#one minute gone. one hour. two hours. evening. morning. soon it will be a week. soon the week will be a month. and then..?

[fqrcefields]

checkmate!

chapter two <3

summary _ , april finally puts jennifer's phone number to use.

⋆ tags : smut! ⭑ࣶࣸ 

read on ao3.

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April hasn’t been able to stop thinking about her all week.

She hasn’t even finished a full chapter of her book, the business card still tucked between pages as a makeshift bookmark causing a flood of images to dominate April’s mind, distracting her entirely from the work of fiction. Along with said distraction, she is graced by the most embarrassing of blushes on a face that never does so, drawing too much attention to herself, forcing her to retreat to the bathroom to regain composure. No, she does not read the book. Yet it is seemingly surgically attached to her now, not allowing the enclosed phone number to travel any more than an inch from her fingertips at a time.

Her coworkers’ hate-fueled focus on Jennifer certainly is not helping. Everywhere April turns, there’s a video playing of Jen on another early-morning talk show, a picture of her face in the paper, with that big, toothy grin that makes April’s heart swell. To say it’s been difficult for April to fit in with this group of people so vehemently anti-Jennifer Barkley is an understatement. Though she’s never been one to share her emotions very publicly, even the smallest mention of Jen has April smiling like an idiot. Luckily, everyone around her is so consumed by their own want to win that they ignore the way April fades into the background.

It takes a full week of hopeful pining for April to muster up the confidence to finally text her.

It’s far too early in the morning, but the entire team had been called to watch Jen and Bobby discuss their campaign on Pawnee Today, and it’s not like April would ever give up the chance to see the woman on whom she harbors such a debilitating crush. She sits in the back of the conference room, nursing the biggest cup of coffee imaginable, hugging her book tight to her chest, which beats twenty times faster than usual. It must be the caffeine that’s given April such the adrenaline rush and enabled her fingers to send off the text message. Caffeine, and a need to see Jen— to smell that divine perfume that probably costs more than April’s entire wardrobe combined— that outweighs all of April’s typical anxiety.

what hotel are you staying at?

She sends first. Then, after a few minutes:

in case i want to murder you in your sleep or something.

Jennifer receives the texts right as she steps out of the soundstage, on the way to her car. It takes her a moment to register who it’s from, the area code far from the 202 she’s grown so used to. When it clicks in her mind, however, an immediate smile rises to her lips. Such a smile, in fact, that her idiot client asks after it, to which Jen simply responds with a bewildered eyebrow raise and a wave of the hand. She has to conceal her wild, cackling laughter until she finds the safety of her car.  

Jen responds once she’s home, not giving in to her own excitement, wanting to force her mouse’s anticipation. She would never want to come off as desperate, even though her fingers (along with every single other ounce of her being) are furious to send a text back. She does, once it’s been a little less than an hour, giving her soon-to-be murderer the name of the hotel. No, not hotel, motel. Because why should Jen have the luxury of a warm shower and more than one pillow? Hopefully her little raven will show up at her door soon enough and save her from shag carpet and thin robes. Though, if April is soon to be the one wearing the robe, Jennifer won’t mind its thinness.

Show up she does, but only once the sun has gone down. It’s after Jen has read through all of her daily newspapers and refreshed Politico nearly a thousand times, leaving her to deal with her own boredom the way anyone outside of D.C. would. She can’t deal with Perd Hapley’s voice anymore and would quite literally rather die than listen to Pawnee public radio. So, when April appears at her door, Jen can’t conceal her relieved smile— as much as she plays it off as being coy.

“I figured you’d be bored of diner food.” April shrugs slightly, trying to hide her own smile behind sarcastic manor and feigned disinterest. She doesn’t want Jennifer to know that she’d driven all the way to Eagleton to pick up the only food within a hundred miles that could scratch the surface of Jennifer’s refined palate, but there’s something within April that’s so eager to please, so restless to hear Jen tell her she’s done something right. Though, there’s also something within her that yearns for the degradation, that so wants to be yelled at in the way that Jen yells at people she finds stupid.

“Good girl,” Jennifer purrs, subtly undoing the top buttons of her blouse as she ushers April into the room. She admires the younger woman’s outfit, for what it’s worth. Though her affinity towards skinny jeans and zipper hoodies is far from Jen’s own style, she finds the tight-fitting clothes entirely intoxicating. Jen takes her sweet time admiring the brunette, her own lower lip captured between teeth so desperate to feel skin that they’re nearly drawing blood. She leans against the end of the bed, simply to observe, to enjoy every tiny, slow movement of her opponent. Though, she can’t be all too calculating, when an absolutely divine smell tickles her nose.

“My God,” she hums, her stomach growling its approval. “I didn’t know this town was capable of good food.” Jen laughs, stepping forward to join April at the small motel desk. “Color me impressed.” She places a hand on the younger woman’s lower back, middle fingers sneakily looping through the belt loop of the black jeans, grip firm on the denim beneath. This elicits the smallest gasp from April, which she attempts to cover up with words that never fully form. She’s lost all of her typical off-putting charisma now, merely left an unthinking form of flesh that begs to be molded by Jennifer.

“It isn’t,” April finally musters, and leaves it at that. If she’s going to be so incredibly vulnerable around this woman, she’ll try her best to protect the very last bit of mystery she can conjure. Jennifer appreciates this, finds it impossibly charming, a challenge that she’s insatiably hungry for after so many hours spent on the least challenging campaign of her life.

Once they’ve plated themselves what is, to Jen at least, a meal equivalent to Jesus’ last supper, Jennifer takes a seat at the desk’s rolling chair, looks up to April with her proudest smirk.

“Only one chair.” She pouts, legs spreading a little as she gets as comfortable as possible in the degrading pleather. Jennifer stares at April with all of her might, daring the girl to stare back, to enter this arena of eye contact, but April is unable. Despite her usual menacing Kubrick stare, the moment she comes into proximity with Jennifer Barkley, April completely falls apart at the seams. It’s not something she’s ever experienced, but April is so impossibly intimidated by Jennifer, so incredibly turned on by the woman’s tempting smirk, that she barely even feels like herself anymore. It's as if her brain has been invaded, taken over, melded into something of Jennifer’s control.

April’s eyes migrate down, forcing themselves out of the magnetic pull of Jennifer’s own, looking toward the floor as is her preferred avoidant posture. Though, as she looks down to the floor, she is interrupted by a hand that moves ever so slightly against grey material. A movement so brief yet so very taunting, as if beckoning April to it. Her eyes flick back up to Jennifer’s once more, note the way her pupils have expanded, the way she pensively chews on her lip, the tautness of her lifted brows. Everything about Jennifer oozes confidence, but more so now than her usual talk show pretension. Now, she’s undone. Hair messy, shirt so unbuttoned that April can see the lace border of her bra. She’s illuminated by a single yellow lamp, not the hundreds of fluorescents that April is used to seeing her under. Jennifer is domestic now, human, no longer the Washington robot from the news. She is warm flesh and blood, and it’s entirely impossible for April to keep her hands away from that very warmth.

April has never known herself to be the initiator, so she finds it hard to comprehend what it is that takes over her as she straddles herself over Jennifer’s thighs and plunges her lips onto the brunette’s. It must simply be the pent-up need, the seven days she’s spent doing truly nothing other than thinking about Jennifer, fantasizing about her, praying that she might walk in through the office doors again. It is that desperation that finds April tugging on the woman’s string of pearls, kissing her so very deeply that they nearly spill out of the small chair.

April lights up with the vibration of Jennifer’s chuckle— which either comes from amusement or pure pleasure over April’s forwardness— but she is far too intoxicated by Jennifer’s perfume to even pay the short laughter any mind. Her already swimming mind is only further done in by the patchouli and bergamot that still lingers on Jennifer’s collar even the end of the day, so strong that she feels drugged, her mind’s only real thought being the one that keeps her kissing Jennifer. She kisses the older woman with such fervor that it takes all of the breath from her lungs, her eyes gone fuzzy when she eventually pulls back for air. When April realizes her own action, sees Jennifer leaned back, signature smirk of Chanel Rouge now smudged, she can’t help but apologize. She’s never wanted anything so much so that she’s taken action to get it, so she finds herself simply shocked, amazed, power hungry, yet entirely apologetic, nervous from her own wanting.

Jennifer’s own chest has begun to buzz. She had entirely expected that their chess game would take hours— that’s how long Jennifer would employ her teasing. She was ready to watch April’s walls crumble over the span of a night, not mere minutes. Yet here Jen sits, her own breath stolen from her, her grip so tight around April’s ass that her knuckles threaten to turn white. Everything within her wants to joke, to tease, to make that little pout on April’s lips remain for as long as possible, but there’s a teeny, tiny little piece of Jen that just fucking wants to kiss this girl already.

“Bed,” she says sharply, her chest still heaving a bit to fully catch up. Jennifer grins as April does just as she’s said, and though she is not too far behind, Jennifer takes a moment just so that April knows exactly who is in control of the board. Once she hears that awful squeak of the mattress, knows that April has found herself laying in the highest thread count available in Pawnee, Jennifer stands. Though it pains her to turn her back to their spread of food, her stomach growing furious at her for the betrayal, Jennifer dares not sully this moment with such a feeble need as hunger.

The vision of April laying on the bed, pupils blown out and bangs already sticking to her forehead from the lack of central air in this room, is enough to bring Jennifer to her knees. Well, not exactly to her knees. But it’s enough for her to speed up her steps, to land on the bed above April, to press a taunting kiss to her lips before pulling back, not allowing the younger woman any more than that. At least, at first. Jennifer hovers over April, hands dipping under the thin fabric of thrifted long-sleeve, holding her so tenderly. She feels so differently for April than she does the others she’s been with. In D.C., it is merely sex. Something that she is very good at, yes, but for the most part, something to be tossed aside once it is done. This is not at all to imply that Jennifer does not enjoy random hook-ups in club bathrooms, but it is to say that she has not felt a real affection for someone in the way that she feels for April. There is an innocence behind those huge, dark eyes that Jennifer just wants to nurture, something in the teasing attitude that Jennifer never wants to be far from.

April attempts to lift herself, to kiss Jennifer, to finally release the tension that has been building between them for far too long, but she is met by a hand on her cheek, pinning head to pillow. Jennifer is not yet ready— she wants to appreciate this for the time it will take, does not want it to become yet another body in her count. The older woman cannot help the stare with which she holds April, cannot stop her thumb from sliding across her cheek until it eventually lands in April’s mouth, who eagerly accepts it atop her tongue. The large eyes staring back, the quiet noises of April’s mouth around Jennifer’s finger�� it all proves too much for Jennifer, she cannot waste any more time staring.

The brunette dips her head, and though she misses the warmth of April’s mouth when she removes her thumb, the softness of her lips replacing themselves upon Jennifer’s is apology enough. Jennifer kisses her all too greedily, not giving the younger a second before her tongue darts into the woman’s mouth, her hands lifting to cradle the sides of April’s head so that she does not shift out of the way. Jennifer’s hips begin their instinctual rocking against the scratchy material of April’s jeans, but the pencil skirt hugging her own thighs is far too restrictive for such a move. As she lifts herself to hike said skirt up to her hips, April takes the opportunity to undo the rest of the buttons of her shirt, finally releasing flesh, finally pressing her fingers to the skin beneath the silk. The touch elicits such a reaction from Jennifer that neither expected: a sharp gasp, a plunge back into kissing so feverish that a voyeur would believe these two were reconnecting after years of one being missing. This past week very well could have been a year or more, for the desperation that it has built within both April and Jennifer.

Jennifer’s hands leave April’s face, the nails that were once perfectly manicured, now horribly chipped, running over goosebumps until they land at April’s belt. She undoes the raven-haired girl’s jeans as if her most basic human function— despite having not even spoken to anyone wearing jeans in ten odd years. April’s breathing becomes halted as Jennifer’s hand slips beneath the fabric, toying gently at the fabric of her underwear, lace. As much as she’d like to tease April for it, for purchasing a new set of lingerie just for their little rendezvous, the only thing that escapes Jen’s lips is a groaning ‘fuck’ when she finally notices just how wet the underwear is.

April’s vocabulary has similarly been reduced to only curses, with the occasional ‘Jen— God—’ moaned loudly enough she’s sure to be heard down the hallway. The latter is what sends Jennifer reeling, drunk on the way that her own name sounds coming from April’s lips. She has grown so used to ‘campaign manager Jennifer Barkley’, that to hear such a casual nickname, something so humanizing and domestic, is so incredibly arousing to her.

April’s back begins to arch from the slightest brush of movement against her underwear, her body under touched for far too long. As Jennifer finally pulls April’s jeans around her knees, she presses kisses to her belly, then her thighs— the kisses become significantly rougher here, teeth gently grazing over the plump flesh that they find. April’s hands fling to Jennifer’s hair, the perfectly set coif of curls now falling loose at her shoulders, April’s overwhelmed tugging not doing much for the style’s stability.

It's the harshest of all of April’s tugs that finally has Jennifer pushing the underwear to the side, slipping two fingers into the woman’s cunt. The action forces the loudest of April’s moans, a volume so rarely met by April’s vocal cords, yet in Jen’s presence, becoming all too common. The sweet moans are downright obscene, so very dirty that Jennifer can barely keep her head on her own shoulders. Her kisses to April’s stomach have become sloppy; she’s practically drooling all over the younger woman. Jennifer’s hips have continued their feverish rocking by now, and though April can barely conceive a thought beyond Jennifer’s name, she is just lucid enough to kick up her leg, pressing her thigh firmly into the politician’s clothed cunt. The contact sends white-hot pleasure coursing through Jennifer, but it is more April’s own pleasure which Jennifer seeks. Her free hand holds firm around the girl’s thin hips, holding her off of the bed so that her pumping may hit the perfect spot, may elicit more of those salacious moans from lips that begged to be kissed.

Jennifer greedily returns to said lips, her own grown swollen and over-hydrated from fervent caressing that they sting when April takes them between her teeth. The pain is more than welcome, as is the way that April’s hands force up Jennifer’s shirt, her nails clawing down skin. They are both sure to be covered in purple bruises come morning. Jennifer revels in the very thought that April will have to see Jennifer’s staked claim each time she gets dressed, that she will blush at the very sight of herself in the mirror, will get hot and bothered all over again before the workday has even started.

April has gone nearly breathless, her body tense in Jennifer’s grasp. She would not be surprised if her jocular threat of death were to become real. The way that Jen’s thumb lightly strikes her clit and then recedes, teasing, proving that Jennifer is still the one in control, sends a shiver through April. This sends her body only closer into Jennifer’s arms, who greedily accepts this nearness, for someone who has quite literally pushed away every single person that has attempted so much as a hug. She can feel herself being so corrupted by April, her very nature being distorted, becoming humanized, becoming tender. It sickens Jennifer, but she cannot possibly focus on her own morality when there is such a beautiful woman riding her fingers.

April’s muscles have gone tense, are threatening to cramp from how tightly she holds Jen between her thighs. Jennifer finally relents, allows April the pleasure she’s begun begging for, presses her thumb firmly to April’s clit. What soft groans were once pleading are now simply pathetic from pleasure, all caution for privacy thrown to the wind. Jennifer’s kisses have moved to April’s jaw, sure to leave her territorial markings there, and as her position allows, she whispers soft, teasing degradations about just how naughty the rest of the motel’s occupants must find her. Everyone will know how good I make you feel, she reminds the raven countless times, her laughter dark against April’s ear, her tongue sliding along sharp jaw.

April’s fingers nearly rip Jennifer’s shirt when the pleasure in her stomach finally builds up so much that she cannot take it anymore. She grips onto the silk as if for dear life, squeezes her thighs around Jennifer’s own so tightly that neither woman can move very much.

“Good girl.” Jennifer repeats, her head still nuzzled into the mess of hair in the crook of April’s neck, her hand’s movements unrelenting so that April becomes ever so slightly overstimulated. Jen doesn’t want to overdo it, she’s sure this is the first time April’s been fucked in years. At least this well.

 “I can’t see why you would possibly want to stay here tonight… But I’d like you to.” Jennifer grins as the two slowly return to normal breathing. She gently pushes the hair from April’s face, pulling her hand to her mouth, staring deep into April’s blown out pupils as she indulgently accepts the dripping fingers onto her own tongue.

“I’ll stay…” The younger stutters. April’s voice has gone weak, and has dropped back to its typical nonchalant cadence. Though there is no nonchalance in the way her voice shakes, in the lack of air in her lungs, in the way her hips still rock slightly against Jennifer.

Jennifer takes a moment to admire what she’s made of April. She laughs softly to herself, remembering just how stoic and timid April had once looked behind her office desk. The laughter causes concern to wash over the younger woman’s features, but as Jennifer buttons her shirt back up, she leans forward to press a gentle kiss to April’s lips, dissipating the fear entirely. She can feel something in the pit of her stomach telling her not to get attached, that she’ll only be here for a while and there’s just no way that a young girl like this would want to move her entire life to another state. She wouldn’t to get April caught up in the world of Washington. And yet, here she is, feeling incredibly dedicated to April, so very enthralled by that slanted smile and slightly baffled knitted brows.

As difficult as it is for her to get up—physically, because April is still wrapped around her body like a python— Jennifer slides out of the bed, into her slippers, walks toward the bathroom.

“C’mon baby,” she hums, barely tossing a glance over her shoulder. “We’re not done.”

[see-arcane]

Something that I am rotating in my head after the Crew has written their wills is... They are all together, in a lunatic asylum. Mina's eyes are harder. There is no train to Varna for a week. They all share the same space. In a madhouse, going insane. Mina's fangs are sharper. Seward feels another cold shiver. She shares a bed with her husband. They all have written their wills. The vampire is away and the vampire is right here.

Each night the clock ticks like a hourglass of blood.

They are sitting trapped between two Hells.

Tick.

One is fully formed. One is growing around them.

Tock.

Each night makes the latter bud a little redder, a little sharper.

Tick.

And the Harkers sink a little deeper into its Pit.

Tock.

[guinevereslancelot]

being moved to a different classroom for my last week while the head of the program pretends she's doing me a favor but she's really doing my supervisor a favor 🙃

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 Cupid Walks Right.

Spencer Reid x BAU!reader

Summary: You've been hiding your attraction to your coworker for a long time, until a few pictures of him kissing a celebrity in a pool unleash emotions you can't control.

Words: 1,6k.

TW: fem!reader. mentions of crime and arms. spoilers for s1 e18 ("somebody's watching"). two idiots in love. lots of jealousy. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: The reader is simply me every time I watch that episode but with a lot more drama to make it interesting.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

One bullet after another hit the paper meters away from you, with each shot more accurate than the previous one. You had lost count of how many cartridges you had already spent because your mind was full of thoughts that only the sound of the shots echoing in the shooting room managed to silence and give you back a little control of the situation.

Memories of one of the last cases still lingered in your mind, and you couldn't understand why. It hadn't even been something relevant enough to stick in your mind that much, it was just a crazy stalker obsessed with a celebrity and more of the same old same old in terms of creating a profile. It was nothing you hadn't seen before, and it had ended well, with a happy ending that included Spencer kissing the victim he was supposed to be protecting.

That was the crux of the issue, the root of your problem.

You saw some photos that captured the moment in vivid detail and wanted to run out and throw up in the nearest trash can. You held back to avoid answering embarrassing questions, blaming your bad feelings on the last thing you ate and insisting that you were just satisfying your curiosity. But as they say, curiosity always kills the cat.

Maybe it was because it was unprofessional and unnecessary, maybe you were in a bad mood and needed to relax, maybe you were upset that the guy with the germ problem had shared saliva with a stranger, maybe you didn't like Lila Archer because of her performances, or maybe you just wanted to be in her shoes and have him kiss you like that. And for heaven's sake, maybe you've had a few inappropriate dreams about it lately.

You were just about to fire again to get the thoughts out of your mind when someone tapped you on the shoulder. You turned around, ready to defend yourself with the gun in your hand.

“Wait, wait, it's me. I'm sorry.” Spencer raised his arms in a sign of peace and took a few steps back. “Just me.”

“What are you doing here? You scared me.” You lowered the gun and placed it on the table, trying to sound less abrupt. “I thought everyone had gone home.”

He approached you again, checking the open shells and the pile of bullets on the ground. He was quite surprised to see how many times you had hit the target with perfect shots, and how you still seemed intent on continuing, even though it was almost two in the morning. It wasn't practice, because you didn't need it, it was something else, and you seemed quite angry about it.

“I spent the hour going through some papers and saw the light on in here. I thought I'd come and have a look.” He explained, trying to follow your gaze, which seemed to elude his. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, perfect.”

You started gathering your things and cleaning up the space you'd been using, planning to leave as soon as possible because of his presence. It had been weeks since you'd been alone with him because you'd managed to avoid seeing him as best you could. You'd even managed to convince Hotch that it was time for him to pair you up with someone else during the cases to experiment. You didn't even know why he'd listened to you, but it had been a great relief.

“You're leaving already?” Spencer asked, and you just nodded. “Can I take you home?”

Usually he drove you home, because your car was still at the mechanic and you refused to buy a new one. You always used the minutes you spent together to talk about something other than cases, they were moments of relaxation that you both appreciated. The big difference was that now you couldn't afford that luxury without feeling strange.

“Don't worry, I'll call a taxi.” You grabbed your jacket from a nearby locker. “I'm fine.” You added, with the intention of heading for the door until he stopped you by the wrist.

“Is everything okay...between us?” He asked as you looked up to meet his eyes. “Are you mad at me?”

“I'm sorry, what?” You said, feigning confusion. You always knew it was only a matter of time before he figured something was off with you. After all, he worked in profiling.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked again, in a lower voice, sounding a little more vulnerable than he'd intended. That instantly made you feel bad, you didn't want to hurt him with your confusion.

“No.”

He let out a sigh at your automatic response. His shoulders slumped a bit, and he felt a wave of relief for a few seconds. But then he looked into your eyes for a moment and hesitated, biting his lower lip.

“So...why are you looking at me like that?” He asked, sounding a little shy and with a hint of apprehension in his voice. “Or not looking at me at all.”

“I'm not doing anything.” You make excuses.

He got the chills when he heard your voice, which came across as cold and distant.

“You're giving me that look.”

You gave a little frown and folded your arms, as if to say you didn't agree.

“What look?"

“You look at me like I've done something wrong, like you're disappointed or angry...I think both. You barely look me in the eye, you walk away every time I want to talk to you, you don't sit near me on the jet or want to work with me anymore. And you've been like this for a week.” He paused for a second, remembering when your strange behavior started. “Ever since the L.A. case.”

The room was suddenly filled with silence and a palpable tension. You had been foolish to think Spencer wouldn't notice your remoteness, given his perceptive nature. But you didn't have a choice. You didn't want to appear jealous when you didn't even have feelings for him, you were just ovulating or something like that.

“Is it because...because of Lila? I heard Morgan say some things, and you haven't treated me the same since.” His wavering voice sounded more and more confident, as if he still had to convince himself of his point of view. “I want to know what you think, please.”

You could only curse Derek for exposing you like that. He was the only one who knew about your strange attraction to Reid because he had caught you looking at him several times and you had confessed it to him once in a bar after several drinks and a ridiculous game of cross questions. Since that night, the jokes and suggestions about making out with Spencer under a tree had begun.

But a beautiful actress did it before you, in her pool, with lots of pictures to prove it.

“I'm not one to tell you what to do, but I think your actions were unprofessional and most of all risky.” You spoke after a few seconds, clearing your throat and trying to contain the burning you felt. “It could have ended badly.”

Come on, you would have done the same thing. You often thought about what it would be like to kiss him in the middle of an investigation, especially when he kept giving important details. So you were a little hypocritical.

“I'm only saying that because I care about you.” You added, noticing how confused he looked.

“I know, I care about you too.” He replied calmly, taking a step toward you to touch your arm. “This has been bothering you?”

You froze at his warm touch and the implications you thought he was making about you, nodding as if hypnotized. Had he realized that you had been jealous all along? That you wanted to go back so he could kiss you and not her? That you wanted him to put his hands on your cheeks and kiss you deeply until you were breathless?

“I think I understand, but don't worry about me. I won't do anything dangerous anymore.”

Oh, he hadn't noticed.

Spencer really thought that you were just concerned about his safety because he was your friend and your partner on cases, that you were just frustrated that you weren't there to back him up in case things went wrong. It didn't even occur to him that it was something much deeper and more heated than that.

“So, all good?” He gave you a small smile that made your heart beat a little faster.

“Sure.” You lied, with a strange lump in your throat at the guarded words. “I just didn't know you liked blondes.” You added in a fake teasing tone.

Despite your clearly suspicious tone, Spencer laughed sheepishly. “Actually, I like your hair color.”

A strange bubbling sensation reached your stomach and made you smile.

“Mine?” You asked, lowering your gaze to the floor.

“Yes, it's like it's perfect for you.” He carefully brushed your hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear, causing the feeling in your stomach to identify itself as butterflies fluttering nonstop.

“You're telling me because I have a gun?” You tried to change the subject with a nervous laugh. “I'm not a celebrity, after all.”

“You don't have to be one to be as pretty as you are. But you could be if you wanted to, and...” He started to talk about statistics and a bunch of data you didn't even know, but strangely enough you didn't listen to him this time because you were stuck on the first sentence.

Spencer really thought you were pretty.

It was only then that you realized something had changed. The only successful shot had been Cupid's arrow to your heart.

Because, damn it, you were totally in love with that man.

[kiss-inthekitchen]

same sky | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader

a late night phone call with Spencer. unruly amounts of fluff. no gender identifiers in this one. apologies to residents of las vegas, i did insult your city's aesthetics. i had to do it. for the plot

word count: 2k

notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3 by the same name. it's the second in a series of fics i've updated from my vault of oldies :) this one's for the girlies who liked the banter in no vacancy <3 oops! all banter

“I miss you,” you say into your cell phone, standing on the back porch and gazing out at the sky. It’s late, but you can’t sleep. Spencer has been gone on a case for the better part of a week, and you don’t sleep as well without him. 

“I miss you, too. But I’ll be home soon,” Spencer replies, keeping his voice low.  

“Is everyone else asleep?”

“Yeah. It’s been a long day.”

“Where are you right now?” Even though you aren’t in danger of waking anyone up, you find yourself mirroring Spencer's tone. 

“Best guess, somewhere over New Mexico.” They’ve been in the air about an hour, and given their trajectory, he’s pretty sure he’s right. Spencer is seated at the edge of the couch, his back against the arm of it and a blanket thrown over his legs, barely covering his mismatching-socked feet. 

“How come you’re still up?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says. Somehow, he can feel you smiling across the line. It makes him smile, too. He doesn’t ask why you’re awake when it’s even later where you are; he knows already. "What are you doing?”

“Looking up at the stars.”

“You know, you won’t be able to see me up here.”

“Ha ha.”

“Here, I’ll open the shade on the plane window. At least we can share the same view.”

“Hm. Almost like we’re together,” you hum. 

His heart aches. It’s only been a few days and he still can’t stand it. “Almost.”

For a minute, neither of you speak, looking out at the sky from two different time zones.

“When I wake up tomorrow morning, you’ll be here, right?” 

“Mmhm. Maybe even before that,” he responds, a low, soothing hum in your ear.

“Should I stay up until you get here?” you already know what he'll say, but you kinda like the idea of it anyway.

“No, no, it’s at least another four hours. Don’t worry about it. When you wake up, I’ll be there.”

“Sounds good. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You’d intended to let him go after just a quick call once you realized that the rest of the team were resting not too far from him, but you don’t want to hang up. He doesn’t make any moves to do so either, wanting to hear your voice as much as you want to hear his. “So, how was Tucson?”

“Oh, you know. Hot. Desert-y. Lots of murder.”

“Less murder now.” 

“Yeah.” 

His voice sounds strained. He doesn’t like indulging in a sense of accomplishment after closing a case, doesn’t ever feel like he’s done enough. He shows up too late and does too little, and then he gets to leave while the families of the victims have to pick up the pieces. You understand why he doesn’t like to think about the work that way, but you’ve tried to remind him that the good he does is incalculable; how many lives saved, how many tragedies avoided. It’s all you can do. 

You pivot a little, not wanting him to get too caught up. “I remember, when I first moved to Virginia, I was so shocked at how green everything was. I swore I’d never seen that much green in my life.”

“I had a similar experience,” he says, fondly, aware of your tactics. 

“Oh, I can only imagine. I’ve been to Vegas. It’s icky.”

“Icky?” he asks, laughing at your word choice. 

“I mean, no offense, but… it’s kinda ugly.”

“Wow, okay, insult my hometown, why don’t you.”

You laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re right.”

“I know,” you sigh. “Always am.”

“Well, statistically, you actually have a seventy-two percent chance of being right, which is still impressive, but hardly a flawless track record.”

“Spencer Reid coming in hot with the stats. I love when you talk numbers to me.” 

“I don’t think we’d have gotten very far if you didn’t.” 

“But I think I should be right more often than that.” 

“Are you asking me to fudge the numbers?” he asks with put-upon shock. 

“I’m just saying, maybe you’ve got it wrong.” 

“Oh, so you dare to challenge the accuracy of my eidetic memory? Or is it the statistics that you think I’ve calculated incorrectly?” 

“This is affecting my score, isn’t it?” 

“I’ll have to factor it in. You understand.” 

You giggle, and Spencer starts to feel some warmth come back into him after too many days of stress, doubt, and destruction. He hadn’t been able to talk to you nearly as much as he wanted. And it was hard to talk to you on certain cases, to allow you to make him feel lighter when reality was so dark. When he felt so much weight on his shoulders, when he should be focusing on the profile and apprehending the unsub and… sometimes he just didn’t feel like he deserved to have that weight lifted by you, even for a little while. 

“Spence?” 

“Will you go inside?” he asks, his tone full of something like reverence for you. “Please?”

“If you insist,” you sigh, already opening the door. 

“I do. I do insist, very forcefully.” 

“I’m already inside with the door locked.” 

“Man, I’m good.” 

“Mmhm.”

“Going to bed?”

“Yeah. Will you talk to me for a few more minutes?” you ask, sliding under the covers. Spencer hears the slip of fabric as you pull them up over your shoulders, and it sharpens the ache he feels to be home with you already. 

“I’ll talk to you for the rest of the night, if you want me to.” 

“No, I don’t wanna keep you awake, too.” 

“I probably won’t get much sleep regardless.” 

“I don’t condone that,” you say, your frown evident in your voice. 

“Noted,” he replies, though he sounds apologetic. 

Four hours feels an eternity too long to wait. You miss Spencer, and you hate how tired he sounds. You want to fix things for him. You want to run your fingers through his hair til he falls asleep and you want to make sure his dreams are peaceful when he does. 

“What do you wanna do when you’re back?” you ask, hoping that planning for it will make the time go faster. 

“Oh, I’m taking a shower and getting right into bed. And you can’t make me get up.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m serious. Don’t ask me to do a single other thing cause I won’t do it.” 

You laugh. “For the whole day?” 

“Probably. And you better not go anywhere either. We could both use the rest.” 

“Okay, rest day all day.” 

“We can order Thai though. So we’ll get up for that. But even then, it’s just to sit on the couch.” 

“Maybe the floor.” 

“I will also accept floor,” he concedes, and then it occurs to him that you might’ve been asking because you want to do something with him. “Is there something you wanted to do the next day though?” 

“Well... the saucer magnolias are blooming at the Smithsonian again.” 

“Say no more.” 

You sigh wistfully. “You’re my favorite boyfriend I’ve ever had.” 

“Well, I should hope so,” he says, smiling. “You’re my favorite, too.” 

“Aren’t I the only partner you’ve ever had?” 

“Ha ha. I had a girlfriend in college.” 

“Spencer, you were like sixteen in college.”

“I wasn’t sixteen the entire time,” you hear the eye roll in his voice, “I have three PhD’s, it took me a little while.” 

“Well, who is this girl? Do I need to beat her up?” you joke. 

“No,” he laughs. “You are my favorite, after all. She wasn’t very nice to me.” 

“Okay… so you told me not to beat her up but then gave a reason why I should?” 

“Please don’t beat up my ex-girlfriend. I do appreciate your violent impulses though.” 

“Mm, okay. As long as you know I could.” 

“Sure, angel. You’re very scary,” he placates. 

You let out a little gremlin laugh. 

“Oh, and you’re delirious,” he notes, an amused lilt to his tone. 

“Delirious because I miss you,” you sing, dragging out the ‘you’. 

“God, where did I even find a weirdo like you,” Spencer laughs. 

“I found you. You attracted me with your peculiar aura and soulful eyes. Trapped me in your… fucking what’s-it-called. Tractor beam.” 

“You know, the term tractor beam was actually coined by science fiction author E.E. Smith in 1931 as an updated version of his original term ‘attractor beam.’” 

“Hmm, yup. You caught me in that.” 

“Did you call my eyes soulful?” he asks, seemingly just processing that part. 

“Oh, you don’t like my adjective choice? Next you’ll have a problem with me calling your aura peculiar.” 

“I mean… I don’t know that I loved it.” 

“Here he goes fishing for compliments,” you sigh, rolling over to your other side and creating a bunch of shuffling noise on the line. Spencer wrinkles his nose, holding the phone a little farther from his ear until he hears you speaking again. “Okay, your eyes are big and brown and beautiful and they contain a standard unremarkable amount of soul, and your aura is also really regular. Regular Reid, that’s what they call ya.” 

He’s frowning, you can practically see it, but he’s also fighting off an amused smile. “Well, that one started off nice, at least.” 

“God! You’re so difficult. My boyfriend is sooo difficult. Why don’t you come home to me first and then I’ll come up with some more adequate compliments?” 

“I’m going to hold you to that.” 

The two of you talk for a little while longer, with you telling Spencer about the new coffee shop you’d tried out and how their lavender latte actually tastes like lavender, which is basically unheard of. Spencer tells you about the standoff between him and an all too curious roadrunner that he swears was trying to get into his motel room. Calling it a standoff is generous; the man got bullied by a bird. 

You try not to laugh and end up unsuccessful, with Spencer insisting that you were taking sides and he was well and truly in danger, which only makes it funnier. His voice pitches up even as he tries to keep his volume low, and you argue that his energy is just so attractive that even the local wildlife are drawn to him. 

“Don’t start,” he warns, overwhelming fondness in his voice. 

You make Spencer tell you something boring to calm yourself down from the image you’ve conjured of him being chased by a roadrunner, which, in your exhausted state, is even funnier than it should be. He claims to regret confiding in you with this, but he knows he’d do it again just to hear you laugh. 

Instead of telling you something boring, he recites some of the poems he’s memorized over the years. It works the way you’d intended, and you regret it when you have to stop him to tell him you’re falling asleep. He’s just a little smug about it. 

“So, you’ll be home in four hours?” you ask, the start of your goodbyes. 

“More like three now.”

“We made time go faster.” 

“We did.” 

“Will you try to get some sleep?”

“Fine. Only because you asked.”

You hum, victorious. “Goodnight. I love you.” 

“And I love you.” 

Hours later, just as the sun is beginning to change the hue of the sky from deep navy to a hazy cerulean glow, you feel your mattress shift underneath you. You’re barely awake, but still you register the scent of Spencer’s shower gel, fresh and sort of woodsy. 

Half asleep, you shift to accommodate him, and he slips an arm around you as you lay your head on his chest. You wrap an arm around his torso and throw your leg over his hips, as close as you can possibly get without literally being on top of him. 

You sigh, deep and relieved, and Spencer’s heart stutters. 

“I missed this,” he chuckles, resting his cheek against the top of your head and wrapping his arms tighter around you. You just hum in response, the last of your energy before you’re pulled back under. Within minutes, Spencer is asleep too, and the two of you sleep through sunrise and into the afternoon. 

[softspiderling]

illicit affairs - part two | r.c

summary:

"Speaking of, why don’t you stay over tonight? It’s late, and I don’t want you walking home by yourself.”

“You’re not gonna drive me?” You asked with a pout and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m too tired, don’t make me. Just stay over.”

“What? And leave in the morning like I’m one of your hook ups? Please.”

OR; Rafe makes an outrageous suggestion and you? You give in.

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: mention of drugs, talk about sex (nothing graphic yet) but the later parts will have smut, so 18+ MDNI!

word count: 2k

author's note: pt. two out so soon?? there's gotta be smth fishy going on 🤭we finally get into the PLOT! i hope you enjoy my lovelies, don't forget to leave a comment/like/reblog or share your thoughts with me in the inbox.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

pt. two: "it's born from just one single glance"

A week after the party, it was the first Friday in a while where the four of you didn’t go to a party. After spending a day out of the sea to test out Topper’s new boat, you got picked up some pizza and settled down in Rafe’s living room, where you were still in the same spot several hours later. The empty pizza cartons were stacked on the floor and the four of you strewn out on the couch and various seats.

“You want another drink?”

Rafe was waving his empty glass in front of you, a lonely ice cube clinking in it, an expected eyebrow raised.

You squinted at him, nodding. “Can you get me a coke please?”

“Sure.”

Kelce perked up in his seat at the prospect of another drink. “Hey, can you get me another beer?”

“No,” Rafe answered, without even looking back as he left for the kitchen. “You know where the fridge is.”

“What?” Kelce muttered with a frown, looking over to you as he slumped back down. “You know where the fridge is, why is he getting you a coke?”

You only shrugged with a grin, making yourself comfortable on the couch now that you had more space, while Topper clapped Kelce on the back in consolation.

“Come on man, you know she’s his favorite.”

“Hey!”

Grabbing a pillow from the couch, you shucked it at Topper, making him yelp when it hit him square in the face.

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not right next to you,” you scowled. “And I’m not Rafe’s favorite.”

“You’re a clown if you actually believe that.”

“Fuck you, you’re a clown.”

Topper tossed the pillow back at you, narrowly missing your head by an inch and the pillow fell to the floor behind the couch, landing just in front of Rafe’s feet as he returned.

“I was gone for five minutes, what are you guys fighting about now?”

“Precious over here thinks she’s not your favorite.”

You glowered at the other two boys, while Rafe settled back on the couch next to you, pressing a can of coke into your hands. He took a sip of his drink, eyeing you briefly and shrugged, pursing his lips in agreement.

“Nah, you’re definitely my favorite.”

You stuck your tongue out at Topper when he gave you a knowing look, instead focusing on opening your coke. “Whatever. It doesn’t mean anything, you two shitheads don’t make it hard for me to be anyone’s favorite.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Kelce grunted with a frown and you raised a brow at him.

“You literally had sex in Rafe’s bed last year,” you said, before turning your attention to Topper. “And you’re still obsessed with Sarah.”

Rafe let out a noise, making clear that he was fully agreeing with you. “What she said.”

Topper, while satisfied he had proven his point, still rolled his eyes and Kelce crossed his arms, annoyed.

“I hate it when they team up like this.”

“Shut up and get your beer.”

The next couple of hours passed easily, just as it always did when the four of you came together to talk shit. While you did enjoy going to parties every now and then, you really appreciated just hanging out with your friends and talking about everything and nothing in the safety of the four walls of Rafe’s home.

Only you and your boys. Just the way you liked it.

“Alright, I think it’s time for me to go,” Topper said, breaking up the group with a yawn, shaking his head to stay awake as he sat up. “I’m beat.”

“Can you give me a ride?” Kelce asked, standing up and Topper nodded, turning to you.

“Do you need me to drop you off too?”

You stretched your arms, legs long draped over Rafe’s lap as you laid lengthwise on the couch. It was nearing one am and you really should make your way home, but you were far too comfortable to move, having spent most of the day in the sun, which was catching up to you now.

“I think I might stay for a while longer, thanks though.”

Topper clicked his tongue, ruffling your hair, messing it up for good measure as he and Kelce said their good byes, their voices getting quieter as they strolled to the front, the door shutting in its hinges. It wasn’t long after until you could heard Topper’s truck start, and then pull off the estate grounds.

Finally, it was quiet enough for you to hear the music, which was drowned out by Kelce���s constant yapping. You loved him but he was such a chatter box when he drank beer.

“Isn’t Sarah coming home tonight?” you asked into the sudden quietness, combing through your hair with your fingers, trying to get rid of the knots that have formed since you’d laid on the couch for the whole night. The estate had been quiet apart from the four of you causing raucous in the living room.

“Please,” Rafe scoffed. “She’s staying with John B more nights than not, I’m this close to kicking her out for real.”

“Oh come on,” you laughed, leaning up to shove his arm a little. “She’s in love. Leave her alone. And don’t act like you don’t enjoy being the man of the house and having it all to yourself.”

Rafe grinned to himself, shrugging his shoulders a bit like you weren’t absolutely right. Like you said, you knew him. “Eh. Maybe. House tends to get a little quiet sometimes... Speaking of, why don’t you stay over tonight? It’s late, and I don’t want you walking home by yourself.”

“You’re not gonna drive me?” You asked with a pout and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m too tired, don’t make me. Just stay over.”

“What? And leave in the morning like I’m one of your hook ups? Please.”

“Give me a break,” Rafe huffed. “You know damn well you’re not one of my hook ups. They don’t get to stay till the morning,” he paused, turning his head to look at you inquisitively, and you knew that look all too well. He was about to be nosy. “What about yours, anyways?”

“My what?”

“Your hook ups, precious. Haven’t seen anyone around since Jack.”

You shrugged. “Cuz there wasn’t anyone else since Jack, you know that. And he wasn’t a hook up, he was my boyfriend.”

He was quiet, but you could basically hear the gears in his head turning. “I know you’re not into hook ups and shit, but don’t you need to get off sometimes?”

“And risk hooking up with weirdos like Moany? No thank you. I don’t need anyone else to get off.”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “I know, jesus. I’m just saying… Sex by yourself isn’t as good as sex with another person. If you know what they like. Not everyone has freaky requests like Monique. And if you’re compatible, you know the sex can be insane.”

You eyed him suspiciously, not sure if you liked which direction this was going. He wasn’t about to suggest the two of you having sex…. Right? Because that would be just crazy.

“… jus’ getting sick of having to get to know a new girl every time, ‘s exhausting.”

“You know you can have sex with a person more than once right?”

Rafe scoffed, leaning his hands behind his head. “Yeah, but then they start getting comfortable. I don’t need that right now.”

You waved your hands around, trying to stop Rafe’s train of thought before it could get any further.

“Rafe, stop beating around the bush. The fuck are you on right now?”

He swirled his drink around, downing the last of it before shoving the glass on the table, looking at you.

“What if… We fucked?”

“What?” you stared at him incredulously, like he had just grown a second head.

“I mean, not relationship wise. Casual. Friends with benefits.”

“Friends with benefits,” you echoed, dryly. “Are you insane?”

Rafe scoffed, shaking his head at you, not bothering with a reply. You thought that was the end of it, trying to calm your heart down, as it was nearly jumping out of your throat, when you felt Rafe’s hand splaying across your bare legs. His fingers brushed your inner thigh, making you tense and you glared up at him.

“Seriously Rafe?”

“Seriously Rafe?” Rafe mocked you, reaching out to tuck your hair behind your ear, the other hand starting to trace circles into the skin of your thigh, like it was the most normal thing for him to do. “We both know that if you didn’t want me touching you, you’d have kicked me half ways across the room already.”

You wanted to protest, but your words died halfway down your tongue, knowing it was no use with the way Rafe was looking at you. Also, he was a 100% right. Turning away, you stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore how his finger tips left your skin tingling, thinking of the most random things to calm yourself down.

There was no use of lying to yourself, a part of you wanted to say yes.

You knew Rafe didn’t do relationships, has never had a girlfriend in all the years you’d been friends. What if being friends with benefits was the closest thing you could be for Rafe? Not only his best friend, but a step further? What if this was all you could get with him?

“This is a bad idea.”

“Why?”

“You’re my best friend.”

“Exactly. You’re my best friend, I don’t have to tell you anything because you know exactly what I like and what I don’t.”

“Not when it comes to sex!”

“Okay okay, calm down, I was just making a suggestion.”

Rafe trailed off, dropping the topic, his fucking hand still on your thigh. He wasn’t looking at you, but you could tell that he was biting back a grin, and you hated to think that you were going to give in.

“We’re not telling anyone, you hear me? Not a single soul. Especially not Top and Kelce, they would never let us live this down.”

He turned his head, the corner of his mouth ticking up knowingly. He was your best friend after all, he knew what to say to convince you of his argument. “Those two knuckleheads don’t need to know everything we do,” Rafe said as he leaned in, but you stopped him halfway, your hand on his chest.

“If this affects our friendship in any way, or or…. If it gets awkward or someone… Just, we stop, okay? No lying to get your dick wet.”

“Have I ever lied to you, precious?”

“Uh, yes. Remember when you, Top and Kelce snuck into my gard- oomph.”

Your sentence was cut short when Rafe pressed his lips against you in a soft kiss, his hand cupping the back of the neck. He pulled away, his breath hot on your face. Your lips parted a bit, shock coursing through your veins. You had wondered how it would feel to kiss Rafe for so long, and you had to admit, that the real deal was so much better than anything you could’ve imagined.

“You talk too much,” he mumbled against your lips and you rolled your eyes, brought out of your haze. This was still Rafe. Your best friend.

“Shut up.”

Fisting his shirt, you pulled him closer to you, lips hot as they interlocked. He leaned forward, both of his knees bracketing your waist, one hand moving from the back of your neck to the front, so he could cup your face. Suddenly, you were surrounded by him and if you weren’t so distracted by Rafe’s tongue slipping into your mouth, you’d be freaking out right now. This felt like a fever dream; your hands moving automatically down his torso, sneaking under his shirt, nails grazing his chiseled abs and when Rafe let out a honest to god whimper, you knew you were done for.

There was no going on back.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: am i sorry about the cliffhanger? ask me later👀

[harryslittlefreakk]

favourite crime 3

summary: harry disappears and leaves y/n in the dark. when he finally resurfaces, they struggle to heal hurt and broken hearts.

warnings: angst, brief mentions of cheating, fluff, age gap relationship, teacher/student relationship

wordcount: 5.2k

a/n: strap in its angsty!!!!! but we’re almost at the end of the back and forth now, i want my babies to be happy 😭

thank you so much for reading & supporting 🤍 masterlist | favourite crime masterlist

“You really haven’t seen him?”

You nibbled on your lower lip as you waited for Courtney to reply, rubbing two fingers over your temple.

“No, and Josh still hasn’t heard from him either. Last I knew, he was coming to find you,” Courtney murmured, smoothing a hand over your hair.

“There’s rumours everywhere,” you told her. “He quit, he got fired. You don’t think someone found out and he had to leave?”

Courtney shook her head, leaning back in her seat. “He would’ve told you. Even if it was the last time you ever spoke, I think he would’ve told you.”

You pulled your knees to your chest, staring up at the ceiling. It had been over a week since you’d seen or heard from Harry. You’d checked with Courtney every day, hoping by some miracle that he’d gone home or spoken to Josh, but he hadn’t. He’d pushed you away in his office and then fallen off the face of the Earth.

You’d typed out and deleted texts almost every hour, rushing to check your messages and missed calls as soon as you woke up every morning. Your finger had hovered over Harry’s phone number, never hitting call.

You made sure to walk by his office everyday, hoping for some sign of life, but nothing ever came. Your mind was running wild. You couldn’t help but imagine him lying in a ditch somewhere, hurt and alone. Or on the run, dramatically changing his appearance to escape law enforcement after his relationship with you had been revealed. Or worse, he simply felt he had to disappear to save himself from you.

It wasn’t until you saw a flash of brunette curls disappearing into his door that your worry turned into white-hot rage.

Your heart rate quickened with your feet, your shaking hand fumbling with the doorknob as you barged in behind him.

The blood was pounding in your ears, every muscle in your body tense as he turned around and looked at you.

“What the fuck, Harry?”

Your voice was a whisper with all the anger of a shout, the words catching in your dry throat. Your hands balled into fists inside your sleeves as Harry looked over you, barely a speck of emotion on his face.

He was no different to the last time you saw him, his outfit one you’d seen before, each line and crease on his face no different than before. But the way he was looking at you was new. He was indifferent, arms resting at his sides as he waited for words that you couldn’t form. His eyes held nothing. You felt like a stranger to him, and you willed your feet to carry you away, back to the comfort of not knowing where he was but knowing who you were to him.

But as you turned away, he finally spoke. “How long does it take you to get home?”

“Thirty minutes,” you answered, tears resting on your eyelashes as you stared at your feet.

“Then I’ll see you in thirty minutes,” Harry replied, watching you leave his office as quickly as you burst in.

—

Harry sat in his car outside your house, his hands gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. His eyes were locked on the mirror, watching the corner of your street with a clenched jaw.

His anger simmered just beneath the surface, a volatile mix of frustration and betrayal. The minutes felt like hours as he replayed the last time he was here, stoking the fire of his anger. He was determined to hear the truth, even if it meant he would never see you again.

The second you turned the corner, his heart near stopped. You didn’t seem to notice him or his car as you approached, your eyes weary and heavy-lidded as you stared straight ahead.

Harry hadn’t paid much attention to you in his office, trying to ignore the pained furrow of your brows, the red tint of sleepless nights beneath your eyelashes, the way you looked almost exactly the same and yet so different to him. But as he looked at you then, dulled and burnt out even as the afternoon sun illuminated everything around you, his anger fell away and shame rolled through his body in a nauseating wave.

He was a grown man. With a job, a home, a life that shouldn’t involve someone in their early twenties, someone who’s education he was responsible for. You may have approached him first, but he barely thought twice before pursuing you, fisting his cock that night with only thoughts of you in his mind.

And worse than that, he’d run away. He’d backed you into a corner, fucking you, making you his, while making it clear to you that you’d never be more than a fun weekend. He’d kissed you, set up boundaries so weak that you had no choice but to push through them, making you believe that you were setting the pace and dictating what relationship you would or wouldn’t have. Then he’d backed off.

He deserved every inch of the hell he’d found himself in. Harry ran a hand through his hair, suddenly wanting to be anywhere else. He still wanted answers, but he found himself totally unfazed towards whatever the truth was. You had every right to want him to hurt.

At the sound of keys jangling in a door, he turned his head, watching you let yourself in. With a deep sigh, he followed, his legs wooden as he trudged towards the door you’d left ajar.

“Hi,” Harry murmured, slipping into your apartment behind you. He hadn’t seen it before, and it was absolutely no different than he’d expected. You had fresh flowers and house plants on almost every surface, lilies and roses in soft pinks and whites, posters and pictures dotted around the walls.

You turned to face him, dropping your bag on the kitchen counter. “Where have you been?” you asked him, your voice sharper than you intended.

You heard his breath hitch in the silence, the sound of his shoes banging as he pushed them off, his socks soft against the floor as he edged towards you. The air between you was thick, charged with everything unsaid, everything he’d been avoiding.

“I saw him,” Harry said quietly, an edge to his voice, a tightness that betrayed his restraint. “I came here.”

He’d paused a few paces away, his expression unreadable in the sunlight seeping through the window. But you could read the tension in the way his jaw was clenched, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides.

“Saw who?” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to keep the hurt at bay. “You kissed me, Harry. And then you disappeared. You didn’t say a word, didn’t even let anyone know if you were okay.”

He exhaled harshly, running a hand through curls that looked like they’d been toyed with all day long. “I didn’t know what to say! What do you want me to say? I came here to apologise, but you were clearly already busy.”

“You came here after I left your office?” you questioned, your voice rising. “I was tutoring, Harry. I told you I was fucking tutoring.”

He leaned the wall, steadying himself as you knocked the wind out of him. In the entire week he’d been gone, racking his brains every day for some kind of innocent explanation, he hadn’t even remembered that.

He knew he was jealous, overly possessive, even over people he couldn’t claim, but this was a new low.

“I was tutoring Tommy, who’s in your fucking class and has a girlfriend. I needed to get my notes from my room. Which is where I’m assuming you saw us?” you paused for him to confirm, feeling rage wash over you like a tidal wave.

“He followed me into my room, and then we studied, Harry. At the dining table. On opposite sides.”

You ran a hand over your face, eyes screwed shut as you tried to make sense of it all.

“You don’t know how it looked,” Harry whispered, the colour drained from his face, his jaw clenched.

“You disappeared for a week. No communication, no word to even Josh. I was going out of my mind, Harry! There were rumours everywhere. You were hurt, you got fired, you got caught with a student - how do you think that felt? How that looked?”

His silence said more than his words ever could, and it made your blood boil. You took a step toward him, closing the distance between you, your heart pounding against your ribs.

“Why do you keep doing this?” you asked, your voice starting to tremble. “You took me to the lake, you suggested the weekend away. You thought sleeping with me and then dropping me was the best plan. You kissed me, you pushed me away. And now you seriously think that I’d do this?”

When he still kept quiet, eyes flitting across your face, your anger reached boiling point. You were being mean, you knew that. You’d had just as much of a hand in anything that happened, but blaming Harry felt easier.

“Do you think I wanted any of this? You pull me close, like you want me, like you feel something, and then the second it gets too much, you push me away. Do you even know what that does to me?”

That struck a nerve. You could see it in the way his face twisted, his body recoiling slightly as if your words struck him deeper than you intended. He looked at you, and for a moment, there was something raw in his gaze.

Harry stepped closer, his body tense as if he was barely holding himself upright. He pushed his head back, inhaling a deep, deep breath before looking back at you. “You didn’t want any of that?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s not what I meant, Harry, and you know that. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more than I want this. But I wanted more,” you explained, turning your back on him as you tried to keep a hold of yourself.

“It wasn’t meant to be like this,” Harry confessed, pinching the top of his nose. “I don’t know how it all got so complicated.”

“You pulled the strings, Harry. You made it this way,” you replied, letting your chin fall to your chest. Nothing made sense to you. It had been two weeks with Harry, and you’d barely even spent any time with him during those weeks. Yet you were practically falling apart, sagging under the weight of the heartbreak.

You turned back to face Harry, needing him to see the hurt he’d caused written over your face.

His eyes dropped to the floor, and for a moment, he looked as though he would say something - finally actually admit what he’d been feeling. But instead, he just shook his head, his voice barely a whisper when he spoke.

“I didn’t want it to be this way.”

You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to believe that this had all just been some misunderstanding, that he wasn’t as scared of his own feelings as you thought. But you were exhausted. Tired of the back and forth, of the emotional whiplash that had been defining whatever it was the two of you had.

“So what now?” you asked, your voice quiet but steady. “What do we do now, Harry?”

He looked up at you then, and the way he was staring, it almost felt like a plea. Like he was hoping you’d have the answer, that you’d know how to fix the mess you’d both found yourself in.

But you didn’t. And if your heart hadn’t already shattered, it would have broken at the realisation that neither did he.

The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken things. You stared at each other, neither of you knowing what to say, both of you too scared to admit how badly you needed each other.

It felt like you were standing on opposite sides of a chasm, each too wounded and too stubborn to reach across.

“I just want there to be a reality in which we can be happy.”

You turned back to face him, willing your heart not to shatter as Harry’s whisper cut through you. It was a thought you’d rejected countless times since seeing Harry in the bar that night. Happiness in a relationship, especially at the start, shouldn’t have been so hard to find and hold on to. But for some reason, there had been trouble at every turn.

You could feel the sting of tears in your eyes, the image of Harry in front of you blurring. Your hands trembled as you reached up to wipe your eye, the dam finally breaking.

Tears streamed down your face, unbidden and unstoppable. You had fought so hard to keep it together, convincing yourself that things would get better, that they could still fix what was clearly broken. But standing there in the silence in the wake of Harry’s words, you felt completely destroyed.

Harry looked away, his gaze falling to the floor as if he couldn’t bear to meet your eyes anymore. His shoulders slumped, and for a moment, he looked as if the fight had drained all the energy out of him. “I don’t want to fight with you, y/n,” he said quietly, his voice filled with exhaustion. “I hate this.”

You let his words hang in the air, unsure of anything you can say or do to make the situation better. “I need to change,” you told him eventually, padding past him towards your bedroom.

Harry watched you leave, your arms hanging limply by your sides, your steps light despite the darkness weighing on you.

He followed after a minute, holding up his fist to knock on the door, before it falls to his side. He picked it up again, reaching out for the doorknob with tentative fingers, before completely abandoning any attempt to get you to let him in. His heart broke with how badly he wanted to be there, to ease you out of the day’s clothes and help you into new ones, to wipe your tears with the soft knit of his jumper and to make it all better. But he didn’t know how to be in your space, how to comfort you when he was the very source of your tears.

When you eventually opened the door, you tried to walk straight past him, but he reached out to gently catch your arm. For a brief moment, your eyes met, and in that instant, he couldn’t hold back anymore. Without a word, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close as your body trembled. He cradled you, his hand smoothing over your hair, the other placed firmly your back, and you stood there, enveloped in him, his scent and his touch filling the space around you, until your breathing slowed.

Once you were steady, no longer wrapped tightly around him as though he was the only thing keeping you up straight, he lead you to the sofa, his hand never leaving your lower back. You lay your head in his lap, staring straight out of the window at the setting sun.

Harry softly ran his fingers through your hair, his fingertips scratching at the roots in just the way he knew you loved. A soft smile tugged at his mouth, remembering how you’d fallen asleep in seconds after his hands found your hair. His eyes never left your face, trained on every detail as though he was worried this was the last time he’d ever see them. He watched the way your eyelashes fluttered as you blinked, noticing the faint furrow of your brows starting to smooth out after a while. The pink tint at the tip of your nose, the soft freckles dotted over your cheeks, the shine on your lower lip. You were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

After some time, you shifted onto your back, turning to face him. Reaching up with a gentle hand, you l pushed a stray curl from his forehead. "I’m so sorry, Harry. I never thought things would get like this,” you whispered, a single stray tear slipping down your cheek, coming to rest on the fabric of his slacks in a tiny damp spot.

"You don’t have anything to apologise for," he replied, his voice tender, laced with emotion.

He hesitated for a moment before asking, "Are you hungry? Do you want to shower?"

You nodded at that, feeling the weight of the past week clinging to you, suddenly desperate to wash it all away.

You sat up, your head pounding after so many tears and such twisting emotions, and dragged yourself to the bathroom.

You sat on the edge of the bath, staring at yourself in the mirror. You looked exhausted, both emotionally and physically drained in the wake of a week that had nearly broken you.

Harry followed you after a few minutes, watching from the doorway as you gathered your strength. He couldn’t bear the thought of a life without you, without the colours you’d brought into his world. He kneeled in front of you, gently taking your hand in his. His touch was soft, tentative, as if he was afraid he might break you further.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispered, his voice soft. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, his gaze pleading for forgiveness, for the chance to make things right.

You nodded, too tired to protest, and that was all Harry needed. He tugged on your hands to make you stand, his hands soft and steady as he undressed you. There was a tenderness in the way he moved, a quiet determination to show you that he was still there, and that he wasn’t going to let go. Not then, not ever.

He turned on the water, making sure it was the right temperature, then adjusting the radiator so it would warm your towel as you showered. As he was about to walk away, you pulled on his arm, directing his attention back to you.

“Stay with me,” you whispered, thumbing the hem of his jumper, waiting for permission to strip him of his clothes. When he didn’t protest, you undressed him in the same way he’d done for you, then finally stepped under the water.

His fingers gently brushed your hair back, away from your face, and you closed your eyes, letting the warmth of the water and Harry’s presence soothe you. He reached behind you, running your soap between his hands before gently massaging them over your skin.

His touch was featherlight, as if he was trying to wash away not just the exhaustion, but the hurt that had built up between you. He was careful, attentive, his actions filled with unspoken words of love and regret. As he moved, his lips brushed against your shoulder, a silent apology, a promise that he would do better. The intimacy of it made you weak, your body turning to jelly as he cared for you in a way you knew no other man was capable of.

“I don’t want you to ever think I was using you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the sound of the running water. “You’re so much more than what you can give me.”

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, as he stepped a little closer to you. The warm water cascaded over both of you, its steady rhythm filling the quiet space between you and Harry. His eyes searching yours as the droplets slid down his face, his breath slightly ragged.

Your hand lifted slowly, fingers coming up to caress his cheek as you stared at each other through the steam, your fingertips lingering as if you were scared to let go.

“You’re so beautiful. I don’t think I’ve told you that enough,” Harry murmured, running his thumb over your bottom lip.

You swallowed hard, your throat closing around any words you could come up with. “Harry,” you whispered eventually, your voice raw from all the emotions of the day. “At times like this, I can really picture a life with you,” you finished, shy as the words finally came out.

You weren’t even sure what the fate of your relationship was, whether you even had another shot at happiness with him. But you knew, as much as it pained you to realise it, that things had only gotten so fucked up because both you and Harry had felt so much more intensely for one another than you’d ever expected. It wasn’t just sex, or a weird fling. There was something real between the two of you, you were certain of that.

His fingers traced along your jawline, his eyes glistening as he took in what you’d said. And then, without hesitation, Harry leaned in, closing the space between you, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was soft, yet full of urgency. It wasn’t at all like the other times, it was deeper, filled with apology, with longing, with the need to prove that neither of you were willing to let go.

The water poured over your entwined bodies, but all you could feel was him. His kiss was tender at first, but as the seconds passed, it grew more passionate, more desperate, as if he was trying to pour everything he felt into that one moment. His hands moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks as his lips moved against yours, seeking not just forgiveness, but something solid to hold onto as you both tried to find your way back.

Your hands slid up his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. You kissed him back, matching his intensity, your fingers curling into his damp skin as if afraid that if you let go, you’d lose him all over again. The warmth of the water mixed with the heat of his body against yours, and finally anything outside of that moment faded away.

When you finally pulled back, gasping for air, your foreheads pressed together, Harry’s chest was heaving, his eyes still closed as if he was trying to hold onto the feeling of your lips on his. His hands didn’t leave your face, and you could feel the slight tremble in them as he pulled you into his chest, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

“You’re everything. Everything,” Harry muttered, his voice muffled by your hair, one arm wrapping around your back, holding you tight to him.

He shut the water off after a while, letting you melt into him for as long as you needed to. The air in the bathroom was thick, warm steam curling in the corners of the room.

“Come here,” Harry murmured, holding your towel out for you, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

You hesitated for a moment, but then you moved closer, letting him gently wrap the towel around your body. His touch was careful, tender as he pulled the fabric tight around you, tucking it securely. His fingers lingered for a second longer, grazing your bare skin as they brushed over your arms. His eyes met yours, filled with that familiar warmth, but there was something else, something quieter. Maybe regret, maybe something unsaid.

“Go on, princess,” he whispered, his voice soothing, like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be taking care of you. “I’ll bring you a cuppa.”

You nodded, offering an exhausted but grateful smile before heading toward the bedroom. The weight of the day had left your body heavy, but Harry’s presence, his care, made everything seem softer, lighter somehow.

Harry stood in front of the kettle, his hands gripping the edge of the counter as he waited for the water to boil. The kitchen was quiet, except for the low hum of the kettle, but his mind was anything but.

He tried to focus on the task at hand - two cups of tea, something simple. Something he could control. But his thoughts kept drifting back, slipping through the cracks he was trying to seal up. The mistakes he'd made, the moments when he’d let you down, they all crowded his mind, a slow, sinking weight in his chest.

He thought about the hurt, the missed chances to say the right thing, the times he’d let his guard down only to retreat again out of fear. He’d always been good at getting in his own way, letting his own doubts cloud the way forward. It was no different now that he had been risking his career for you. He’d wanted so badly to protect you, to keep you close without smothering you, but somewhere along the way, he’d gotten lost in his own head. And now, standing in the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil, those moments felt like stones in his chest.

You deserved better. He knew that. And he wasn’t always sure he could be that person for you. You needed someone who didn’t hurt you, who didn’t let their own insecurities and mistakes get in the way.

He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to push the thoughts down, but they kept rising, unbidden. What if he wasn’t enough? What if he made another mistake, and it was one you couldn’t forgive?

The kettle clicked off, its billowing steam piercing through his thoughts, grounding him again. He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to focus. He was there, caring for you, showing you how badly he wanted to fix what he’d broken. He poured the water over the tea bags, watching the liquid swirl, darkening as it steeped.

As he waited, he thought about the look in your eyes when he wrapped the towel around you. The way you trusted him, the way you let him take care of you without question even after such a shit show of a day - a week - because of his immature insecurities.

Teas in hand, he took a deep breath, steadying himself before heading back to the bedroom. You were perched on the edge of the bed, the beginnings of a cloud of sleep hovering over you.

“Here you go,” he whispered, placing the mugs down before brushing a strand of hair from your face.

As soon as he straightened up, the towel wrapped precariously around his toned hips threatened to come loose. His hands flew to it, protecting his modesty with a sheepish grin.

A laugh bubbled out of you for the first time that day, shaking your shoulders softly as the giggles exploded out of you.

“I should have considered this scenario before getting into the shower with you,” Harry smirked, covering the soft blush of his cheeks with his free hand.

“I still have your t-shirt,” you offered, nudging your head towards your top drawer. “But I can’t help with pants.”

“Somehow a t-shirt with a loose cock feels worse than this,” Harry murmured, frowning as he glanced down at the tiny towel barely covering any of him.

You let your eyes linger on his body for a second, knowing that absolutely none of your clothes would fit his big frame. Your gaze dropped to your own t-shirt, thinking for a beat before pulling it back over your head and dropping it by your feet. “Solidarity,” you told him, not failing to notice how his breath caught at the sight of you, as if he hadn’t just run his hands over every part of your naked body.

Harry reached over you to grab your towel, turning away before pulling his own from his body, heading towards the bathroom with a little sway in his hips, as if he knew you’d be watching.

And you were. You leaned around the door frame, eyes locked on his tight ass until he was out of sight.

The weight in your chest lightened as you smiled, the domesticity healing a part of you that you didn’t know was broken.

-

You lay back against your pillows, cradling your mug in your hands. The room was dimly lit by the faint glow of the moon outside, casting soft shadows across the walls. It was quiet, save for the sound of gentle breathing, yet the silence between you and Harry felt heavy.

You shifted slightly, resting your head against Harry’s shoulder, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. You had been here before, so close, so intimate, but it felt different. There was a weight in the air, a lingering sense of uncertainty. You were clearly over the worst, both hearts mending slowly and carefully, but it still felt too raw and too heavy to be fixed so fast.

"Do you think we still have a chance?" your voice was faint, your words timid as if you didn’t actually want an answer, but the question pierced through the stillness with raw vulnerability. You screwed your eyes shut, afraid of what Harry’s answer might be, but you knew that it needed to be heard. The uncertainty was what had been hanging over your heads, both of your minds drifting to that very question in every quiet moment.

Harry’s arms slipped around your waist, pulling you closer ever so slightly, but he didn’t respond immediately. His gaze fixed on the ceiling, his jaw tightening as he thought. He had been hurt, and so had you. But the risks were far greater for him, and anything between you both, whether it was love of heartbreak, needed to be worthy of that danger.

"I don’t know," he admitted finally, his voice hoarse. "I want to believe we do. I don’t think we would be here now if there wasn’t a chance." He sighed, the sound heavy with frustration. "I don’t want to lose you. I never wanted to hurt you."

You swallowed hard, turning to face him with leftover tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

"I don’t want to lose you either," you said, your fingers tracing small patterns over his bare chest. "But I don’t know if things can go right back to how they were.”

Harry’s breath hitched, and he gently tipped your chin up so that your eyes met. There was something soft yet intense in his gaze, a quiet determination lurking beneath. "I don’t think either of us want them back to the way they were,” he muttered, his lips curling into a smirk.

You bit your lip, trying to contain the laugh that wanted to slip out. “Maybe better than before. But I don’t know if that can happen straight away,” you confessed.

Harry took your mug from your hand, reaching behind you to place it on your nightstand, before pulling you closer to his chest. Snuggled up to his side, with his arms right around you, you suddenly felt more secure in yourself and Harry’s future than you ever had.

“All we can do is try,” he whispered against your skin, his nose nudging at your cheek.

Slowly, you turned to meet his gaze, finding a softness in his face that you weren’t sure you’d ever seen before. His brows were slightly furrowed, as if even he was uncertain about his every move, but the tenderness in his expression made your breath catch. You leaned further into him, your lips ghosting across his.

Then his lips brushed yours, a sweetness in the gesture that made your heart stutter. Your eyes were locked on each others, seeking permission and acceptance, neither of you sure about how the other would react. But when neither of you made the effort to move away, or to protest, the space between you disappeared in the smallest of breaths.

Harry’s mouth moved with hesitance, as if he wasn’t sure he really had the right to be there with you, wrapping himself around you. But you kissed him back, of course you kissed him back, praying that any movements you made showed him just how much you wanted him there.

Your hand found his, your fingers lacing together as if to make your connection deeper. Neither of you pulled away, savoring the tentative closeness, letting the quiet stretch between kisses, as if testing the waters of something new and unknown.

When you finally broke apart, your foreheads rested against each others, breaths mingling in the soft light. Harry’s thumb brushed across the back of your hand, his touch grounding and real.

“We’ll figure it out,” he whispered, his voice low and reassuring.

You nodded, feeling your eyelids grow heavy as your eyes trailed over his face. “Tomorrow is a new day,” you murmured, nudging your head into the space between his shoulder and his neck, breathing him in with a content smile brewing your lips.

“Tomorrow is a new day,” Harry repeated, breathing out a deep sigh of relief.

oop thank you so much for reading!!!!

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[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 19 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: When Bob is away, Anna can feel his absence everywhere. But nothing beats a perfect reunion. 

Warnings: Angst, fluff, adult language, mentions of smut, 18+

Length: 2000 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

Months later....

Sitting in the coffee shop alone after visiting so many times with Bob truly made Anna sad. She was so used to sipping her coffee while he drank his hot tea, and somehow the scent always clung to his hair for hours afterwards. She'd bury her nose against him when they got home, and he would laugh when she told him he always smelled good.

But now he was gone, and she couldn't do anything about it. She accidentally burned her mouth on her coffee, and after that it tasted disgusting. She got herself a croissant, but they were better when shared. Tears stung her eyes, and she had to take a deep breath and convince herself that it would be over soon. Then she focused her attention on her computer as she worked through some more of the changes she wanted to make to her manuscript.

After three more paragraphs, it was no use. It wasn't even ten o'clock in the morning yet, but she gave up and switched to the notes app on her phone where she had been adding ideas for Jessica's bridal shower and bachelorette party. Physics jokes about the laws of attraction? Designer lingerie shop in LA? Can you make a math equation that looks like a penis?

She would defer to Advanced Calculus for that last item. With a sigh, she was about to close her computer, buy another croissant for Suzanne, and then head out when she saw a new email notification.

"No way," she gasped as she tapped on it and stared at her computer screen.

Sky Writing has posted a new, original work! Click the link below to check out the subscriber that you follow!

Anna's heart started pounding erratically, and her fingertips felt numb. Anticipation and confusion mingled together as she opened the link. It was difficult to read as she tried to take a deep breath, but she wanted to consume Bob's words as quickly as possible.

I can see the dusky outline on the horizon,

But the California coastline isn't enough.

I need to be at home.

I need my bookshelf.

I need my books.

I need your books.

I need my Anna.

I need to see you in the next two minutes,

Because twelve weeks is way too long.

"The next two minutes?" Anna mumbled to herself as she read the last lines over again. "Two minutes?" She was out of her seat immediately, neck craning around the crowded coffee shop, looking in every direction. And that's when she saw him stroll inside in his khaki uniform and silver glasses with the most handsome smile on his face.

"Bob!" she cried out, nearly tripping over her chair as she left her stuff behind to get to him as quickly as she could. He was home. He was home early from his deployment. Communication had been a little spotty, and there was so much she wanted to tell him, but he was finally home.

"Anna," he murmured as she threw herself at him, knocking the wind out of her own lungs. His arms were wrapped around her as soon as her lips met his, and she didn't care if there was a whole shop of people watching them. He was finally home. Somehow he still tasted like tea, and he smelled so good, she buried her nose against his neck as he chuckled.

"How did you know I was here?" she asked, kissing him just above his shirt collar.

"Jess told me," he replied easily.

She kissed her way up to his ear as he started to slowly walk her backwards to the small table where she'd been sitting. "Why didn't you call me? I could have picked you up. I missed you so much."

"I just wanted to surprise you," he whispered, claiming her lips again as they stood next to the table.

She looked up at his pretty eyes and said, "This is a wonderful surprise. And I have one of my own."

"What is it?" he asked softly, his fingers tracing the freckles along her cheek and chin as she grinned up at him.

"I'm divorced."

His eyes went wide, and a sound of pure excitement escaped him as he scooped her up into his arms. "You're divorced?"

Anna laughed as she told him, "Finalized ten days ago. Fuck Kevin."

"You drove my truck here? Let's go," Bob said, immediately carrying her toward the exit.

"Wait, I need my stuff!"

"Oh. Right," he replied, suddenly very flustered as he helped her shove her computer and phone into her bag.

"I was planning to get a croissant or something to take to Suzanne," she said as he practically dragged her outside and down the street to his truck.

"Well, I was planning on taking you back to the bookstore to pick out something we could read together tonight, but this is even more important."

Anna ended up with her back pressed against the side of the truck while he unlocked the door, and she pressed her lips to his Adam's apple while she tried to hold onto her bag. She wanted to taste him everywhere. "Going right home actually sounds like a pretty good idea."

"That's exactly where we're going," he promised, tossing her stuff onto the seat before helping her in as well. The six seconds when he was walking around the truck and she couldn't touch him were miserable, but soon enough, he was kissing her while he started the engine. Then she had her fingers wrapped up with his while he started to drive. "I love you, Anna." He kept his eyes on the road as he made his way through Coronado, and she felt warmer than she had in twelve weeks. "I love you, and I would never pressure you to do anything you didn't want to do."

She turned to look at his handsome profile. "I know you wouldn't. That's why I love you so much."

She watched as he swallowed hard before saying, "I know we talked about our future, but it was always kind of ambiguous while we waited for your divorce decree."

"It's not ambiguous anymore!" Anna cheered as they neared his house where she had been living for months. "I'm ready for the future. The future is here. The future is now."

She was all smiles as he parked the truck with an anxious look in his eyes. "You told me you wanted me forever," he whispered, and Anna couldn't figure out why he looked so nervous. 

"Of course I want you forever," she told him once again. She'd made it as clear as she could that she was done running. Kevin and New Jersey and everything that could have broken her but didn't were all left in the past. She was moving on a little bit more every day with Bob and her best friends and her tenure track teaching position at San Diego State. She was unashamedly taking excellent care of herself, and she never stopped Bob when he told her she needed to take a break and that he'd handle something for her. She wasn't going anywhere ever again.

"I want you forever, too. And we can go slow, or we can go fast. Or you can tell me you don't want what I have to give you, and that's okay too."

"What?" she asked, her heart sinking in her chest as he parked and climbed out. She wanted everything Bob had to give, and she wanted to give him everything, too. They even talked about getting married someday after he initially got over his nerves enough to bring up the topic. She had assured him that he was exactly the only person she would do that with after her disastrous first marriage. Why would he think she didn't want what he had to give?

"Bob?" she asked as she climbed out as well and met him on the sidewalk. "Why do you look so concerned?" He didn't respond. He only led her up to the porch and unlocked the door. "Bob!" she complained when he scooped her up and carried her up the stairs, going two at a time until his breath was coming in shorter gasps. Instead of turning toward their bedroom like she expected, he went into the guest room and dropped her onto the futon.

She rarely came in here. It was almost funny that Bob planned on sleeping in this room when he insisted Anna come home with him after Kevin figured out where she lived. And now he was on his hands and knees, crawling under the futon as she asked, "What in the world are you doing?"

He hit his head and grunted in response, but a second later, he emerged with his hair all messed up and something in his hand. "I got you a ring."

"A ring?" she asked, realizing he was holding a small box. A jewelry box. She looked at him where he was kneeling in front of her, cheeks turning pink. "What kind of ring?" she whispered, hopeful yet needing to be sure.

Bob snapped the box open, and all Anna could see was a beautiful diamond. "An engagement ring. But only if you want it. I know you probably need more time. I don't even need an answer right now, I promise," he told her earnestly as she scooted a little closer to him. "You were still married two weeks ago, but I wanted to give it to you now anyway. You can wear it or not wear it. We can wait a while if you want. I just... wanted you to know it's all yours. I'm all yours."

She hadn't worn the rings from Kevin in over a year and a half. She pawned them with no remorse before she left for California. "It has been a very long time since I was really married, Bob." She took the box from his hand and looked at the ring. She couldn't stop smiling, and the tears in her eyes made the diamond look all blurry as she asked, "Do you really want to marry me? I'm a mess."

He grinned at her. "You're really not, Baby. You're smart and beautiful and funny and kind. You're a fighter. Of course I want to marry you."

Without another word, Anna took the ring from the box and slid it onto her finger. She'd known Bob long enough to be sure that his words were honest. She was willing to throw it all in on Sky Writing. "We can take our time," she whispered, leaning down to kiss him. "There's no need to rush. But I definitely want to wear this ring."

They made a long, luxurious stop in their bed where Anna almost lost her voice from the number of times she called out Bob's name, and then he made her lunch before the two of them made their way to the living room bookshelf. 

"We didn't make it to the bookstore to pick out anything new to read," she mused, brushing all of the colorful spines with her fingers.

"Maybe we could read the first book you ever recommended for me. Together this time," he replied, his hands settling on her hips as his chin rested on her shoulder. 

Anna smiled as she reached for A Room With a View, remembering so well the day she started to fall in love with Bob Floyd. The book still looked practically brand new even though he'd already read it, and she grinned as she said, "I can't wait to dog ear all your pages."

"I will gladly let you."

---------------------------

The End! Thank you for reading another adventure in the Sugarverse! I hope you learned that even when you're a mess and barely holding it together, you're still worthy of friendship and love. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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[madridfangirl]

A Weekend in Ibiza - Part 4 (final)

(Jude Bellingham smut fic)

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3)

5.2k words. Jude*female reader. Smut & suggestive language. And many confused feelings.

A/n - When we don't get Jude holiday content (the kind with other women), we make shit up

................................................

You missed him.

Son of a bitch, you actually missed him.

Jude had left an hour after waking you up for an early morning tumble. It had been your idea, since he kept yapping in your ear after you two were done, with the typical annoying chirpiness of a morning person, while you just wanted to snuggle in the cozy sheets, & enjoy the pleasant relaxation washing over your muscles. So, you had nudged him to take care of whatever it was he needed to take care of and he had left, promising to return soon.

But now, you missed him. The room suddenly felt too big, too empty, too quiet without him. 

His cologne was still all over you, on the pillow next to you. The sheets reeking of his scent. His belongings spread on the side-table - an expensive looking watch, an LV waist pouch, and a box of condoms.

Would it be downright pathetic to ping him for an ETA?

YES. Your inner voice chided you, loudly.

Remember what this is. What you are to him. The flavour of the week, if even that. 

Fine, you were gonna wait. Let him take his sweet time. You’d rather die than be accused of being clingy, especially in this context.

It’s been 90 minutes, stop being so dramatic. Screamed your inner voice again.

You stretched your limbs before getting out of bed, sighing at the soreness. A hot bath was the need of the hour. And house keeping.

Twirling in front of the mirror in your new deep blue summer dress, another daring purchase for the trip, you wondered if he’d like this one. 

Well, he had liked blue on you yesterday. A lot.

Heck, it DID NOT matter. It SHOULD NOT matter. You were dressing for yourself. To look good for yourself. 

But a little bit for him too.

3 hours. He’d been gone three hours now. It was already 10 am. You started to wonder if he was coming back at all. But he left his stuff? Well it won’t even be pocket change to him. Did he get bored already? Moved on to finer pastures?

Right on cue, the door opened, taking you by surprise. Jude emerged, in all his glory. Donning a loose multi-coloured unbuttoned summer shirt, with matching shorts. Chiselled abs on full display. The chest hair, with a trail going down into his shorts. And then there were those legs. Despite your annoyed state, you nearly salivated at the sight. 

He was mumbling something about taking your keycard, in case you were still asleep. But you couldn’t register a word. Senses too distracted to focus.

Jude had this air about him - a casual nonchalance, an unshakable confidence, an inherent swag. Used to getting his way in life. Making the world bend to his will. It was sexy as hell. 

But it irked you too. Was it because he operated like he owned every room he walked into, and everyone in it? Or because you wanted to let him own you? You couldn’t tell anymore.

‘Could have knocked first.’

Jude cocked his head sideways at the comment, smirking mischievously, scanning you up & down. A sight for sore eyes. Blue really was your colour.

‘Nothing that I haven’t seen already.’

But something he’d like to see a lot more of. All day today. The dress looked like a million dollars on you, but he’d still prefer it on the floor.

Your hands gripped your dress (a movement his eyes followed), to curb the shiver running down your arms. Even while being arrogant, he was still charming.

‘Someone else could have been here with me.’

You managed to find your wits, and shot back. 

His whole demeanour changed. Features hardening, gaze intensifying, as he stepped closer. Subconsciously, you retreated, gasping when your back hit the desk. He stood toe to toe now, towering over you. Your fingers started fiddling aimlessly as you avoided his burning glare, realising you had touched a nerve. HARD. 

The tension in the air reverberated through your body and you jumped when his large hands gripped your ass, kneading the exact spot he had spanked yesterday. The residual sting making you whimper & bite your lip, drawing his attention to your mouth.

Jude bent down, biting your earlobe, drawing another whimper, as he whispered in a low, raspy, menacing tone.

‘I NEVER share what’s MINE, especially when I have wanted it so much.’

You wobbled, and clutched his biceps for support, as his hand slid under your dress & found your dripping core. 

‘Already?’

The tone was half-mocking, half-proud, as he cupped you over your panties, your legs spreading on their own accord to accommodate his hand. Then, with a measured move, he lightly slapped you there. Sending shockwaves through your nerves.

You mewled and fell forward onto his chest. Stunned & turned on beyond any fathomable limits. Moaning his name, sounding unabashedly needy.

That proved to be his undoing. 

You found yourself bent over the desk, face down into the glass top, your dress yanked down & pushed up to pool at your waist, your hips adjusted to his preferred angle, your panties discarded somewhere, your hands struggling to find some kind of purchase on the glass, your shaky breaths making patterns on the sheer surface.

Vulnerable and spread open for him. Exactly as he liked.

A quick preparation with his fingers, and he was sliding inside you, groaning at the hot, tight squeeze of your walls, stretching you fully. Your back arched, as your body struggled to take him in. But he kept going, till he bottomed out. 

Sounds of sex filled the room - your choked moans, his uneven grunts, his body slapping against yours, while yours slapped against the desk. Your nails scratched on the glass, his angles shooting sensations up & down your spine, hitting spots inside you didn’t know existed. The rapid movement of your bare nipples pressed on the cold glass made you scream. Which brought him out of whatever trance he was in.

Jude paused instantly, bent down, & brought his face to the side of yours.

‘What’s wrong?’

Words failed you. Somehow, you managed to point to your chest. He understood, bringing one arm underneath your breasts, shielding them from the glass. You whimpered at the relief. He stayed put, unmoving, panting over your neck.

‘Too much? Should I stop?’

Your nervous shake of head was all the signal he needed. He went again, tad slower this time, but still rocking your world in a thousand different ways. Making you see stars & entire galaxies as your vision blurred. Your scream when you came was muffled by the glass, and you were far too overstimulated to register his groan as he climaxed soon after.

Jude put his hands on either side of you, half-bending, half-standing, still buried inside, as he came down from his high. Looking over your spent form.

As you stayed half passed out, few things became clear in your mind about him. 1) He was possessive to the hilt. 2) He liked to take from behind when he was in the mood for fucking / hard sex. Face to face was for softer, calmer, gentler situations, like this morning. 3) He was as much a boobs guy as an ass guy. 4) Football wasn’t his only natural gift, to the point it was unfair to other men. No way they could compare to the whole package that was him, and he knew that all too well. 5) His dominance and aggression didn’t end on the football pitch, he brought it to bed too.

Lost in these thoughts, you didn’t register when he carried you bridal-style to bed, looked you over for any bruises (he was kicking himself hard for not factoring in the glass top properly), cleaned you & tucked the blanket over you.

Only coming to your senses when you were pulled against a hard muscular body, laying on your side, his arms wrapped around you, his cheek caressing yours, as you heard him mutter softly.

‘Say something. Please.’

Jude had been half-hard before he walked in, the hours away were literal physical torture. Then that dress, and especially your comment made him tip over the edge. He hadn’t planned to be rough, not so soon in the day at least. Definitely not after last night.

You sighed as he showered you with forehead kisses, somehow re-discovering your voice.

‘You snore in your sleep.’

Amused, he turned his face slightly to look at you, then laughed an infectious laugh, his whole body shaking with the sensation, as he squeezed you lightly in his hold, bringing a smile to your tired face.

‘Well, we have already established you are a liar.’

‘Please, have the others not told you this?’

He didn’t usually sleep in the same bed with the others all night, not so soundly anyway. Even on some rare occasions, he parted ways swiftly in the morning, without much conversation. What was happening right now was not the norm, it was a massively astronomical exception. Something he was still struggling to wrap his head around.

‘Stay a few days more?’

That came out of nowhere, even for him. 

She turned her head, looking at him oddly.

‘Can’t. Work calls.’

‘Say you’re sick. Or, if your boss likes football, tell him he can have season tickets in whichever stadium he wants.’

You rose up on your elbows, to laugh at his silliness. But he looked sincere so you changed tact.

‘Clearly you haven’t worked in a corporate before.’

He hadn’t. And that effectively shut him up on the topic.

Few lazy minutes passed in silence. Your fingers traced patterns on his chest, half laying over him,  while his fingers carded through your open messy hair.

‘You really don’t do this, do you?’

He didn’t need to elaborate. You understood he was referring to casual sex.

‘I meant what I said earlier. Every word.’

‘Then why this? Why me?’

He sounded sincere, not trying to fish for compliments or anything, genuinely curious to know.

Because it became physically impossible to resist you.

‘An adventure I guess.’

You shrugged, trying to not give away anything more. Anything real. Anything about the state of desperation he had put you in.

He hummed, as he mulled over it.

‘And this trip was an adventure too?’

This time you didn’t need to lie.

‘Kinda. Work was getting a bit much. Needed this mini escape.’

‘Me too.’

He blurted out, again out of nowhere. Jude started to wonder if he was coming down with some kind of bug or something. 

‘Like how?’

He had sworn not to dwell on this, to leave it behind on the field, like he had promised his mum. But it was easier said than done. 

You sensed the heaviness in the air, and in his mood. Your hand moved to his face, stroking it gently, nudging him to continue. He accepted the comfort, leaning into your palm.

‘Lost a very important final for my country. Couldn’t play my best. Failed them.’

You didn’t know what to say to that. It must have been hard to deal with, and almost impossible to forget. 

‘Well, you have a long journey ahead. Second chances will come.’

He shut his eyes, not wanting to reveal the heartbreak. But his expressive face did the talking. 

‘This was the second chance. A third chance rather. And we blew it. I blew it. They won’t forgive me.’

His face contorted, and he sank further into the mattress.

The words clutched at your heart, and his pain hurt your soul. Deeply.

‘Heyyyy, look at me.’

He didn’t. He couldn’t. Still too raw inside.

You climbed on top of him and smothered his perfectly symmetrical face with kisses, every inch of it, slowly. Then moved to his lips, giving them a quick peck, which he reciprocated. Moving below, you brushed your lips against his long neck, as his hands unfisted from the sheet, wrapping around your waist. Your whole body weight was on him now, which he seemed to welcome.

But he was still hiding from you, behind closed lids.

Your thumbs massaged the frown lines on his forehead, soothing them, as you bit the tip of his nose affectionately. He sighed, a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

‘If you care this much, then you’ll make it happen again. And this time, you’ll go over the line. Just need to keep believing and working for it.’

Finally, he popped his eyes open, flashing a delicate, hopeful smile. You smiled back and leaned in to peck his nose again, but pulled you in for a deep passionate kiss, only breaking it when he sensed your breathlessness, & let you roll off of him. 

Jude turned to his side, eyes roaming your spent form (you hadn’t even bothered to pull up the blanket), as his warm hand splayed on your stomach.

‘We need to work on your stamina.’

Offended, you tried to push him away, but he stayed put & giggled at your meek efforts. 

‘Well, I am not a professional athlete, hello? And….I don’t do all this….stuff…nowhere as frequently as you. So, I am good, thanks.’

‘But what if someday you want to try more?’

Irritated, you decided to get back at him, knowing he won’t be able to retaliate given his guilt over your exhausted state.

‘Yeah, like what? A threesome maybe?’

That wiped the smile off his face. Good start, then.

‘Not gonna lie, it’s always been a fantasy having both of these (you pointed to your tits) sucked simultaneously.’

Jude had recovered enough to catch on to your little game by now. 

‘Careful, doll.’

You ignored him completely. Having tasted blood, you couldn’t stop, going for the kill.

‘Anyone from your entourage, maybe? Or a teammate? Cama looked cute on your Insta, is he here by…’

Jude didn’t let you finish. In a flash, he was on top of you, pinning your hands over your head as his mouth claimed yours in a punishing kiss. You squirmed under him, to no avail. 

‘Threesome huh?

He barked in between demanding kisses.

‘You barely take ME fully and you want another man? Tell me, how will you take two together? WHERE will the other one go?’

For the second time today, you realised you had bitten more than you could chew. The bear had been well & truly poked.

‘Here?’

He shoved two fingers in your mouth, past your gag reflex. Eyes wild, showing you what he was picturing.

You shook your head from side to side, desperate to hold on to at least some of your erstwhile principles. And panted when he withdrew his fingers.

His hand slid behind you, poking at the back entrance. Your whole body jolted at the touch, and the implication, as you tried to peel his hand away.

‘No? Didn’t think so.’

Next, he gruffly squeezed your boobs close, admiring the valley in between.

‘Now this is tempting, but still not enough to climax. Which leaves this.’

Jude grabbed your right hand, looking straight into your flustered eyes. Challenge loud & clear in his animalistic gaze.

You wanted to run. At the same time, you wanted to meet him head on, to wrestle the control back.

He could tell you were considering it, and pounced on the opportunity, dragging your hand to his briefs, over his crotch. You both gasped at the touch.

‘Yes? Say yes.’

You couldn’t deny him. You didn’t wanna deny yourself either, curious about what he’d feel like.

The moment you nodded, he ripped away his briefs, and brought your hand back over his already excited member, covering it with his. Guiding your motions.

Your eyes widened at the feel of him - he hadn’t put on a condom this time, wanting you skin to skin. No barriers.

‘Come here doll, let me show you.’

Jude proved to be a good teacher. And you had always been a good student. Keen, curious, eager, fast learner. And in this specific instance, deeply enchanted with a gorgeously horny boy, therefore extra motivated to be good for him.

Going by his grunts, you WERE good. Considering the way his eyes were rolling to the back of his head, you were better than good. He grabbed your face and smashed his lips to yours, cursing into your mouth, while his hand continued to guide yours, going at a frantic pace now.

Throughout, you couldn’t sway your eyes from his face. Every little twitch imprinted deep into your mind, a core memory even. One could climax just looking at him like that. If you weren’t so sore & spent right now….

‘FUCKING HELL.’

He came with a groan. Splashing everywhere. Making a complete filthy mess of the sheets. And of you.

He panted against your lips, slowly calming down, plopping back on the pillow. While you remained dazed by what you had just done & witnessed.

After a few minutes, he gathered you in his arms again, carrying you to the shower. You welcomed the comfort of hot water, and the support of his body engulfing yours, keeping you from crumbling. The sight of him under the water, all wet & glistening, was pornographic. Another memory stored for life.

A nap seemed super enticing post the shower. Wrapped in bath robes, limbs intertwined, you both fell into a relaxing sleep. When you woke up, it was time for lunch. Jude knew the drill by now, quietly hiding in the washroom when the waiter came with the tray. Both had built an appetite, so the food felt extra delicious.

Post lunch, you cleared out a few emails on your laptop, preparing for tomorrow, while he sat next to you, watching some pre-season match on TV, head resting over your shoulder. It was impairing the movement of your arm as you typed but you were never going to make him move. 

‘So, where do you work?’

You paused, and gave him a side-eye.

‘You are not supposed to know.’

‘Jeez, I mean which city.’ 

‘Amsterdam for the next 5 weeks. Then, back home.’

‘And where’s home?’

‘Far away. Not in Europe.’

You kept typing, eyes firmly on the screen, and Jude understood he wasn’t going to get anything  more than this.

‘Wherever it is, I could fly you out, you know.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Fly you out, to Madrid. To be with me. Whenever we want.’

To be his booty call is what he meant. Now you understood. Is that what he did with others too? All part of some playbook? Well, she wasn’t going to become another entry in the long list of girls he had at his beck and call. 

‘Jude, I told you this was going to be just one weekend. Then we go back to our lives.’

‘I know, but, why is that set it stone?’

‘Because this is not me. I can’t go about my life while still doing this.’

‘But why? 

‘Why? Because I don’t recognise the person I am right now. I am not so rash, carefree, whimsical, BOLD. This is an anomaly. And for what it’s worth, I like who I am in my real life. I have my own little world that I am content with. My own principles, which I stand by. Taking an 8-10 hr flight for hook-ups does not really fit into my scheme of things. I’d much rather wait for a real relationship, stick to my beliefs.’

Jude listened intently, soaking in every said and unsaid thing, trying to get to the root of what was getting you so riled up.

But he had always been a straightforward person. Didn’t like living with regrets. Go after what you want was his mantra.

‘Do you like the person you are right now, with me?’

You stared open mouthed, connecting the dots of how he was trying to check-mate you.

‘I am not gonna play this game with you.’

‘It’s not a game. Maybe the universe is sending you a message.’

‘I highly doubt the universe would be messaging me to keep hooking up with you. Universe has better things to do than that.’

‘Has this been so forgettable for you, then?’

He knocked the wind out of your chest with the poignance of his words and the disarming vulnerability of his voice. You felt lightheaded, and reached for his arm to steady yourself. Your tone softened.

‘I - I never said that. Never meant that.’

‘Then why are you so cross with me? Looking at me like that. Was it so wrong to want to see you again?’

You scooted closer, towards his body heat, and rested your head on his shoulder.

‘Didn’t mean to. I guess shit just got too real when you said that.’

And because you hadn’t still fully come to terms with the choices you had made this weekend. Deciding to continue it will not let it remain an anomaly, and will go against everything you believe in. No, you can’t fall for this. Will have to resist the temptation that was this man. Cut the chord this weekend, for the sake of your sanity. And return to normalcy. Never letting a single soul know what happened here.

He was quiet. And still. Processing the rejection. You climbed into his lap, cupped his jaw, gazing into his turbulent eyes.

‘We still have half a day. Let’s not spoil our remaining time together?’

He didn’t say anything, just looked at you with a blank expression, and you threw your arms around his shoulders, hugging him close. Feeling a strange sense of guilt. But you hadn’t done anything wrong, this had always been the arrangement. He was anyway going to get bored of this (you) soon even if you had agreed to continue. This was for the best. A clean cut.

Then why was it eating away at you? Making your insides churn?

‘Please, Jude. Please, just..’

You snuggled your head into the crook of his neck, and felt his arms settle around you. He lifted you out of his lap and made you lay on your back, as his eyes roamed over you. And his mind worked extra time to arrive at a decision. You waited patiently.

‘How much do you like this dress?’

A lot.

‘Do whatever you want.’

He tore it off, ripping with force, taking his frustration out on it. Laying you bare for him.

But he wasn’t rough. No, what happened over the next hour was more intense than even any BDSM out there. 

Because, Jude made love to you. Worshipped your body. Touched you in ways that was ruining you for other men. Whispered such things in your ear that no other voice would ever be good enough. Looked at you with such longing & passion that you could see your image in his honeyed orbs. Kissed you so fervently that you were becoming addicted to his lips. Sucked your boobs so thoroughly that you almost came just from that. Ate you out with such determination like his life depended on it. Fucked you to oblivion, to the point you thought you were getting a stroke. Made you peak over & over, like he was trying to set a new record in the history of mankind. 

All while never breaking eye contact with you, never letting you slip away or hide from him.

You could tell he was proving a point, showing you what you would be missing out on. That the two of you still had a lot more to discover together. That only he could make you feel a certain way. And that sex with him can be like this also - more, different, real. Not just a sating of lust.

But you had to stay strong. Because if you fall, it’s gonna be a slippery slope. A bottomless pit. You had so much more to lose in this, because he clearly was not ready for anything more. Even if he didn’t fully realise that, you could tell as much. And this half-in, half-out arrangement would be a recipe for disaster in your life.

As your sweaty bodies laid intertwined with each others, basking in the afterglow, you couldn’t resist placing little kisses on his chest, earning sweet sighs from him.

It was almost evening now. Only a few more hours left with him. 

You had to pack, book your cab to the airport, do your web checkin. And call home - since you had been practically MIA for two days. So much to do, but you couldn’t move from his side. Just a few more mins like this.

Finally, you got up, moving around the room to gather your stuff. While he laid on his stomach, towards the edge of the bed, arms crossed & tucked under his chin, just watching you silently.

‘You…don’t have to stay if you are getting bored, you know.’

‘Do you want me to leave?’

You zipped your bag and kneeled in front of him, cupping his cheeks with both hands.

‘I want you to stay.’

‘I want you to stay too.’

You sighed, pressing your foreheads together, unable to respond in any other way. Because there was nothing to say.

‘How about dinner on the balcony? And some wine?’

You tried to sound enthused, looking at him expectantly. He gave in.

‘I have a bottle you’d really like.’

The dinner was light, neither of you in the mood for anything elaborate. The wine was heavenly though, you hummed appreciatively with every sip during your first glass. Later, both of you gulped it down fast, to fill in the awkward silence, emptying the bottle in an hour.

You swayed a little as you walked to the railing, soaking in the sound of the waves and the moonlight dancing on it.

Jude stayed on the couch, eyes firmly glued to you. The silver nightdress shone in the moonlight, creating a halo like effect. An elusive, mysterious fairy, who was flying away from him in a few hours. Never to be seen again. Pangs of a strange, hitherto unknown emotion gripped his heart.  And he closed the distance between you two, while he still could.

Strong arms came around your waist, holding you gently. You leaned back into his chest, as your hand reached behind to stroke his face.

‘Won’t you miss this?’

Wine had numbed your filters and inhibitions. You couldn’t lie anymore. Couldn’t pretend.

‘I will.’

‘No one special back home then? Someone who could make you feel this way?’

‘No.’

His lips brushed your shoulder, sending a shiver down your back. The cool night air adding to the charged touch, as his fingers played with the strap of your nightdress.

‘So let me have you till then. Till there is….till you find…..and then you can…..’

He couldn’t bring himself to say the rest - the sheer thought of you settling down with someone so unpleasant, like a punch in the gut.

‘If you are around, I won’t be able to.’

He was dangerous, so dangerous for your sanity.

He had gotten what he initially wanted - your body. Why wasn’t that enough? Why was he asking for more than you could give? Why did he want to come for your soul, your heart too?

‘You won’t know till you actually try. Maybe I’ll change your mind. Or maybe you’ll change mine.’

Another emotional whiplash with his thoroughly befuddling words. Chipping away at the carefully constructed shield around your heart.

It had to stop. This had to change course.

‘Please, this is the wine talking. You’ll be repeating this to someone else a few days later.’

‘You think so? You think I’d jump in bed with someone else straightway? Like tomorrow?’

His grip became firmer. On your body. And your senses.

‘Won’t you?’

‘Would you like that?’

‘It’s none of my business.’

‘WOULD YOU LIKE THAT? Answer me.’

‘Jude please…’

He flipped you by your waist, grabbing the back of your neck.

‘Stubborn. So stubborn.’

A wet, needy make-out ensued, where you met him halfway. Gripping your butt, he lifted you up as your legs wrapped around his waist. 

But he didn’t take you inside, settling on the balcony couch instead, making you straddle his thighs.

‘Not outside.’

‘Yes outside.’

‘But…’

‘It’s dark. No one can see us. Trust me.’

He lifted your nightdress over your head, pleased to find you naked underneath. His briefs were quickly discarded too, as he started to pull you down over himself, spearing you with this angle, while his mouth wreaked havoc on your chest, and his hands roamed your back with abandon.

For one last time, you submitted to him. Wholeheartedly. Just laying in his arms as he took you on a joyride. His hands doing most of the work when your legs couldn’t keep up with his thrusts.

‘How are you still so tight? After everything?’

Your body was filled with his marks and bruises, and you refused to even acknowledge the unseen marks he had left on you. The way he had penetrated the depths of your conscience. Clawing his way in.

Tears started to pool at the corner of your eyes, but you fought them valiantly. Not letting him see.

Jude had finally been able to put a finger on the strange emotion he had been feeling all day. It was desperation. He was desperate to not let you disappear forever. Feeling completely powerless - he’d never been on the receiving end of this before.

‘At least give me your Insta.’

He mumbled as you both were close, his strokes becoming sloppy.

‘I won’t follow. Won’t do anything to draw attention to you. But at least I’d be able to see you.’

But then he’d know who you were. Where you lived. Where you worked. He’d be able to find you, reach out to you. And this weekend won’t remain your secret only. 

‘Let me…think about that…yeah?’

You kissed him, shutting down any further protests, taking in the feel of his lips. For the final time. You moaned into each others mouths as you fell apart together. Wrapped around each other. Naked on a balcony. Under the dim moonlight. 

He carried you back to bed, settling in next to you. Both too emotionally & physically exhausted. You clung to him, moulding your body to his, snuggling into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent as you both willed yourselves to go to sleep. With a heavy heart.

Next morning, when he woke up, you were gone. Unable to handle the prospect of another goodbye, plus not wanting to wake him up after he had twisted & turned restlessly most of the night. Frankly, you weren’t sure you had it in you to leave if he woke up and looked at you in that trademark way of his.

He understood why you did what you did, looking around the now empty room. Not knowing what to do next. Feeling a sense of loss he didn’t know how to process. Needing a hug from his mum.

Just then, he saw a note on your pillow, carefully tucked under the TV remote.

‘I’ll always remember you. Please know, this was the only way.

Love,

Your first name.’

That made him smile. He said your name over & over, deciding it suited you perfectly. The signature making his heart flutter a bit.

He clicked a photo of the note. As a plan formed in his head. Of another post, drawing you back in. He knew you’d be checking his profile, maybe even following him by now. Yeah, he’d get you back, he just knew it already!

.............................................................

And there it is, the final chapter. This was meant to be a 2 part series but your love & feedback kept it going.

Thank you, I am so grateful. And I can't wait to hear your thoughts on this final instalment :)

[mediumgayitalian]

The best part of being his own camp counsellor is that he can wake up whenever the fuck he likes.

Nico’s a fan.

Because, however, his dumb ass made friends with the camp’s head medic, he doesn’t get to sleep in as often as he would like. He is instead often woken up before the clock strikes nine, which is a tragedy and one of the forty thousand reasons he is going to be present on Will’s judgement day. (The scales tip any which way on a regular basis, but as of last week, Will is going to hell. Unfortunate. Nico’ll still visit him, though. Bring him one half of a twizzler or something.) So when he wakes up, one lovely morning, mouth tasting like something rotted in it and sun well past halfway across the sky, he is capital-C Concerned.

What a horrible tragedy that is. Finally, for the first time in months, he was able to sleep in. And his first thought is not gratitude. Solace may indeed have to die — Nico was not this way before he started planting his annoying ass front and centre in Nico’s life. He’s quite fairly certain he used to be frightening and badass. Now Will orders him to drink milk for the sake of his calcium and he does. Gods.

“Morning,” he hedges, approaching the archery range, feeling marginally more alive than twenty minutes prior.

Kayla raises an amused eyebrow. “Dude, it’s, like, two.”

“Well fuck you, then.”

She smirks. “Aw, did baby not get his Sunshine fix of the day? Is that why he’s so grumpy?”

It really sucks that Will is so fond of his siblings. Nico wonders if Will would still like him if he knew how many times he daydreams of transporting Kayla onto the moon per day.

“As soon as I figure out which god would appreciate you as a sacrifice, you’re gone.”

“Yeah, right,” she snorts, turning away and lining up an arrow. She lets it fly, watching as it shaves a splinter off a hunk of wood fifty feet away. “You couldn’t get close enough to kick my ass before I’d skewer you, di Angelo.”

Remembering the warning arrow Kayla had shot through his shoulder last week, he wisely chooses not to press the matter any further. The power visibly goes to her head. Fuck.

“Just — tell me where Will is.”

“Why?” She strings another arrow. The grin on her face is a level of shit-eating that Nico has only before seen on a Stoll. She should spend less time around Julia, or else the camp is in for some serious trouble. “What are your intentions with my dear brother?”

Nico, on principle, refuses to answer that question. Kayla shrugs, finishing her shot and then turning around to stick her tongue out at him.

“No answer, no location! Find him yourself, loverboy. And remember that I am always watching.”

Stomping away, and ignoring the smile twitching at his lips — she is so annoying, truly, gods above he owes Bianca a thousand apologies for ever opening his mouth — he heads towards the infirmary. There are only six locations Will is at any given time, after all, except when he disappears for several hours randomly but Nico doesn’t know how to bring that up yet. As he approaches the infirmary, though, he hears it absolutely blasting with music, like genuinely shaking the ground a little bit, and knows exactly where to find him.

As he approaches the door, wincing at the door, he finds it closed. Odd — Will likes a breeze when he works. Even odder is the hastily-written sign pasted onto it:

ANNUAL CLEAN OUT DAY. IF YOU NEED ME, TOUGH SHIT. IF YOU NEED A BANDAID, TOUGH SHIT. IF YOU’RE BLEEDING OUT, CALL AN AMBULANCE AND PRAY. I AM BUSY.

(‘Busy’ is underlined three times.)

In smaller print, under the all-caps monstrosity, is:

Unless you’re Nico, in which case disregard the previous sentiment. No, Cecil, this does NOT mean you.

The note is written again in Ancient Greek, Latin, Spanish, Portuguese, French, Mandarin, Italian, Polish, Korean, Morse Code, and another ten languages Nico can’t even name. Actually, wait — the top left is Klingon. And middle right note does not appear to be language, showing instead a poorly drawn stick figure in armour being shoved into a cannon and shot into the sun by another poorly drawn stick figure in a lab coat. Nico loves a man who’s multi-talented, indeed.

Hesitantly, Nico cracks open the door. He is immediately assaulted by a solid wall of sound, and then nearly bowled over by the enigma himself, William ‘I Can Restructure A Human Brain But Cannot Tie My Shoelaces’ Solace. He catches himself at the last second, and then barely manages to catch Will, grabbing him around the waist just before his head hits the floor.

“Nico!” he shouts over the music, smiling brightly. “Hi! You’re here!”

“I’m here.” He can physically feel his voice cracking, but luckily the music drowns it out. Hopefully. “Uh, what’re you doing?”

“Cleaning!” Will straightens up, although he stays within the circle of Nico’s arms. Nico tries real hard to keep his gaze firmly planted on his face and not on the hands he still has in his hips. “I do it once a year, kick everybody out and deep clean the place. Helps keep it fresh and minimize the bloodstains on the floor.”

“Ah. And the music…”

“It’s fun!” Will shouts. He gasps when the CD player skips and a new song comes on, heavy base and funky synths blasting so hard the window panes shake. “Oh my gods! I love this one!” He turns his bright grin at Nico full force, absolutely no holdbacks on the dimples or freckles, gods help him, and bows cheekily. “Can I have this dance, good sir?”

“It’s Britney Spears’ Outrageous,” Nico protests weakly.

“Yeah!”

…Very, very weakly.

“…Okay.”

Will whoops, grabbing his hands and spinning him around. Nico yelps, nearly tripping over a cot, but when he looks back up Will has his eyes closed and is shimmying not unlike a worm on a fish hook, and it’s so ridiculous that he can’t help but laugh. Will pries one eye open, grinning widely, and shimmies harder.

“You’re such a dweeb!”

“Join me in the dweebiness! Free yourself!”

Nico rolls his eyes fondly, squeezing Will’s hand, and lets himself get ridiculous. He’ll deny it if anyone asks, but it’s fun.

…And not just because Will is next to him, smile brighter than any star, dancing like a massive dork, hand clasped in his.

[officialaemondtargaryen]

Invisible String

❝and isn't it just so pretty to think that all along there was some invisible string tying you to me.❞

Summary: You are having a pretty strange week and you just happen to run into the same guy every single day at the same coffee shop. He could be stalking you, or it could be fate. You aren’t totally sure.

Pairing: Modern Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: ~3.2k

Author’s Note: This is a re-write of an old fic of mine. I'm in my re-writing era and this is Megan's Version. Anyways, here's some fluff. I hope that you are absolutely disgusted by it.

Warnings: language and cuteness.

Monday morning.

The bane of your existence. 

It didn’t help that you were hungover; head pounding, pleading with you to go back to sleep after your best friend convinced you to go out for karaoke on a Sunday night. Who in their right mind decided that karaoke on a Sunday night would be a good idea? You did. Not your best decision, you had to admit, and one you immediately came to regret as your alarm continuously reminded you that you needed to get up. You only had about eight minutes before you were to leave your apartment in order to make it to work on time, and it typically took you an hour to get ready– thirty minutes on a good day. You were absolutely pressing your luck with eight. 

You rushed into the kitchen, making a beeline towards your Keurig. Brewing yourself a cup of coffee was typically the first thing you did every morning, like clockwork; placing the disposable cardboard cup underneath the spout and setting it to automatic, allowing it to brew while you moved on to other things in your morning routine. It was always the perfect temperature by the time you came back to it.  

“Shit!” You cursed with a mouth full of toothpaste after realizing you’d completely missed the sink and a long line of frothy spit had dripped down to the front of your shirt. It was the only clean blouse that you had, and you definitely didn’t have time to go rummaging through your closet to find something else. With limited options available, you tell yourself that no one will notice and hurriedly swipe at the glob of mint green paste from your left boob. 

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, the stain jumped out at you as if it were a flashing sign, look at me! You knew you’d be self conscious about it throughout the day and that everyone would, in fact, notice, and opted for a black blazer to hopefully cover up your mistake. Once you were satisfied with your appearance– as satisfied as you had the time to be– you rushed out the door; your bag falling off of your shoulder as you tried to scrape your hair back into the neatest bun you could manage without brushing your hair, practically sprinting towards the bus stop, hoping that you’d make it on time.

It wasn’t until you got there, waiting with what seemed like the entire population of this accursed city, that you realized you had never even gone back to the kitchen for your coffee after you had started getting ready. It was still sitting there cold, and lonely, and untouched– just like you felt right now, standing at the bus stop, no coffee to warm your hands. 

You could just go to work, clock in on time, and drink that bagged shit your company supplies for the break room, but on a Monday and with the morning you’ve already had, that just wasn’t an option. You could see the bus headed your way but ultimately stepped out of the crowd and headed in the direction of the nearest coffeeshop, which thankfully was only two blocks up. 

As soon as you walked through the door and into the warmth of the cafe, you inwardly cringed at the sight of the six people waiting in line. There was really no point in complaining about it, you were already here and you had already missed the bus, and you were already going to be late. You had no option but to wait patiently in line behind some blonde guy in a suit. 

Your cellphone vibrated in your hand as you vaguely heard the man order a blueberry muffin and a latte. It was your boss, fuck. You silenced the phone call and decided to send them a quick text message instead, promising that you’d be there soon and made up some story about how the bus was late due to traffic. 

Still looking down at your phone, you thought you saw the man take a step to the side out of your peripheral vision, and you stepped forward towards the register. Only he hadn’t stepped to the side, and you stepped right into him, and your face collided with his back. When you went to take a step backwards, you tripped over the woman behind you and ended up falling on your ass. 

“I am so sorry!” You exclaimed, looking up at the man that you had just stepped into. Your cheeks warm at the sight of him, feeling infinitely more embarrassed when you see how attractive he is. “I thought I saw you move to the next register.”

He smiled and suddenly everything was okay, like you didn’t just trip and fall in front of like fifty people. 

“S’okay, love,” he replied, holding out his hand to help you up. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” you replied, trying your hardest to play it cool. “That was totally planned.”

He laughs, once again flashing an angelic smile, “you’re a great actress, then.”

“Thanks,” you say as you dust off your pants. “I rehearsed that for weeks.”

He seemed to think you were being wildly clever as his head dropped back and a genuine bout of laughter escaped his throat. The people behind you in line were becoming clearly irritated, one even stepping around you to keep the line moving. Typically, you would have protested but you suddenly didn’t care about the time or that you had been cut in line. 

“Aegon?” The barista called out.

“That’s me,” his smile faltered just enough for you to notice. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“In a city with a population of 8.4 million people, I highly doubt that,” you step back in line after checking with the person behind you to make sure it was okay. “Have a good day.”

The man named Aegon still smiled, his head nodding to you before stepping out into the crowded city streets. If you were brave, you would have asked for his number, but instead you watched the door while you waited for your drink to be made; hoping that he would come back and sweep you off your feet.

You allowed yourself to live in that fantasy for a little while, until you became too busy at work and eventually forgot about the handsome stranger you had met in the coffee shop. 

Tuesday was worse. 

It wasn’t because you had a hangover or because you had woken up late again. In fact, it was quite the opposite. You were feeling pretty great on this particular morning. The sun was shining, it was a beautiful day, and you had given yourself plenty of time for your usual morning routine; shower, makeup, clothes, coffee. The Spotify algorithm was providing you with a perfect soundtrack for your commute to the bus stop until–

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” 

You screeched as a double-breasted, suit-wearing businessman bumped into you and your coffee went flying towards the concrete; all over the ground, all over you. And for a moment, time stops as you could do nothing but stand there, completely shocked. The audacity he had to not only keep walking as if he hadn’t just ruined your perfect morning– and your shoes– but to yell back at you that you were the one who needed to watch where you were going. 

You hadn’t even gotten to take a sip of that coffee yet. 

Thankfully, Starbucks was only two blocks up, and you could make a pitstop for a refill and to clean yourself up and the coffee out of your shoes. Before you stepped in line, you made a beeline for the cream bar, hurriedly pulling napkins from the dispenser to shove them into the toes of your shoes. A few people in the lobby had begun to stare, and you sighed in defeat. This was frustrating that you were, once again, embarrassing yourself and making a scene in the same Starbucks two days in a row. 

“You know, in a city with a population of 8.4 million people,” you heard as you tried to dry off your tights. Looking up, you noticed the same man from yesterday. What was his name? Aegon, right? “Call me crazy, but I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we bumped into each other again.” 

“Maybe you’re stalking me,” you retorted with a sarcastic smile.

“Stalking the girl who’s spilled coffee all over herself?” He asked, eyes crinkling at the sides from the wide smile on his face. “I don’t know about that.”

You didn’t say anything, still a little irritated that you were even in this predicament, and now running into this handsome stranger again. Typically, you’d be elated to see him again, but not today.

“Let me buy you a coffee?” He asked, breaking the awkward silence that had grown between the two of you after he just stood there watching you try to blot the stain out of your white blouse. “It looks like you’re not having the best day.”

“Thanks for the offer, but not today,” you replied.

“Well, maybe tomorrow then?” 

“Yeah,” you said as you laughed through your nose, knowing that there was no possible way that you would see him again tomorrow unless he really was stalking you. “Tomorrow, for sure.”

He gave you another one of those remarkable smiles and nodded his head, “okay, I’ll see you then.”

Wednesday was better.

You woke up with a smile on your face and you gingerly started your routine, making your way towards your Keurig. It was the middle of the week; only three more days to go and you’d be free for the weekend. You already had plans for a Succession marathon and itched to make a home on your couch for the next two days with all of your favorite snacks and blankets.

But when you went to grab one of those tiny, plastic pods from the box, it was empty. You had told yourself yesterday that you needed to stop and grab coffee and milk, but had completely forgotten once your day had unraveled after that douchebag shouldered you on the sidewalk. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

You always believed that one should enjoy the little things, but this week, it seemed as if those little things were on a mission to ruin your week. This time, you decided on the locally owned coffee shop that was only a block from your apartment. You passed by every day on your way to the bus stop, but they were typically so busy that you just didn’t have time to wait.

Today, they were surprisingly not nearly as busy as they usually were, in fact, they were almost completely empty. You still smiled at the barista as you walked right up to the counter without having to wait in line. 

“Could I please have a mocha latte, please?” You asked politely. 

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the barista replied with a frown. “We were supposed to get our delivery sometime last night but there was a mix-up with the trucks, and we’re kinda out of everything. There’s a sign on the door.”

Of course you didn’t see the sign until you were leaving, frustrated, and stepping out onto the sidewalk with only one option; Starbucks. 

This time you were prepared to see the good-looking stranger again, if fate were to have it; you were not covered in coffee, you did not have to rush on your way out the door, you were having a good hair day. Yet, as you stepped into the cool air conditioning of the corporate chain, you were saddened that you didn’t spot that golden halo of soft, blonde hair anywhere. You should have known not to get your hopes up, as the odds of seeing him three days in a row were slim and none. As you stepped up to the register you laughed at yourself, at how disappointed you were, as if you actually had a chance. 

You stood off to the side, scrolling through your phone while waiting for the barista to call your name. It was then that out of the corner of your eye, you see that in walks a handsome, blonde stranger. Your heart skips a beat for only a second before it registers that he’s not your blonde stranger. He locks eyes with you for only a second and you offer him a small, disappointed smile. 

“Your mocha,” the barista says and holds out the warm beverage to you. 

“Thanks,” you reply, your voice despondent. 

When you turn for the exit, your eyes are drawn to the corner of the room- to a comfortable, brown leather chair next to the window. There, sits Aegon, the man who had somehow just happened to be here, every single day, at the same time as you. The man who is probably stalking you, and if he wasn’t, he probably thought you were stalking him. You couldn’t even blame it on timing– Monday you were late, Tuesday you were early, today you were right on time. Given outside factors, things like this typically do not happen. 

He’s reading the paper and there’s a cup of coffee and a half-eaten scone sitting on a plate in front of him. Your lips curl into a smile as you say to him, “we’ve got to stop running into each other like this.” 

Aegon looks up at you, surprise washing over his face before an enthusiastic smile begins growing on his lips. However, as soon as his eyes notice the drink in your hand, his smile immediately disappears, “I thought I was buying today?” 

“I didn’t see you until I had already ordered,” you replied. “How about tomorrow?”

“Deal,” he nodded..

“Are you sure you’re not stalking me?” You asked, eyes narrowing.

He threw his head back in laughter, “I’m definitely not a stalker.”

“That’s what a stalker would say,” you glanced down at your watch and realized that you should get going before you miss the bus. “See you tomorrow!”

On Thursday, you were convinced.

You had spent most of the day yesterday discussing with your coworker about what had been happening to you over the last week. You’d walked through every different day and what had happened prior to you arriving at Starbucks. You had talked conspiracy theories and the invisible string theory, and eventually you both ended up coming to the same conclusion– you both agreed that it was best for you to not go to Starbucks today.

You didn’t believe in fate, or soulmates, or twin flames, but as you stood in front of your Keurig as it made the most god awful sound, you were starting to change your mind. You tried turning it off and back on, unplugging it and plugging it back in, but the diagnosis was that it had finally died.

After six wonderful years and all of college.

Any other day you’d stop at Starbucks and grab a coffee in place of your homemade cup, but you swore that you wouldn’t today, and you were not waiting in line at the one on the way to the bus stop. It didn’t help that you were actually looking forward to the nasty breakroom coffee, only to get to work and realize that the office had run out of coffee. The effects of the caffeine withdrawal had set in by lunchtime and your migraine was splitting. Needless to say, you were irritable and exhausted by the time you had clocked out. Everything seemed to be grinding your nerves; even something as simple as the person sitting next to you on the bus talking on their phone. 

Despite promising yourself that you wouldn’t go to Starbucks today, you found yourself standing at the counter, ordering a latte and a sandwich. It was later in the evening, the sun was setting, and you were certain that you would not be running into Aegon at this time of night and so after you grabbed your coffee, you sat in one of the comfy, leather chairs and started replying to some emails.

You had been there for about an hour, most of the patrons had left. The baristas had begun cleaning up for the evening and the shop was getting ready to close when the door swung open, letting in a gusty breeze.

“No way,” you whispered to yourself as you watched a very tired-looking Aegon walk up to the counter and order a latte. He was so out of it that he didn’t even notice you until he sat down in the chair directly across from yours, and looked up to see you staring right at him. 

“I told you,” he said as he let out a tired laugh.

You just shook your head at him in disbelief.

“I was called into work early today and I couldn’t come in this morning,” he said with a smirk. “I was certain I wouldn’t be seeing you today.”

“My Keurig broke, and when I got to work they didn’t have any coffee, so I figured I’d stop in and grab a cup before heading home,” you replied.

You sat there and talked to him until the manager kicked the two of you out, and he ended up walking you to your apartment, even though it was in the opposite direction of where he was going. He was sweet and funny, and you found yourself laughing at almost every joke. 

“So tomorrow?” You asked when you stopped in front of your building.

“How about dinner instead of coffee?” He asked, rather boldly, taking you by surprise. “I know we don’t really know each other but I’d like to change that.”

“I’d like that, too,” you smiled, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Wanna chance it and see if we show up at the same restaurant at the same time?”

“The ultimate test of fate, eh?” He asked, rubbing his chin as he mulled over your offer for a moment. “Can’t risk it, how about you just meet me at Ray’s at seven.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” you exhale a soft laugh.

“Perfect,” he says and takes your hand, offering a tender kiss to your knuckles. “I’ll see you then, love.”

Friday was perfect. 

Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary happened. Though, thinking back on it now, maybe those seemingly bizarre incidents this past week weren’t actually out of the ordinary at all. Maybe the forgotten coffee on Monday, the spilled latte on Tuesday, the late delivery on Wednesday, and caffeine withdrawal on Thursday were all meant to happen; everything playing out perfectly in order for you to be walking up to Ray’s at exactly 6:54 PM. 

Aegon stood outside, a smile bright enough to put the sun to shame. As your eyes met, a wave of warmth washed over you, dispelling any lingering doubts you may have had. This felt right. 

This felt like fate.

[russo-woso]

You’re doing amazing || Lionesses/Arsenal/Alessia Russo

Request | Masterlist | Prompt list

Warning postpartum depression

Summary the first few weeks having a newborn are hard, but they’re harder than you think

You spent two days at the hospital after Missy was born.

It was perfect, she was perfect.

You’d never felt so much love for someone.

The moment you set eyes on her, you knew she was your whole world.

The first night with her was hard.

Alessia stayed the night, sleeping in the most uncomfortable chair, but she refused to leave you and Missy.

Missy woke up about eight times in total, sometimes she was hungry so you’d feed her.

Sometimes she needed changing, but most times, it was all just because she wanted to be held.

Whether she was in your arms, or Alessia’s, she was happy.

The hospital bed was so uncomfortable too, the mattress like a lump of rocks.

So when it was announced that you and Missy could go home, you were ecstatic.

You were happy to have your own bed back, and you were happy to be going home with your baby girl.

The minute you got home, you collapsed on the sofa but clearly, Missy was unhappy letting you relax because not even seconds later, a small cry was heard followed by a loud one.

“Oh, bubba, what’s wrong? Mama’s here. I’ve got you.” You cooed, resting her on your chest.

“Is Missy not happy?” Alessia cooed, striking her thumb across missy’s cheek.

“She just wanted to be held.” You explained, pressing your lips to missy’s head.

Missy fell asleep straight away at the feeling of your touch, her little face relaxed as she slept.

But putting her in her Moses basket was like setting dynamite off.

As soon as you laid her down, she burst out crying.

“Oh, missy.”

Unbeknownst to you, this would become an occurring situation.

Like at 2:30 in the morning. You’d fed and burped missy, letting her fall asleep in your arms before moving her to her crib.

But the second you took your arms away, she cried.

This was the fourth time tonight this had happened.

You sighed, picking her up again and watching her fall asleep straight away.

“Bubba, mama’s tired and auntie lessi probably is too. Please stop crying.” You whispered calmly, placing her down in the crib and putting her dummy in her mouth.

Still, she spat the dummy out and continued to cry.

A small knock was heard at the door and alessia poked her head round.

“She being difficult?” Alessia questioned and you nodded, tears escaping your eyes now.

“She won’t stop crying, less. I feed her, I burp her, I change her, I give her her dummy, and she still cries. I don’t know what to do.” You broke down, alessia wrapping her arms around you.

“It’s okay, hon. She’s three days old, she’s still getting used to everyone and everything. It’ll stop in a few days, I promise.” Alessia explained

You trusted her, but boy was she wrong.

Still a month later, missy was still crying constantly.

You’d gone to the doctors and they said it was normal, babies tend to cry for that long.

It had gotten to the point now that She’d cry even when you were holding her.

You’d changed a lot too. You were always sad, you had no energy, most days you didn’t even feel like doing anything.

When football was on and you’d watch it with Alessia or if one of the other girls had come round to watch it, you’d find yourself staring at the wall.

You were just not yourself.

When missy woke up in the early hours of the morning a few days later, you knew something was wrong.

You had googled it and searched how long a baby should be crying for and missy cried for nearly double what the normal time was.

You picked her up hesitantly, bringing her to your chest and shushing her.

You’d only fed her half an hour ago so she wasn’t hungry.

She’d also just been burped and changed.

Yet, even with your touch, missy continued to cry.

Something was wrong with her, the scrunch of her face showed you that she was in pain.

But, although knowing this, the crying got to much for you.

“Stop crying! I can’t do anything.” You shouted at the month old baby, tears running down your cheeks.

Alessia came knocking on the door again, a worried expression on her face.

“She just won’t stop. I don’t know what to do. I know It sounds bad, less, but I don’t want her here and that makes me feel like such a shit mum, but I just—” You turned to explain but your emotions got to you and you broke down crying.

“Hey, it’s okay. Calm down.” Alessia said soothingly, bringing your shaking body on to her. “Listen, hon, I think it’s best if you go see the doctor, both of you.”

“Why me?” You asked, sniffling.

“I think you’ve got postpartum depression.”

You nodded, knowing you’d got a lot of the symptoms for postpartum depression.

“And at the same time, they can check missy over.” Alessia said, looking at the now silent and sleeping baby.

That night, alessia let you fall asleep on her. She got up every time missy awoke, letting you have the best night sleep in months.

The very next morning, you went to see a doctor.

The doctor say you down and diagnosed you with postpartum depression and explained some things that could help you with it.

Then, she looked over Missy. After you telling the doctor that you thought Missy was in pain, the doctor immediately knew what was wrong.

“I think Missy might have a dairy intolerance.” The doctor told you

“A diary intolerance?”

“You eat cheese and milk and dairy, don’t you?” The GP questioned you and you nodded in response. “The food you eat affects your breast milk. So, the dairy has been affecting Missy, causing pain and discomfort. Try cutting dairy from your diet and see if it helps. If that doesn’t work, come back and we’ll run further tests.”

You nodded, placing Missy in her car seat and walking out.

“So, what’s the prognosis?” Alessia asked as you got into her car.

“I’ve been diagnosed with postpartum depression. I have to do activities which will calm me and relax me. And she thinks Missy has a diary intolerance. I have to stop eating dairy because it affects my breast milk.” You said, looking back to see Missy fast asleep in her car seat. “We’ll see if it works or not.”

—

To your surprise, the very next day after you cut diary from your diet, Missy stopped crying.

It was like she was a different baby.

She only cried at night when she was hungry.

And in general, she only cried when she needed changing, or when she was hungry, or in some cases, she just wanted you.

Similarly, you were a completely different person.

You found a reason to smile everyday, you were just so happy again.

Everyday, you took time out to relax and think about what was good in your life.

And most importantly, you found a way to bond with your little girl.

You were currently living your best life with Missy.

She was your everything. Your best friend, the reason you smile everyday, and your whole world.

[justwinginglife]

High Score

Based off of the song "Good Graces" from Sabrina Carpenter's new album Short n Sweet (I told yall I was obsessed with it).

“It is literally not that hard to keep a girl happy.” 

After going on three different dates with three different Defense Force Officers, you’d huffed and puffed to Okonogi, to Mina, to Nakanoshima, to anyone who would listen, all morning about how men had no game, how they were disappointing, how they couldn’t keep a relationship alive if they had a gun to their heads. And you’d honestly considered holding your gun to their heads; you wondered if drilling the barrel through their temples would spur some semblance of romance from their dumb asses. 

The first man you’d gone out with had tried to compliment your date attire and failed miserably. He’d said that you should wear that dress more often because it made you look less fat than your usual officer’s uniform. You didn’t even sit down at the table, you were out the door in two seconds flat. 

The second man was great. His demeanor was pleasant, his humor was entertaining, and he was easy on the eyes. But about 25 minutes into the date, his girlfriend discovered his infidelity and came storming into the restaurant, murder and mayhem in her eyes. You’d almost rooted for her when she’d slapped him so hard she broke the sound barrier, and when she left him reeling in the shock of it all, you followed her right out the door. You even had drinks with her afterwards, enjoying -and encouraging- her furious ranting in between bitter shots. 

The third man made it a whole hour into the date before asking when you were going to stop being a tease and let him take you home. At this point in your dating career, you expected nothing but disappointment, so when he finally blurted out his demands, you were more amused than anything that he’d been silently suffering for a whole hour. And of course, you had your fun with him; you felt you were owed at least a good time if not a good date. For wasting your night, you repaid him by edging him on for another hour, coaxing his lust out with pretty words, purred in his ear, with your foot teasing its way up his leg, until he was engorged to the point of excruciating pain, then you left him alone with nothing more than his agony for company. 

It’d become well known among the men that you were hard to date, and well known among the women that the men of the Defense Force were hard to love. At least the ones you went out with. Every disastrous date turned into a word of warning for the women, and they eagerly awaited your updates, curious to know which men to avoid. The men began noticing their dwindling romantic prospects and, their pride on the line, they set out to prove you wrong. 

Soon, a line of suitors filed through your door, every man puffing out their chest, every man arrogantly claiming they could do better than the last. You hadn’t expected such a reception, but your amusement got the better of you, and one by one you agreed to go out with each man. Then, one by one, they all failed. 

Most made it a day or two, some a couple days, some a couple weeks; each one making mistake after mistake, each one more disappointing than the last. One man made it a whole 2 months and then he forgot your birthday and did little to make up for forgetting. You wondered if you should resign yourself to a life alone. You wondered if men were even capable of treating a girl right.

Then the buzz of your dating life reached the ears of the First Division’s Captain. And to your surprise, Gen Narumi, the man who hated to leave the cozy confines of his office, the man who was infamously uninterested in anything besides the latest video games, the man who was aloof, who was blunt, who was sometimes downright unpleasant, had decided to throw his hat into the ring. You were more fascinating than his electronics; the prize of your approval more enticing than any game. 

In no time at all, Narumi had claimed the highest score- you’d been his girlfriend for a whole 3 months, and it was the longest anyone had ever kept you. He’d spoil you with his salary, butter you up with compliments (it wasn’t hard; you kept pace with him on the battlefield well, he had much to praise), and tear the breath straight from your lungs with his devastating kisses. You wondered if this was the moment you would finally fall in love. He’d planned to keep his winning streak going, but then his old habits began slinking their way back into the relationship. He’d promise to take you out for dinner and then his games would consume him and he’d forget your existence. On joint missions, you’d advise him on the best course of action, and he’d blatantly ignore you, thoroughly embarrassing you in front of the whole division as he recklessly went off on his own yet again. You gave him time to clean up his act, still clinging to the first semblance of a good relationship you’d had in awhile. But then you couldn’t take it anymore- you dumped him when month 4 came around.

Vice Captain Hoshina, who had been more than entertained just watching this whole game play out, who had been more than content just watching from the sidelines, suddenly felt the urge to try his hand at your heart. He’d always found you interesting, found your spunk refreshing, found your skills impressive, found your looks enticing, but he was just never in the mood for a relationship. Watching your increasing frustration and Narumi’s increasing stupidity made him realize he wasn’t satisfied with his position on the bench anymore. He’d show Narumi, show all the other men, show the world how it was done. You deserved better and he was the best. 

When he first expressed interest in dating you, part of you was skeptical and reserved. You thought he might just be using you to piss off Narumi. You didn’t completely mind if he was, because you could admit that you’d used many men to get free food and free gifts, knowing it wasn’t going to last, but some part of you couldn’t bear the thought of that happening with him. You greatly respected him as your Vice Captain, and more than that, you enjoyed his company as a friend. You couldn’t stand it if your relationship with him went up in flames, if you had to stop looking for him in hallways, eager for your next training session, if you had to stop saving jokes for him that you thought he’d love, if you had to stop sharing earpods on the transport, listening to your favorite album together on the way to your next mission. 

But your caution quickly turned into curiosity, and before you knew it, you were dating the Vice Captain. You thought to yourself that even if he was just using you to get under Narumi’s skin, you were okay with that, as his little schemes amused you greatly. Once, you’d been out on a date at the mall when Hoshina spotted Narumi a couple aisles away. Of course, Hoshina remembered that Narumi would complain that all you would do was kiss him and nothing else, so Hoshina got it in his head that when Narumi finally turned around to find you on a date with him, he should be holding up lingerie for you to try. Narumi almost blew a gasket demanding to know why Hoshina was allowed to get to homebase with you within the first week of dating when it took him almost a month to even be allowed to hold your hand. Hoshina had looked at you, interested to hear your response, and he was extremely impressed (and amused) by your quick wit, when you simply shrugged, said Hoshina was bigger and walked up to checkout with the lingerie Hoshina had scrambled to find, not even bothering to check if he’d grabbed your size or not. Narumi was fuming the rest of the week and his Vice Captain even went so far as pleading with you to stop pissing him off because it was causing the First Division a lot of trouble. If Hoshina was amused before, now he was thoroughly entertained. 

The two of you got into all sorts of trouble together and it was the most fun you’d had in your entire life. You didn’t even have time to wonder if it was possible to fall for him, you were both in love before you knew it. 

And he always pulled out all the stops for you. 

If someone brought you a flower bouquet, Hoshina would fill your entire living room with them. If someone took you out to a nice dinner, Hoshina would reserve the entire restaurant for the two of you to enjoy. If someone complimented you, Hoshina would leave love letters and sticky notes all around your house for you to find, with things he loved about you written all over them. There was no end to his devotion and adoration of you. If you asked for the sun, you were sure he’d bring the moon and all the stars along with it. 

You’d fallen so in love with him, so quickly, so deeply, so desperately, that you were sure you could excuse any mistake he could ever or would ever make. If he stole something, you’d drive the getaway car. If he killed someone, you’d bring the shovel. Wherever he went, you’d follow. If he wanted to vacation in Hell, you’d bring ice packs and a fan. 

When you finally did get married to him, Hoshina sent Narumi a wedding invite with the words “Looks like I’ve got the high score now” written on the top and you fell in love with him all over again.

[notyourhetloki]

sleepover (Ken x GN Reader)

Reader: gender neutral

/Ken x Doll!Reader/

A/N: Hey! So... my requests are closed BUT with you'd like anything about this pretty himbo I would love to write it! Just send me a message ;)

Warnings: Technically SFW but very suggestive themes, I think "kissing laying down" would be equivalent to sex in Barbieland so… yeah. THEY DON'T HAVE GENITALS.

—

Now that Ken was your official boyfriend and you had gone on several dates together, you decided it was time for the next step.

When you invited Ken for a sleepover at your house, he almost burst into tears at how happy he was... but of course, he tried playing it cool. "Sure, doll."

In your bedroom, you watched movies as you played dress up, trying to match as many outfits as possible. You painted each other's nails and brushed each other's hair, gossiping about other dolls... you had a lot of fun!

As the night continued, you grew closer and closer to each other. Sitting on your bed with thighs and shoulders touching. He just couldn't wait any longer, so he went for it eventually.

Ken kissed you tenderly at first, holding the side of your face with one hand and holding yours with the other. You had kissed a hundred times by now, but it always felt like the first time...

Then, the kiss deepened. Ken was now holding you by the waist, desperate for some more contact... you hummed in approval as his tongue grazed yours and he smiled against your lips.

You parted to breathe, and a thought came to your mind... it felt a little dirty, but you assumed Ken wouldn't judge you. "Ken, what if... what if we like, kiss but... laying down?"

He gasped, putting his hand against his mouth. You soon realized he was blushing HARD, and you regretted saying anything. "Sorry! Am I going too fast? I didn't want to-"

"No! It's ok! I mean, I didn't think you'd ask, but... I'm down for it. I... really want to." Ken looked at you with soft blue eyes, almost pleading. He would never admit it but he was really needy, and just the thought of being more intimate with you made him shake in excitement.

"Oh! Ok, then... c'mere, baby." He loved when you called him 'baby', so he gladly obliged, laying down next to you on your bed. You started kissing immediately, hands roaming all over.

After what felt like a few minutes, Ken suddenly moved to be on top of you, kissing your jaw, then down your neck... A sound escaped your throat and you weren't quite sure what it was. But you liked it... really much.

"Ken... you're so good..." you whispered, and immediately you felt him shiver. God how he loved to be praised... it made his entire day, week even. He adored being praised by YOU specifically, and those words... in these circumstances... it made him feel something he didn't quite understand yet. Like a heat in his chest, in his belly... he wanted more.

"(Y/N)... please... say that again..." His eyes suddenly darker by his blown-out pupils, mouth slightly agape, hair all messy... he looked beautiful.

"You're so good, Ken... You're amazing..." You were cut out by his mouth crashing into yours, lips working fiercely while tongues danced around. It was messy, something you two were not accustomed to. It felt dirty but so good... you grasped Ken by his hair and he hummed in approval, while he grabbed at your waist and thighs, making you whine.

He eventually moved to your neck again, and you had the chance to think out loud. "This is how they do it in the Real World, right?"

Slightly out of breath, Ken looked up at you and responded. "Most definitely."

You two would make out for hours, grabbing and touching and kissing until you grew tired and decided to sleep. You hugged Ken from behind while he adjusted in your bed, completely overjoyed.

In the morning, while having breakfast, you two discussed the night before. "Woah... it was awesome. Like, the best experience I've ever had!" Ken exclaimed energetically. "Maybe next time we can do it like the movies?"

You looked at him in innocent confusion, expecting him to elaborate. "You know, with... less clothes..." His head was slightly down, so his eyes went up to meet yours, just like a puppy. You blushed hard at the thought, but smiled and nodded, seeing his expression change from pleading to relief to happiness in a matter of seconds. "Cool."

"Like the movies, huh? How long have you been thinking about that?"

"Uh... for a while now." He admitted, bringing his hand behind his head and flexing his bicep in the process, drawing a big smile from you.

"So... do you have any plans for tonight?" You asked mischievously, resting your head on your hands.

Ken looked right into your eyes before licking his lips and imitating your pose. "For you, I'm always available."

—

[actuallysaiyan]

The First Time(Aka How Nanami Kento Lost His Virginity)Chapter Five: Drink Water To Cry Better

Chapter Five: Drink Water To Cry Better

warnings: mentions of alcohol, partying, slight suggestive themes, angst, bullying pairings: Emo!Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader summary: you and Kento get invited to a frat house party and he decides to take you out even though he much rather stay in. you two have been getting closer, despite your own denial about your feelings for him. during a drunken make-out session, Kento soon learns what he believes is the truth about your relationship. things are left unsaid and things are colder than ice.

taglist: @beneathstarryskies @seireiteihellbutterfly @kenpachisbrat.

@marikuchanxo @harlekin6 @gennaray @markleeisdabestdrug

@entirelysein-e @brokennerdalert. @sugurusprettygirl

Masterlist

As the weeks go by, you and Kento find yourselves teetering on the edge of being in a relationship and still remaining casual. You really are falling so deeply in love with him, but you’re in denial. You try your best to remind yourself that this is just a college fling, but you wonder if maybe you could really be in a committed relationship with someone like him.

At night, you think of him. Even while in your bed alone, you cling to your pillow and wish he was here with you. In the last little bit, he’s been staying the night even though he’s not really supposed to be. You’ve dusted off your old Nintendo 64 for the two of you to play Ocarina of Time well into the wee hours of morning. If you’re not playing Legend of Zelda, you two are falling asleep to AVGN playing on your clunky laptop.

Kento has found a place in your heart, and you fear you won’t be able to let him go. You don’t want to consider him exclusive, but you are also not eager to share him with anyone else.

As the second semester comes to a close, you and Kento find yourselves invited to a party at a —---. He’s finding excuses not to go, but the minute you say you might want to go for just a bit, he sees the appeal in it.

“I think it could be fun,” you mention as you two have lunch together at your favorite cafe. “It’s a good way to unwind after exams.”

Kento nods and sips his coffee. “Yeah, I guess I never really saw it that way,”

“Will you come with me? I wouldn’t wanna go without you.”

This makes his heart flutter. Kento, on his end, has found himself completely head over heels for you. He’s gone through his denial phase a while back. He had tried his best to hide his feelings for you, but the more you two hung out, the more he found himself just hanging on to your every word. The more he would take an extra second to admire you.

And with every moment that passed between you two, he longed for the day that he could fully call you all his. He wanted to hold you in his arms, post-coitus and in that beautiful afterglow and to finally whisper those three words to you. For now though, it was just a singular fantasy. The one he imagines whenever he’s aroused and you’re not around to take care of him.

“Earth to Kento,” you wave your hand in his face.

“Yeah, sorry sorry…” he shrugs and tries to hide his blushing cheeks. “I’ll come with you if it means that much to you.”

You chuckle softly, reaching over the table to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. Just that little touch sends shivers down his spine. He can’t quite look you in the eyes right now, and you love the way his cheeks and tops of his ears are tinged just a little pink.

“It’s tomorrow night around 9,” you mention. “I’d like for us to go together.”

The words play in his mind, even after he’s promised to come by your dorm to pick you up around 8:30. He wonders what you’ll wear. Kento’s mind is very active that night, while he lays in his bed. He holds his pillow close.

The thought of you wearing a cute dress with fishnet tights makes his heart flutter in his chest. You were that type of girl too. He sees what you wear when you’re not trying to dress business casual for class. It turns him on to see you in such alternative attire.

The next morning, you two meet up for breakfast before a short morning class. You notice how he’s in a much better mood than usual, and you wonder if maybe the promise of cutting loose for a bit is making him happy.

The night comes quickly and you’re in your dorm texting a few friends and listening to music as you get ready. You settled on a gray and black plaid skirt along with knee high red and black socks. Your shirt was a cut up Green Day shirt you had bought the last time you went to a concert. You finished up your makeup in the mirror plastered in polaroids and old pictures taken from music magazines.

There’s a knock on your door and you rush over to answer it. Your breath hitches in your throat when you see Kento standing there, a single red rose in his hands. He’s blushing as he thrusts it in your direction.

“For you.”

Your eyes widen and you smile sweetly. You gladly take it, bringing the rose up to your nose. It smells floral and lightly sweet. Then you take in the look of the man who stole your heart. Dressed in his signature black skinny jeans and ripped up Vans slip-ons, he looks so good. And you notice the new checker print hoodie he’s wearing with his thumbs poking out the holes in the sleeves.

“You look really good,” you comment. You invite him inside and he sits on your couch.

He stumbles with his words. He tells you that you look pretty, but he means you look beautiful. He wants to take you into his arms, kiss you softly and tell you not to go out tonight. You two could stay in and finally take your relationship to the next step.

“Thanks Ken! Do you want to head out now?” you ask him after touching up your makeup.

He nods. “Y-yeah. Let’s go.”

You take his hand and grab your purse before you two leave your dorm. The walk to the frat house wasn’t far, so you two had a little time alone to enjoy each other’s company. The night is so beautiful. The sun had just finished setting and the sky was getting darker. The stars would be shining soon. You felt like this was one of those nights you’d never forget.

The minute the two of you step into the frat house, you know that this party is going to be wild. Beer bottles litter the ground amongst a group of drunken college kids. You look around as you and Kento enter the house, moving around waves of bodies that are either getting drunk or dancing. You spot a group of girls in the kitchen and you notice a few of your friends within that group.

“Hey!” You wave at them. Your fingers still interlocked with Kento’s.

The girls giggle before your friends spot you and they wave you over. Kento feels nervous about this. He knows what others think of him. They all think of him as a loser, a loner and someone who doesn’t fit in. What makes him fall so deeply for you is that you see him for who he truly is.

“Hey girl, glad you made it!” One of the girls comments, her eyes darting towards Kento. “You too! Nice to see you out of class.”

Kento shrugs. “Is there a reason for us to meet like this?”

You bite your lip in an attempt to stifle your laugh. “Awh, be nice, you.”

Kento smirks when he notices how some of your friends are trying to hide their laughter too. Maybe he could truly be a part of your fold. He holds your hand a little tighter.

You two make it to the counter where a large stash of booze is displayed. Kento grabs the bottle of whiskey, pouring some into a red solo cup. He hands you one, and the two of you sip on your drinks. It’s nasty and strong, but you two long to get a little fucked up tonight.

Throughout the night, you two drink your fair share of booze. Kento keeps a tight hold on you, preventing you from stumbling over or ramming into anyone accidentally. 

And finally, the moment comes when the two of you find a room that’s unoccupied. Your mind is a hazy mix of alcohol and lust for the man who’s been glued to your side this entire night. You kiss him first; it’s sloppy and hungry. Kento follows your lead, cupping your face.

The two of you make it to the bed, and you pull him on top of you. You giggle as he groans, then he kisses you again. His tongue feels a little tied, but he wants to tell you just how much fun he’s having.

“Such a good time when I’m with you,” he slurs between kisses. “I wanna…fuck I wanna show you just how much you mean to me.”

The minute you squeeze his hardened cock through his jeans, it seems to sober him up a little. He then realizes maybe he needs to cool off before he does anything else. Kento pulls away despite your protests.

“Just gonna get us water, ‘kay? Stay here, beautiful.”

When he steps out of the room, he’s wondering if he should even be leaving you in the room like that. You’re clearly drunk and anyone could enter. He decides to make it super quick. He goes into the kitchen, quickly swiping two bottles of water before making his way to the room again.

But before he can go inside, he hears girls giggling. Kento looks over his shoulder at the group of girls that you two had been talking to earlier.

“So,” the leader starts. “You’re the virgin, huh?”

The word sounds so nasty on her tongue. Kento knows you don’t care that he’s a virgin. You’ve been so patient and sweet with him this entire time. You’ve shown him the right way to explore each other. But the way she’s saying it now, it makes him feel ashamed of being a virgin at his age.

“You really think she likes you, huh? Come on, you’re just a pity fuck.”

The words cut him deeply. “Shut up, you don’t know her.”

The girl smirks, “And you think you do? Come on, get over yourself! She’s only using you as a pity fuck…or well not even cause you’re still a virgin.”

His blood boils and his heart is in his stomach now. He thinks back on all the things you two have been through together. Would you really do that to him? He thought that you two were really becoming close and things would progress really soon.

“See ya later, you fuckin’ virgin.”

With his stomach in knots and tears of frustration in his eyes, he enters the room. There you lay, on the bed. You look so fucking beautiful and he wants nothing more than to make you his. But now, he knows that maybe he’s been nothing but a joke to you this entire time. He gives you the bottle of water.

“I won’t be bothering you again.” He states. He hates that he’s doing this, but it was to protect himself. He watches as you slowly come to terms with the words coming out of his mouth.

Your heart flutters in a panic. You sit up, but you’re so dizzy. Kento wants to help you, but he’s hurting. He doesn’t want to let this continue if all you were doing was stringing him along. 

“Just forget we ever met, okay? You and I are done. There wasn’t anything between us anyway. Just continue your perfect fucking life without me.”

You stare at him in disbelief. You swore that tonight would be the night that you two would finally go all the way. And if not, you were ready to tell him how much you loved him. You feel tears stinging your eyes.

“Kento…wait…” You cry out. He shakes his head and turns away from you.

But before you can continue, he storms out. It’s only a few minutes later that your friends come in, sitting with you and consoling you as best as they can.

Kento walks home alone, his heart pounding and his mind racing with thoughts of regrets. He just messed up the greatest thing to ever happen to him.

[smartkookiee]

Wounds We Never Show // Prologue: Before It All —jjk.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭

❥pairing: Jungkook x reader

❥genre/rating: 18 + explicit content, enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers, these two really do hate each other

❥chapter warnings: Fighting (verbal), swearing, mutual hate

❥word-count: 2.4k

❥Series Masterlist ❥ || Next Chapter

fic is cross posted to ao3 - send an ask or comment on post to be added to the tag list 🖤

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭

Your final together was tomorrow, after a month of painfully hard work it would finally be over. Except you hadn’t heard from Jungkook  this week at all. From what you can tell he seemed to finish all of his portion of the work. You on the other hand, due to some finals, were a little behind but you had no doubts that you would be able to catch up. 

Not hearing from Jungkook did have you somewhat concerned. 

You both were normal last week but this week radio silence. You had texted him just keeping him updated on the progress of your work. You choked it up to him probably being swamped with his own work, and his own projects for other classes. So you tried not too worry. 

You sent one more text, anxiety rising with each passing minute.

:hey sorry to text you again. I’m just checking in! I should be able to finish in the next hour or two, so don’t worry.

:we are going to kill this presentation in the morning.

May have been a touch late to texting someone, it was 1:30 in the morning. You didn’t care though, he had texted you at like two in the morning before. So, you figured he’d forgive you.

But the second you sent the text.

The lights and your laptop had switched off. You sat in completely darkness. Suddenly the emergency lights shown by your door. You turned on your flashlight. Your laptop was old so your power being out means that you don’t have a laptop to work on. You made your way to the hall where some others had gathered. Asking what had happened.

Your RA eventually came up to your floor and told everyone not to worry, they were going to have the power on soon and to stay in our rooms for now. That we would get some text updates. You decided to not panic yet, soon after you did get a text saying that their was a an on campus outage and the problem would be resolved soon.

“Seriously?” you muttered, going back into your room. You texted Jungkook again.

:hey sorry I swear this is the last one, power in my dorm is out.

:and you know how my laptop is, so I have to wait until the power comes back.

:still going to kill it tomorrow!

Forty-five agonizing minutes later, the power finally returned. You rushed back to your laptop, praying everything was still there. But when you opened your document, it was blank. Completely empty.

“No,” you whispered, frantically searching for any backup.

Your entire month of work was gone. You tried finding a previous version, but there was nothing. Not on your hard drive, not in your email, not even a single backup copy. Every word, every citation, every carefully crafted paragraph—vanished. Except... Jungkook might have a copy.

You grabbed your phone and called him, your fingers trembling. Voicemail. You called again, and it rang once before going straight to voicemail again.

“Jungkook, pick up. Something happened. I need you to call me back.”

Panic set in as you scoured every corner of your computer. Desperate, you even checked old drafts and random notes on your phone, but there was nothing. Your heart sank. You called Jungkook two more times, but there was still no answer.

You were going to have to start over.

You knew the material—you’d been working on it every day for a month—but rewriting it from memory was going to be a nightmare. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself, and started typing. Every minute felt like an hour, but you pushed through. Tiredness clawed at you, and your eyes stung from the screen’s glare, but there was no other option.

Five hours later, you finally finished. The paper was nowhere near perfect, but it was something. A B, maybe a C at best, but it was better than nothing. Exhaustion overtook you the second you hit save, and you collapsed into bed.

It felt like only a second had passed when your eyes snapped open. You scrambled for your phone, the panic setting in again.

10:05 AM.

Ten missed texts and three missed calls from Jungkook.

“No!” You leapt out of bed, pulling on the first clothes you found, emailing the paper to yourself while sprinting out the door. You raced across campus, nearly tripping as you weaved through students, your breath burning in your lungs. By the time you reached the classroom, the hallway was filled with students leaving.

You pushed through the door, your hair a mess, sweat dripping down your forehead.

“Shit, no, no, please.” You spotted your professor leaving and tried to push your way forward, only to be blocked by Jungkook.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” he sneered as you stumbled in, breathless and disheveled.

“Jungkook--” you began, but he cut you off.

“Where the hell have you been? Why weren’t you here?” His voice was icy, and he took a menacing step toward you, making you step back.

“I—I fell asleep!” You stammered, tears welling up. Your exhaustion was really hitting you, and you couldn’t hold them in, “Did you see my texts? My calls? My voicemails?”

“Texts and calls don’t mean shit if you’re not here!” he snapped. “You’re acting like you care, but you clearly don’t. You’ve been flaky this entire time.”

“Jungkook, that’s not fair—”

“Not fair?” he cut in, voice rising. “Maybe you did this on purpose! Maybe you’ve been plotting to screw me over!”

The accusation hit hard. “Are you seriously accusing me of sabotaging you? I’ve worked my ass off for this project!”

Jungkook’s eyes were cold. “And where were you when it mattered? You think your excuses are enough? Friends don’t disappear.”

The recent reconciliation between the both of you now dissolving on the ground between the both of you. You both had taken huge strides to become friends despite your resistance.

“Friends don’t accuse each other of being petty schemers!” you shot back, the anger surging. “I’ve been working all night to fix this, and you’re just throwing all my effort back in my face!”

“Maybe I’m tired of your games,” Jungkook retorted, his voice dripping with contempt. “Maybe David was right about you. Maybe he was right that this is something you do.”

David, your ex-boyfriend. Who had manipulated so many people into believing that you were crazy, when he had cheated on you multiple times. What hurt worse? Jungkook knew all of this, knew that David was an asshole. Knew that David was an awful person who lied every time he spoke.

Now he was throwing it in your face, what the hell was wrong with him?

The sting of his words was unbearable. “How dare you! I trusted you to be reasonable. You said you believed me when it came to what David said about me. How dare you throw that in my face! I came here ready to explain, ready to make things right. But you’re too busy being a jackass to listen.”

“I may be a jackass but at least I can be relied upon.” he said quietly, almost dismissively.

The words cut deeper than any knife. “You know what? I don’t need to defend myself to someone who’s already made up their mind. You’re not worth the effort, since you are so quick to blame others. You’re just like David after all.”

You turned away, feeling tears spill down your face. You walked away, not looking back. You had to save your grades, even if it meant cutting ties with Jungkook for good. Didn’t really matter, you two didn’t know each other that well anyways.

You found your professor, explained everything through your tears, and showed him the evidence. He listened, though his sympathy couldn’t override the rules. He allowed you to submit your rewritten paper but couldn’t let you do the presentation. He promised to grade fairly but couldn’t guarantee a good mark.

You received a D. It was lower than you hoped but enough to pass. Jungkook, however, failed, delaying his graduation.

You felt a grim satisfaction, but the bitterness lingered. The loss of the friendship gnawed at you, even if you hated him. You’d never see him again, and you were more than okay with that.

That was five years ago now.

The memory lingered as fresh and raw as ever. You had moved on, grown, and carved out a space where Jungkook’s existence didn’t matter. That was until you became friends with Melanie, who in every sense of the word was your best friend. Though, because fate is a funny thing, she fell in love with Namjoon. Namjoon’s closest friend was none other than Jungkook.

That relationship kept you and Jungkook in each other's lives for longer than either of you had cared for.

Forcing the two of you back into each other’s orbit. That also meant facing Jungkook repeatedly, each time resulting in fights so venomous you wondered how Melanie and Namjoon put up with it. So many clashes over so many years, so many attempts by mutual friends proved futile in bringing the both of you together. Eventually, everyone gave up and just made sure to never have the two of you in a room together.

Now with Namjoon and Melanie’s engagement, a wedding loomed around the corner.

You leaned against the kitchen counter, mind still reeling from the past. The fallout from that final class had changed everything. Every time you saw Jungkook since then, it was an instant—words turned to daggers, and every conversation became a battlefield. Neither of you ever backed down; pride kept you both locked in a bitter stalemate.

“Just a heads-up,” Melanie said, breaking you out of your thoughts. She hesitated, eyes flicking away as if bracing for impact. “I know how you two feel about each other, but he’s Namjoon’s best friend.”

You knew what was coming, but you still grimaced. “Don’t tell me.”

Melanie sighed. “Jungkook is his best man.”

You clenched your jaw, the anger bubbling up instantly. You had known this was inevitable, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. “Of course, he is.”

Melanie’s living room felt unusually tense, the soft glow of the evening sun doing little to warm the atmosphere. Melanie had always been the bridge between you and Jungkook—constantly trying to keep the peace, but it was becoming increasingly clear that this time was different. You couldn’t just show up, exchange a few biting remarks with Jungkook, and call it a day. This was her wedding. This was the culmination of everything she’d dreamed of, and she deserved your best effort.

Melanie took a deep breath, her stern expression softening just slightly. “I know it’s a big ask, and I wouldn’t push it if I didn’t have to. But Namjoon and Jungkook—they’ve been through so much together. He’s not just a friend to Namjoon; he’s like a brother. And I need you both to make this work.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of her words. Melanie was trying to keep the peace, but the sadness in her eyes was unmistakable. She had seen you and Jungkook tear each other down time and again. Seeing the tears you shed over the times he would hit the nail on the head, and say something that went too far. Held you back from starting a physical altercation with him.

Each encounter was more bitter than the last, and every argument chipped away at the thin veneer of civility you both clung to.

“I promise,” you said, your voice steady despite the resentment simmering underneath. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Melanie’s lips twitched into a small smile, but her eyes remained cautious. “Thank you. And I mean it, no half-hearted attempts. I need rainbows and kindness coming out of both of your asses.”

You laughed despite yourself, appreciating the way Melanie could still inject humor into even the most awkward of situations. “Got it. Rainbows and kindness. I’ll bring a whole damn unicorn if that’s what it takes.”

“Good, I don’t know what I would do if we had another new years situation.” Although it was years ago, that was probably the worst fight you and Jungkook had. The things that were said and the drink you dumped on him are very present in your mind. Made you laugh to yourself even but it definitely caused a bot of an issues in your group.

You shook your head, feeling a familiar pang of bitterness. “Yeah that was a really low moment for me. I think because of that things between us will never change. He’s still that same arrogant jerk who can’t own up to his mistakes. And I’m done pretending I care enough to fix anything.”

“People change,” she said softly, it was something she tried to convince you of many times. “But I get it. You don’t have to be friends—you just have to coexist.”

“That, I can do,” you said firmly. “I’m not going to let him ruin this for you.”

“Thank you,” Melanie said, squeezing your hand. “I’m so happy you accepted the role. I couldn’t imagine my wedding without you there.”

“For you? Anything,” you replied, your resolve hardening. You would hold onto your promise to Melanie, no matter how much Jungkook got under your skin. This wedding was about Namjoon and Melanie, not you and whatever animosity you harbored toward Jungkook.

The room lapsed into a comfortable silence, but your mind was racing, already plotting ways to avoid Jungkook’s inevitable provocations. You pictured the rehearsal dinner, the ceremony, the reception—any scenario where the two of you would be forced to interact. You would keep your distance, smile politely, and not engage. If Jungkook’s presence was like a storm cloud threatening to ruin the day, you would be calm. You owed Melanie that much.

“When the wedding rolls around, I’ll keep up appearances and be civil and kind,” you said, trying to reassure not just Melanie, but yourself. “Jungkook might be the spawn of Satan, but as long as I don’t speak to him directly, everything will go perfectly.”

No amount of promises could erase the deep-seated anger you felt every time you saw his face. This time, though, you would have to bury it, if only for a weekend. You would smile through gritted teeth, hold your tongue when he inevitably said something infuriating, and pretend you were above it all.

You had months to prep yourself though. Plenty of time to make sure that nothing Jungkook could do could piss you off.

Nothing that weekend will surprise you.