whether he should believe you or not. You knew he’d be skeptical, but you can only hope he trusts you enough to help you out in this one case.

“And what do you expect me to do?” he asks after a while.

“He knows the name of the guy. Axel something, can you get someone on his case? Look into the evidence more? Something might come up that could help Harry out of this mess.”

Robert’s jaw clenches as he stares back at you, contemplating his choices but something is telling you he is already in. You won him over.

“I’ll have Jake look into it, I think I know who this Axel guy is.”

“Thank you, Robert!” you cheer in excitement. Jumping from your seat you go around his desk and hug him from behind, kissing his cheek as he tries to escape your embrace. He hates it when you get all affectionate at his work, but you just had to. You head to the door to get out of his hair before he changes his mind, but he stops you before you could leave.

“Y/N, just please be careful with Styles, okay?”

“He is not as bad as people make him sound.”

“I just don’t want him to get you into trouble. There’s only so much I can do to save your ass.” “Don’t worry,” you smile at him softly. “I’ll be alright.”

The rest of the day goes by with catching some stupid guy who was wanted for trying to rob a gas station while drunk, it’s a mystery how he was able to run away, you saw the security footage, the guy was barely standing on his feet, but lucky for you, he is in the exact same state when you surprise him at a bar and bring him in.

It’s past seven when you finally get home. Keying yourself into the apartment you are met with a quite pleasant sight. Harry has pushed the pullout in to make some space in the cramped living room and as you step inside, you are met with the sight of him doing pushups in the middle of the room, no shirt on, just a pair of loose shorts, all his tattoos are on display, a thin layer of sweat covering his body, his curls are held back with a headband. When he hears you arrive, his head shoots up and smirks in your way before doing a few more and then he stops, standing up just as you shut the front door.

“Welcome home, Honey,” he winks in your way and you just roll your eyes at him.

“Turning my living room into your personal gym, huh?”

“I can’t just sit around all day, waiting for you to get home, can I?”

“You can always just fix up my apartment while I’m gone,” you joke chuckling. Setting your bag down on your bed you join him in the kitchen where he is sipping on some water. “Anyway, I have good news for you. My brother said he’ll have one of his guys look into the case. I’m sure he’ll check after this Axel dude you mentioned.”

“That’s great! I’ve also been asking around today, some of my friends said they will try to dig up some dirt that might help me out, but I don’t want any of them to get too deep and then have Hugo go after them too.”

“It’ll be fine,” you nod, convinced that things will turn out well. “Alright, I’ll throw something together for dinner, what—“

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I already ordered, should be here soon.”

“You ordered food?” you ask in surprise.

“Of course. I won’t just eat your fridge out, dinners are on me while I’m here,” he smiles genuinely and you’re stunned by the gesture.

Half an hour later the two of you are sitting on the living room floor, Chinese takeout boxes littering the place around you, having a full on feast because Harry didn’t go light on the order.

“So, tell me, what have you been doing since high school?” he prompts the question. “I feel like I know you but I also don’t. Don’t get me wrong, being handcuffed by you every other month is fucking hot, but I don’t know much about you.”

“There’s not much to know,” you shrug. “I’ve been doing this since I was seventeen, no grandiose career.”

“But did you have any other plans before?”

“Thought about joining the police, but I was never tame enough to follow their rules.”

“Ooh, a little rebel?” he teases you and you throw a handful of napkins in his way, making him laugh.

“You can joke about it, but I’ve had my fair share of trouble as well, you are not the only one who’s been through some rough years.”

“I know that,” he nods, eyes getting serious for a moment. “I’m sorry about your parents.”

“You know about them?” you ask in surprise. You didn’t really share it with anyone, talking about the loss of them just made it harder to deal with it and you also didn’t want everyone’s petty.

“You just know about this kind of stuff when you grow up in foster care. Though you were lucky your brother was already of age.”

“I know. I’m convinced I wouldn’t be here if I had to go into foster care.” Putting down the box from your hands you look at Harry. “I’m sorry you had to deal with all that.”

“Not that it was any of your fault,” he smiles softly, but you can see the pain in his green eyes. Despite not knowing him well growing up, you always felt this weird urge to tell him how sorry you were for everything he had to deal with. He deserved a better childhood and teenage years and most importantly, respect from people. Everyone just labeled him as a lost case because of his background, but no one really tried to help him. Part of you feels guilty, because you could have helped through those years, but you were a little frightened from him as well, believing the rumors and talks about him, though now you know they were probably just stupid gossips.

Harry reaches into your box, stealing a dumpling and you snap on his hand, but he just pops it into his mouth grinning slyly.

“Hey! You have your own!” you tell him off.

“I know, but yours just tastes better.”

“You are such a pest,” you roll your eyes at him as you grab your box and start eating again.

“So, what does your boyfriend think about me being here?” he asks out of nowhere, but you see through his act. It’s his sneaky way of trying to get you to say if you’re single or not, probably already knowing the answer to that, but you choose to pull his leg a little.

“He is fine. Though you might have to plug your ears in a little when he comes over,” you tell him with a straight face and see his fall, a stunned expression on his handsome face.

“Wait, really? You have a boyfriend and told him about me being here?”

“Sure, why wouldn’t I?”

It’s hard not to start laughing, especially when the words process and he realizes that you are in fact taken. The flirty, teasing act is long gone, he presses his lips together nodding to himself as he continues to eat in silence.

“I’m just fucking with you, I don’t have a boyfriend,��� you tell him at last, finally letting out a laugh. His eyes snap up at you and a smirk slowly tugs at his lips as he points a finger at you.

“You had me for a hot minute. Nice one.”

“Why were you so surprised when I said I have a boyfriend?” you ask tilting your head to the side.

“Guess the thought was just a little weird, I’ve never seen you with a guy before.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ve never been with any,” you point out, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Oh, I know. I never thought you are pretending to be a nun,” he snorts.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you gasp, feeling like it was a subtle way to call you some sort of slut. Harry looks up at your upset expression and he immediately knows how his words were taken.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” he defends himself.

“Then how did you mean it?”

“I meant that I always thought a girl as pretty as you must have plenty of guys after her.”

Your eyebrows shoot up at how bluntly he just called you pretty. It had a refreshing sound after all the shameless flirting he has been doing when it came to you, and your poor little heart immediately skipped a beat upon hearing his words.

“Well, I didn’t have,” you admit with a sad smile. You briefly dated a guy from another school in tenth grade, but after that, your life was just way too complicated to get involved in a relationship and you haven’t really been able to change that even years later. When you’re very keen on some intimacy you go to a nearby bar and just let whatever man to pick you up and have for the night, but that doesn’t happen too often either, because it seems useless most of the time, you can do the job yourself just fine too, you don’t need some random man to call you his babygirl when he doesn’t even know your name. Some never even bother to finish you, they pass out once they got what they wanted so you prefer being on your own.

“Fucking losers!” Harry huffs dramatically. “They have no idea what’s good.”

“You don’t need to say that just to make me feel better,” you roll your eyes at him, but you can feel yourself blushing.

“I’m not, I was always crushing on you a little in high school, if I’m being honest,” he admits truthfully, managing to surprise you once again.

“For real?”

“Sure,” he nods, turning his focus back to his food as he continues to talk. “Even thought about asking you out to prom one time. But I figured you might not even know who I am.”

“Come on, everyone knew who you were!”

“Are you telling me off for being humble?” he asks grinning. “Okay, let me rephrase it. I didn’t know if you wanted anything to do with me after hearing stuff about me, so I just dodged the idea.”

You chew on his words a little before looking up at him, eyes meeting his green irises, though you are usually not one to get in on the flirting, now you just feel like being a little blunt.

“Well, I always thought you were good-looking.”

“Were? Am I not good-looking anymore?” he teases with a dramatic gasp that makes you roll your eyes.

“Well, the smugness takes a bit away from it, if I’m being honest,” you tell him off making him laugh.

Once you both are well fed you clean the boxes up together, you wash the few extra plates you used while Harry dries them off and puts them away. Opening one of the cabinets he moves the door a bit, examining how it hangs a little low.

“I always forget to fix it up,” you sigh. There’s quite a few things that could use some work, but you just never get to start on them so they are always put aside.

You take your turns in the bathroom as usual and you sit at your desk a little, working on a few stuff before calling it a night. Harry is already lying in his temporary bed on the pullout, scrolling through his phone. The covers hide only half of his body, his naked, tattooed chest is on display, one of his arms is tucked under his head, the muscles on his arm flexing just right. He surely is a sight, you can’t deny that.

“Seeing something you like?” His voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you realize you’ve been caught staring. Clearing your throat you stack up the papers on your desk and head into your bedroom.

“Good night, Harry,” you mumble, feeling your cheeks heating up.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he calls after you before you click the door closed.

The next day you go with your usual routine, Robert checks in with you letting you know he already has someone on Harry’s case, so there’s not much you can do for now, only hope that something will surface that can help him out of this mess. Throughout the day you often catch yourself thinking about what Harry could be doing at home all day and you pray to all higher powers he is not currently snooping through your lingerie.

It’s a frustrating day, you couldn’t find the guy you’ve been after but you were really hoping to finally get the money for him. He is big money, but he makes you work for it certainly. When you arrive home Harry is nowhere to be seen, but then you hear the shower running so you figure he must have just been working out and is now taking a shower. Two pizza boxes are set on the dining table and you sigh in relief that you don’t have to think about cooking with him around. Going to the kitchen you are about to grab two plates when you notice that the cupboard door that’s been hanging low a little is now fixed. It’s as new as it never was since you’ve been living here and it gets you wondering if anything else has been taken care of. Going through the kitchen you start to realize that all the little things that’s been waiting to be fixed are now working perfectly: the handle on one of the drawers, the loose tap, the shelf that’s been crooked for a while, it’s all perfect now.

The bathroom door opens and Harry walks out wearing a pair of black sweatpants, his hair is wet and he has a towel hanging from around his neck.

“Oh, hey. Didn’t hear you arrive,” he breathes out throwing the towel to the back of one of the chairs around the dining table.

“Just arrived a few minutes ago. Hey, did you fix my kitchen?” you ask furrowing your eyebrows at him.

“Uh, yeah. Took a look at the stuff that seemed off. Also fixed the shoe rack near the door and the hangers in the bathroom.”

“Oh wow. You really shouldn’t have.”

“Didn’t you tell me to fix the place up while being here?” he teases you with a smirk as he leans against the table.

“That was just a joke.”

“I know,” he chuckles softly. “But I really didn’t have much to do today so I thought I might make myself useful.”

“That’s… actually very nice of you. Thank you.”

“No worries.”

“So how was your day?” Harry asks as the two of you are chewing on the pizza, sitting at the dining table.

“Why are you making small talk like we’re a married couple?” you scrunch your nose, taking another bite from your slice.

“What, I can’t be nice?”

“You can, it’s just you are usually not,” you point out.

“Or you are just never around when I decide to be nice,” he grins. “You usually just burst into my place, handcuff me and then bring me in. That doesn’t give much time to be nice.”

“I wouldn’t cuff you if you didn’t try to run away the first time I wanted to bring you in,” you retort shrugging.

“Okay, first of all, I was not expecting you to just kick my door in and have a fucking knife pointed at my throat, of course I tried to escape! And second, I quite enjoy being handcuffed by you, so I guess it’s not that bad.”

That smug smirk is back on his lips again and you wish you could just wipe it off sometimes. He is so full of himself!

“You are always coming with this cuffing thing. Get a hold of your kinks, Styles.”

“You can’t tell me it doesn’t turn you on. I bet you’d like that, if you haven’t already been cuffed in the bedroom,” he snorts, taking a big bite, the sauce dripping a bit from the corner of his mouth that he wipes with the back of his hand.

“My kinks are none of your concerns,” you sternly reply, but it just makes his grin wider.

“Oh, so you do have kinks! Tell me more about them!”

“Well what are yours?” you retort, hoping it would shut him up, but it has the opposite effect on him. Leaning back he swallows the food in his mouth before starting the list.

“Well I do love getting handcuffed, I’m into spanking, both ways. I have a weird thing for—“

“Alright! I’ve heard enough!” you cut him off. “Stop, just… stop,” you breathe out.

“What?” Harry chuckles, clearly enjoying the situation more than you’d want him to. “Don’t tell me you’re too prude to talk about sex.”

“I’m not,” you answer right away.

“Okay, then tell me about your kinks!” he teases you some more. Snapping your eyes at him you can tell how much he is enjoying making you so uncomfortable, but you also know that he thinks he’ll just make you blush and you won’t tell him a thing. So you decide to give him his own medicine.

“I do in fact like to be handcuffed, I love a good spanking, when my ass cheeks turn red from the slaps, that makes me cum very hard. I love a good old choking and I particularly enjoy giving blowjobs because I don’t have a gagging reflex, makes men go fucking nuts when I have them down my throat to the last inch, I get off their reaction easily.”

Harry’s lips part as he stares at you with a stunned expression, he definitely did not expect that answer, or any answer at all. That face alone makes up for the slight anxiety that took over you talking about what you really enjoy in the bedroom. Your eyes wander down and a triumphant smirk tugs on your lips.

“Don’t be such a horny teenager, I can see your dick getting hard,” you tell him before flipping the pizza box closed and walking into the kitchen you put the remaining of it into the fridge.

“You are such a tease, Y/N,” he shakes his head with a soft chuckle. “But it might backfire, because now I’m gonna get off thinking about spanking you,” he grins at you, but you just shrug, heading to the bathroom.

“Do whatever you want, fantasizing is free,” you tell him before locking yourself in the bathroom.

You’d be lying if you said you don’t think about him in the shower. As your hands move down your body, your fingers wander between your legs, gently playing with your clit while thinking about Harry spanking you. Knowing that he is kind of into the same things as you makes your fantasies even more vivid, but you don’t let yourself get off. You wouldn’t want him to hear you moan under the shower, he would tease you about it forever.

When you’re all done you step out of the bathroom only to get startled by Harry who is standing right at the door, wearing only his boxer briefs.

“Shit!” you gasp, snapping your hand to your chest.

“You took awfully long in there, Y/N,” he smirks at you, but you just roll your eyes at him. “If you ever need help washing you back, don’t be shy to ask me to join.”

“Keep dreaming,” you mumble under your breath as you walk past him and make your way into your bedroom.

“I already do that!” he calls after you before you shut the door closed.

Throwing yourself to your bed you take a deep breath closing your eyes. If he keeps up this act, you have no idea how you’re gonna survive having him around any longer.

Two days go by in the same manner. You spend most of the day out doing your usual stuff, you actually manage to catch another guy who was a small reward, but it’s more than nothing. Harry usually has dinner ready and waiting for you by the time you get back home. During these two days he has fixed up basically everything that wasn’t working in your apartment, freeing you from doing it yourself for probably twice as long as he did.

You sit and eat together, Harry usually tries to get under your skin with some more flirting that you return with a cold shoulder, but then, when you’re lying in the comfort of your bed or standing under the hot water in the shower, you always find your thoughts wandering off to the man on the other side of the door.

Ashamed to admit, but you’ve gotten yourself off once thinking about him. You woke up in the middle of the night from a quite hot dream that, of course, featured a shirtless Harry and you just couldn’t stop yourself from bringing you some relief. For a little while your hands weren’t yours, you imagined that Harry’s big, calloused and ring clad fingers were moving against your body and you needed every drop of self-control not to moan his name out as you came. You blame it on him being so comfortable shirtless around your place, he has been really making himself feel home. Not that you’re complaining, he is a sight for the eyes certainly, but it’s also giving you a hard time.

Robert soon asks you to swing by the station to discuss some details about Harry’s case. You can tell he couldn’t dig up anything helpful, he would have already mentioned it through the phone, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have anything that can be useful in further investigation.

“So, I’ve caught wind of Axel Morris being involved in the death of the victim, but we haven’t been able to recover any evidence that would point towards him, unfortunately,” Robert explains as the two of you sit in his office. “Didn’t want to bring him in for questioning either because then Hugo would find out we are after him.”

“So what can be done now?”

“I’m… really not sure, Y/N. If Axel doesn’t magically confesses the murder on tape, I’m not sure I can do anything to help Styles.”

Chewing on your bottom lip you’re trying hard to think of what to do. This can’t end like this, there has to be a way out for Harry…

“Look. I know you’re trying to cook up something to help Styles, but I’m not sure I can give you much time.”

“What do you mean?” you ask with a puzzled look.

“I mean that…” He glances at the door and then leans closer, speaking more quietly. “If I had a guess where he could be found, I would say he is at your place as we are speaking. I can’t let a guy walk free who is wanted for murder, Y/N. I eventually have to bring him back.”

“Alright, alright. Just give me a few more days. I’ll figure it out,” you plead, running your hand through your hair. Robert sighs, shaking his head.

“You have three days. That marks ten days since the warrant has been out. If you don’t bring me evidence by then, I’m sending the guys to your place to get him.”

“Three days, alright. I’ll… figure it out. Thanks, Robert,” you nod, leaving his office in a rush.

You have three days to find evidence against Axel and free Harry, but how do you even start? You’re good at what you do, but this is kind of out of your field and you’re not sure you can deal with it.

Walking around town you try to come up with an idea, but end up doing what you always do when you’re stuck on a case. Thanks to your work you’ve built up quite a web of connections, you always know someone who knows someone who is exactly the person you need. So sitting at a diner, munching on a late lunch you start calling your connections to see if you can dig up anything that could help.

A few hours later the situation becomes brighter and you finally have a somewhat useful plan so you head home to let Harry in on what you’ve come up with.

He is seemingly surprised when you arrive home earlier than the usual, he is sitting at the dining table, a bowl of instant noodles in front of him as he is watching some video on his phone. Like usually, he is only wearing a pair of sweatpants, his tattooed abdomen on full display.

“Oh, hi! Something happened?” he asks, concern showing in his eyes as he watches you kick your shoes off and storm into your bedroom, going straight to your wardrobe to dig up one particular outfit. “Y/N?” you hear him call out for you, his voice coming from your door.

“Yes! I knew I still had it!” you cheer in triumph as you hold up the latex set that clearly leaves very little to the imagination. When Harry sees it, his eyes go wide and his imagination probably gets wild for a moment, because he clears his throat as he looks at you puzzled.

“What do you need that for?”

“It’s part of my plan that will get us evidence against Axel Morris.”

“I’m not really following, so please elaborate?”

“I talked to Robert, he said we need to get him to confess. Now, I made a few phone calls and found out that our friend, Axel is a regular at this strip club called Siren. I’ll pretend to be a dancer and wrap him around my fingers and get him to confess while recording. You said it yourself, he is a real dumbass, I’m sure I can make it work.”

Harry stares at you frozen for a long moment before he lets out a heartfelt chuckle and now you’re the one confused about what’s really going on.

“S’cute you think I’m letting you close to that man. Funny, that was a good joke. Alright, what do you want for dinner?” he asks, walking back to the dinner table, but you chase after him.

“It’s not a joke, Harry. Pretty much our only chance to get you out of this mess!”

“You are not going anywhere near that guy and that’s not up for debate.”

“Not that you can tell me what to do!” you scoff at him.

“Y/N, you have no idea what you’re talking about,” he shakes his head sitting back to the table, stirring his pasta around with the spoon.

“I certainly know, and this is pretty much your only chance to save your ass, Harry.”

“Not if it means you go near Axel, nah,” he shakes his head calmly, as if it wasn’t even an argument and he had the right to grant you permission.

“Well, I’m doing it and you can’t do anything about that. I’m going in tomorrow. I know one of the dancers, she is helping me set it all up,” you shrug, your attitude meeting his careless one, but he doesn’t like your answer, not even a bit.

“Y/N, you are not going there!” he snaps, standing up, the chair falling back from the sudden movement. “That psycho killed a man or did you forget about that?!”

“Okay, so what’s your plan to save your ass? Because there’s literally no other choice,” you retort giving him a frown as you march back to your room and Harry follows you.

“But it won’t be you dressing up as a stripper, seducing a fucking murderer to get him to confess!”

“So then what is it going to be?!” you snap at him facing him again. “Because Robert gave me three days to sort things out before he comes here and takes you in himself!”

“Then I’ll go to jail! No big deal!” he throws his hands into the air like it was just a minor inconvenience and not a case of murder that could put him behind bars forever.

“Are you fucking insane?” you laugh in disbelief. “You’re willing to lose the rest of your life for what? Nothing at all?!”

“It’s not nothing, Y/N. You are not getting yourself into this mess and it’s not up for debate.”

“You hold no control over me, Harry!” you scream at him at this point, fed up with his bullshit.

You find yourself pinned against the wall in a blink of the eye, Harry is pressed up against you, hands grabbing onto your forearms as he keeps you in place firmly, one of his thighs coming between your legs as his face is dangerously close to yours now. He knocks the air out of you for a moment and you stare back at him with parted lips for just a split second before your instincts kick in.

You easily knee him in the crotch, giving you just enough opportunity to grab one of his wrists and twist it behind his back, forcing him to get on the ground, growling in pain.

“Fuck! Y/N!” he groans, snapping his other hand against the hardwood floor. You give him another squeeze as a warning before letting him go and he falls to the ground for a moment before he pushes himself up to sit on his heels.

“You still think I can’t protect myself against a man?” you sneer at him walking over to the bed to grab the outfit that was tossed to the side in the hustle.

“Shit, I think you broke my dick!” he breathes out hunching over and you just smile to yourself as you hand the outfit up to the side of your wardrobe.

“Don’t be such a crybaby, you’re fine.”

“Don’t think so, might need a get-well kiss on it though,” he smirks through his painful expression and you roll your eyes at him. How is he still at it when you just kneeled him in his crotch? “Okay, your message came through very clear though, but I’m still not a fan of your plan,” he sighs finally standing up from the floor.

“It’s gonna be easy, I’ll get him a little drunk, offer him a private dance, make a move and get him to talk. If he really is that dumb like you said, I can easily get him to open up, just gotta make sure he is focusing on something else,” you explain gesturing towards the outfit on the hanger.

“You can’t wear that, Y/N.”

“This is what strippers wear, I don’t see what the problem is.”

“My problem is that it’s like… nonexistent. There’s no textile at all!” he rages, still eyeing the red latex set.

“Are you… jealous?” you ask, starting to get a feel of what’s really going on. Harry’s head snaps in your way and the look in his eyes answers your question even when he tries to hide his real reasons.

“Jealous of you becoming a stripper? I bet I can make more than you if I became one,” he scoffs smugly.

“Oh my god, you are so fucking jealous!” you laugh, enjoying this one in a million moment. “What’s next, you have feelings for me? Are you gonna confess your undying love?” you tease him.

“Okay, you had your laughs, that was enough. Excuse me if I’m looking out for you and I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

“Don’t get all smitten with me now. I’ve been doing just fine without you so far.”

“Yeah, how many people did you bring in for murder?” Harry questions and that leaves you without an answer. Not that you don’t know it, but because the number is exactly zero. You’ve been doing your job for quite a while and there’s been all kind of cases under your hands, but not murders. Though you are completely capable of defending yourself, you’re not sure you want to deal with monsters who took a human’s life. The only reason you took Harry’s case was because you had an inkling feeling from the very start that he did not do it.

“Just as I thought,” Harry scoffs. “Listen, if you really want to do this then I’m going with you. No way I’m gonna just sit around here and wait to see if you make it back home.”

“How do you plan on leaving the house? Someone might recognize you and then it’s game over.”

“I’ll just… disguise myself,” he shrugs. “Can’t be that hard.”

You never thought the day would come when you see Harry Styles wearing a fake mustache and a ridiculous wig, secured with a beanie to his head. The moment the two of you finish his disguise, you can’t hold your laughter back. He looks so damn ridiculous, you can barely breathe through your laughter as he checks himself out in the mirror.

“I look like a fucking pedophile,” he shakes his head chuckling as he pushes some fake hair out of his forehead. “Where the fuck did you find this wig?” he snaps at you in disbelief.

“Does it matter? You look so fucking bad!” you laugh hysterically and Harry just stands there, waiting for you to finally stop, but it seems like he is not bothered by your reaction. He probably finds it equally funny too.

It’s currently seven pm, you have to head to Siren soon to start your fake shift as a stripper and you haven’t been able to talk Harry down from following you, so there you are, getting ready to fool everyone around you. Harry with his awful disguise and you with your stripper outfit.

When you finally catch your breath you leave Harry in the living room to get ready as well. Following a heavy makeup with dark, smokey eyes, you also put on a wig, a short, red bob that’s part of the outfit. Then you squeeze yourself into the latex, the tiny top barely covering you, the skirt is not even a skirt, rather than just a belt. As an extra to the fit, you’ve put on a red corset, though it’s more so you can hide the voice recorder since the original outfit doesn’t give too many places to do that. You pair it all with fishnet tights and a pair of black, thigh-high boots. As you check yourself out in the mirror you don’t even recognize yourself. Y/N is officially gone, the girl in the boots is… Crystabel.

Opening the door you step out of your bedroom, Harry is standing in the middle of the living room, busy with his phone so at first he doesn’t even see you walk out.

“Ready to leave?” he asks, eyes still on the screen of his phone.

“I… guess?” you breathe out, feeling extremely self-conscious in this revealing set.

When Harry finally looks up his mouth drops open. He is not even trying to hide his hunger as his eyes rake down the length of your body. He takes his time to take in every inch of your exposed skin before his gaze settles on your eyes behind your long fake lashes.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out and it gives you quite the confidence boost.

“You like it?” you ask, striking a pose as you push your hips to the side and place your hands on your waist.

“I-I’m… I’m fucking speechless,” he chuckles as you walk closer and grabbing the strings of his hoodie, you tug on the playfully while he is still shamelessly checking you out. “I don’t know how I could live this long without seeing you like this.”

“You are such a flirt,” you roll your eyes, but just as you are about to step away from him he grabs you by your waist and pulls you against him firmly. Your hands move to his broad shoulders right away, trying to keep your balance in his hold.

“I might be a flirt, but you are the hottest woman I’ve seen and I admit I will be fucking jealous of every man that’s gonna lay their eyes on you tonight.” His voice is low, full of lust and if it wasn’t for his funny disguise, you would have melted right into his arms in a heartbeat.

“I can’t take you seriously with this mustache on,” you chuckle softly, running your fingers over the fake facial hair, the pad of your fingers slightly touching his soft lips underneath.

“Just wait until we get back home and I get rid of it,” he smirks and winks at you, making you chuckle, but you can also feel yourself blushing at his words.

You put on a trench coat to cover the racy outfit as the two of you make your way to the club. Harry is driving, but you took your car in case someone might recognize him near the club. Arriving Harry parks at a darker corner in the parking lot and he pulls out a little box from his backpack.

“Alright, let’s wire you up, Love,” he smirks as you undo the coat and let him help you get the devices situated on you.

The voice recorder gets pushed into your stomach, hiding behind your corset. It’s thick enough that it doesn’t give away that anything is hidden under it, it’s just a little uncomfortable for you, but you are sucking it up.

“Here, put this into your ears,” Harry hands you an earpiece that you place into your right ear, hiding it with your wig. “It’s not the best quality, but you’ll be able to hear me and I’ll hear everything around you. We need a safe word if anything happens so I know I have to go inside.”

“This is starting to look like a spy movie or something,” you mumble under your breath as you start buttoning your coat again.

“Don’t turn it into a joke, Y/N. Axel might be a stupid jerk, but don’t forget he killed that man. He doesn’t care if you’re a woman or not, or if you’re a real stripper or not.”

“Alright, alright,” you sigh nodding. “How about… cherry?”

“Okay. Use it if you are in trouble or someone is hurting you or anything.” You nod, fidgeting with the end of the coat, but Harry grabs your hand and makes you look at him. “I mean it, Y/N. I don’t want you to play the hero.”

“I won’t, calm down. I gotta go now. I’ll see you soon,” you tell him before getting out of the car and heading to the backdoor. Glancing back one last time you see Harry standing at the hood of the car, watching you intently as you disappear from his sight.

Sienna, who is helping you tonight is already waiting for you at the backdoor. You met her a few years ago when you caught her abusive ex and took him in. She said she owed you one for freeing her from that asshole and now you are finally here to collect that favor.

“Damn, you look good!” she grins, pulling you into a short hug.

“You think it’s gonna be alright?” you ask, pulling the coat open to show her the whole outfit.

“Fucking fantastic. No men will be able to focus on anything than your boobs,” she snorts, pulling you inside.

The plan is easy. You won’t be out all night, Sienna will be your eyes and when she spots Axel arrive, that’s when you come into the picture. Sienna will escort him to a secluded area and tell him he has a free lap dance which will be, of course, performed by you. Some flirting, some seducing and hopefully Axel will be dumb enough to let a some sort of confession slip.

Sienna takes you to the changing room and you stay in the corner, trying not to be in the way as you watch the girls get ready. There are ten girls in total, five of them are dancing tonight, the other five are servers, but they still dress like dancers. They all wear equally revealing outfits, just like you and as you watch them move around so confidently, you start to get more and more nervous. What if Axel figures out you’re not a real dancer right away? Or if he notices the recorder pushed into your stomach? This plan is definitely not the safest you’ve ever come up with, and you are starting to doubt yourself now that you are so deep in it.

“Y/N?” you hear Harry’s faint voice in your ear. “Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” you breathe out and hearing his voice calms your nerves a little.

“Everything alright?” First you nod, but then you realize he can’t see you.

“Yes.”

“Okay. Are you nervous?”

“Very,” you admit with an awkward chuckle. Luckily, Harry doesn’t bring his usual cockiness out, feeling how serious the situation is.

“You can still come out and we can just go home. You don’t have to do this.”

“No, I want to do this,” you firmly answer. “Just… talk to me a little. Please.”

“Alright, I’ll tell you about when I wanted to ask you out to prom,” you hear him start and you can’t push a smile down as you sit and wait, listening to his soothing voice. “You were wearing this pretty white sweater that day and tight jeans, you looked so fucking good, Y/N. I saw you walking to your locker and you smiled at some random guy and I was instantly jealous.”

“Really?” you ask quietly.

“O, yeah,” he chuckles. “I told you, I had a crush on you. So I thought about asking you out, wanted to just walk up to you and casually ask if you wanted to go with me. But then I just watched you and realized that you probably wouldn’t want anything to do with me, so I just watched you get your books out of your locker and then you walked right past me, looked me in the eyes and I straight up felt my knees turn into jelly. Good thing I was leaning against the wall. You walked away and I never asked you out. Still regret that,” he admits and your heart flutters at his words.

As weird as it sounds, you remember that day. Especially because when your eyes met Harry’s you felt kind of the same. You felt intimidated and wondered why he was watching you so intently, but you would have never guessed he wanted to ask you out.

You see Sienna walking in, her eyes find you and you immediately know it’s show time.

“Harry?” you breathe out at last.

“Yeah?”

“I would have said yes,” you tell him before you follow Sienna out and the blasting music pushes down Harry’s voice in your earpiece.

The bright lights of the back are switched to the dim, red lighting in the main bar area, a dancer is already on the stage and the place seems packed for the night as all men are hungrily watching the girl on the stage, throwing dollar bills at her shamelessly.

Sienna pulls you to the bar and leans closer to your ear so you can hear what she is saying.

“He is in one of the private rooms, told him the dance is on the house to thank him for being a regular. I asked one of the guards to stand nearby.”

“Thank you, S,” you nod at her as she squeezes your hands.

“Good luck, girl,” she smiles a little bitterly before she shows you the way to the room where Axel is currently waiting for his private dance.

As you stop at the door you take a deep breath, staring at the doorknob for a moment, trying to brace yourself for whatever is about to happen in there.

“I’m going in,” you say, partially to yourself, but mostly to Harry so he knows what’s happening though you don’t hear an answer before you open the door and step inside.

The room is mostly what you were expecting, a small stage with a rod in the middle, across that a long, plush, deep burgundy couch. The walls are black, just the red led lights illuminating the place.

And there he is. Axel Morris is sitting in the middle of the couch, manspreading so widely like the asshole that he is, arms leisurely draped across the back of the couch as his hungry eyes immediately snap to your body.

Axel is big. He is a large man and you realize that the moment you see him. Though he is sitting you can easily tell that he’s tall and he is definitely bulky. Could end you in a blink of an eye and knowing that he is capable of murder is just an eerie thought that doesn’t leave you alone. But you suck it up and get into character, only thinking about one thing: help Harry out of this mess.

Music with low bass starts playing through the speakers as you make your way over to Axel who grins at you disgustingly, making it hard for you to keep the façade.

“Hey big boy, heard you’ve earned a dance for yourself,” you coo at him stopping at the edge of the stage as you keep eye-contact with him. You lean against the edge and spread your legs just enough to tease his imagination about what’s about to come.

“Hell yes, I did! Hope you’re a good dancer, babygirl. Haven’t seen you around here.”

“I’m new. But I’m really good, that’s why they sent me,” you smirk at him sweetly as you walk closer until you’re standing in front of him. He reaches out and grabbing your hips he pulls you to straddle his lap and it catches you by surprise but you don’t fall out of character.

“Then show me what you can do. What’s your name?” He licks his lips as you start moving, doing your best from movies you’ve seen with strippers in them.

“Crystabel, but you can call me yours,” you hum, grinding and bouncing yourself, completely unleashing your inner hoe. “Tell me, big boy. Are you as dangerous as you seem?”

“Oh baby, you have no idea,” he grins proudly.

“Really?” you coo, pushing yourself up against him. His dirty hands find your ass and you want to push them away so badly, but you let him have his way with you for the sake of the plan. “What’s the worst you’ve done?”

“Why does a pretty girl like you want to know about that, huh?” he cocks his head to the side, eyeing you with suspicion so you know you have to be careful.

“Because I have a thing for those stuff. I love pain and blood, it gets me off always,” you smirk at him teasingly, grinding yourself against him to divert his attention a little from the words spoken.

“Mm, yeah?”

“Yeah, I love that kind of stuff,” you moan, running your hands down your chest, his eyes hungrily following your every move and you know he is zoned out. It’s going perfectly.

“Well, I’m the perfect man for you then, babygirl. I’ve done all the things you can imagine.”

“Really? You are turning me on, big boy,” you murmur lowly, turning around for a bit so he can get a good glimpse of your backside as well. “Have you… taken anyone’s life before?” you bluntly ask, hoping you aren’t moving too fast and he won’t snap at you.

“Not sure I should be talking about that with you, pretty girl,” he smirks smugly. You turn back to face him, pushing your crotch against him as you try not to gag feeling his erection under you.

“I’m good with secrets, Honey. My lips are sealed,” you grin at him, stroking his oily face and try your best not to wipe your fingers into the cushion of the couch. Axel smirks at you, clearly enjoying the show you are putting on, his fingers are digging into your thighs as his eyes are practically glued to your chest.

“I’m a killer, babygirl.”

“Yeah?” you gasp, faking your excitement. “What did you do, big boy? Tell me, make me wet,” you purr biting into your bottom lip, pushing your chest out some more to distract him from his consciousness that might keep him from answering.

“Killed a guy recently,” he smugly admits and your adrenaline is high in the sky. You are so close to what you need!

“Oh my, sounds like a dirty job.”

“It was.”

“Saw it on the news a guy got killed not long ago, did you do that?” you smirk at him, his hand slapping your ass and you fight yourself not to punch him in the face.

“That Richards guy? Yeah,” he nods and you almost start screaming in your triumph. This dumbass really did just confess to you, because you had your ass and tits out for him!

“Cool. What’s your name, big guy? Wanna know who I’ll think of when I touch myself later,” you pant into his ear, you need him to say his name otherwise the confession might go to shit.

“I’m Axel, babygirl,” he grins, leaning dangerously close to you, he clearly wants to push his tongue down your throat but you push yourself away and up from his lap.

“Our time is up, big boy. See you later!” you sing and walk out of the room while he is still kind of zoned out.

The moment you are out, you start running. You can’t have him realize what just happened and stop you. Pushing your way back to the dressing room you grab all your stuff and spring out of the building. Harry is standing at the entrance, his ridiculous disguise is gone as he spots you with wide eyes. He probably heard everything and wanted to be there for you when you get out and as soon as you reach him he grabs your hand and the two of you run to the car. Right when you get into the car, you spot Axel running out from the front entrance and he definitely realized what just happened.

“Hey! Get back here you slut!” he shouts as Harry starts the car and you melt into the seat, scared of what’s about to happen because you see Axel reach to his back and the next thing you know is that he has a gun in his hand.

“Harry! Go!” you scream when you see him aim at the car and right at that moment, the wheels screech as Harry pushes the gas pedal to the fullest and the car yanks forward.

Your heart drops to the floor when a bullet shoots into the side of the car as Axel tries to stop the two of you. Harry takes a sharp turn and leaves the car park with full speed. You see Axel from the mirror, he is raging and keeps shooting after you, but he has no aim or whatsoever. You reach the end of the street and you feel like you can finally breathe again.

“Oh shit, fuck,” you mumble, chest heaving as you grab onto the armrest for some kind of leverage, your adrenaline is still pumping through your veins from the action movie-like scene that just happened.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” Harry asks, eyes dancing between the road ahead of him and you as he tries to figure out if anything happened to you.

“I-I’m fine, he was just… fucking nasty to deal with you,” you groan at the thought of his hands on you. You’ll need the hottest shower after this, that’s for sure. “Go to the station, we gotta bring the tape in now,” you tell him as you reach into your corset. Pulling the recorder out you huff in relief, it’s been pressed into you for way too long. The tape is still rolling so you end it and then rewind it, checking if everything you need is on it. Luckily, it caught the whole thing perfectly, that means Harry is not going to jail. Well, not this time at least.

He is speeding down the streets as you get rid of the wig and put on your coat, you don’t want to walk into the police station dressed like a hooker and have the word spread that Robert’s sister has been making money some other way lately.

Arriving to the station you hold the recorder so tightly as if your life depends on it while Harry reaches for your other hand and firmly holds it in his warm palm. You walk inside and immediately spot Jeremy at the front desk. Letting go of Harry’s hand you run up to him.

“Jer, I got evidence for the Richards case! I got a confession on tape,” you beam at him holding the recorder up. He gives you a stunned look as he takes the recorder.

“Confession? How do you—“ He is cut off when you hear Harry’s voice from behind you.

“Hey! What the fuck!” he snaps and as you turn around you see that two officers are already on him, trying to handcuff him. Jeremy quickly forgets about the recorder as he joins in on strangling Harry. but you grab his arm and try to pull back.

“No! He didn’t do it! Listen to the tape!” you cry out, desperate to end this mess, but it feels like no one is listening to you.

“Harry Styles, you are under arrest for the murder of Dave Richards. You have the right…” One of the officers starts saying the usual speech as they drag Harry away while you are begging to Jeremy to listen to you.

“Jeremy! He didn’t fucking do it!” you scream, tears rolling down your face.

“What do you mean?” he asks giving you a puzzled look. It was Axel Morris! One of Hugo McKain’s men! They are trying to frame Harry!” you explain, while Harry is being taken away. “Harry, no!” you shout after them, but the officers don’t stop.

“Don’t worry, Y/N! I’ll be fine!” he calls after you before he disappears from your vision.

“Jeremy, please just listen to the fucking tape! I got his confession!”

“I’ll look into it, but I’m afraid Harry is spending the night here,” he sighs, looking down at the recorder before he walks away.

“Fuck, no!” you choke out.

When you finally stop crying you rush out of the building and call your brother, not even caring that it’s past midnight. He better answer your call or you are showing up at his house and start banging on his door until he opens it.

“What the fuck, Y/N?” he growls into the phone.

“Robert, they fucking took Harry in! I had the confession on tape, but they just wouldn’t listen, they arrested him!”

“Hey, slow down, what are you talking about?”

Taking a deep breath you tell him the whole story. The club, the dance, the confession and then how you came straight to the station but they arrested Harry without listening to you.

“Alright, you can’t do much now, Y/N. He is still a suspect but I’ll call Jeremy to look into the tape. If it’s found relevant Harry will be out in the morning okay?”

“Please come in early in the morning and make sure he is let out, please!” you cry out, feeling so helpless after everything that just happened.

“I will. Meet me at the station at six, okay? It’ll be alright. Go home, have some sleep and then we’ll make everything right in the morning.”

You do as Robert asked, go home, have a shower, wash the night off of your skin and lie in bed however you are not able to sleep, not even for a minute. You keep thinking about Harry and what might be happening to him now. They better get their shit together and let him out in the morning or you are losing your mind. You didn’t go through all this just to have him put behind bars anyway.

It’s not even six when you are already at the station, anxiously waiting for Robert to show up. You keep glancing up at the building, thinking about how Harry is somewhere in there and you can only hope he’ll be out with you shortly.

When Robert arrives he goes straight up to check out the situation with the tape and Harry. Waiting for him down in the hall is nerve-wrecking, you feel like time has stopped. When he finally appears again you jump to your feet running up to him with high hopes.

“The tape has been examined, it was classified as evidence. Jeremy has already put out an arrest warrant on Axel. Harry is no longer a suspect. He’ll be down once the paperwork is done.”

“Oh thank God!” you breathe out and throw yourself at him, hugging him tighter than ever.

“Look, but there is something I need to talk to you about,” he says with a serious look.

“Okay, what is it?”

“We might be able to get this Axel guy, but I’m pretty sure Hugo is already after the two of you. We have a whole team for him, working on catching him finally, but it might be smart if you just left town for a little.”

“Oh. Yeah, sounds logical,” you nod.

“Let me know if you need help with that. I can arrange something for you.”

“We’ll see. I have to talk to Harry first.”

“Harry, huh?” Robert smirks down at you knowingly and you feel yourself blushing. A lot has changed lately around you and Harry and you guess it’s quite evident for everyone else as well. “Just so you know, he asked about you during the night. Wanted to know if you are alright.”

“Yeah?” you breathe out with a small smile.

“Yes. Might have been wrong about him a little. Tell him I said hello, I need to get to work now,” he nods with a fond smile.

“Thank you, Robert!” you call after him as he waves in your way before disappearing in the elevator.

Waiting around in the hall you keep looking towards the hallway, hoping to see him appear finally, but the minutes are just dragging by way too slowly.

You’re impatiently sitting on one of the benches by the wall when you finally see him walking down the hallway, leisurely running his hand through his hair, a tired smile sitting on his lips when he sees you leap from your seat and launch at him, throwing yourself into his arms.

“Hey, hey! It’s all good, Love. Told you not to worry about me,” he chuckles, but holds you tight anyway, his arms wrapping around you as he lifts you off the ground, taking a few steps forward.

“Of course I fucking worry about you, idiot!” you mumble into his neck before leaning back you look at his pretty face.

“Yeah? Does this mean I had the right to worry about you last night?”

“You were?”

“Fuck yes,” he laughs. “You have no idea what it was like to sit outside and listen to everything that fucker told you. Wanted to punch him in the face so badly.”

“So heroic,” you grin at him, your face already inching closer to his, arms still wrapped around his neck.

“Only for my favorite stripper,” he winks at you, making you gasp.

“If you dare to bring it up again and call me a stripper, I swear to God I—“

You don’t get to finish your threat, because his hand snakes to the back of your neck and he pulls you into a hard kiss, his lips smashing against yours. Melting into the kiss you open your mouth for him without hesitation, his tongue meeting yours as he kisses you with so much vigor and passion, he makes you bend your back, leaning back as he holds you firmly in his strong arms. And suddenly, you feel like you’re seventeen again, making out with your high school crush in the school hallway, luckily, you are kissing the same person you wanted then.

“I’m fucking starving, babe,” he breathes out once you finally pull away from each other. “For you as well, but can we get some real food?” he asks as he laces his fingers together with yours, heading out of the station.

“Sure,” you chuckle. “Hey, there’s something we need to talk about.”

“Love, told you, you can handcuff me to the bedframe, I’m into that stuff.”

“Shut up!” you laugh smacking his chest as the two of you walk out to your car. “It’s not about that,” you murmur with a soft blush. “Robert said we should leave for a while, Hugo might be after us after what happened last night.”

“Yeah, thought about that myself too,” he nods as he gets behind the wheel without even asking if you want him to drive or not.

“So what should we do?” you question, sitting in the comfort of your car. Harry reaches for your hand and brings it up to his mouth, kissing your knuckles softly before he smirks at you.

“Have you been to Ireland, Love?”

“No,” you breathe out, a little stunned by the question.

“I have a friend over there, I’m sure he would love to have us there for a while. What do you say?”

“Are you for real? You want to go to Ireland with me?”

“Yeah, would be fun, don’t you think?”

“Okay,” you smile in awe. Even after that kiss you had doubts he would want to run away with you for the time being. But he is definitely planning to have you around longer. “Yeah, Ireland sounds fun.”

“Great. Then let’s head home to pack,” he smirks, starting the car. “Oh, Love?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t forget to bring your handcuffs,” he grins and you just laugh at his smugness before leaning closer to kiss him quickly before the two of you finally drive away from the station.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[cuddlesslut]

Part FOUR : Chance Encounters

Atsumu x fem reader, Suna x fem reader, Hinata x fem reader

Tags: slight NSFW, Heavy Angst.

A/N: so this will NOT be the last chapter there will be more. Just like there are more choices now lol, don’t be shy to tell me who you route for. Also let me know if y’all want more NSFW I’m chill with writing it . ALSO slight canon divergence the timing on when Hinata comes back from Brazil is different, obviously in the Manga he’s only gone for two years. In this story it is longer. Hinata isn’t on MSBY yet. Also we are only caught up on 5 months since the dreaded birthday.

Part Three: Memories

Part Five: Friends

You spent your birthday in some hotel room. Sitting on the plush bed still in your dress not bothering to change your curl in to a fetal position as sobs raked through you. Your whole world crashed down on you everything you knew was a lie. Your phone lit up with one last birthday message from some distant relative. You see the time it’s now one in the morning you’ve been laying here for hours you can’t understand how you have any liquid in your body left to cry but still tears trail down your cheeks as you look at your lock screen. It’s a photo from three Christmas’s ago. Atsumu held you close from behind as you pose in front of a festive Christmas tree. Your eyes are shut tight from laughter as the setter places a kiss to your cheek bone, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. This was your favorite photo of the two of you, it always showed the realness in this candid shot. You remember laughing so hard from some cheesy joke he had just whispered in your ear. Your heart twists at the photo, a moment of anger slices through you. Was any of it real? You fling your phone at the wall effectively shattering the screen. You scream into the pillow. You wish you could feel numb to all of the emotions. But no ones that lucky. You aren’t sure when you feel asleep but you wake to find the remnants of tears stuck to your face. You move to the bathroom. You look like death. Your face is pale and eyes swollen and red. Your body aches from the fitful sleep you had. You grab a quick shower before putting on your comfiest pajamas and lay back down. All the energy is drained you look for your phone before remembering your fit of rage last night groan. You switch on the TV for some form of distraction but the gods must really hate you as it opens to a sports channel and you see him in all of his intensity standing on the volleyball court. Part of your brain pleads to change the channel but you must be a masochist as you watch him in all his usual glory. He commands the stadium as he goes up to serve. He looks perfectly fine like you hadn’t just walked out of his life. Like he hadn’t just ripped your world to shreds. You're finally turning the television off sitting in the silence thinking of the memories of your home. You ordered some takeout trying to settle the ache in your stomach. The food tasted bland, everything has lost its edge. The bed offers no comfort. The sunlight offers no warmth. It’s not long before you fall into another depression nap.

Waking up late in the evening you can’t stop your mind from making a stupid decision. But you miss him. You just want to see him. That’s how you end up outside of the door that leads to the home you shared with him. Trying to work up the courage to enter. His car was in his usual spot so you know he's here. A bitter thought run through you at the thought that while you were here he couldn’t be bothered to be home before two am at the earliest, yet the first night gone and here he is at home at ten o’clock. Silently you open the door. It was a mistake. You don’t make it even completely through the threshold before you hear the obnoxious moan and grunts, the sound of skin slapping. It makes you sick “OH Miya-San!” You hear some woman bellow out. You feel nauseous. You hurry out the door trying you best not to cause any noise to interrupt the activities in the house. You bend over you feel as though you’ll throw up right there on the spot. After calming yourself you make a way to a convenience store picking up a bottle of wine before heading back to you hotel room. There’s no way you’ll make it through the night sober.

The next morning you clean your self up before heading to the bank and clear out your joint account. Normally you’d feel bad taking the money but this cash was saved for your wedding and that would never happen now. You stopped by the phone store getting your own account not wanting anymore strings attached to the player. You spend the rest of your morning looking for a small affordable apartment. Luckily you were able to find one with in distance of your school and a reasonable price. It’s now the afternoon and you have to rush not wanting to be late for your class. Although it probably wouldn’t have made a difference if you had missed today, you barely pay attention. You find yourself back with the hotel walls.

You feel completely and utterly alone. You want nothing more to call your best friend or stop by Samu’s shop and cry on his shoulder while you eat some comfort food. But there is hesitation Suna was Atsumu's friend before he was yours, and you'll probably break down in tears just looking at Osamu he was his damn twin for heavens sake. What were you to them you wonder. You only got close to them because of the setter. Part of you wanted to believe that they cared about you and all of those friendships would still be there but you couldn’t. How could they want you around. You really question your place in their lives. It’s hard to trust in anything you had also believed Atsumu loved you and would never hurt you, yet that much was proven untrue. It's hard to trust in anything you feel or know. Another reason is your afraid of all of the memories you shared with them Atsumu ever present in those moments. You don’t want to think about him any more. You don’t want any remnants of that man In your life. While you want to believe Suna would be there for you, that he’d choose you. It was not a risk you were ready to take. You don’t think you could survive another heartbreak. It’s better to leave things as is, to cherish the good memories and not risk tainting them with pain.

It’s been two months since your birthday. You’ve moved into a quaint apartment. You got a job working at a little cafe to pay for rent. Between work and studying for your degree you try to keep yourself busy. It’s hard being on your own. You try to distract yourself with the things that brought you joy. Some days are better than others but all in all everything still hurts. Graduation is only a couple of months away so at least there’s something to look forward too. There are moments that come quite often that you miss your friends but you can’t bring yourself to reach out still untrusting. You look back sometimes and wonder where the lies stopped. You avoid everything that has to do his Atsumu Miya. Even the sight of a simple volleyball brings distress.

Three and half months later the cosmos played another prank on you. It was just another Friday afternoon and you were working in the cafe. You had just helped a young beautiful woman at the counter. She seemed so familiar but you couldn’t quit place it. You could see a puzzled look on her face. Then it hit you. You knew exactly who this woman was. She was the one with your ex fiancé at the restaurant that fateful night. The realization must have struck her too. Her eyes grew wide with worry. Although you weren’t expecting what she did next.

“I AM SO SORRY,” she basically yelling as she bows in front of you. “ I’m so sorry for the part I played in your pain.” She continues. You can tell she is really distressed. You coworkers and a few costumers look at the spectacle. Hating all of the attention now directed toward the both, you beg her to please stand.

“I need you to understand I had no idea, I would never have gone for a taken man.”

You sighed and sent a look to your coworker that you were going to take a quick break. “Would you like a cup of coffee,” you ask her. You never thought That you’d be sitting having coffee with the mistress of the only man you ever loved yet here you are. There’s an awkward silence for a moment. You don’t rush things you can see she’s also having a hard time trying to figure out where to start. You take a sip of your coffee as she finally speaks.

“My names Yuki,” she states.

“YN ,” you offer back.

“Well, umm YN I just want to say I am so sorry for wh-” you cut her off holding up your hand.

“You said you didn’t know, correct?” You send a glance at her raising your eyebrow. She nods.

“Are you still with him?” She sits up straight.

“Absolutely not,” she states with conviction “after you left I asked him what just happed and he explained who you were and I left.. well not with out dumping my drink in face" she gave a little giggle.

“Ha! Oh I wish I could have seen that,” you laughed picturing him drenched in the restaurant. “In that case you have nothing to apologize for, you are a victim of Atsumu’s selfishness as well. I’m sorry he put you through that.” She gave a sad smile you could see she was hurt too. The two of you spent a few more moments in each other’s comfort discussing the facts of his affair. It hurts to know that he had a legitimate relationship with Yuki but a part of you was glad to know. It was a small piece of closure to know how deep his transgressions ran, knowing it wasn’t just sex hurt even more. But it furthered your stance that he didn’t love you and if he had at one point the love had faded on his part some time ago. You spent the rest of your shift plagued with thoughts of you past.

After your shift you went home to change before heading out to your local bar. In your time alone you had taken solace in drinking with strangers. After dressing in an appealing yet comfortable outfit you headed out. You wanted to feel comfy and relaxed but that didn’t stop you from wanting to look nice. In your past visits it wasn’t uncommon for men to try and talk you up and while you did indulge in the compliments none had succeeded in getting you to return home with them. There had yet to be a guy who fully kept your attention away from your former lover.

You found your favorite spot at the bar, just far enough from the blaring music and smokers. You smiled at the bartender before ordering your usual. You sat there letting the liquor relax you as you listened to what music the DJ was playing tonight. Normally you stick to just drinks but after the day you had you need something to take the edge off. After downing a shot of tequila you notice a presence next to you.

“Is this seat taken,” the man smiled at you. You had never seen him here before and you know damn well you would have noticed him before. Although he wasn’t a giant like most of the men you knew in your life, he wasn’t excessively short either you could tell he’d still stand taller than you. You couldn’t lie the man was extremely defined and muscular, you swear his tanned thighs that you saw peeking from under his khaki shorts were bigger than your face. His skin was tanned you can tell from pleanty of time in the sun. He had strong jaw line but his most prominent feature was this bright mop of orange hair he tried to hide under a ball cap. He had a bright smile that reached his alluring brown eyes. It was safe to say he was very handsome. He tilts his head to the side a little smirk reaching his lips. It then you realized you had never responded and just been sitting here gawking.

“Um no it’s not uhh go ahead,” you stammered out feeling a blush creep on to your cheeks at your response. What is this feeling why are you acting like a school girl.

He takes the seat next to you ordering a beer then turning to you reaching out his hand. “ Shoyo Hinata,” he states.

You accept his hand giving it a light shake. “ YN LN,” you responded. “ I’ve never seen you here before Hinata-San,” you prod wanting to know about the stranger.

“Just Shoyo is fine,”he gives you another dazzling smile. “I actually just moved back to Japan,” he states “this is my first time at this bar , but with customers as beautiful as you I’ll definitely have to come more often.” Ohh hes smooth you think. You let out a light chuckle at his compliment although it’s fairly simple compared to some of lines you’ve heard it definitely has the desired affect on you.

“Well then Shoyo where are you traveling from?” Question not wanting the convo to stop.

“I just got back from Brazil,” he mused that signature smile never far from his face.

“Wow Brazil! That’s so far was it hard to be so far from home?”you questioned.

The conversation with Hinata flowed effortlessly. Pleanty of laughes shared as he told you countless stories of his time in South America. Being in conversation with him is like talking to the sun it’s so bright and happy. He does eventually mention playing beach volleyball and for a moment you mind thinks of your ex but it then you realized it was the first time since Sho made his appearance that you had thought of the setter. It felt nice to finally have your mind clearing from the twin. As of recent at any mention of volleyball you would have ended the convo making an excuse to leave, yet you didn’t want to, plus beach volleyball is completely different than regular volleyball you reason.

Time passes by as well do several drinks. You are by no means drunk just a little tipsy. Over the course of your talking the space between Hinata started to narrow. Right now you were so close you could smell his cologne and the slight minty scent of his breath. His hand caressed your elbow. Your breath hitched when he finally leaned in “do wanna get out of here?,” you can see his iris’s darken ever so slightly. “We can go back to my place,” he continued.

Several thoughts ran threw your mind in that moment. One, you were nervous, you hadnt been with anyone other than Atsumu. Two, you were sure you weren’t ready for a relationship but it was just sex it’s not like he’s asking on a romantic vacation. And three you wanted nothing more than to feel his lips against yours. “Absolutely.”

That’s how you got to where you are now. You barely made it through the threshold before Hinata had you pinned to the door. You were locked in a searing kiss. It was like he was stealing the air from your lungs. His hands roamed your figure before slipping under your blouse. “You are absolutely gorgeous,” he breaths before pressing a kiss under your jaw trailing down you neck. You place you hands on his shoulders trying to ground yourself. You let out a loud moan as he gives a bite to your shoulder while grabbing a hand full of you breast. He smiled into you neck with pleasure from the sounds you made. The two of you stumbled a bit as you started making your way to his room shedding clothes left and right. The door closed to the bedroom and you were ready for a mindblowing night.

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[whumpzone]

(masterpost)

(I wrote a very nsfw flashback from Col’s past, which can be read here. Heed the warnings and have fun)

As the days went by, Pet quickly realised that Master’s cat was a little… imperfect. He could tell from the way she sometimes bumped her head into doorframes, or table legs, that her vision wasn’t the best. She was old, by the looks of it. Old and slow, and Master clearly loved her very much.

“Hello my little Jaffa,” he murmured, scooping her up, running his fingers through her thick fur. Her eyelids sank down until she looked like she was fast asleep.

It made Pet’s chest ache. Why was Master making him watch this? Did he enjoy being cruel? Pet already knew he wasn’t here to receive affection like that, and the reminders hurt. Especially knowing Master could love his pet even if it wasn’t in perfect shape.

He still hadn’t been given any clear orders, and Pet was starting to think Master was giving him time to heal. Getting him as robust as possible before breaking him down again. The waiting was tough, and not knowing what was to come was worse. But Pet couldn’t speculate, he just couldn’t, or else he’d skirt too close to the memories he kept shut out- the ones he kept hidden, even from himself.

Master’s voice broke him out of his thoughts. “Hey, Col, want to come and sit up here with me? I have some biscuits here you might like.”

. . .

Col nodded in that quick, nervous-rabbit way of his, and stood up. He liked kneeling on the carpet, Linden had noticed. He kneaded his balled hands through it like a cat. Kneeling was fine, Linden told himself, as long as he didn’t crawl. And to the boy’s credit, he was doing very well with that.

He walked over now, at about to same speed Jaffa often walked at, trying to mitigate the impact of her frequent head bumps. Linden set her down and slowly grabbed his mug of herbal tea and the packet of biscuits, while Col watched him. Waiting for permission. Linden was starting to wonder if the boy was even able to speak, or if something in his past had rendered him mute. His past had clearly rendered him a lot of things- it was figuring out what could be healed that mattered.

“Come, you can sit here,” Linden patted the wooden chair. “If you want to. You can just get a biscuit and go back to the carpet, if you’d prefer.”

It was as if Col almost started to consider it, then thought better and forced himself into the chair, curling one foot underneath him.

“Comfortable?” Another quick nod. “Okay, good.”

Linden noticed how Col seemed to relax a little at that. Baby steps, he reminded himself. It’s okay to tell him he’s good, if that’s what he needs right now.

He sat along from him, close but hopefully not too close. He tore open the packet and handed it to Col. “Here. They taste nice. You can take one and eat it.”

He peered at it, like he expected it to bite. Then, constantly checking Linden’s face as he did so, he reached in and picked one up. Linden waited patiently, then took one for himself. As he bit into it, so did Col. Okay. This was going alright.

. . .

Master was eating one too, so they weren’t poisoned. Or maybe he had just built up a resistance. Or maybe they weren’t harmful to humans, only dogs?

None of that mattered, of course. Master had ordered him to eat. His orders were odd, they weren’t barked at him like Pet’s first owner, but that didn’t make them any less unavoidable.

It did taste good. It was sweet, nothing like the sour dog food that had sustained him for years.

Pet noticed he had dropped a small crumb onto the table and quickly licked it up gratefully. He wouldn’t dare waste food given to him. It was still weird, not eating from Master’s hand.

“You don’t- it’s okay, it’s just a crumb,” Master scolded him, and Pet ducked his head at the reprimand. Maybe it was funny watching him act like a human- Master was probably laughing at the way he wobbled on the chair, and held the biscuit in his disused hands, and fed himself. He was sure any moment now Master was going to smile and tell him how stupid he looked, what a dumb dog he was.

Pet drifted back to reality at the smell of something even sweeter than his treat. It was coming from the mug in Master’s hands, held securely between his fingers, each one with a painted black nail. Master noticed him staring before Pet could look away, and he cringed. Messing up as usual.

“You want a sip? It’s herbal tea. It’s hot, mind.”

Another order. Pet nodded obediently.

. . .

It was an easy mistake, and one Linden should’ve seen coming, given how out of practice Col was with his hands. Linden let go of the mug before Col had properly gripped it. Right over Linden’s lap.

Linden was aware of the burning against his thighs before he had even seen the mug drop. He jerked up, the chair clattering to the floor behind him, and Col gasped in pure horror.

“Shit, ow, ow, ow!” he cursed automatically.

Sounds beside him. Looking over, Col was already knelt with his face to the floor, trembling all over, and Linden’s thighs were burning and he really had to do something about that first-

“Woah, no, it’s okay, it’s just an accident, I have to get these trousers off, ow…” he muttered, quickly pulling his belt out and, suddenly realising he shouldn’t be getting undressed in front of Colton, scrambling upstairs.

. . .

Pet wasn’t sure if Master was still here- he had heard noises, he thought, going upstairs, but he couldn’t move. He was frozen, every instinct telling him to stay and take his punishment like a good dog.

He had hurt Master. He couldn’t stop trembling. His mouth quivered, his breaths coming out in whines. Fat heavy tears dribbled down his cheeks and onto the floorboards.

He was so bad, such a stupid insolent mutt, and bad dogs got punished, didn’t they, bad pets who can’t behave got belted and burned. Bad pets got taken upstairs to be restrained and, and-

Pet whimpered, a full-body sob that was so close to speaking he almost vomited from fear, and ground his face against the floor, trying to make the thoughts stop. That was his old life and he had a new Master now and this one might be different, he might be worse, but he couldn’t cry before it had even started and he had burned Master’s legs, burns hurt so badly and he was so, so useless that he just wanted the pain to start right now, so he could show he was sorry.

He could feel the cartilage in his nose jostling as he rolled his head. His heartbeat was pounding into his ears. He was in so much trouble, and he was so so sorry but it wasn’t enough. He wouldn’t be allowed to use his hands ever again.

A bump, at the top of the stairs. Footsteps. Coming towards him.

His thoughts went into overdrive. Master was coming and Pet had hurt him and now Master was angry. He had never seen him light up like that before, suddenly so quick and sharp and fierce. Pet’s hands skittered by his shoulders. He could feel every joint. Would they all be broken, perhaps? Burned? It would make sense to burn them. He deserved to have them burnt, even though that made him cry harder. Or maybe Master would concentrate on his thighs. Pour boiling water on them, then make him walk. Perhaps he’d peel the burning skin off and press knives to the raw flesh and make him scream. Or maybe he’d pin Pet’s hands down and bludgeon them until they didn’t even resemble hands anymore

You braindead animal. He’s not going to pick one or the other, you fucking idiot. He’s going to do them both and you’re going to thank him.

Master was stood over him, now. Looking at his unworthy dog, grovelling before him.

. . .

Linden couldn’t imagine how he would look threatening to anyone right now, in the only pair of shorts he could find, his thighs coated in cream. He’d had to roll the shorts up past his burns, and safety pinned them there.

But he knew, he knew, that didn’t matter. He knew Col wouldn’t look up from where he was cowering on his knees, sobbing audibly, and crack a smile.

The tall person in his care looked very, very small right now. He was knelt exactly where he’d dropped to the floor. No running, no backing away. Just like he’d been trained to. It made Linden feel ill. He had to take this slowly.

“Okay, okay, I’m here,” he started, keeping his voice slow and calm, knowing that his presence was Col’s worst nightmare right now. He had lost his cool earlier and he wished he could take it back, even though it was useless blaming himself. It was a shock, and a painful one. Anyone would’ve sworn. But he still felt a twist of guilt when he saw Col lock up, frozen in fear save for his persistent trembling. Linden could tell he was trying to stop himself from crying.

“Okay, you’re allowed to cry, crying is normal. Can you look up at me?”

Col did as he was told. His mouth was wobbling downwards, his nose red from being pressed against the floor. His hands were fully curled up.

Linden didn’t have a chance to say anything more before Col’s wild, terrified eyes found Linden’s belt on the table and he whimpered, holding his hands out eerily quickly, palms up, ready and unresisting.

Linden knew that if he took the belt and slashed Col’s hands with it, the boy wouldn’t fight back at all. He’d cry and moan, but he wouldn’t fight.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “I’m not. I wouldn’t hurt you, ever.”

He thought about putting his hands in Col’s, gently lowering them and rubbing soft circles with his thumbs, but he shook the thought away. Who knows what he might interpret that as.

Instead, he picked up the belt, feeling Col’s eyes on him while his back was turned, and threw it upstairs.

“No belt,” he said, “I won’t belt you, I won’t hurt you at all. Your hands are safe. I’m not angry with you. It was an accident. Can you look at me?”

He complied, of course he did. His eyes were burning with regret and fear.

“See my thighs? I’ve put some cream on them, to help with the burns. It’ll make them better.”

After a few seconds, Col nodded.

“You will know that burns hurt a lot,” Col whimpered, but Linden tried not to rush his words out. “That’s why I snapped. I was surprised, but not angry. I’m not angry. You can see in my face and hear in my voice that I’m calm and I won’t hurt you. Just because you spilled some tea on me, doesn’t mean you have to hurt too. It was just an accident. And I can tell you’re sorry.”

This was the magic word, it seemed. Col nodded desperately, eyes wide, as he blinked fresh tears down his face.

“Thank you. Apology accepted. It’s okay, it’s all okay. You’re safe and I won’t hurt you. In fact-“

. . .

“…And I can tell you’re sorry.”

Pet could have fainted with relief. His body was still prickling with fear, waiting for the punishment, and Pet couldn’t yet believe Master when he said he wouldn’t hurt him. But he could definitely show he was sorry.

He nodded, trying to get it just right, trying to look eager but not careless, guilty but not too pitiful.

I am so sorry, Master. Your stupid lowly animal is so sorry, your pathetic dog is sorry and won’t ever do it again, thank you for showing your slave pet mercy.

He was definitely being prepped for something, but Pet pushed it from his mind. Master was giving him a chance and he had to show his gratitude.

“Thank you. Apology accepted. It’s okay, it’s all okay. You’re safe and I won’t hurt you. In fact-“

Master walked somewhere behind him, returning a few seconds later with Jaffa in his arms, setting her down beside him.

“Jaffa always makes me feel better,” he said. Pet had no idea what he was talking about, but he nodded anyway, then leant down to kiss Master’s feet, thanking him with his body in the way that didn’t scare him. He only managed one kiss before Master stepped away, and Pet hoped it had been enough to show that he knew his place, and he was sorry, and he would do anything to please Master. It was a lot to show in a single gesture.

“I’ll be upstairs, if you need me. You’re safe, you’re okay, I’m not angry. If you want, you can cuddle Jaffa for a bit. Okay? Okay. See you in a bit, Col.”

Pet watched Master leave, his wiry legs climbing the stairs until they vanished entirely. Jaffa rubbed her cheek along Pet’s folded legs, and he nervously reached out a hand, sinking it into her fur. His hands, that he still had. Pet felt like he was starting to understand what Master was keeping him for, but he didn’t want to accept it. Instead, he stroked Jaffa and dried his eyes, the taste of biscuit still in his mouth.

(tagging: @newbornwhumperfly @whumpadump1939 @firewheeesky @whump-me-all-night-long @captainseconds @grizzlie70 @unicornscotty @lave-whump @princessofonward @cupcakes-and-pain @bumbumbea @whumpfigure @yet-another-heathen @secretwhumplair @whumps-up @as-a-matter-of-whump @temporary-whump-sideblog @getyourwhumphere @itzagoodthing @whumpymirages @soapparentlyilikewhumpnow  @zipadeedooda-drabbles @penny-for-your-whump @briars7 @legallylibra @whumpwillow @angel-stars @loyds-of-registry @tears-and-lilies @badluck990 @rosesareviolentlyread @vickytokio @neuro-whump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpsy-daisies @control-whumps @theydy-cringeworthy @starnight-whump @cursedandtired @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @justabitofwhump @glamrockgregory @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @genesissane @justbreakonme @addyez @httyd-chocolate @littlespacecastle @haro-whumps @extrabitterbrain @briars7)

[wakaoujisenhime]

Ah!~ I fall in love with your Takao headcanons! Can I ask headcanons about Takao from best friends to lovers?

A/N: But OF COURSE, you can, the more Takao you guys want, the better for me! ٩( ᐛ )و 

So this will be a continuation from his best friends headcanons I made a while back and for those who’d like to see a spicier version of the more or less same troupe, I linked a similar request I got below! Hope you’ll enjoy this! ❤️

Tags: Takao x reader ✅  fluff ✅  friends to lovers ✅  slight angst ✅

☞ 𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟙    ☞ 𝕤𝕡𝕚𝕔𝕪 𝕧𝕖𝕣.

━━━━☆ ━━━━☆ ━━━━☆

living with your best friend didn’t change your relationship as much as you thought it would

the two of you were still clinging to each other like leeches, supporting the other during hard times and in general providing a shoulder to cry and lean on when needed

now that you were roommates and not only neighbors you saw Takao every single day and that came with many advantages

you both shared the housework and came up with cooking/cleaning/laundry schedules that made your joint life so much easier

Takao had decided to start working after graduation while you continued your studies (and occasionally worked at a part-time job close to your apartment)

it heavily depended on your individual schedule, but in general, the two of you had agreed that the first one home should be the one to prepare dinner and help the other one out a little

usually, Takao would be the first one home and every time you came back he greeted you like some kind of butler, helping you out of your jacket, taking your bag, leading you to the kitchen where he showed you that evening’s dinner, and lastly he’d conclude his small tour at the bathroom where he had run a bath for you

both of you were so close that all of your neighbors (especially the older ones) continuously teased you, saying what kind of cute couple the two of you were and some even went as far as to ask when you’re wedding was going to be

in the beginning, your and Takao’s cheeks would flush ever so slightly but the longer you lived there the more used to it you got, and in the end, it even reached a stage where you’d counter their remarks with your own witty and comical ones

comments such as theirs didn’t bother you that much, or at least that’s what you thought ...

a couple of months after moving in you invited some members of Shuutoku’s basketball team over for a friendly get-together and a warm dinner

it had been a lot of fun

people were teased, embarrassing situations were denounced as hilarious, compliments fell left and right, and what not

at some point though Miyaji - the club’s former captain - raised the question of whether Takao and you had finally started a romantic relationship

it was just a well-meant question and perhaps a subtle hint and yet your best friend began to deny that so strongly that you couldn’t help but feel aggrieved from his over-exaggerated reaction

the evening was kinda ruined for you and some of them noticed it and felt bad for you

in the end, Miyaji actually came up to you and apologized, saying just how much he’d regretted asking you something that was seemingly a taboo-topic

since then the relationship between your best friend and yourself was quite shaky, you began avoiding too much body contact with him, tuned down your clinginess, and even started avoiding him at times

some people think that Takao isn’t the brightest and assume that he’s quite dense, but you knew better

it didn’t take him even a week to notice that something was wrong with you and before you knew it he waited for you to come back home and asked you to take a seat across from him on the couch

“(Y/N)-chan...I’m aware that something’s been bothering you for the past few days and I know that some topics are better left unsaid, but I really hate seeing you suffer because of maybe something I did.”

his words stabbed your heart like hundred knives and even if you’d planned to keep your hurt pride to yourself, you knew that communication was key in any kind of relationship so with a bitter smile you told him about everything, how his reaction had hurt you more than his captain’s harmless question and how these new and yet unknown thoughts had begun to cloud your mind with masses of doubts

there was a brief break during which Takao’s expression grew unbelievably sad, he had expected anything but this

and then finally after what felt like hours he whispered out your name, got up from his chair, and slowly walked towards you, kneeling in front of your seated figure

“I’m truly sorry...I-I wasn’t aware of how much this actually bothered you,” he paused as he took your hands into his own and continued, “all I wanted was to make Miyagi drop that theme fast since he’s the type to talk about one topic for hours and I really didn’t want to make you uncomfortable since that evening was meant for recollecting and updating each other about our daily lives and not a relationship counseling...”

with a sigh you shook your head and couldn’t help but laugh at just how ridiculous this situation was, Takao joined you not long after

after that small misunderstanding, you two needed a bit until your relationship had normalized, but you’d be lying if you said that everything was back to how it used to be

once the imagination of Takao as your boyfriend had entered your mind you began to realize just how close the two of you truly were

him tending to your needs every time you came back home late, resembled that of a worried father-to-be whose wife was to go into labor soon

the way he always jokingly offered himself as your dinner was a cliché joke and sometimes an invitation one would often see in romance series that once again fell between lovers

and the worst for your heart was how the word ‘personal space’ wasn’t even present in his vocabulary, he’d hug you whenever he could, lean himself on your back and leave his chin in the crack of your neck at every given opportunity, and let’s not mention whenever he had trouble falling asleep (which was basically almost every day)

all those small and seemingly irrelevant gestures which didn’t usually affect you were now the trigger for a deep-red blush along your cheeks and an increased heart rate

and it didn’t help that Takao would constantly tease you whenever he noticed your flushed face

.

as time went by though you noticed that something between you two had indeed changed

now his mere presence was enough to make your heart thump wildly against your chest

the only comfort you found was that he himself had started blushing more often as well

you thought that nothing of deeper meaning was behind it and just blamed it on your behavior, but what you didn’t know was that Takao was experiencing the same thing as you

for him, it was as if every single touch - no matter how featherlight it was - set his skin on fire

every ever so small and gentle smile or grin you directed his way, immediately brightened up his mood

and let’s not even talk about the small things you do for him, like cooking, preparing some late-night snacks for whenever he has to work on a project until very late in the evening, folding his laundry, ironing his shirts, and so on...

both of you were slowly starting to acknowledge the other as an essential part of your respective lives

on top of that, innocent and sweet thoughts such as kissing each other on the lips, taking a bath together, or just doing silly things such as hiding from the people outside so that you can feel each other’s lips began dominating your minds

and what choice did the two of you have but to bottle these feelings up and hide them from each other just because you didn’t want to ruin your friendship

it was painful of course, but you continued to put yourself through with it, determined to keep this a secret for as long as necessary

unfortunately, Takao wasn’t made out of the same cloth and was slowly but surely feeling how everything was about to explode pretty soon

and then finally one day when the two of you went out shopping together some of your elderly neighbors stopped you yet again and began interrogating you guys as usual

“Have you two dears finally admitted your feelings for each other?”

there it was, their favorite question, that was strangely accurate this time

you were ready to debunk it yet again, but Takao suddenly took a hold of your hand, squeezed it slightly, and announced: “Not yet, but I’m about to!”

three pairs of wide eyes were fixated on the slightly blushing young man who stood beside you and while you were still trying to decipher whether you’d heard him right he faced you and even took a gentle hold of your second hand

“(Y/N)...I feel like this should’ve happened sooner, but my fear of losing you as my constant pillar of support was too big. Your presence was always something extremely helpful and soothing, but as of late I started to truly notice just how much more it was for me and my life. The sheer imagination of me being without you hurt me more than any game my team lost, any missed promotion chance or anything negative for that matter,” he paused and took a deep breath before continuing, “what I’m trying to say is that...(Y/N), I’d like you to become my lover.”

silent gasps could be heard, but you were too overwhelmed to pay any attention to it

the fact that he’d felt the same way and was stuck in the same situation as you were truly unbelievable, but now that you knew it all those small things you’d denounced as an effect of your own unusual behavior made sense

you looked up into the slate blue eyes of the man you’d fallen for and slowly removed your hands from his tight grip, only to then wrap your arms around his neck and bring him closer to you

Takao immediately seized the opportunity to do the same, he was anxious about what you were about to say so he at least wanted to savor what might be his very last embrace from you

“Took us long enough now didn’t it?” was all you said before you confidently took a hold of his cheeks and brought his face closer to your lips until they touched

while you two kissed ever so passionately and drowned in the liberating feeling of mutual love, the two older women next to you smiled while commenting on how they’d always known and how bad you two were hiding it

after you’d finally separated from each other you gave him your obvious answer to which he simply giggled and out of happiness began cuddling and kissing your face all over

this was truly a wonderful moment, it might not affect your relationship all too much but it was nonetheless a step towards a new and yet unknown experience that the two of you would live through while constantly supporting each other ...

[tangledstarlight]

based on this because i love 90s!boyfriend luke and i keep thinking about him 

She almost doesn’t hear the little tappings at her window over the sound of her music. But when the little pinging sound comes again, Julie finds herself cautiously approaching her window and pushing it open. 

“Luke?” She squints into the darkness, down at her boyfriend who’s got his hand raised up like he’s about to throw another handful of pebbles at her window, only stopping when he sees her head leaning out and haloed by the light in her room, “What are you doing?” 

“I uh—” he starts, lowering his arm and Julie can faintly hear pebbles falling to the ground in the silence of the night before he’s talking again, “I missed you.”

“You only left like, half an hour ago, how can you possibly miss me?” Julie shakes her head at him, as she lets her elbows rest on the edge of the windowsill, leaning her upper body a little further out into the night. 

Luke had come over straight after school under the pretence of wanting to get their homework out of the way before the start of the weekend, but they’d spent the whole afternoon sat side by side on the sofa in the garage, scribbling away in Luke songbook and working their way through a whole bag of chips. And then Luke had stayed for dinner because her Tia had never been able to take no when it came to food, and had gotten even more insistent since her mom died. Not that Luke ever really complained.

Everyone knew that things with his parents could be a little...hard, so if he stayed a little late into the night Ray didn’t often comment until Carlos was going to bed and it was time for Luke to go too. And if he’d show up bright and early the next morning sometimes, well, no one commented on that either. 

“You’re the easiest person to miss,” Luke shrugs and Julie's glad for the darkness and the distance so he can’t see her blushing, “Can I come up?” 

Julie hesitates, looking over her shoulder at her closed bedroom door as if she can see her dad all the way down stairs watching tv or doing some work or whatever it was he did at night. 

There had been one main rule when Julie had first introduced Luke as her boyfriend rather than her bandmate. No being alone in her bedroom with the door shut. 

“Come on Molina, we can finish that song we started,” Luke must sense her hesitation as his voice calls up to her lightly, and Julie looks back to see him with is hands clasping together in front of him, eyes wide as he looks at her, “I’ll go as soon as we finish it.” 

She blows out a breath, shaking her head lightly as she looks at him with his stupidly cute and earnest face. “Only until we finish the song. And you’ve got to be quiet!” 

Julie catches sight of his teeth as he grins before ducking his head to inspect the lattice against the side of the house that leads up the roof outside of her window. Biting her lip, Julie turns back to her room when he’s out of sight to shove dirty clothes into her hamper and turns the volume on her radio up just a little. 

Luke is many things, but quiet isn’t one of them. 

She hurries back to her window just as Luke’s head pops up on the other side of the roof, eyes shining with a smile that she can’t quite see yet. Julie bites her bottom lip a little hard to keep herself from smiling too much as she watches him pull himself up — proving that his biceps aren’t just for show — and then he’s standing up and waving at her with a smile that makes her feel warm all over. 

There’s a split second when Luke wobbles on the edge of her roof, his arms waving in the air at his side and Julie’s eyes go wide, readying to jump to of her window to — do something, when he steadies himself, blowing out a breath that lifts part of his fringe off his forehead, shooting her a thumbs up. 

“Would you get in here before you fall,” she shakes her head at him, holding one hand out of her window for him to grab onto. And sure, he doesn’t exactly need help to get through the window, but he doesn't turn it down either. Or let go once he’s crawled through her window and is standing facing her, breath panting over her face as his eyes dip once to her lips before back up. 

“Should really tell your dad about that loose slat, someone could take a wicked bad fall,” he murmurs, lips ticking up in a smile that makes Julie roll her eyes at him. 

“Mhm, I’ll make sure to mention it over breakfast. Come on,” she tugs at his hand, taking a small step towards her bed and the sheets of paper and blank tapes littering her floor, “Let's finish this song.” 

Luke lets himself be pulled along and pushed to the floor, kicking off his shoes and making himself comfortable as he pulls his notebook from his back pocket and picks one of her pens up. For a moment, Julie just watches him and how easily he fits into her space, her life. 

“What?” Luke raises his eyebrows at her, lips pulling into an almost nervous smile. 

“Nothing,” she shakes her head and uses his shoulder as leverage to lower herself back to the carpet next to him, pulling the pen from his fingers, “We want it to be legible.” 

They finish the song much quicker than either of them expect or wanted, the lyrics coming to them quicker then they had earlier in the garage. Almost like it’s taunting them. The only sound in her room is an ad playing on the radio and Luke’s chains on his jeans clinking as he bounces one bent knee. 

“Guess I should be going,” he starts, lowering his knees and closing his notebook.

“Stay,” Julie blurts out before she can stop herself, pushing up to her knees and gently pulling the book from his hands to hide behind her back, “Please.”

“But your dad—“ Luke bites his lip as he glances at her bedroom door much like she had earlier, “We’re breaking the main rule.”

“He’ll only put his head around the door to say goodnight, never even know you’re here,” she shrugs and Julie doesn’t know why she wants him to stay so much. Doesn’t realise until the next words out of her mouth are, “I miss you when you’re not here too.”  

Luke’s eyes soften slightly as he looks at her, giving up on gathering his things and instead reaches out to pull her over to him, her knees rubbing on the carpet until they hit his thigh and she awkwardly moves one leg up and over until she’s half straddling him. But their faces are level and Julie rests her hands on his shoulders to keep herself steady as he rests his on her waist and then  Luke presses a light kiss to the corner of her lips. 

“Okay,” he says, like it’s just that simple. Like he’ll always stay if she asks. Julie thinks he probably would, as she angles her head a little better to kiss him properly. By the time she pulls away, a little breathless, one of his hands is in her hair and one of hers and found its way to one of his biceps. 

“Wanna help me figure out what songs to put on this mixtape for Flynn’s party next week?” she eventually asks, because if her dad was to walk in and find them like this there might suddenly be more rules to follow. 

“Mix tapes are the way to my heart,” he grins and Julie tries not to look at her bedside table where the first ever mixtape he had given her is. They’d been 14 and barely friends and he’d gotten her music rates perfectly. 

Julie pecks his lips one last time before turning around where she is and sitting between his legs, Luke arms automatically coming around her middle to pull her body back against his, using his chin to brush stray curls away from her shoulder so he can peer down at the sheet of paper she’s picked up. 

It’s 2 hours and too many songs later when Julie hears her dad's steps on the stairs and Luke’s looking at her in silent panic. 

“Under the bed!” she whispers, pushing herself away from him to give Luke a little more room to wiggling himself under her bed frame, and Julie barely has time to half throw her blanket over his feet that just stick out when her dad knocks lightly on her door. 

“I’m heading to bed, don’t stay up too late,” Ray smiles at her as he leans head and shoulders around her door frame and Julie smiles back, about to wish him good night, when he looks down at her bed and the space below it with a light laugh, “Goodnight to you too Luke, I’ve made the sofa up down stairs for you.”

She can hear a thud and Luke letting out a grunt of pain at her dad's words, and even her eyes are wide. 

“I heard you throwing the rocks at her window hours ago mijo. Plus, you mom called to check if you were here,” Ray says to the bed, even though Luke still hasn't crawled back out and then he looks back at her, and he’s still smiling but there’s a tiny frown between his brows, “We’ll talk boundaries in the morning. Goodnight you two.” 

It’s not until her bedroom door clicks shut again that Luke pops up on the other side of her bed, hair a mess and a dark blush on his cheeks. 

“Shit,” is all he says, rubbing one hand at the back of his neck as he looks at her and Julie can’t help but agree. 

“I guess I should be glad that sneaking into girls' rooms isn't something you’re good at, huh?” She teases and her smile only grows as she watches Luke’s lips twitch into one as well. 

“I’m sure with a little practice I’ll get in here one day without him knowing,” he shrugs once before jumping up onto her bed and off to the other side so they’re standing together again, his hand automatically finding hers. “Hey, since Ray knows I’m here now, think there’s any of that apple pie left?” 

“Come on,” Julie laughs, tugging a little at their joint hands to lead him downstairs. She’s not sure what her dad will say tomorrow and she doesn’t know if things will ever get easier with Luke's parents, but all of that seems like problems for another time. Tonight she’s going to eat leftover pie with her boyfriend and deal with everything else later.

[spencers-renaissance]

tell me how to balance my coins

Summary: When Spencer falls down the stairs one morning he decides not to tell anyone, his insecurities about not being enough winning out. Too bad insecurities don't matter when they end up trekking through miles of barren land on a search and rescue mission, and his injuries finally become too much. The team knows exactly how to make it better.

Tags: hurt!spencer, whump, hurt/comfort, hiding medical issues, insecurity, angst with a happy ending, fluff, team as family TW: self-esteem issues

Pairing: GEN / Spencer Reid & Derek Morgan

Word Count: 3.2k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

Set in S1 but there's no Gideon because he didn't really fit the plot, so it's just the five other field agents here. This entire fic was inspired by this post by @i-write-whump so credit goes to them for the premise! Title from this poem by Zahraa Surtee <3

Maybe it’s embarrassment that stops him from telling the team. Spencer runs headfirst into dangerous situations every day, puts his life on the line repeatedly and escapes unscathed more often than not, but his nemesis this time is the single flight of stairs in his apartment building he descends each morning.

He’s later than he usually is, and already feeling a little flustered from both his toaster and coffee machine breaking, leaving him with a cup of instant coffee and an overripe banana from breakfast, which only makes the situation worse. As if lying sprawled out in a public stairwell wasn’t bad enough. He gingerly pulls himself up, catching a glimpse of a “Caution: Wet Floor” sign he somehow missed, and winces as pain floods his body.

His ankle is screaming at him, throbbing and burning, and for a moment Spencer has to close his eyes against the gut-wrenching pain of a twisted ankle flaring up his calf. A couple of thankfully undisturbed minutes later, the pain eases enough for him to open his eyes and inspect the damage. It’s already swelling slightly, and he’s certain he’ll be covered in bruises by tonight if the aching of his entire body is anything to go by.

For a brief moment he considers calling Derek or Penelope or someone else on his team; maybe even calling in sick, but he quickly pushes that thought away. It’s not embarrassment that stops him from telling the team. It’s a good cover story to keep him from addressing the real reason, but it isn’t the truth.

The truth is that the only time he ever feels valuable is when he’s contributing to a case. That cruel voice in the back of his head will waste no time in piping up, telling him how worthless he is, what a burden his friends see him as, how insignificant he is to the team if he doesn’t suck it up and head into work.

Fighting back the tears burning hot behind his eyes with ardent determination, he drags himself up by the stair handrail until he’s upright. His ribs ache and his ankle burns something fierce, but he compartmentalises it, breathing deeply and taking a few tentative steps, one at a time until he’s limping towards the train station.

The moment he walks into the bullpen, JJ grabs his elbow. “You’re just in time, Spence,” she says, marching towards the briefing room with a pace Spencer can’t quite keep up with. “We have a new case. Rural Kentucky.”

Everyone’s already seated at the round table, and no matter how much he tries to disguise his limp, putting far too much weight on his battered ankle, he can’t get it past a room full of profilers.

“Hey, pretty boy, you alright? You’re limping.” Derek’s tone is light, carrying the cadence of joking banter, but he can see the concern in his eyes, and that’s just unacceptable. He can’t have people worrying about him: he’s not worth their pitied looks or vapid attempts at comfort, especially not when they have a far more important case to be focusing on.

He slips into a seat, and manages to conceal a wince at the movement of his ankle swinging forward. “Oh, uh, I just stubbed my toe pretty hard on the way in.” It’s not convincing even to his own ears, but luckily it’s enough of a time-sensitive case for JJ to barrel on regardless, drawing everyone’s worried glances away from him and towards the board full of grizzly crime scene photos.

Even though he’s been on the team for close to three years now, he still feels like the new kid. Elle is newer than him, but she’s still far more confident in her place on the team than he is. He suspects that’s probably because someone like Elle doesn’t have trouble fitting in anywhere. It’s never been quite that easy for Spencer.

Pushing his insecurities aside like he always has to do in these meetings, he reads the case file thoroughly before offering his own contributions. The unsub is snatching young women from bars and clubs and holding them for weeks before leaving them to succumb to the elements in the rural countryside of Kentucky. With a missing woman and the expected deadline for the unsub dumping her fast approaching, they don’t waste any time in boarding the jet and flying the short way to West Kentucky.

It’s a short enough flight that there’s no time for personal conversation — no time for Derek (or anyone else for that matter) to confront him about his blatant lie and obvious injury — since they spend the whole journey discussing the case. Thankfully, throwing himself head first into theories and hypotheses keeps his mind off the pain a bit, but he can’t fully keep it from bothering him.

He’s just thankful that he has enough experience in disguising his true emotions that no-one’s attention is drawn to him by poorly hidden winces.

They dive straight into the investigation when they arrive at the sheriff’s station, everyone laser focused on finding Marissa Williams. By mid-afternoon, though, Spencer’s gritting his teeth as he forces himself to persevere through the pain despite it increasing incrementally every hour, and he curses himself for not being able to dedicate 100% of himself to the case. If he can’t help everyone find this woman, then what is he good for? His stomach twists at the thought.

“You gonna tell me what’s really going on, Spence?” Derek asks him as it approaches 4pm, cornering him at the coffee machine.

Spencer looks around as subtly as he can for an escape, but he quickly succumbs to his fate. “I’m fine, Derek,” he promises. It’s so far from the truth he wants to cry.

The concern in Derek’s eyes only intensifies at that. “Seriously? You’ve been quiet this whole case, I catch you wincing when you think no-one’s looking, and you’re still limping. A stubbed toe wouldn’t do that, kid, and you know it.”

He sighs, knowing the jig is up. “It’s nothing I can’t handle, Derek.” He’s not sure it’s the truth, but it’s close enough to it that it doesn’t bring burning tears to the backs of his eyes.

Derek’s about to say something when JJ calls out for him. They both turn to look at her, Spencer feeling relief flood his chest, while Derek’s expression quickly morphs into one of frustration, sighing heavily as he curls his hands into tight fists.

“This isn’t over,” he says, levelling him with a serious look before walking back over to JJ, leaving Spencer to stir his bitter coffee in peace. It definitely doesn’t make him want to cry.

They finally get a break in the case at nightfall, a call on the tip line combined with their profile leading them to a secluded wooded area down by a small river. Knowing there’s nothing more for them to do at the office, Hotch gathers them all up, insisting they join the search party to find the poor, beaten woman currently suffering exposure, awaiting their rescue.

Spencer’s heart sinks as everyone gathers their equipment, and he’s almost relieved when Derek speaks up.

“Reid can’t go,” he insists to Hotch, only barely in earshot of Spencer. If he doesn’t go out in the rescue party, then he’s still served his purpose hasn’t he? He helped with the profile that narrowed down the area she’s likely to be in, he worked the case until this point, he can rest and still be worth something. Right?

Besides, it’s not exactly like he can don the heavy walking boots everyone else is pulling on. If he goes out, he’ll have to wear the same loafers that have been squeezing his swelling joint all day, and that’s hardly going to work. Hotch will let him stay back, and for once, he’ll accept the rest he’s offered.

His hope is quickly dashed. “We need all the manpower we can get,” Hotch says, clearly distracted in the same way he has been throughout the entire case. Spencer likes his boss but he has a tendency to wear blinkers when on a job, not noticing anything that doesn’t pertain to the ultimate solution. “He’ll be fine.”

Derek sighs again, clearly frustrated.

“I’ll be fine,” he says as Derek comes over to sit with him, not sure who he’s trying to convince. His ankle is still burning in pain. The last time he checked it, it was bruised and swollen, tender to the touch. It’s nothing short of a nasty sprain.

“You stick close to me, Spencer. I mean it.”

He can’t help the small smile that crosses his face, genuine happiness warming his heart at the concerned protectiveness of his friend. “Sure, Derek,” he says softly.

The pleasant temperature of the mid-Spring day drops to almost freezing as the sun sets, the moon and stars taking over the clear night sky. Even Spencer’s thickest coat isn’t enough to keep him from practically vibrating with the force of his shivers as they trek across the miles of terrain, staying as quiet as possible to listen for anything that could indicate their victim’s whereabouts. They’re spread out a little, but for the most part they all walk reasonably close together, the beams of their torches criss-crossing as they fight their way through the windy countryside.

Thankfully, it’s only a couple of hours into the search and rescue mission that a call crackles over the radio, telling them that Marissa had been found, beaten and weak but alive. Spencer can’t even bring himself to feel any kind of victory or relief, nothing being able to penetrate the haze of pain he’s in. Everyone else chatters happily enough as they converge back together for his silence to go mostly unnoticed.

His obscurity doesn’t last long, though.

“Are you ever gonna tell us what happened to your foot, Spence?” JJ asks, raising an eyebrow at Spencer’s heavy limping and Derek’s worried hovering. By the second mile of their walk, Spencer had given up trying to hide the limp, instead focusing on gritting his teeth and breathing through the pain as it flares up his leg.

She’s clearly voicing what everyone else is thinking, judging by their worried expressions. Part of him wants to give in and tell the team, but the part that wants to continue to hide his embarrassment away, the part riddled with fear and insecurity wins out. He stubbornly shakes his head, closing his eyes tightly. In the kind of terrible timing so emblematic of the life of Spencer Reid, in the short second he has his eyes closed he manages to stumble into a small divot in the ground, and he trips, twisting his ankle all over again as he falls down.

His vision whites out, the pain suddenly all-consuming, punching nausea through his stomach and he can’t help the cry he lets escape as he lays helplessly in the grass.

“Spencer!”

Derek crouches next to him, laying a hand on his shoulder as he checks him over frantically, and Spencer can’t help but lean up into it, craving the kind of comfort he can only get from his best friend. Hotch joins them quickly as JJ and Elle stand close enough to offer support without crowding him.

“That’s it, Spencer,” Hotch says firmly, blinkers well and truly off by now, “you need to tell us what’s going on.”

As the blinding pain slowly fades into something minutely more bearable, Spencer forces his eyes open to face the team. “I fell down the stairs this morning,” he finally admits, sullen and teary. “Pretty sure I sprained my ankle.”

Hotch wastes no time in gently rolling his trouser leg up, exposing his ruined loafers and the bruised, swollen joint to the torches of his teammates. Derek audibly winces as he positions himself behind Spencer, supporting his back as his tired, aching body starts to collapse.

Hotch levels him with a stern glare after he finishes his tender inspection of his ankle. “Spencer, it was incredibly irresponsible to hide something like this. You not only put yourself in danger, but you put the rest of the team at risk, too—”

He doesn’t get any further in his lecture before the tears he’s been holding back all day, finally spill over and a dry, sudden sob, his bruised and aching rib cage heaving as he starts to unravel at the seams. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Softening immediately, Hotch puts his leg down gently and shuffles closer, taking Spencer’s hand in his. “Hey, it’s okay, I’m sorry for yelling,” he says soothingly, watching as Spencer presses closer into Derek’s hold. “You’re not in trouble, I’m just worried about you, Spencer. Why didn’t you tell us you were hurt?”

He squeezes his eyes closed again: it’s as much dignity as he can hope for when his face is crumpling and he’s sobbing on the cold, hard ground as it nears midnight. “I just… I just wanted to be worth something.” It’s an admission he’ll regret later, he already knows that, but he’s so so tired and all he wants is the comfort that only his team can provide.

Derek pulls him into an even tighter hug before anyone can react, holding him against his chest fiercely while his hand plays gently with his hair. “Spencer, you are worth something whether you’re injured or fully intact, you hear me? We’d love you with a broken leg, with a bad case of the flu, if you quit the team tomorrow and decided to never work again. But most importantly, we love you now, kid. No matter what. Nothing can change that, alright?”

“He’s right, Spence,” JJ says softly, sinking to the ground along with Elle. “I know you think we only tolerate you because of your brain and what you bring to the table on a case, but you’re so much more than that. We love your nerdy rambles and your awkward waves and the way you love so openly and protectively, no matter how many times you’ve been hurt before. We love everything about you, Spencer.”

“Yeah, if you’re hurt, Reid, we wanna know,” Elle chimes in, sounding a little hesitant as the one who’s known him the shortest amount of time, but firm in what she’s saying nonetheless. “I know I haven’t been on the team that long but this is a group of people that watches out for one another, that supports each other, that builds everyone up leaving no person behind. That includes you, Spencer Reid, even when you don’t feel like it.”

“Everyone is right, Spencer,” Hotch says softly, still holding his cold and shaking hand protectively in his gloved one. “I’m just sad that you still prioritise your work over your own health. You are not this job. You are an incredibly talented and multi-faceted person that oftentimes needs a little TLC, and until you’re willing and able to do that for yourself, we’ll be here to do it for you, okay?”

Tears are streaming down his face as he nods, feeling warmer than he has all day despite the cold dark night they’ve found themselves in. The strangest part about it all is that he’s actually starting to believe them. It’s not like they haven’t all said similar things before, but hearing them all vehemently corroborating each other’s stories, hearing it all laid out in front of him as they promise him with earnest expressions that they’re telling the truth is doing something to shift the leaden weight of insecurity and low self-esteem that presses on his chest each and every day.

“Now, come on,” Derek says. “Let’s get back to base and I’ll go with you to the hospital to get you checked out, make sure it’s nothing more than a sprain.”

He shifts behind Spencer, using his already firm hold on his waist to help gently pull him up to a standing position, taking most of his weight as Spencer whimpers at the pain that swiftly reignites at the movement.

Derek turns around and bends at the knees slightly as Spencer leans on Hotch, before looking over his shoulder, his signature grin returning. “Hop on, pretty boy.”

“What— Derek! I’m way too heavy!”

Everyone immediately breaks out in amused laughter, even Hotch chuckling fondly.

Derek rolls his eyes. “Come on, Spencer, you’ve gotta weigh what, like, 140lbs? 150? You can’t exactly walk on that ankle anymore and it’s the only way we’re getting back without calling for a search and rescue team of our own.”

“Reid, I’m pretty sure I could give you a piggy-back ride,” Elle points out, raising her eyebrows. “Just let him carry you back.”

Let us take care of you is implicit enough in everyone’s words and expressions that it doesn’t really need to be said, but Spencer hears it anyway.

Hotch helps him up onto Derek’s back and they begin the long trek towards the search and rescue base, and Spencer’s never appreciated the easy banter they all share more. Hotch is visibly relaxed with the case solved and his youngest team member soon to be taken care of, so he joins in with the conversation, his light and happy expression that he only ever wears around his family or the team on rare days and nights off, replacing his focused frown.

Spencer clings on tightly to Derek and presses his face into the space between his neck and his shoulder, closing his eyes as he listens to the conversation, the vibration of Derek’s laugh and the shameless flirting between Elle and JJ taking his mind off the pain that throbs in his ankle with each step Derek takes.

When they finally get back to base, they all gather round the ambulance that’s been designated to take Spencer and Derek to the hospital.

JJ steps forward to give him a hug first. “Love you, Spence. Let us know what they say, okay?”

Hotch surprises him by stepping forward and wrapping him in a hug as well, forgoing the macho pats on the back for a short but close embrace that feels fatherly enough for tears to prick the back of Spencer’s eyes. “We all love you, Spencer. Remember that okay. And actually listen to what the doctors tell you. Morgan, you’re my eyes and ears.”

“Well now I want a hug, too,” Elle says dramatically, squeezing him in a tight embrace for just a moment before stepping back, lining up with JJ and Hotch to present a united front of people on his side.

“We’ll see you both in the morning,” Hotch says as the paramedic starts prepping for the journey, moving Spencer onto the gurney and rolling him in.

“Hope they don’t keep you too long!” JJ calls just as the doors close, making them both chuckle.

Derek takes his hand in both of his, staying out of the paramedic’s way as she quickly places a line of mild painkillers before sitting back, knowing that there’s not anything more she can do for Spencer until they get to the hospital.

Derek must see the anxious look on Spencer’s face, because he’s quick to reach a hand out and brush his cheek gently. “Hey, I’ll be with you the whole time. I’m not gonna leave you on your own, okay? You’ll be alright, pretty boy, you’re gonna be just fine. I promise.”

And on the flight home the next morning he realises that Derek’s promise was kept. He’s fitted out with a crutch and a temporary wrapping around his ankle, resting comfortably with his head in Derek’s lap while his foot sits elevated on a pile of cushions carefully built by JJ, surrounded by people who swear up and down that they love him while proving it to him in a thousand little ways, and he’s really not sure it gets any more alright than that.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @temily @jellejareau @reidology @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @tobias-hankel @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @physics-magic @sbeno22 @im-autistic-not-stupid (taglist form)

[pillage-and-lute]

Thicker Than Water (Part 6)

lPart 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, (here) Part 7,  Part 8

Ao3 link HERE

TW for hypothermia, illness, talk of self-isolating behavior, mention of Yennefer’s self harm scars.

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The trek to Kaer Morhen was a penance, and that was just getting from the city to the base of the path that the witchers called ‘The Killer’. Autumn was truly giving way to winter now and fine flurries came down with more ferocity than was warranted from a few snowflakes. 

They were all on foot, Roach pulling the cart with their supplies. As they advanced up the trail Ciri and probably Jaskier would sit in the cart. The path was called killer for a reason, it could kill witchers. For now, though, they let Roach rest as much as she could. It would be a tough climb for her as well, and whenever they stopped Geralt gave her extra brushing down and treats. 

Geralt...hm. Well, since Jaskier had snapped at him back in the city their relationship, already tense as a bowstring, had gotten worse. They didn’t snap at each other, but tiptoed instead, walking on eggshells. Jaskier was waiting, had half expected Geralt to cast him aside again, or to gripe about Jaskier’s uselessness. Instead the witcher walked around like he’d been kicked. 

He was always looking at Jaskier though, glancing at him with that piercing, penetrating gaze. He was examining the bard for something, but for what, Jaskier didn’t know. Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to let Geralt have the satisfaction of seeing it. He kept walking, head up, eyes straight ahead. He didn’t complain. He barely spoke. Making himself as unlikely a target for Geralt’s ire as possible. 

That was the odd thing though. Geralt didn’t seem to have much ire, per say. It was almost an overbearing sort of concern. Jaskier tried to make it fit in his head, there was something there, Geralt’s anger at Jaskier for sleeping with the innkeeper, the care with which he’d carried Jaskier into town, this awkward caution. It meant something. In his heart Jaskier knew what he hoped it meant. He couldn’t trust his heart with this though, he needed to use his head. There was a disconnect between Geralt’s words and his actions. Between the mountain and now. He needed to use his head.

His head was aching.

Jaskier really barely could think, much less work out the complexities of Geralt’s character. His chest ached. That little, half-ache had taken root in his lungs and bloomed into a great, heaving flower. He was coughing now, which he was trying to hide, he knew, without much success. The cough had started dry and grating, but had progressed to a hacking wetness. It would have been bad enough, but it was upsetting Ciri. Jaskier wouldn’t go within six feet of her, for fear of making her sick too. Her big, grass green eyes watched him almost as consistently as Geralt did, and she was picking up the little crease between her brow as well. Sometimes, when a particularly vicious cough made him double over her lip trembled, and that was a special sort of torture. Yennefer kept giving him tea, too, which was a weirdly kind, somewhat pitying gesture.

“I’m not good at healing,” she grouched at him from across their campfire the first evening on The Killer.

Jaskier shrugged. “’s fine,” he said, taking another hesitant sip of the tea. It was herbal, not in the way that mint was herbal, but the way that a handful of leaves and moss tasted herbal. 

“Mh,” Yennefer said, as if she hadn’t heard him. “It’s one of those things you have to specialize in, magical healing. Magic heals magic injuries best, anyway.”

“I’m okay,” Jaskier said, fully aware that he wasn’t, but glad that Ciri and Geralt had gone to fetch more wood so he wouldn’t have the big witcher sniffing out his lie.

“You need a healer.” Yennefer skewered him with her gaze, purple meeting blue like a lightning storm. “You’re sick.”

“I don’t see why it should bother you.”

Yennefer sighed and stood up, grabbing the kettle from the fire. She poured herself a mug of the tea and sat down with it next to Jaskier. After a brief examination she drank it, then winced. “Eugh. It bothers me because we’re friends.”

“We are not.”

“Eh, well, Geralt screwed me over, he screwed you over, the enemy of my enemy...”

“Geralt isn’t my enemy--”

“Could’ve fooled me with that shouting match back in town.”

“Anyway he screwed you over more...literally.”

Yennefer looked at him, a little smirk on her lips. “Is that what this is about? That I slept with Geralt?” She looked at Jaskier, squinting at him as he studiously examined his tea. “No, that isn’t it,” she decided. “You aren’t upset he slept with me, you’re upset he never slept with you.”

“I’m upset that he decided he loves you!” Jaskier shouted, unable to take the prodding. He regretted it as it kickstarted a coughing fit that made him double over. He spat out some phlem and straightened up in time to see Yennefer’s grimace. 

“He decided he loves you,” Jaskier said, panting a little. “After only just meeting you. He decided he couldn’t live without you in his life, so he bound you with that djinn to keep you safe. And that sucks for you, it does, and he shouldn’t have done it. Melitele knows the man never thinks things through, it’s just...”

Jaskier looked into the fire and Yennefer waited.

“He barely knew you and he couldn’t bear to be without you. I spent two decades at his side and he’s never called me a friend.” He scoffed ruefully. “Called me a shit shoveler though.”

Yennefer nodded. “I heard.”

“You did?”

“I hadn’t gone that far when, well...you’re a pain in the ass, bard, but you didn’t deserve that. Men like Geralt...” she twisted the mug in her hands, turning it round and round and Jaskier saw flashes of scarred skin at her wrists. “People like Geralt and I,” she continued. “We pull at our safety ropes until they come undone. It’s just how we are. We were hurt so much, so long, that when we hurt we reach out and undo any ties that could help us.”

Jaskier was at a loss, so he bumped his shoulder against Yennefer’s. “You’re so much more fashionable about it though.”

Yen smirked and returned the shoulder bump. “Definitely. Geralt though, he cut all his safety ropes that day.” She didn’t have to specify which day. “I cut mine first though. I didn’t want him romantically, not really. It’s djinn magic, he’s not my lover, and I can’t fix him and I don’t want him to fix me.”

“Fix him?”

“I think people like Geralt and I can heal, but we can’t heal eachother. Ciri helps. I’m a mom to her, you know? She called me Mama the other day when she was really sleepy and it felt...” Yennefer trailed off, then she looked over at Jaskier. 

“I don’t love him, not like you do, and he doesn’t love me. But I’m not good with these things, and I can’t help you two fix what he broke that day. More than that, I won’t. It’s not my job to fix you two, or to deal with your problems for you, and if you two can’t communicate on your own then maybe you shouldn’t at all.”

“I communicated,” Jaskier said. “Twenty years. I thought those were the best years of my life, and I gave them to him, and did all the communicating. I’m not doing anymore. If I’m not...” Jaskier was ashamed to find a lump in his throat. “If I’m not a curse and a burden to him then he has to tell me, has to say it, because I can’t keep going if his words are just going to contradict his actions.”

“Good,” Yennefer said, standing and pouring her tea out onto the ground. “Don’t. Make him communicate. It’s up to him. And to make it be up to him, that’s up to you. He has words. If he can use them to hurt you then he can use them to heal. Don’t give in.”

It seemed that portion of the conversation was over because Yen began setting up her magic tent. “You’ll sleep in here tonight. The cold isn’t doing you any good.”

Jaskier shook his head. “Can’t. I could make Ciri sick.” 

Yennefer sighed again. “You’re right, of course, but you’ll sleep in Geralt’s tent. He can’t get sick and he’s a walking heater.”

Jaskier was about to protest when his lungs heaved again and he began coughing. The force was so great he swore he felt his ribs creak. Despite all the mucus his throat felt torn and raw. He dragged air back into his lungs then spat. Blood came out.

Of course, that was the moment Ciri and Geralt returned from getting firewood.

Ciri gasped, eyes wide, and Geralt dropped the armful of logs he was holding. They scattered but the witcher paid them no heed as he advanced towards Jaskier, stepping over the rolling wood. Geralt gripped Jaskier’s face and tilted his head back, holding his mouth open. 

Jaskier wondered what he could see with his witcher-enhanced eyes.

“Throat’s raw,” Geralt grunted after an awkward moment of peering into Jaskier’s mouth. “Probably nothing internal.”

Geralt wiped the blood from the corner of the bard’s mouth with his rough leather glove, then he peeled off his glove and pressed a hand to Jaskier’s forehead. Jaskier just leaned in to the warmth of Geralt’s palm, but it was obviously chilled, the temperature of a normal human, not the furnace heat Geralt normally held. 

Geralt frowned and stepped closer, taking his hand away and pressing his cheek to Jaskier’s forehead instead. It was a gesture that Jaskier’s nursemaid had sometimes done, an easier way to check for fever if one’s hands were too cold to tell. He wished he could linger there, in the warmth of Geralt, so close, with his cloak still smelling of the pine forest all around them and the copper-sharp scent of snow as well. 

“Fever,” Geralt grunted.

“Dandelion,” Ciri said, eyes filling.

Jaskier pulled away and bowed theatrically, ignoring his aching joints’ many protests. “Never fear little princess,” he said. “’twould take more than a fever to best the bard Jaskier.”

Ciri didn’t giggle, but at least she didn’t begin to cry. 

That night Jaskier and Geralt tucked in together, sharing not just a tent but a bedroll. Geralt had turned onto his side and pulled Jaskier in so that his face pressed to Geralt’s collarbone and he was surrounded by the witcher. It was as if Geralt was shielding him with his body, protecting him from an enemy, but that enemy was inside Jaskier already, and he could feel the fever burning through him, even as he relished the warmth.

His mind drifted to other times. Days and nights when coin had been tight and they’d shared beds, shared meals. They’d shared lives for so long, orbiting around eachother. Geralt like some bright planet and Jaskier his moon. He ached for it to be like that again, but he couldn’t do it alone, Geralt had to be part of it too, had to want that life to exist, not just allow it to happen. 

The next day dawned white. Snow had fallen and continued to do so, the little flurries of before now a full snowstorm that whipped and raged. Geralt loaded a pack full of supplies onto his back to lighten Roach’s load, then they set off. 

Ciri and Jaskier walked as long as they could, but the wind beat them back. Yennefer was struggling too, pushing magic in front of her so that the snow buffeted off of it, streaming around her and making the walking easier, but Jaskier could tell it drained her, and her shield flickered sometimes. 

Ciri stumbled once, around mid morning, and Geralt picked her up by the back of her cloak, scruffing her like a kitten. He patted some snow off of her and placed her int the cart with the supplies. Jaskier was going to go at least a couple hundred more feet, but Geralt scruffed him too, bundling him into the cart alongside Ciri. Jaskier prayed he wouldn’t get Ciri sick, but with the wind howling around him he imagined that whatever ill humors he could exhale would get swept away. He curled up opposite the princess, the pair of them ducking down miserably as the snow blew over the sides of the cart. He heard Geralt speaking to Yen. 

“We can make it by nightfall, if we push. Can you make it?” His voice was pitched above the wind, but still barely reached Jaskier.

“I can make it,” Yen said. “I’ll have to, they need warmth, and Jaskier needs medicine.”

“Vesemir knows herbs and potions, he can heal him.”

“Then we’d better get a move on,” Yennefer said. Her voice was strained, but they forged on anyway. 

Jaskier took occasional peeks over the sides of the cart. It was a winding path, a goat track, really, but the northern mountains were said to be beautiful and he imagined it must be very scenic. As it was, the wind and snow obscured most of his vision. What he could see were ancient pines, large and weather worn. Nevertheless, they swayed like reeds in a current in the hellstorm that whipped around them. 

“Ciri,” Jaskier wheezed. “Let’s play a game.”

Ciri, tucked into her cloak so far that he could barely see her, gave a muffled, “okay.”

“How many red things can you name?”

“...apples,” was the muffled reply. 

“Cherries.”

“Rubies.”

“Wine.”

“Chili peppers,” Yennefer said, the wind almost stealing it, but Jaskier and Ciri smiled at eachother for dragging her into the game.

“Raspberries,” Ciri said.

“Blood?” Geralt grunted.

“Gross,” Ciri said, at the same time as Jaskier said, “What a witchery answer.”

“Tomatoes,” Yen said.

The game trailed away for a while as the cart rattled worryingly across some tough ground. Geralt and Yennefer ate while they walked, and Ciri and Jaskier chewed on some dried meat. Mostly Ciri, Jaskier dozed, too exhausted to even chew. 

When he opened his eyes again the wind was still howling, but the sky looked darker. It must be evening.

“Dandelion,” Ciri whispered. “are you awake?”

“Mmhm,” he said.

“I’m cold.” 

Jaskier was too, the snow had soaked into him so he was damp, but then it froze again, taking him with it. 

“We’re almost there,” Geralt grunted. His voiced sounded strained and weary, but Jaskier didn’t have the strength to look and find out why. “C’mon girl,” Geralt said, clicking his tongue at Roach. “We can make it, do it for me.”

“Hey Ciri,” Jaskier slurred, tongue heavy in his mouth. 

“Hm?”

“Roses are red.”

He imagined Ciri smiling at him tiredly, but he couldn’t see her, bundled in the blankets. He could hear her teeth chatter though. “Jam is red, sometimes,” she said. 

“Eskel’s shirt is red,” Geralt said, raising his voice above the wind. 

“N-no fair,” Jaskier muttered. “I’ve never even seen him.” To his surprise he was drifting off again. It felt different though, a little like drowning. Some part of him felt he should panic, but he hadn’t the energy. 

“You can see him,” Geralt said, sounding a little frantic. “He’s right there, standing on the path ahead of us. We’re here, Jaskier, look at Eskel.”

Jaskier wanted to, but his eyelids were too heavy.

“Geralt--” began a new voice.

“Eskel please, they need help.”

“I know, give her to me, I’ll carry her the rest of the way.”

Carry who? Jaskier wondered, then he realized that he hadn’t heard Yennefer speak lately.

A whistle came from up ahead. “C’mon Pretty Boy,” another new voice. “I’ll take your pampered horse, you lay them in front of the fire.”

There was some rustling and Jaskier wreched his eyes open with his last ounce of effort. An older man with a moustache and a face like a wall of granite was lifting Ciri from the cart. He took care with her, cradling her and walking away quickly. Vesemir? Probably. His eyes fell shut again. 

“Jaskier c’mon,” Geralt said in his ear. His breath stuttered warmth across Jaskier’s cheek. “You’re gonna be okay, we’re here, just don’t fall asleep on me, please.”

Jaskier wanted to open his eyes, just to reassure Geralt but everything seemed to be drifting away. He was laid down on something soft and felt the heat of fire on his face. There was the scent of pine logs, snapping and cracking as their sap burned away. Hands, Geralt’s hands, rubbed up Jaskier’s arms, forcing the blood to move. His soaked cloak was stripped away, leaving him chilled but dry, and then soft, dry fabric was pulled around him. Someone had wrapped him into a blanket and was rubbing his fingers. Both his hands were cupped between two larger ones and warm air was blown across them. The blood returning to his hands felt so hot it burned and hurt and he squirmed, but he was too tired to pull away. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” he heard Geralt say as he rubbed more heat into Jaskier’s fingers. “Ciri’s okay, and Yen’s okay. You have to be okay, Jaskier. Warm up. You need to be warm.”

“Give ‘im some time, Lad,” Jaskier heard. Another new voice. Must belong to Vesemir. 

“He’s so cold,” was the whispered reply.

“The boy trekked after you for years, he’s resilient. He’ll be okay.”

“But--”

“Keep doing what you’re doing, let him rest.”

Jaskier heard no more, but it was so nice, the fire and the fur beneath him, and Geralt, holding his hands. He couldn’t be bothered to worry about it. 

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They finally got there! 

Tag List!

@frywen-babbles @mordoriscalling @thedarkestangel1 @kerfufflezz @samukai @charlies-dragon @live-long-and-trek-on @holymotherwolf @morte-mistrata @mewithanie @sharondnovels @stinastar @ionlylikemycat @annafortoday @its-the-quenchiest-stuff @kkiyomizu @so--many-fandoms @endless-whump @ineffable-monster-romancer @sweetiepieplum @tookarma @seraphim-miryam 

Tags are being weird, if I missed you, or you want to be added, let me know

[someonewhowannadielol]

My name is JK (Alien!Jungkook! x Human!Reader)

PART TWO (SEQUEL TO ‘MY NAME IS 01001010 01001011′)

CLICK HERE FOR PART ONE

LINK TO MASTERLIST

Warning: Tooth-rotting fluff, Jungkook being a cutie, ok the real warning tags are Daddy kink, birthday sex, innocent reader being trained (???), lots of hicks and marking, cunt slapping, oral sex, uhh and jk being a competitive baby.

Genre: Fluff, Smut, if you squint and look closely, a little bit of humour.

Word Count: 5.6k

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

It had been a week since Jungkook had, ahem, dicked you down. And it has been the best week of your life so far – he showed you things you had never seen before, the most beautiful scenes that your eyes feasted upon. You both had gone to the Neon Valley, it was a vast blue-purple lake that lit up at night due to the minerals on the sand bed below, and the lilies residing there would dance every night.

They fluttered, swung and swayed – and simultaneously, Jungkook and you too, had danced – he took you in his arms and as you both slow danced to the humming of the diva-crackers, you couldn’t help but look at his gorgeous face, adorned with a smile that you’d never replace for anything in this universe. You could feel yourself falling for him, he twirled you with ease, and as you stumbled back into his arms, he lost his balance trying to save you from falling and splash! 

You both had ended up in the hot water, and despite the current situation, you both had burst into boisterous laughter which echoed across the plain field around. In the shining moonlight, Jungkook’s face was more lit up than the neon water they were in, his long hair sprawled across his forehead, as he pushed it back with his left hand, while holding your waist with his right arm.

Jungkook looked at you with such intensity, you didn’t really know how to react. both of you knew you wanted more than just cuddles on your couch that was too small for Jungkook, more than grocery shop romances, and trekking on the artificial mountain, and more than watching movies together,, more than cuddling under the tree at the main park, more than making fun of each other, you wanted each other so much more badly.

“Kiss me,” Jungkook whispered, his face getting dangerously close.

“I’m scared,” Of course you were, but you didn’t move away from me.

“Of what?” Jungkook’s eyebrows bunched up like they always do when he’s confused.

“Of falling. Of drowning,” you answered as you looked into his eyes, how could someone not fall for him?

“Well, I’m already drowning, so don’t be scared, silly,” Jungkook’s eyes formed from his usual doe eyes to half-moon crescents and, you were no longer afraid to fall.

Because he was there, he will always be there, right beside you.

Fuck. You couldn’t help but curse as you saw the red spot on your lavender sheets, they were my favorite sheets. You had really bad mood swings when you were on your period, and you were basically uncontrollable. You saw Jungkook’s figure on the left side of the bed, sleeping peacefully, his chest heaving up and down as he breathes consistently.

“Baby,” you whined, as you almost pushed him off the bed. There was no way that you were going to the pharmacy to get the goods, so he was your only choice possible.

He stumbled as he got up, sleep still swimming in his eyes, as his hands went up to rub them, trying to get rid of the slumber that had taken over him.

“Yes, princess?” he asked in his hoarse voice – which turned you on (especially a lot now, since your uterus was sad, lonely and angry). His eyes travelled to the blood on the sheets, and it would be an understatement to say that he had a heart attack.

He immediately engulfed you in his arms, “Are you hurt anywhere?” he said, unable to breathe, because fuck, if anything ever happened to you, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

The worry in his eyes was making you feel guilty; did he even know what was happening?

“Jungkook, chill,” you laughed a little before directing him to the side of the bed, telling him to sit.

“Humans – well, only females – have to go through a period of time where they bleed. From down there,” you explain, and watch him go into a slight state of shock.

The poor baby just woke up 2 minutes ago, so this was probably hard to digest.

“You… you’re bleeding… and you don’t go to the hospital?”

“Does it hurt?” he asks in the timidest voice ever, careful not to offend you. He remembers once he asked you about body hair and since it was your biggest insecurity (cue Middle School flashbacks when you were the only girl with a slight unibrow and mustache), you couldn’t help but lash out on him.

“Yeah, it hurts a lot in my tummy,” you said on your way to the bathroom, “I need my supplies though, could you get them for me?”

Half an hour later, Jungkook returned with five bags of chocolates, chips and snacks – enough to feed a small village. The entire week, he kept studying you (you swear you saw him looking at you and writing notes in his small notebook, like a detective. Sigh) and your mood swings and tendency to eat the weirdest food combinations – he couldn’t help but gag when he saw you dip a whole cucumber in peanut butter.

“Kookie, cuddle with me,” during the day you would make grabby hands at him, and get him to massage your back, but at night you’d be the complete opposite – wanting to sleep as far away from him as possible. He also noted that you were more sensitive to jokes during the week, so he kept them at a minimum, and his praises at a maximum.

“Baby, you know, you look so cute in my arms,” he cooed, as he kissed your cheek while cuddling. He didn’t miss the blush that crept on your cheeks either.

Also, despite all the bleeding, you were ready to jump his bones anytime. He hasn’t had this much sex with anyone in one week. Not that he minded it.

You were more than ecstatic when you saw your favourite-est food in the world stocked in the human section of the grocery store. Spicy Hot Korean Ramen! You still remember when eating this used to be a challenge, back on Earth.

As you stacked the basket with half the stock, Jungkook couldn’t help but look at the ingredients – what was it that made you love them so much?

He was well, more than shocked to see all the different kinds of spices that humans could barely tolerate, chili flakes, red pepper oil, habanero flavored seasoning… he couldn’t let you eat this!

“Baby, this is too spicy for you, maybe we should buy this,” he pointed to the boring chicken and cheese flavored ramen. No! You were going to buy the spicy one and that’s finalized. Of course, Jungkook looked at you, and couldn’t argue. He doesn’t think he could argue with you even if he tried to.

Back at the apartment, Jungkook bit his tongue, trying not to say “I told you so,” as you fought your tears while eating the horrendous noodles. You were positive you could never feel your numb tongue as you chugged down the glass of strawberry milk that Jungkook handed you.

As expected, Jungkook was prepared for the stomach ache you experienced throughout the night, and gave you medicine to recover.

Before sleeping, you heard him sigh before saying, “I told you so,”

Jungkook had noticed you a lot, ever since you moved in with him. You didn’t have much belongings anyways, because you were only allowed to carry 100 pounds of baggage on the space craft, so you only carried the essentials. (Yes, you brought an oven. Yes, it was 77 pounds heavy. No regrets.)

While getting accustomed to his cozy, but huge apartment, you couldn’t help but trip over furniture. At first, it was his coffee table in the kitchen, next to the refrigerator. Every time you would get something to eat, your pinky would hit the leg of the table, causing you to splutter nonsense and then cry about it.

His bed was also higher than you expected it to be, so every day, for an entire month, after waking up you would underestimate the height – and always, always fall down from it.

He was extremely shocked by your ability to ignore pain, and to continue suffering every day because of the same cause at the same place. It’s okay, because now he’d hold you as you stepped out of the bed, and moved the coffee table to the other side of the kitchen.

He also noticed that humans don’t always have a thought out sleep schedule, they did as they pleased. Last night, you were pretty much half asleep at 4 AM, as you tried to finish the last episode of the new Netflix series.

“You were so sleepy, yet you continued to watch it without even understanding what’s happening?” he asked as soon as you woke up, to which you shrugged.

Again, next week, you forced yourself to get up at 5AM in the morning, so you could go for a jog. After all, you were thinking of getting more fit, all you did was lay on the couch. But as you headed in the bathroom for a shower after the run, he couldn’t help but think that humans are weird.

The first time Jungkook heard you crunch your bones, he was so scared, you almost though he would faint. He threw his game controller on the floor, as he ran towards you – thinking you had dislocated a limb, or something.

“Kookie, I was j-just stretching,” you could barely make out the words, trying to hold in your laughter as he tried to make sure you were okay.

With a sigh, he ran his hand through his fluffy – much longer – hair now, as he headed back to continue his game, “Baby, you’re so weird,”

“But you still love me?” you asked as you joined him on the couch, laying your head on his lap.

“I will always love you. Even if your bones crack,”

Bonus: When you got up at night for a midnight snack, you were surprised to see that Kookie wasn’t in bed with you. You later found him in his office, studying about how a human’s joint makes loud popping or cracking sounds because of the gas gathered there. He was finally content to ensure that you were safe.

Of course, you smothered him in hugs and kisses, because he always looked out for you. Always.

After a few weeks of being in Corellia, you had started to well… miss Earth. It was natural to do so; you’d lived your entire life there.

“I miss the sunsets, they were so pretty,” you spoke as you showed him a polaroid of you and your sister with the sunset behind you both. You pointed towards the one sun you had, and the purple, pink and orange hues of the clouds.

In an attempt to make you happy, Jungkook gave you a chocolate, they always made you happier, and he’d read somewhere something about chemicals in it making humans happier. But he was surprised to see you dancing (terribly) to a pop song, that seemed a little annoying, but he could deal with it.

The song had seemed to lighten your mood a lot, as you danced along with him happily, and as you looked at him, you felt happier. His long, wavy hair bounced as he danced with you. His eyes were smiling, and it was so pure that you laughed along. You were happy finally.

Until two weeks later, when you came across a photo of you and your high school class, trekking up a mountain on your senior trip to the north. Jungkook saw you sad again, missing Earth and your loved ones. Some were dead, some didn’t make it here, and some lived on the hotter side of the planet.

He put up the same pop song again, and cuddled with you on the couch. For the first time ever, you really felt grateful to God for something. You felt grateful that you were alive, and that you had Jungkook along with you. He looked how he looked every day, wearing a casual white t-shirt and grey baggy sweatpants. You adjusted yourself on his lap, and looked at him, and looked into his brown eyes. As you traced his face with your finger, he laughed, “Princess, do you feel better?”

You smile at the word of endearment, kissing his cheek, “You make me realize the difference between a house and a home. A house is a place, made with bricks and concrete, and materialistic items. But a home, is so much different. A home is where you feel belonged, a home is a place where you get that feeling of love. You make me finally realize how Earth was more of a house for me, but here, in your arms, I finally feel like I’m at home,”

You never thought Jungkook would be an overprotective boyfriend. Or a way too over protective boyfriend. During sex, he would go crazy on your body – sometimes treat you like a china doll, fragile and easily breakable, and sometimes it would be rough and harsh, not that you minded it.

His apartment was well, more suited for Jubal people because the ceilings, the bed, and of course, the kitchen cabinets were all bigger in height and size in comparison to your apartments back on Earth. Often, without thinking Jungkook would put food on the top most cabinets, and you often either felt too embarrassed, or too stubborn to ask for his help.

Which resulted in you – dangerously – climbing on the shelf to grab your precious food. This was a routine now, so you didn’t exactly pay attention to your limbs – just letting your muscle memory do the work for you. Right foot on the counter, and then you push your left knee as well, until you’ve made yourself stable on the counter top. Then, you stand up, holding the cabinet handle. Today was the same, but Jungkook had recently scrubbed clean the shelves, so they were more slippery than usual, and there was a fleeting moment when you thought you were about to fall (which would, by the way, give you the nastiest head injury), and before you realized it, Jungkook had looped his arm around your waist.

You were still shocked – chips in hand – when he settled you on his lap, almost like a child.

“Princess, what were you thinking?” he says as he lets you turn around, so you straddling his lap.

“I just wanted some chips, Kook,” you say with an amused grin. He was obviously distressed, as he sighed while running his hands through his hair, like he would when he was frustrated.

“Baby, you have to tell me if you need something from there, okay? What if you had hurt yourself?” his voice seemed to get louder with every words, and just like that, your amused grin was replaced with a pout, as you lowered your head.

 You didn’t mean to make him angry like that.

Looking at you, he knew he couldn’t ever stay mad at you. It was physically impossible for him. He hugged you, and your head rested on his cheat, feeling his fast heartbeat morphed into a more, stable and steady beat, “I’m just always worried for you. Even if everything is wrong, it’s alright, you’re the only good thing in my life,”

It had been ages since you had gone to a festival, and there was going to be a carnival-like festival in Corellia soon. You didn’t think Jungkook would be that interested, so you were quite surprised to see him… so excited about it.

“It comes twice in a year, you have to come! I’ve heard they’ve made it more human themed this year, so you feel welcomed, but we’ll have our traditional rides too!” he spoke with a gleam in his eyes, as you both got ready.

Jungkook of course, made sure you were wearing at least five layers of clothes, two pairs of gloved, and three pairs of socks. It was night time, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of you looking like a walking marshmallow.

“Baby, you look so cute!” he exclaimed, holding your hand. The dead town looked really alive tonight, as the red, yellow, purple and other multicolored lights lit the place up, to make it feel even more alive. You were really shocked at the amount of people present, but that’s what made it even more fun.

The first thing had to be food, you got two plates of fries, because, well, is it even possible or human to share food? And that too, fries? No way. 

Jungkook had recently discovered ketchup, and now he would dip everything in it before eating. Ramen, dipped in ketchup. Chips, dipped in ketchup. Bread, dipped in ketchup. And now, you saw him cover every single chip in ketchup before eating it. While you thought this was disgusting, you were still amused by his new found love for it.

You both scared a giant cup of strawberry milkshake, that looked like it was out of a romcom, cotton candy pink color, with whipped cream on top. And naturally, the cherry. Your noses touched, as you both drank at the same time, and you couldn’t help but want to live in the moment forever.

You both had spent the night, either enjoying rides that were too scary, and hazardous to experience but at the same time too fun to miss out on, or competition with each other to the next level. You knew Jungkook had always been a competitive little shit, whether it was about who would cook better and faster, or about who loved the other one more, he was always in a competition. This was no exception either, as you both we immersed in a car racing game, where you were well, obviously losing.

You had never really been the best at arcade games, and this car games was extremely frustrating, because the goddamn seat was too big and your legs could barely reach the pedals on the bottom while holding onto the steering wheel simultaneously. He laughed as you struggled to multitask, and at one point you didn’t realise you were going the wrong way until you heard Jungkook laughing so hard, he was struggling to breath. Three tries later, Jungkook had had his fair share of victories as he put you in his lap, and told you to focus on the steering only. He’d handle the pedals part. Together, you guys had broken the fastest record of the day and of course, he had to congratulate you. And the congratulations came in a form of a heated kiss – which wasn’t liked by the Jubals waiting in line to play the game.

Later, you both had way too much fun beating others in basketball as you paired up, and beat a Jubal power couple. Then came the bumper cars. The same Jubal power couple had hit your and Jungkook’s car so hard that you almost flew across the set-up, if it wasn’t for the seatbelt, and Jungkook’s arm around the waist. It was safe to say that Kook took his revenge by hitting their car repeatedly, as he shoved them into a corner. You kissed your over protective boyfriend on the cheek, he was just so fricking cute.

You both ate more food than you could handle, and as you were walking, Jungkook bought a donut and tried to feed you.

“No! No, Kook, I swear!” you tried to get away from him, but he held your waist as he pushed the donut in your mouth, smearing it over your cheek in the process.

“Kook!” you exclaimed, as he kissed you, and licked away any leftover icing.

You couldn’t help but blush when he smirked, “Sweet.”

At the end of it all, you pushed Kook into a small photo booth that sat on the other end of the carnival.

“Please? Come on!” you tried to show him your puppy eyes, and turned your lips into a pout.

“But baby, I don’t look good in photos!” he whined as you inserted the money to take a four portrait photo.

“Please? Just this once? For me?” you pouted again, and pushed him in with you, and you tried to drag his arms.

“You can’t give me the puppy dog face! You know I can’t say no to that!” he whined, adjusting you in his lap.

“Just pose, Kookie,” you said as you closed the red curtain on the side. In the first one, your arms were around his neck as you laughed and looked in the camera, and he looked at you, pouting. The second one, you both looked at each other and smiled, his hands in your hair. The third had been him grabbing your face, squishing you cheeks and bringing you closer (but because of the movement – it was also blurred, at which you were disappointed, but Kook assured you it looked good), and lastly, in the fourth one, you were kissing passionately, while Jungkook smiled in the kiss.

You both climb the small hill, where people are buying and lighting their lanterns in an orderly manner. You both buy one, and you end up writing “JK X Y/N” on it with red paint, and before Jungkook lights it, he adds a red heart, and “4EVER,” underneath which looks so cheesy, that it makes you laugh.

He looks at you, and kisses your forehead. Around 10:30, everyone lets go of their lanterns, and you both also let go of yours, letting it fly in the sky, as Jungkook cups your cheeks and pushes your hair back, before kissing you, sweet and slow.

The night had come to an end as all the Jubals were leaving too. You didn’t know exactly what time it was, but it was definitely i-can’t-walk-o’ clock, as Jungkook gave you a piggy back ride without any questions when he saw you stumbled into others. In one hand you held the teddy bear he had won from the water gun thingy, and in the other you held a cotton candy like sweet – but it wasn’t exactly cotton candy. It was blue and purple, and shined because of the crystallized sugar on it.

The last thing you remember was resting your face where his shoulder and neck met and mumbling, “This was the best day of my life,”

If someone had told you that you’d have a cook off with an alien in two months’ time, you would’ve laughed in their face. But. Here you were. Trying to cook the best alfredo pasta he would ever taste in his life.

You tried to glance on his cooking station multiple times, only to be pushed back, “Baby! It’s supposed to be a surprise!”

Jungkook really seemed to be absorbed in the cooking process, and you were starting to feel deprived of his love and adoration that he would usually shower at you when he was not working in his office.

30 minutes later, he brought you his favourite dish, the one that his mother used to cook for him when he was younger. It was orange red-ish coloured deep fried small cutlets, that smelled… amazing. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it tasted like, it was salty, but in a different way. And so, so, yummy. You were a little insecure when Jungkook took a bite of your pasta, and showed no emotion.

Oh no, you had tasted it and it felt pretty normal, juts how you’d make it on Earth. Was he allergic to something in it?

“Baby, what did you put in this?” he asked, but he didn’t seem to stop eating it. He didn’t speak anything until, well, he finished the dish.

“Can you make that for me every day?”

It had been over six months, since you and Jungkook had been seeing each other. Naturally, as a couple you both did fight – mostly over stupid stuff, like which restaurant to go to, or disagreements on what to buy etc. But you both would always sort it out, no matter what it was, he was always by your side.

It was his birthday, and Jubals never really celebrated their birthday – “Why would you celebrate this? I’m just one more year near death,” he said as you told him about ‘Earth Traditions’.

Albeit to whatever he said, you made yourself busy when he went out to meet the gang. You’d met them a couple of times before, being much closer to Taehyung because he never really questioned whatever you did, and just went along with it. You had enjoyed Jimin and Jin’s company as well (mostly because they cooked for you, not gonna lie).

As you hung up the balloons that said, “Happy Birthday!” individually, you had started to well, decorate yourself as well.

You knew how Jungkook always looked at you as if you were the most pure creature in this universe, his innocent little baby, so you decided to dress the part. Dressed in white panties, with a small bow on them, you adjusted your pink tinted, bra that came along with it. It left little to the imagination, as it was see-through, but there were small bows on each nipple, making you look like a present. You’d never really been the one to dress up in stockings as well, but here you were, tweaking your garter, as the pink shaded white see-through material latched on your legs as a second skin. Now, you waited patiently.

He finally came, around half past seven, and looked better than ever. You’d worn your silk robe that you would usually wear around, so he wouldn’t suspect anything. He looked so happy, his eyes crunched up into its usual crescent shape as he laughed while blowing the candles and eating your home-made cake. He had always loved your baking, so when you made his favourite Oreo cake, he was really, really happy. You’d made him a teddy bear – you were bad at sewing, but hey! A for effort.

“Kook, there’s a present in your bedroom too,” you said as you took his left hand and guided him in the bedroom. You had given him several gifts already, so why were you giving him another one?

“Baby, you didn’t have t-“ he stopped as soon as you dropped your robe in front of him, letting him take in the sight of you, clad in your lingerie that he had only imagined in his wildest fantasies.

The light hearted aura around him seemed to vanish, as a darker shade took over his eyes. Without speaking anything, he carried you bridal style, to the bed and laid you down softly on it.

“Gonna let me taint you, angel?” he asked, and at the sight of him, you couldn’t help but moan and nod.

“Use your words, baby,” he said as he let his fingers roam on your figure, and lit a fire in your core, making you overwhelmed.

“Yes, Daddy, please make love to me,” you whine, but he tsks on your choice of words.

“Angel, my princess,” he says as he leaves a trail of wet kisses from your neck to you collarbone, sucking on it, “I’m not going to love to you today, I’m going to fuck you, baby”

You gasp as he circles around the bow on your nipple, before ripping the thin material completely, letting the cool air hit your vulnerable skin.

As Jungkook just keeps looking at you, his long hair shadowing in front of his eyes, you can’t help but feel needy, “Daddy, please, touch me,” you whine, trying to get ahold of his hand.

He gently brings his mouth down, sucking on the little tip of your nipple, as his tongue works magic around it, and you’re already starting to get wet.

“It’s u-unfair that you’re all d-dressed up,” you moan, as you try to take off his white t-shirt. He chuckles as he takes off his shirt, letting you look at his god-like body. You were speechless when you first saw him, and you still are every time you both have sex.

His lean body, is just perfect in every way, and the way the moonlight hits his face, giving his face the shadows that come along with the highlights, you were dumbstruck at how breathtaking he was.

While Jungkook loved to mark you, mark your body, make you his, today was harsher, much more aggressive as he bit your chest, making you cry out in pleasure. He painted your body in hues of purple and bright pink, using his tongue to make each bruise feel better. As soon as he reached the hem of your underwear, he stopped, and that resulting in a whine from you.

“It’s my birthday, and you said I deserve anything on this day. So, princess,” he said, unbuckling his belt, and you swallow hard before he lets his cock free, ”let me fuck those beautiful tits,”

He pushes himself into your mouth without any warning, letting you groan and whimper as you produce enough saliva to make him sopping wet, “Good baby,” he whispers as he lets his dick between your tits.

You smiled, as you held your breasts together, and he slides his hardening member between them, “fuck baby, you’re so soft, so pretty for Daddy,” he murmurs obscene praises as you whimper in pleasure from the friction between your breasts.

He places his cock between them, and first experiments with his movements, and as time passes, he becomes faster, and messier. You both didn’t mind the mess, as his pre-cum lands on your chest, collarbone and nipples, and you can only whine in pleasure while letting him use your body.

His movements go from steady and fast to uncoordinated and stuttering, as he pulls out and pants, letting him catch his breath.

“Fuck, baby, they felt like heaven, but there’s something else, way better,” he grins as pulls himself down on your body, and looks as you underwear, directly. It makes you whimper, when you feel his hot breath through the thin material. He laps his tongue on it, and it feels so good, but not good enough, and you wish he would just take it off.

“Daddy, please, take it off,” you whine and he pulls your legs further apart and digs his face between them.

He smirks and looks at you, already fucked out as a blush stays on your cheeks. Angelic.

“Keep the stockings on, okay, sweetheart?” he says as his finger traced down your leg, as you shiver under his touch.

He comes up to you and cups your face, pressing a kiss against your cheek – and it felt so chaste in comparison to what you both had just done.

And before you could realize, he slips his fingers under the hem of your panties, and shreds them into pieces.

“What do you want from Daddy?” he stops in front of your clit, spreading your lips, waiting for your answer. He knew you were shy, too shy to speak vulgar words, but you were just so needy right now.

“Daddy, I need your tongue,” you speak, and let his tongue sit flat on your bud, it gave enough stimulation, but at the same time not enough, and you just needed more. You couldn’t help but buckle your hips into his face, and that resulted in his getting up and looking at you, making eye contact.

“You’re being ungrateful now, huh?” he says as he smacks the bud hard, where seconds ago he let his tongue rest. It’s painful, but at the same time, it just feels so, so good. He smacks it two more times before letting his teeth sink in your inner thigh, as you let lewd noises escape your mouth, as he further marks your thighs, and you knew, for sure that they would last a long time.

After a lifetime of teasing, he lets his tongue slurp the cum that escaped your pussy, as he went to town on it, eating you out as if he’s been starving for years. You let your moans escape as he slips his tongue inside you, and lets his nose rub against your clit. You were so close, just about to fall off the edge as he pulls himself away, and you whimper, grabbing the sheets as if your life depended on them.

“Your cunt is always, always so pretty and tasty for Daddy,” he smacks between your thighs again, making you gasp, “always ready for Daddy,”

His ruffled, brown hair shines in the dark of the room, the moonlight being the only source of light, illuminating his face.

He lets his dick enter you, gently, until you reach your limit and instead of waiting like he always does, he rams back into you again, letting you adjust with his steady movements, as you grab his hand and hold it. He always holds your hand when he’s being rough, to let you know that he can stop anytime. (but u is a hoe)

He slides out until only his tip is inside you, and lets himself into you all at once, fast and reckless. Wild. It isn’t long before your walls clench around him, “Daddy, I-I’m so close,” you say as your rub you clit, slowly with a continual movement.

You orgasm starts first, hot and sticky liquid, dripping down you thigh, staining your perfect stockings, and soon Jungkook follows, as his head buries in your neck, and he groans before letting himself loose.

“Happy Birthday, Kookie,” you whisper before letting him take you to the tub, where you both well, fuck again.

LINK TO MASTERLIST 

A/N: It’s always so fun to write alien!jk, and I hoped you guys liked it. Also, a huge thank you to @bisoo-ausucre for supporting me so much!

Could you please help me decide what to write first? Frat boy!jk OR titanic!au with Jimin as Jack? 

As always, requests are open, and so is my inbox. See you next time!

[jaskiersvalley]

Hello!! 💕 Just wanted to let you know that I love your "Jaskier has always smelled of blood" au. It means a lot to me 💛 I feel like it brings some kind of awereness to the issue and I'm really gratefull for it. Thank you 💕

Nonnie, thank you so much for your kind words. That AU is one that I spent a lot of time mulling over and debating whether to write it or not. But given the fact that it means a lot to you, it was most definitely worth it. There is actually another topic that has been on my mind a fair amount that is as heavy as that AU, which is what happens when a suicide attempt doesn't succeed. Hopefully you won't mind if I write that as a little thank you for your lovely ask.

CW: Suicide attempt (overdose of Witcher potions)

Love wasn't meant to be part of a Witcher's life. That was what Eskel had always been taught and he accepted it as his lot in life. When he was younger, he had raged against it, tried to defy the truth. He attended parties, wooed and seduced wherever he went. Love never stuck but at least his lust was sated. Then Deidre happened and Eskel had a new reality to get used to, one where he was seen as monstrous, hideous and repulsive. Those were just Lambert's teasing words, trying to exaggerate and poke fun at the situation. Not that it helped. Suddenly, Eskel could only attend masquerade balls where his face was hidden from view for fear of upsetting humans. It was either that or finding hungry and desperate succubi who valued his Witcher enhanced attribute more than his visage. It didn't stop Lambert from cracking jokes.

"You don't have a succubi problem, you just have a succuebae. Get it? Before anyone else!"

It was easy for Lambert to say, brothels still took his coin if he wanted it. Though, by the sounds of stories, he didn't need to frequent such places, not when he had a Cat Witcher travelling with him and eager to share all aspects of the Path, not just the pay for contracts. Still, Eskel couldn't begrudge Lambert, he'd always had a shit lot in life. If he could buck the rule about love, good for him, he deserved that slice of happiness.

Then Geralt had to go and find himself a bard who was devoted to him. Eskel could smell the pining on Geralt over winters and then love when Jaskier finally spent the winter with them. That was fine too. Much like Lambert, Geralt also deserved someone to love and share his life with. Even multiple someones when Yennefer arrived and had no need of a room of her own.

It was fine. Eskel could be happy for them. He wasn't jealous, didn't feel like he'd been cheated out of anything. Those were thoughts he turned away from every night when he pulled his covers tight around him and pretended he didn't wish it was the warm embrace of a lover, probably much like the other two had.

Things got worse when Eskel started getting left out of things. There were games that the happy couples played in the evenings, something about how well they knew each other. It was raucous and fun by the sounds of it. Eskel stayed in the kitchen, cleaning because it wasn't a game he could play. The double dates looked fun, going out on rides. Once Yennefer even opened up a portal for them to spend a night away for some romantic getaway. The bard about Eskel bringing Lil Bleater had stung more than he cared to admit. Slowly, Eskel was forgotten. Vesemir had his books, was content with those and the letters he seemed to send. If Eskel was lucky, he'd end up like him. But Eskel didn't want to become Vesemir in his old age. Not even Vesemir really, not when Eskel didn't even have friends to exchange letters with.

The bleakness of it ate away at Eskel for years. Each time he returned to Kaer Morhen without a travelling companion, without someone to write to, he felt like a failure. To the point that he tried drinking, tried fisstech, anything to forget, even if just for a little while. Nothing worked though, every time reality caught up with him. There was only one solution he could see, one where there was no tomorrow to wake up to. It wasn't a rash decision, Eskel didn't immediately act on those thoughts. But his mind was made up and with that came a sense of relief. He had a few things to get in order, to figure out but there was now an end in sight, a way out and on his own terms.

One last winter he made the trek to Kaer Morhen. He had a tidy pack of coins, some truly excellent Gwent cards and a large stash of potions he had brewed up. All in all, he looked like he had a good year on the Path. Nobody needed to know that all his external riches were a façade for the poverty of his heart.

His plan was a simple one. It wasn't like a Witcher left a will or anything like that, his measly belongings got scavenged when he didn't return from a contract. That wasn't what Eskel wanted, he was going to make sure all his belongings were going to go to the person he wanted them to end up with. Which was why he started with Gwent. He played Geralt and, slowly but surely, lost all his best cards. Eskel prided himself in how he could play so well that they others believed he was having a bad run. Couple it with drinking some of Lambert's brew, it was an uproarious night full of laughter, friendly slaps to his back and loudly declared sympathy for his poor, alcohol addled brain.

Once the good Gwent cards were gone, Eskel switched out, claiming he needed someone lesser to play because Geralt was just too good. As predicted, Lambert took great offence at being called a worse player and shoved Geralt out the way. Eskel bet money, a nice pair of gloves and, in an almost unheard of turn, Scorpion.

"I needed to leave you with things to barter with for the rest of winter," he told Lambert with a smile. "Because I'll be winning it all back in the coming weeks, with interest on top."

The laughter that went up at that was nice. Eskel was satisfied all the worthwhile things in his possession had found good homes. Vesemir had already taken the spices and seeds he had returned with, along with the small mountain of foods that would keep them well fed over winter. What Eskel didn't expect was the hugs and pats to his back as they got ready to get to bed.

"It was nice to see you smiling and laughing again," Jaskier commented.

"This was like the old days," Lambert agreed, rubbing his knuckles over the top of Eskel's head viciously.

Aiden clasped his shoulder and gave it a squeeze with a smile. "Good to have you back."

It wasn't like Eskel had ever left, he had been there all those years, it was the others who didn't want him. It didn't matter now though. They'd had one final night together, it all went well. Eskel waved goodbye to them all, heart heavy but also light. He couldn't have asked for a better final evening.

Back at his room, he sat down on his bed and looked around. There wasn't much left. The furs and throws were all down in the communal areas, he'd migrated those down over the last couple of weeks. His armour wouldn't fit anyone and it wasn't suitable for reworking for the others. It would be the perfect thing to wear to his funeral pyre so he pulled it on one last time, taking a deep breath as the familiar scent of worn leather enveloped him. All the potions he'd brought back with him were lined up on his bedside table. He knew what he was doing. The others would understand, maybe even take it as the gift he meant it to be. He wouldn't be the odd one out anymore, the loner who brought the group down by hanging onto their coattails. They could have their double dates, their romantic getaways without having to worry about him or feeling guilty for leaving him behind.

The first potion was Cat, he downed it, feeling the world shift into larger clarity in the darkness of his room. It didn't sit heavy in his stomach, three potions were fine to take, four was when the toxicity began to affect him. Though Eskel was a large man, he could probably deal with about six potions before he became ill. It was why he had fifteen little bottles lined up, one worse than the other in terms of toxicity. Next, a Maribor Forest slid down his throat, followed by a Lapwing. They were all conflicting potions, making his body shake. Brock tasted foul but it was still better than Rook which made Eskel's heart pound. Taking a break, Eskel settled back on his bed, head spinning. He could feel his whole body shaking with unspent energy the potions teased out of him. It felt horrible, his stomach roiled. Without his attention on some creature and the fight for his life, Eskel couldn't help but focus on the way his joints seemed to itch, his muscles tingling.

Five potions weren't going to be enough. Reaching for another bottle, Eskel knocked back two Thunderbolts in a row. He gagged but pushed on, head swimming. Virga at least tasted a little better. It was wiped out by the Nekker Warrior Decoction. The world was fuzzy, Eskel whimpered a little as his muscles seized and cramped and his stomach ached. He'd rarely taken enough potions to even flirt with the edges of toxicity, to deliberately do it was agony. This wasn't how he'd expected it to go, he thought he'd take them, lie back and go to sleep. Pain was not part of the deal but he would shoulder it, this was his choice. A couple of the empty bottles clattered to the ground as he reached for the next one. Most of the Black Blood went down his chin as he spluttered. Leaning against the headboard, he closed his eyes, willing the wooziness to go.

Maybe to took more potions, maybe they were dreams, he didn't know. What Eskel did know was that he woke up in his bed, the sun shining bright in the sky. Head pounding and stomach churning, he could smell stale vomit in the air. Rolling onto his side, he threw up over the edge of his bed. Breathing shaky, Eskel coughed miserably and spat to clear the bitter taste from his mouth. Judging by the state of his floor, it wasn't the first time he had thrown up but it was definitely the only one he could remember. Flopping back onto the bed, Eskel covered his face with his palms and choked back on a howl of frustration. He couldn't even kill himself properly.

The problem was, Eskel had no plans for what to do if he failed. He'd been so certain that he would go to sleep and never wake up again. At a loss, he fell back onto habits and routine. He was already dressed in his armour which was acceptable clothing to go downstairs for breakfast. Nothing heavy, he couldn't face the idea of eating anything. But a drink of water would do him good. Stumbling into the kitchen, he grunted a greeting at the others who seemed to be having lunch. Of course they didn't notice he hadn't gotten up for breakfast. Either that or they just didn't care.

"You're dressed ready for war," Lambert joked but the smile on his face froze when Eskel looked at him. "Woah. You look like shit."

Geralt was out of his seat and grabbing Eskel by the chin, giving him a close inspection and a less than subtle sniff. Whatever he detected had him tensing up and glancing to Lambert who looked alarmed too.

"Let's get a bit of food in you," Geralt rumbled and guided Eskel to the table where Aiden's face turned stricken. Even Jaskier and Yennefer looked solemn, their usual rivalry nowhere to be seen. In fact, everyone seemed intent of giving Eskel the attention he didn't crave.

From the doorway, Lambert called, "Geralt" and stepped back. But the clink of bottles in his hand and the hushed, hurried conversation gave away the fact Eskel's dirty secret had been found out.

"I'll go clean the room but he's not going back there. Not alone," Lambert growled. The others around the table didn't even bother pretending they weren't listening in.

Vesemir's footsteps approached and Eskel wished fervently that the potions had done the job. Especially as he listened to the conversation.

"What's going on here?"

"It's Eskel he-" the clink of bottles followed again, Lambert no doubt showing Vesemir the evidence of Eskel's shame.

"I see." Vesemir rumbled softly and walked into the kitchen. He sat down next to Eskel, not saying a word. However, he squeezed his shoulder and swapped out the tankard of water for a warm tea, adding a dash of honey to it. "Geralt, get a Golden Oriole from the cupboard."

Eskel could only watch as it was added to his tea, heart sinking. Nobody said anything. Not even when Lambert returned, looking a little green in the face. He sat down, squirming in the silence.

"Are we not going to say anything about it?" He asked in the end. "We can't just pretend it never happened."

"We won't," Vesemir replied, voice warm but also full of warning. "But there's a time and place for everything. Right now, our priority is the physical. The Golden Oriole will help. Then Eskel will go and have a lie down in front of the fire to sleep and let his body heal."

It was so much easier to follow Vesemir's instructions than have to think for himself. Eskel hadn't thought he'd see the sun again, hadn't thought he'd have to worry about things like daily chores and ways to spend the long hours of a day. At some point he must have finished his tea because the mug was empty but Eskel didn't remember it. He was ushered towards the pile of furs and throws from his room and he sank into them, exhausted already. He was only half awake as he heard the conversation around him while a throw was carefully draped over him.

"How could he do this?" Geralt hissed, sounding angry for the first time. "Why would he do this to us?"

"I'm sure we'll find out." The reply from Vesemir was soft and calm. "But what we need to focus on is helping him realise it was a good thing he didn't succeed."

"What if he tries again?"

"We have to hope he doesn't. He won't be alone for the next few weeks, we'll take turns keeping him company. And hope that we can do enough to make him want to stay." Vesemir was oddly calm and resigned. "I've seen others do this before. We can only hope to counter the darkness that has befallen his mind."

Lambert joined the quiet conversation. "But he seemed so happy last night. In fact, he's been the most at peace in years. I thought he was getting better."

Even half asleep, Eskel could understand the words, appreciate the thoughts behind them. But he didn't know if the plan would work. He doubted the others would understand or would be able to do anything to help him. After all, they still had their partners, lovers and each other. All Eskel knew for certain was that if he tried again, he'd do something with an assured outcome. He just hoped the others would understand.

[janiedean]

10 year prompts: FAIRY TALE AU FOR STANNIS E DAVOS <3 If any of your other OTPs acts as a background/helpers "because they have been there" it would be lovely, especially since they are all different takes on the Beauty and the Beast story. But also because it would be really fun to see idk, Sandor trying to give Davos dating advice "as someone who was in Stannis position before". Thank you so much for accepting prompts!

HELLO ANON have uh... the pseudo cinderella reverse au of doom that I don't know where it's from, I HOPE YOU LIKE IT pls presume every westeros kingdom is separated for this and same sex marriage is allowed

buy me a coffee | commissions open

1.

"Well, it seems like we are at an impasse, and I need you to fucking compromise," Robert says, and Stannis has to stop himself from gritting his teeth loudly.

"I am not," Stannis replies, "compromising on this."

"You do realize," Robert says, "that -"

"That according to whichever stupid law your precious Westeros council still hasn't managed to change when they have damned well should -"

"You know it's not a priority -"

"Of course for the seven of you it's not a priority," Stannis groans, "but I do know that if I don't get married Renly can't marry his precious Loras Tyrell either, and for the umpteenth time, as I did compromise years ago and I had to marry someone I didn't even like and who didn't like me and we all know how it ended up, you can forget I will compromise on marrying the first person you find suitable especially when I'm not sure they would be kind to my daughter, and I'm not making that mistake again."

"Oh, come on, you're being unreasonable -"

"Robert, no woman in Westeros actually wants someone with my background and I'm not subjecting my daughter to someone who hates her, and I'm not backing down on that."

"And what if I found some woman who did?"

"I am not marrying anyone I don't like. Not anymore." He's going to stand his ground on that. He hasn't done that for his entire life and both his brothers always ended up ahead of him and he didn't even complain because it was his duty, but -

But now he's not doing that.

Robert sighs. "Do you hate your brother that much?"

"I accepted someone I didn't like once, Robert. And it's not just me anymore now."

Robert sighs louder. "All right, all right. Let's say I strike a deal with bloody Rhaegar Targaryen and he lends me the ballroom in King's Landing, I throw a ball for your hand and you choose whoever you want?"

"No one is going to show up at a ball for me," Stannis grits out. "Do you really want to humiliate me that much?"

"You can choose," Robert says, "as long as you fucking get married. Take it or leave it or I choose someone for you. I'm not letting a Tyrell alliance go to waste because you're too stubborn."

Stannis really doesn't want to agree with this, but.

But if he doesn't agree it's just going to be worse after, and at this point he might as well try to make the best out of it.

"Whatever," he says, "fine."

Out of whoever goes to this fucking ball, maybe there will be someone halfway decent.

Maybe.

2.

Well, Davos thinks, couldn't be faulted for trying, even if he hadn't exactly predicted dying in an execution on the damned public square because fucking Randyll Tarly decided that since some fucking stupid royal ball is happening each single criminal has to be dealt with swiftly.

Also, he was an idiot to get caught, but then again, it's not like he was given a trial or anything and him asking for one had made the arse laugh and say to not waste his precious time, so he supposes he is going to get hanged on the public square.

To think that he's managed to be a smuggler without getting caught for years and now he's here because -

"Lord Tarly," someone says just as Davos gets dragged in front of the noose, "what is this about now?"

"My lord," Tarly says with... somewhat distaste. Davos dares looking ahead. The other guy is... definitely a lord, dressed finely in black and just a smish of gold embroidered in his clothing, but at least it's sober. Definitely a few years younger than Davos, has to be around thirty at most, and while he's not what you'd call astonishing in a man, Davos can't help noticing that he has a nice pair of blue eyes, though they're steely as they look at Tarly as if he's nowhere near pleased with any of this circus. Certainly Davos is not, either. "This man was caught committing a foul deed and I don't want criminals running around with the occasion you know of is looming, so if you'd let me do your job -"

"And what was this foul deed we're talking about?"

"I do not see why we have to discuss -"

"Because," the other lord replies, "the occasion that is looming is supposedly for my own benefit and I would like to know and I do not like to see people killed for something potentially useless. So?"

Tarly shrugs. "Very well. He got caught stealing food, a lot of it, and then it turned out he was a notorious smuggler we have been looking for for a long time, so -"

"So he only ever smuggled goods and stole food? And why did you steal that food?"

It takes Davos one second to realize that the lord is talking to him.

He clears his throat.

"There's a family living next door to me in Flea Bottom," Davos says. "I was friends with the father. He - died recently. Couldn't make enough gold to feed all of them so he gave up on his own food, he worked at the port and died helping unloading a ship." That was bringing Dornish wine for whichever feast they're holding at the palace. "His wife didn't have anything to eat, either. I stole some bread from a bakery near the castle and they caught me."

"I imagine these neighbors of yours haven't eaten that bread now, did they?" The lord asks.

"My lord, you aren't believing him, are -"

"Lord Tarly, kindly let him talk."

Davos shakes his head. "No."

"How many children are you talking about?"

"Five," Davos sighs, wondering how bad they're having it right now.

"I think we should see if he's telling the truth," the lord says.

"Lord Stannis, this is nonsense -"

"I wish to see if he is," the man goes on, "and I would like to remind you, Lord Tarly, that my brother is your sovereign, so how about we do that and see if he's lying or not?"

If anything, I'll get to live a little longer.

Davos leads the way and throughout the entire trip, Lord Stannis does not talk or say anything, just looks ahead with gritting teeth, and when he sees that Davos was, in fact, not lying, he shakes his head, mutters something about Robert and everyone else not having their priorities straight and then shakes his head again.

"Lord Tarly," he says, "get someone to give these people some food. They're bloody starving. And he wasn't lying - that woman kept on singing his praises and honestly, again, he's a criminal but he's never killed anyone, or has he?"

"Not that we know of," Tarly says.

"What's your name?" Lord Stannis asks, and wait, is he talking directly to him for the second time, this is just - no single lord in existence ever looks at commoners this way, as far as he knows -

"Davos Seaworth," he says, "my lord."

"Well, as far as I can see here, you only ever stole and you were trying to do something decent and - never quite mind that. I think," he goes on, "that no one should hang and he swears to not commit crimes anymore and since he still should be punished, he loses the joints in his left hand for that and that's all there is to it."

"But -" Lord Tarly tries to object.

"What do you say?" Lord Stannis asks.

"That I would take that one deal in a heartbeat," Davos replies.

"Well then," Lord Stannis says, "I proposed it, I will do it myself so that no golden cloak of Lord Tarly's gets ideas about taking your whole hand."

Davos decides that it's wildly beyond his expectations, and nods.

He asks to keep the bones.

Lord Stannis looks at him as if he doesn't know why he would but he can, for all he cares, and Tarly's sour face is enough to make Davos forget the pain he feels when the sharp knife goes down almost instantly.

Lord Stannis tells him to try and behave properly from now and leaves muttering something about just wanting to go back to Storm's End, and -

Davos needs to know more.

The moment his fingertips don't bleed anymore and he has the bones safely stored in a pouch, he grabs his old cloak and heads for the tavern where everyone from the golden cloaks and the court hangs out.

Maybe he can find out more about who that one lord is, because sure as the Seven Hells he never ran into one like that.

3.

The last thing he expects to find when he starts asking around the inn is that Sandor Clegane sits down in front of him.

If anything because the man shouldn't even hang around here - last he checked, he hasn't since he stopped going by that Hound nickname and ended up married to the Warden of the North's daughter somehow, and he doesn't even live in King's Landing anymore, but apparently he is, and - well. Davos had seen him around, back in the day. Now he looks... happier, he thinks. Not as angry. And those scars on his face haven't changed but his face looks somehow softer than before.

"I heard," he says, "you're askin' around about bloody Stannis Baratheon."

Oh, Davos thinks, so that was why Lord Tarly was that deferring to him. He could have gotten there when Stannis told him his brother was Lord Tarly's king, but - well. He hadn't been paying that much attention.

"Well," Davos says, "he made sure I didn't end up hanged and he just - I never knew any lord like that."

"Believe me, not many lords are like that one." Clegane takes a sip of ale, then shrugs. "Well, what did you need to know?"

"Just, shouldn't he be in the Stormlands? And what's this occasion thing that was for him that Lord Tarly was ranting about?"

"... You don't know, but of fucking course you wouldn't," Sandor shrugs, "it's not like they'd announce shit in Flea Bottom. Well, you know the royal ball they're holding at the Red Keep tomorrow?"

"Yes?"

"That's for him to pick someone he wants to marry," Clegane shrugs, "and he hates every second of it, not that anyone could blame his sorry ass."

"... Explain," Davos says. That just doesn't fucking make sense.

"I'll make it short," Clegane shrugs, "but he married this... lady Florent something some ten years ago 'cause his brother picked her for him and apparently he's the only one in that family who gets the short straw about everyfuckingthing. And when they went for the bedding they found Robert in bed with some other woman."

"His marriage bed?"

"Well, yeah," Clegane goes on, "and then they had a daughter but she was born with grayscale so half of her face is scarred, her mother fell in with some witch from Asshai and decided that her daughter was an abomination and turned out she wanted to burn her alive, long story short when it happened of course he broke off the marriage and I have no idea where the fuck she ended, but since then he hasn't had anyone offer their daughter's hand. Because everyone thinks he's dull and he said that even if he had a son with another woman he'd consider his daughter his heir or anyway he wouldn't let her get the fucking short straw, too, and like, while a second Baratheon son is not fucking little, he has no offers. But now it looks like he has to get fucking married or his younger brother can't marry bloody Loras Tyrell, either, and they came to that ball compromise. If you wonder how I know all of this, my lady wife spent the entire trip to King's Landing from Winterfell sharing about that and saying that it was a pity poor Stannis never got his good love story, so there's fucking that."

"And the ball's point is...?"

"That if he likes anyone he meets he gets to pick his bride. Or whatever the fuck else."

Davos nods. "I see," he says. "And you're saying people think he's dull?"

Clegane shrugs again. "I mean, I don't personally give a fuck and I think he's all right, but his brothers are both... more suited for fucking court, I guess. And he obviously hates court. And he says he won't have anyone who won't accept his daughter, which means whoever shows up will be really desperate daughters of minor lords. Does this satisfy your questions?"

"It does," Davos says, looking down at his hand.

"Wait," Clegane says, "he did that?"

"The alternative was Lord Tarly hanging me, Ser," Davos replies.

"I'm not one and good fucking riddance to me. Huh." He looks at Davos, and Davos holds the stare, wishing he knew what the man was thinking, and then -

"You want to go to that ball, don't you."

It's not posed as a question.

Davos swallows. "I mean," he says, "I - if he had been some knight or not a fucking lord I'd have... tried to talk to him, I guess. I just - he didn't seem stuck-up like the others. And he did save my life. But please, and how would I even get in there? I'm a fucking smuggler and I was born and bred in Flea Bottom of all places, certainly I am not invited."

"No," Sandor replies, "but - ah, fucking bugger it to the seven hells and back, I've been in his place."

"Lord Stannis's?"

"Yes," he says, "as in, I thought no one would ever look at me like that, except that it happened and you are sort of having that look while thinking about him, and I highly doubt he wants a fucking princess or whatever."

What in the Seven Hells - Davos thinks, but then Clegane half-smiles, the scarred side of his mouth curling up in what looks a damned genuine grin, and -

"You're a smuggler, aren't you?"

"Uh, yes?" Davos replies. "Even if I guess I shouldn't risk it anymore, should -"

"Think you can be at that small bay near the kitchens tomorrow at this hour?"

"I - I could?"

"Be there," Clegane says, "I absolutely want to see the fucking faces of all those arses after."

"After what?"

"You'll find out," the man says, and then stands up and leaves.

He looks cheerful.

What the fucking fuck, Davos thinks, and then decides that he has nothing to lose. He can be there tomorrow.

4.

He expects Clegane to be there.

Instead -

"Davos Seaworth?" A tall, blonde woman with very pretty blue eyes, a nose that was broken twice and shoulders worthy of a knight tells him - she's dressed in good male garb, and she has a knife at her hip, but she doesn't sound hostile.

"Uh, yes," he says, "lady...?"

"Brienne of Tarth," she introduces herself and wait -

"Aren't you - Ser Jaime Lannister's -"

"Yes," she interrupts him, "and Sandor told me to come get you and believe me, I was much glad to because that ball is a stupid farce and I get why Stannis would hate it and I have my reasons to want to have a laugh at everyone else's antics. Do follow me," she says, and leads him through some tunnel going inside the castle from the small cave nearby.

Davos tries to remember how the hell she got married to Lannister - it was pretty talked about in the city, back in the day. He still was in the Kingsguard and she had been in Renly Baratheon's following and they ended up fighting in some tourney and they tied and two weeks later he had resigned from the Kingsguard somehow - his sister, the Queen regent, hadn't apparently been happy but Rhaegar Targaryen agreed to it, so Davos supposes he had some leverage - and they eloped on Tarth and he's halfway sure Tywin Lannister still has his son disowned for that, or half-disowned, but he still obviously is invited to courtly events. Davos has no fucking clue how nobles do this, but he follows Brienne thought a few more tunnels until she leads him out and into a corridor and into a small but richly furnished room.

"Right," she says, "just... wait a bit here. And - well. I, uh, didn't know your Lord Stannis much before we... ended up talking to each other a while ago, and - I get where he's been and no one wants to be the center of a feast where they know they're going to be laughed at. So, I'm pretty sure he will be relieved."

"Of what?"

"You'll know shortly," she half-smiles, and then closes the door.

What the fuck, Davos thinks for the umpteenth time, and a few moments later the door opens.

Now.

Davos has heard of Jaime Lannister enough to know on sight that the blonde man coming through the door is him, and the younger girl on the side with bright auburn hair and blue eyes - oh. She has a Stark sigil on her dress. Is she -

"Lady Sansa," Lannister says, "your husband wasn't lying, was he?"

"No," she smiles back, "but this is going to be good."

"My lord," Davos stammers, "my lady. Uh, what is this about?"

"Oh," Sansa replies, grinning, "it's about getting you to that ball. Ser," she tells Lannister, "mind instructing him while I find him the right clothing?"

"Absolutely," Lannister smiles wider.

Seven fucking hells, Davos thinks, I'm never going to survive this.

5.

"See," Lannister goes on, "when Clegane told me that he thought you might want to go to the ball because you actually did like Stannis we about all fainted in our little corner of no one thoughts we should have married the way we did so we'll leave you alone, but honestly, the guy pretty much does his brother's job because Robert doesn't really give a damn about being a decent ruler, then he pretty much gave up everything he wanted for either of his brothers and they never said thanks and he was one of the few idiots who when I, uh, resigned, said I should be able to." He shrugs. "Also, he was nicer to Brienne than his actual brother that she wanted to swear herself to, so. I kind of owe him and his daughter is a nice girl. She doesn't deserve a shit stepmother."

"And you all decided that I am the solution to the problem?" Davos asks from behind a screen where he's trying on the clothes Sansa brought him after she got a bath brought over to the room and he had to hear Lannister giving him tips to get through the ball while he was washing.

"You're here and you're thanking the guy for having cut off your finger joints, please. And no one cares where you come from - at least the four of us - and he certainly won't. Come on, out of that screen."

Davos sighs and does, and Sansa does whistle a bit. "Told you," she says, "they'd fit."

"Oh, they do," Lannister replies, and tells Davos to go look at himself in the mirror near the window.

Davos does, and -

Well. He felt out of place dressed in fine dark green silks with golden embroideries and a velvet brown coat, but it does fit him, and the black new leather boots Sansa got him are the best shoes he's ever worn, and now that he could get a good cleaning - well. He's still himself, but he's pretty sure half of his friends wouldn't recognize him.

"Take this," Lannister says, handing him a sword. "Now, what could the story be - oh, he's some hedge knight I met while killing bandits with Brienne and we thought to invite him?"

"Sounds good," Sansa nods, "and you could invite him. He probably shouldn't say he's from King's Landing, though."

"Absolutely not," Lannister agrees. "Hm. How about Cape Wrath?"

"Better," she nods, "though I suppose his real name shouldn't come out."

"No," Lannister shakes his head. "Ser, choose one. Oh, should he be a bastard? Imagine their faces."

"I think we should absolutely go for that," she grins back. "So, a name?"

"Uh, Allard?" Davos blurts his father's name, may his soul rest in peace.

"Allard Storm, sounds good," Lannister grins. "Well, you're a hedge knight, you met me and my lady wife while chasing bandits and we invited you because why the hell not," he says. "I hope you can dance, Seaworth."

"... I don't think so," Davos replies. "I mean, I never did."

Maybe he should have lied.

Maybe he'd have spared himself those two actually teaching him on the spot.

When he's pushed out of the room a while later, he doesn't know what the fuck he's doing here, but -

But he still doesn't want to run away.

Fuck, what did I get myself into? He asks himself, and then walks on anyway.

6.

“I should have never agreed to this farce,” Stannis whispers as he sloshes wine he knows he won’t drink in his glass.

Good thing he’s telling Brienne of Tarth that and not anyone else, because he thinks no one else in this room would understand how it feels - she nods, and thankfully she doesn’t argue about it.

But what should she argue? Each single lady who came looked at him like her father forced her here, it’s a ball in his name and he’s technically not danced with anyone yet, not that he would want to, Renly and Loras meanwhile are doing it and everyone is looking at them anyway, which... is exactly what he knew was going to happen. Never mind his daughter who asked him fifteen times if they really had to participate and he thinks wasn’t openly laughed at yet just because anyone who might has been properly scolded by their lordly parents on that one topic, but the last time he saw her she was standing miserably to the side.

“I’ve been there,” she says, “and I wouldn’t want to be in your position ever again anyway. But -” She clears her throat, “I think that you might change your mind.”

“Oh, and how?”

“Jaime, uh, he made a friend the other day. While we were out checking the woods.”

“And?”

“And he invited him along. I think that you might... well. Like him. Or at least not be thoroughly bored.”

“At least,” Stannis sighs, and really, he doesn’t begrudge her for having found better than his damned brother, because she did deserve it as much as he’d have never bet a coin on Jaime Lannister of everyone being anyone’s ideal partner, but still, this entire exercise is just reminding him of how much no one actually would want him even for... companionship, if nothing else, and -

Why did he even agree to this bloody farce, he really wishes -

“Oh, here they are,” she says, and yes, Lannister is apparently arguing with - Lord Varys, seven hells, of course he was in charge of vetoing who was allowed in, and there’s a man next to him, indeed, but he has a hood over his head - a nice velvet coat without too many pretenses, so he can’t see his face, but then it seems like Lannister has his way and manages to get the man in, and then he whispers something his way and - comes over to the both of them?

“Stannis,” he smiles, entirely too gloating about it, “it’s your event and you let your brother steal the spotlight?”

“What do you think even happened?” Stannis sighs back - he’s not even going to antagonize him.

“I see I have to do everything tonight. Brienne, fancy making sure that people stop only having eyes for Renly while he mingles?”

“I fancy,” she grins, and of course she does, the room usually starts whispering the moment they dance together since she’s never not led and it’s apparently worth whispering about, and so when they’re off, Stannis sighs and walks to the side, figuring he will try to make an effort and talk to anyone who will -

And then he sees that Lannister’s mysterious friend is talking to his daughter and she’s smiling at him before running off somewhere - oh, where Tyrion Lannister is lounging, Stannis notices, and what -

“Ser,” he clears his throat, moving closer, “would it be too much if I asked you how you got my daughter to - do that?” He blurts, hating how awkward he sounds -

“I told her,” the man replies, and wait, isn’t the voice familiar, “that she looked very lonely, she explained me how she loathed this feast and I suggested her that she might want to talk to someone who likes what she does, and Ser Jaime has told me enough about his brother to know they might have something to discuss. But I am hardly a ser, my lord.”

Stannis glances down at the man’s left hand while the man pulls down the hood.

Oh.

Oh.

He’s - he doesn’t have the finger joints on his left hand.

He’s -

“I see you understood,” the man - what was his name, Davos Seaworth - says.

“I might,” Stannis replies, “and may I inquire how you’re here?”

He’ll be thrice fucked if Davos didn’t... sort of flush under his beard. Which... looks a lot better now that it’s well-groomed, and then a pair of warm brown eyes meets his own, and -

“I asked around who you might be, since no one else in your place would have actually insisted to save the life of... well. A common criminal, let’s put it like that. And I met someone who decided that I sounded entirely too interested and I should attend the ball and they helped me sneak in, and I never felt like it was a mistake, so... sounds like I am here. But if you don’t wish me to -”

“Please,” Stannis shakes his head, feeling slightly dizzy, “no one until now made me feel like they actually weren’t forced to be here and... you went through all that effort to just... talk to me peer to peer? Or, well. The closest one might get to it.”

“I thought I’d just want to thank you in person,” Davos replies, “but now that I’m here, I think I’d like to stay a while, and not just for the good food. Fancy taking a stroll out, my lord? Unless you’d rather watch your brother seethe.”

“Renly is doing what,” Stannis replies, and turns to look at the scene -

Well.

Renly is seething because everyone is whispering about Brienne twirling Jaime Lannister around the floor like she was born to do that. He shouldn’t be smiling. But maybe he is, a tiny bit.

“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head, “I shouldn’t, but - well.”

“I won’t judge people for being petty,” Davos replies, “but - is there a reason why?”

Stannis shrugs. “Well, he kind of hates that he hasn’t managed to... be officially with his intended because of me, and he never fails to remind me that everyone thinks me dull in comparison to him, and I never quite forgot that he once said it would be a miracle if I’d find anyone who’d take my daughter because of her face, so. Well. If Brienne is upstaging him, I’ll live with it.”

Davos looks at him, then at the rest of the room.

“I see,” he says, “and I can’t blame you. She was perfectly nice with me.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Stannis says, “but - maybe I would like that stroll.” What is he even saying -

“Then we should,” Davos replies, half-smiling, and he looks so damned kind -

What the hell is happening?

7.

The hell, Stannis realizes, is that he actually does like this man.

They just - they just talked while music came faintly from the outside, and it’s probably sad that it’s novel experience to talk to someone who actually seems to give a damn about what he has to say and listens to him except Davos actually does, and when Davos talks about how he ended up becoming a criminal and almost hanged he kind of can’t help feeling guilty when he looks down at the man’s left hand.

Fucking Seven Hells, he might be a smuggler, but when someone tells you well where I came from it was a struggle to put any food on the table at all and with my first smuggling job when I was fourteen I could pay for it for a month can you even blame them for not having looked back and found an honest job?

He thinks about how he never had to worry about his next meal.

“I think I have to apologize to you,” he says quietly when Davos finishes telling him about how he couldn’t sleep at night hearing those starving children wail.

“... You don’t,” Davos replies, shaking his head.

“I do,” Stannis goes on. “I mean... I still think stealing is a crime and crimes should be punished or - or what else makes sense, but when one hears your circumstances... I feel like I should have just have you swear you wouldn’t live that life anymore. I could. And instead -”

“Oh, you made sure I didn’t lose an entire hand or hang, and we both know Lord Tarly wouldn’t have been happy with just letting me go. I can appreciate fair play, my lord, and I mean, I did commit crimes. I did keep the bones, anyway.”

“You - did?”

Davos nods towards... oh. A small pouch that he has hanging around his neck. Stannis hadn’t noticed it before, but -

“I decided I’d keep them in memory of the one time one lord was actually fair to me, but then - then I met Clegane and he told me to show up here. Also... shouldn’t someone have looked for us by now?”

It’s been a while. The music is still playing. No one did.

He shakes his head. “As if they’d care,” he says, “most likely they were just waiting for me to leave so they could stop pretending to be nice.”

Davos just looks at him, and then he swallows, and -

“Beg your pardon if this is too forward,” he asks, “but maybe my lord fancies dancing somewhere not in front of all those people?”

“I - I don’t generally do that,” Stannis replies. Why is his heart beating faster?

“Oh, I don’t dance to that kind of music either, but who is going to see us?”

Stannis has slipped his hand into Davos’s before he can think on it.

What am I even doing, he thinks, noticing how the other man’s hands are roughened - he took away the gloves and he can feel how the right one is all clean but calloused skin and the left has fresh scarring on the joints, but they hold his own so very gently, and -

And neither of them is really good at this, because he hasn’t danced in years and Davos is obviously winging it based on what he saw in the hall, but it’s nice, and twirling around the garden without anyone staring at him feels nice, and when he looks at Davos’s kind, warm brown eyes his stomach flips over again, and -

“This - this is nice,” he finally admits.

“It... it is,” Davos says back, and he’s half-smiling and - “If this is the first and last time I get to be at a royal ball, I’m not going to think it wasted time at all.”

Gods, gods, why the idea that he wouldn’t see him again is making him feel like the ground will fall open under his feet and swallow him whole?

“What if I don’t want it to be?” He finds himself saying, and Davos gasps at it.

“... Really?”

“Really,” he says, feeling like his head is spinning and he can’t stop talking, “never mind that - no one I know managed to make my daughter happy like that talking to her once. And - that was one of the conditions I had for Robert. That I wouldn’t... be with anyone who’d treat her poorly.”

“Why would anyone? She’s a lovely girl,” Davos replies, and oh, if he knew.

“You saw her. And her mother wanted to burn her alive. Not many people agree with you.”

“Then most people are idiots,” Davos replies, “if I may be so bold.”

“You may,” Stannis replies, and they’re still swinging, and - “You may be as bold as you like.”

He doesn’t know how he said that. He doesn’t even know where that comes from.

What he knows is that Davos’s mouth is on his the moment after and -

And he’s fucking kissing back the moment it happens and had he been hoping for it? Gods maybe he had, and the few times he kissed Selyse were nothing like this, she never - it never felt like she wanted to actually do it and Davos does, there is no fucking way he doesn’t, and his tongue is slipping into Stannis’s mouth and he groaned into it, oh fuck -

“Stannis, where the fuck did you end up?”

Oh, damn it, that was Robert -

They break apart and Stannis is about to tell Davos to just stay and that he’ll deal with it, but then other people talk and -

“Damn,” Davos says, “that’s Lord Tarly, and he will recognize me.”

... He would, Stannis realizes, and -

“Oh, fuck,” Davos says, and then he takes the pouch with the bones from his neck and slams it into Stannis’s palm and -

“If you want me to come back,” Davos replies, half-smiling, “you just have to bring them back to me. You know where I live, my lord.”

“I - I do,” Stannis whispers.

“Then - then I hope to see you soon, my lord. If not... I’m not regretting that you’ll get to keep that.”

And then he’s gone and Robert and his fucking search group have shown up a moment later.

“What were you even doing out here?” Robert asks. “You know that you have to choose a wife before the feast is over?”

Oh, fuck him and fuck them all, Stannis thinks.

“About that,” he says, “I think I know. But I can tell you when we go back in.”

It’s going to be a goddamned problem, he knows, but -

But.

He’s almost never trusted his gut his entire life and it only ever brought him trouble, and now he wants to, and -

And.

And he knows.

8.

“You’re not marrying a criminal!” Robert explodes later, when the hall has been emptied except for them, Renly, his daughter, Lord Tarly, the present Tyrells, Starks and Lannisters and of course Rhaegar Targaryen and the members of the small council, but he seems to be uninterested in how this ends one way or the other.

“I said I could choose whoever I wanted, didn’t you?” He stares back.

“I didn’t mean a damned criminal, Stannis! And how did a commoner even get in here? Lannister, what were you thinking?”

Jaime Lannister merely shrugs, half-grinning while his father looks at him like he’s a lost cause. His sister... Stannis isn’t even going to think about that. “That he looked and sounded like someone he’d like and so I invited him. Sure, we did tell him to not introduce himself with his real name, for obvious reasons, but -”

“A bloody commoner, Lannister!”

“Oh,” Lannister shrugs, “and so what? He stole some things. He never harmed anyone as far as we knew. You could have worse brothers in law.”

“Are you bloody serious - Stannis, please, no way -”

“And why?” He counteracts. “I am not interested in having any more children,” he goes on, “I do have an heir, and he would certainly not try to make sure she stops being that, and I wanted someone she’d like too, and I think she did, or -”

“I did,” she replies quietly, and Robert rolls his eyes.

“Shireen, this man is a smuggler, your father isn’t reasoning -”

“Well,” she says, “I have talked to him once and he was nicer than just about anyone else at the feast. Or - well. I don’t think I should say.”

“Shireen, you can.”

“I don’t think I can tell you. It wouldn’t be polite. And you would be sad.”

“Let’s say,” Lannister says, “that she can tell me in all confidence outside the room and I can come back with the answer if it’s something that could be shared?” 

Stannis should be worried that Shireen seems fine with that, but then again he’s the brother of the guy who entertained her for half of the feast, right? And why would she think he would be sad?

Anyway. Lannister brings her out of the room, and then comes back and -

“I told her she could go find my brother,” he says, and oh, the youngest Lannister did flee the premises while they were arguing, “and - well. Renly,” he says, “honestly, she said that the criminal commoner was nicer to her in five minutes than you’ve ever been your entire life, maybe you should think about that sometimes.”

Oh

Of course -

At least Renly has the grace to look ashamed, and Robert groans again, and -

Ah, seven hells.

“Robert,” he says, “this entire farce was to make sure I would find anyone suitable so Renly could have his lavish wedding and whatnot. You said I could choose anyone. I happen to have chosen. If my daughter likes him, too, even better, and honestly, you are the king, Renly will have the Tyrell alliance and certainly my daughter won’t be your heir, so what do you care? People will talk and decide I lost my wits, and would that be any news? Just stop being unreasonable.”

Robert stares at him, and then -

“Seven hells,” he sighs, “you never stood up that much for anything in your life as much as - whatever this is. Fucking - ah, well, I suppose I can just find some way to make sure the three of you aren’t around court too much.”

“Believe me, both Shireen and I would be thoroughly pleased,” Stannis says, and then Robert raises his hands to the ceiling.

“Whatever. Go ahead, find this guy, as long as I can move forward with the other damned wedding.”

“Why, thank you, extremely kind of you, Your Grace,” he says, and then he turns on his heel and gets out of the room.

He’s not surprised when Lannister follows him. “Should I tell my brother to keep your daughter entertained for a while longer?”

“Please,” he says, “and I don’t know how much I have to thank you, but -”

“Just go get the guy and remember that Brienne’s father is only too glad to host her friends on Tarth. He’s exceedingly glad she has some,” he winks, and then goes to - find his brother and Shireen, he supposes, and -

“My lord,” Sandor Clegane says, appearing suddenly at his right as he gets out of the castle, “you need an escort to Flea Bottom, mayhaps?”

“I don’t even want to know how you knew,” he sighs, and stops asking himself why apparently is there some kind of conspiracy to help him out with - whatever this is.

He also doesn’t want to know how Clegane says he knows the way when Stannis asks him if he remembers how to get to the house he visited a few days ago.

9.

Davos had half expected the knock on the door.

He hadn’t been sure it would happen, but -

He’s nowhere near surprised when he opens it and Stannis is there with Sandor Clegane in the background winking at him and then making himself scarce.

“This place is a lot fouler by night than by day, if possible,” Stannis says, walking into Davos’s one-room shack, not that he could afford any better.

“But you knew that already, my lord, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Stannis whispers, and his eyes look so blue in the candlelight, and then he’s handing Davos back the pouch with the bones - 

“Is it.. I thought it was heavier,” Davos says, taking it.

Stannis shrugs, lifting up his cloak. He has a similar pouch tied to his waist.

What -

“I took the liberty to split it,” he whispers, “if - if it’s not a problem.”

“It’s not,” Davos says, “but does it mean that -”

“My brother has agreed to... my choice, if we lay low. But I think that it woudn’t be a problem. And - I never do things not overthinking them. But - my daughter likes you, and I like you, and honestly, no one would have gone through the effort you did just to... talk to me or whatever, and -  this is, if -”

“Yes,” Davos interrupts.

“Wait, yes?”

“I can’t believe I actually am saying it myself, but of course. I do.. quite like you, my lord.”

“Well, if we are to be... to be, maybe you can do away with that?”

“I could be persuaded,” Davos says, and he leans in and they’re kissing again and this time is slower and Stannis’s hand is slightly trembling as he touches the back of his hair and he’s not even wearing his fine clothes now, he put them away before but Stannis doesn’t seem to care an inch and when he groans into Davos’s mouth again he grasps at the back of his head and -

Well.

He doesn’t know how he’s going to navigate things considering that he can’t even bloody damn well read, but who cares. He’ll learn. He just -

He likes Stannis, damn it, and he wants to see it through, and if it means they’ll have to lay low because other lords are damned stupid, who cares.

10.

“Well,” Jaime says, “we can expect a lot of gossip.”

“In what sense?” Brienne replies, wishing she didn’t have to reply to ravens when they’re on Tarth, but his father insists that she does because she’ll take his place one day.

“My brother writes me that Shireen Baratheon writes him that she’s never been happier now that they’re at that castle in Cape Wrath, that she’s taught Seaworth to read admirably well and she has a lot of fun with that and that she’s delighted because he is actually a thoroughly nice guy and her father is happy and she’s never seen him happy before, they didn’t go to Renly’s wedding and they didn’t miss it at all and apparently everyone in town is happy they’re there because they don’t have to go to Robert for inquiries or asking anything and Sannis is a lot fairer than Robert was anyway, and no one is actually dying of hunger in there anymore, so I guess that they’re doing well - oh, this is golden.”

“What is golden?”

“That Robert is of course not taking a wife until Lyanna Stark capitulates to his courting but he’s certainly having children here and there, so he’s sending some of them to their place and I think they have what, two of them there, and Shireen is delighted because she finally has some company, and imagine that, Sansa Stark came visiting there with her husband and sister once because I suppose she wanted to see how well her matchmaking had worked and her sister is smitten with one of said bastard sons. And they had to lay low, imagine that,” he laughs. “Well, when were they supposed to visit?”

“A month from now?”

“There’s going to be so much gossip,” he keeps on muttering, and she lets him - he has all the reasons to gloat about it.

She smiles to herself as she takes another raven and starts penning it - she might as well send them some more congratulations before they come visit.

After all, after they became friendly, she did hope that he’d find someone he would be happy with same as she did instead of always staying in Renly’s shadow, which she’d have been happy with herself... before realizing she deserved better.

She’s really glad he did.

And she can’t wait to host them too - if they got the happy ending, no point in not celebrating it, isn’t it?

[detectivereyes]

I’ll Fall Back Into You, Like I Always Do

Summary: Carlos falls off the bed because TK has no spacial awareness when he sleeps

Note: inspired by a few anons that asked about my opinions on tarlos sleeping habits, and by @howtosingit ‘s own posts on the subject.

Beta’d by my faves - @marjansmarwani and @firefighterstrand

read on ao3

Blinking away the darkness only to find more darkness and the staticy mess of implied colour where his brain tried to process his abysmal visual intake, Carlos is confused at first. Taking in the dark shapes of his bedroom, he tries to piece together what woke him up when he feels TK softly breathing next to him, pressed up against his side.

He smiles looking at the other man. He learned quickly once they started spending the night together that TK enjoyed the close contact while he slept. While they would start the night on their respective sides of the bed, TK would inevitably end up curled up against Carlos, absorbing all of the heat radiating from his body. Not that Carlos minded, but when it got to the point that it pulled him out of his deep sleep he would be lying if he said he wasn’t slightly annoyed.

As he closes his eyes to try and return to his previous restful state, he feels a shove from his side as TK spreads out more. Carlos tries to shift to give him more room, but as he rolls over expecting to have more room, he suddenly finds himself in a freefall off the side of the bed.

Though his bed is not that high off the ground, the distance feels twice as long as his body falls through the air before meeting the floor, with most of his weight coming down on his right ankle.

“Shit,” he quietly curses under his breath. He shifts up to a seated position, and peaks over the bed to see TK completely sprawled out across the bed. He can’t decide whether to laugh or roll his eyes.

He tries to suppress the groan that escapes his mouth as he moves his ankle. He must not do a very good job because at the small noise, TK begins to stir.

“Carlos?” He opens his eyes sleepily. “Why are you on the floor?”

“Because you pushed me off,” Carlos replies, trying his best to mask the wince as he pushes the rest of his body off the floor and rolls back onto the bed.

TK furrows his brow and scoots closer to Carlos. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Carlos gives him a reassuring smile. “Go back to sleep, babe”

“Okay,” TK mumbles into Carlos, pressing a soft kiss into his neck before rolling back over onto his side of the bed.

Carlos’ smile eagerly drops as soon as TK has his back to him. The throbbing in his ankle has not let up, even after he moved onto the bed. He closes his eyes, hoping that with rest it will get better. 

Maybe if he sleeps well enough, it will be completely fine when he wakes up.

At least he can hope.

The next time he blinks his eyes open, he finds his bedroom now flooded with sunlight. 

It doesn’t take long after that for him to notice the soreness radiating throughout his body, but the worst by far is the ache in his ankle. It isn’t until he feels TK shifting against him, once again finding his place pressed up against Carlos’ side that the memories from just a few hours earlier come flooding back.

He tries to shift slightly without disturbing TK too much but it doesn’t work. He feels TK’s long lashes fluttering against his side, signaling that the other man is now waking up.

“Good morning,” Carlos greets him, running his fingers through TK’s bed head to further wake him.

TK moans into Carlos' side before bringing his head up and resting it on Carlos’ chest. “Hi,” he replies with a sleepy smile. He moves his head to press some soft kisses to Carlos’ stomach, fully taking advantage of the fact that Carlos always sleeps shirtless. Even if he was cold enough to wear a shirt, Carlos would never do it now just because it would prevent TK from getting as close to him as physically possible.

Working his way up to the top of Carlos’ chest, he stops short of the other man’s neck and pouts. “I have to shower since I wasn’t able to grab one when I got off shift yesterday,” his pout morphs into a coy smile. “Though, you could always join me?”

Carlos wants to say yes. He loves the thought of standing under the hot shower with TK, letting the warm water soothe his aching body. But he also is unsure of how bad his ankle really is, having only used it to move from the floor to the bed. Additionally, he knows that TK would be able to tell something was wrong right away and his overprotective boyfriend would likely freak out and insist on him seeing a doctor. Something that Carlos would prefer to avoid for something as minor as what’s probably only a sprained ankle.

“As tempting as that sounds, I think I’m just going to put a pot of coffee on,” he says, ignoring TK’s playful pout at his response. “Make it a quick shower and maybe I’ll have a hot breakfast ready for you when you get out.”

“You drive a hard bargain Carlos Reyes, but I’m sold,” TK smiles, pressing one last kiss to Carlos’ lips before pushing himself off the bed and disappearing out of the room and into the bathroom.

With TK out of sight, Carlos takes a deep breath and squeezes his eyes shut. He can only hope that the pain he’s been suppressing while in TK’s presence isn’t as bad as he thinks it is. If he’s still in bed when TK gets out of the shower, the other man is sure to figure out something’s up.

Mustering up all his strength, Carlos forces his body out of his comfortable bed and swings his legs over the side. He stands up carefully, testing exactly how much weight he can put on his ankle before the pain is too unbearable. 

Not much weight, he soon realizes when he sees stars upon taking the first step. 

But he can do this. He tells himself it’s just a minor sprain. 

Or not so minor; if the throbbing pain in each step is any indication. 

He contemplates slipping on the sweatpants draped over the chair, but he realizes that would require more steps walking across the room. So he settles for staying in his boxers for the time being and limps his way out of the bedroom.

He makes it to the top of the stairs before sighing and shifting some of his weight to the top of the railing. He mentally curses at himself for picking the condo that had stairs. Though he loves the loft aesthetic of his home, the feature was soon proving to do more harm than good. 

Sucking in a deep breath, he takes the first step down and confirms his worst fears. Yes, the stairs are not doing his ankle any favors. Grimacing, he slowly makes his way down the staircase, doing his best to only put minimal weight on his ankle and relying heavily on the railing he is now thankful he put in.

He reaches the bottom of the stairs and limps across the living room and into the kitchen. With each step, he finds the pain in his ankle to only get worse. But he powers through, turning on the coffee brewer before moving over to the fridge and grabbing two eggs to crack over the pan on the stove. He would normally come up with something fancier for breakfast, but he figures scrambled eggs are the easiest choice and require the least amount of movement around the space.

A few minutes later, he’s setting two spots at the table with a plate full of scrambled eggs and toast. Just in time to spot TK coming down the stairs, shaking the water droplets out of his wet hair and dressed in Carlos’ favorite blue hoodie that’s faded from one-too many washes, and a pair of tight black jeans.

When he spots Carlos standing in the kitchen in nothing but his underwear, TK smiles. “I see we decided not to get dressed today.”

“It is our day off after all,” Carlos smirks. “And I personally think you are wearing too much clothing for my liking.”

“I guess we’ll have to see what we can do about that,” TK says with a raise of his eyebrows.

Carlos laughs and shakes his head, before moving to grab the two cups of coffee off the counter and place them on the table with their breakfast. When he looks up at TK again, he finds that the other man has moved closer and the smile has fallen from his face.

“You’re limping,” he notes with concern evident in his voice.

“Am I?”

“Yeah, what happened?”

Carlos bites his lip, shifting uncomfortably. He doesn’t necessarily want to admit that he sustained the injury as a result of TK’s sleeping habits, knowing that his boyfriend would be overcome with guilt if he knew the truth. Unfortunately his poker face isn’t as great as he wishes it was, and he waits too long to answer, noticing how TK’s face contorts as he puts the pieces together.

“Did this happen when you fell off the bed last night?”

“You mean when you pushed me off the bed?” Carlos jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood, but the concerned look doesn’t leave TK’s face. 

“I hurt you,” TK says quietly.

“Hey,” he reaches over and grabs TK’s hand to reassure him. “I’m fine, I promise.”

“Can I take a look at it?”

Carlos nods and TK slides up next to him, draping his arm around Carlos’ broad shoulders and helping him over to the couch.

“Our breakfast is going to get cold,” Carlos says as TK pulls his ankle up to take a closer look at the joint.

“We can heat it up later. You should not have been walking on this. It looks really swollen, Carlos.”

“I didn’t notice.”

TK gives him a look that screams I don’t buy your bullshit. “Really? You didn’t notice that your right ankle is purple and nearly twice the size as your left?”

“Yeah?” Carlos gives him a small smile.

TK shakes his head. “Get dressed, I’m taking you to get checked out at the hospital.”

“Okay, now that’s an overreaction, TK. It’s just a bad sprain.”

“I don’t know,” TK hesitates, pressing his lips together and studying Carlos carefully.

Carlos gives him a pleading look. “You just checked it out and I’m sure it’s fine. I have an ice pack in the freezer that will help with the swelling and some compression bandages in the bathroom cabinet.”

“Fine,” TK sighs in defeat before getting up and heading to the bathroom to grab the bandages and stopping in the kitchen on the way back to grab the ice pack. He hands the cold blue pack to Carlos and places the bandages on the coffee table. “We’ll ice it for a little and then when the swelling goes down, I can wrap it for you.”

Carlos nods, hissing at the cold contact on his swollen joint. Instead of TK sitting down next to him, Carlos watches as the other man moves back into the kitchen. He stares at him confused, before realizing what he’s up to when he grabs the plates off the table, bringing them into the living room and does the same with their coffee mugs.

“Thank you,” Carlos graciously accepts his cup. 

They eat their now luke-warm breakfast in silence for the most part, with only the sounds of the forks scratching the plate and the occasional clink of one of their mugs sitting back on the table after a sip filling the space. 

As they finish up, TK leans over and removes the ice pack to take a look at Carlos’ ankle. “I think the swelling has gone down a little. Want me to wrap it now?”

“Okay,” Carlos agrees and watches as TK moves to grab the badges and slowly begins to softly wrap his ankle. “You don’t have to feel bad about this, you know. It’s not your fault.”

“It kinda is.”

“You were asleep.”

“Still,” TK shrugs as he finishes winding up the bandage. “I had no idea how much I moved in my sleep. I literally pushed you out of your own bed, Carlos.” “Yeah, but if you’re asleep then there’s no way for you to be aware of it.”

“Well, I’m still sorry,” he says leaning into Carlos’ larger frame. 

“You shouldn’t have to apologize, but I do forgive you,” Carlos says, wrapping his arm around TK. “But maybe I’ll rethink how my room is set up and rearrange it so my side of the bed is pressed against the wall.”

“Might not be a bad idea,” TK chuckles, snuggling closer to Carlos.