#the flirty banter was in fact flirty banter

[amphibiahawks321]

[Ena with her usual over the top grin, hands outstretched with a bouquet in hand]

Ena : Oh good evening, my favourite customer! Have you considered the wonders of the experience of a date? Limited time offer! No refunds, but a guarantee of unforgettable memories!

[Y/N raising an eyebrow, amused by the gesture with a smile and a chuckle]

M!Reader : Are you asking me out, or trying to sell me insurance?

[Ena pauses, blinks a few times... Then drops the salesman tone immediately—

Ena : How fucking dense are you?! Yes, I'm asking you out, you think I go around handing out fake coupons and smiles for just anyone? What kind of professional do you take me for, dumbass!

[Y/N still grinning, not even fazed]

M!Reader : Alright, alright I’ll take the deal, One date, no refunds?

[Ena blinks, caught off guard for a split second, Then—her salesman tone is back, bright smile snapping back into place]

Ena : Oh Wonderful choice, My number one customer! You won’t regret it! And, with our limited-time special, you can also enjoy bonus add-ons such as : hand-holding, flirty banter, and... something special that you'll see at the end!

M!Reader : ...is it what I think it is or–

[Ena twitches, immediately drops back to her meanie self, voice raised]

Ena : YES! HOW DUMB ARE YOU?! YES, I WANNA MAKE OUT! I THOUGHT THAT WAS OBVIOUS BY NOW! Matter of fact how about I give the bonus early so I can shut your mouth up!

M!Reader : Pftt–Chuckles... You’re adorable when you’re mad—!!!?!?

[Y/N immediately felt a grip on his clothing by ena's hand–as she immediately push him closer to her making them inches away from touching lips]

Ena : HOW ABOUT I FUCKING KISS YOU SO DAMN HARD YOU FORGET YOUR OWN NAME, HUH?!

M!Reader : ....

M!Reader blushing : L-Lets calm down for a minute...

[polite-pandemonium]

There's this TikTok trending sound floating around where the gist is 'can't tell if the friend who is always fake flirting with you is still fake flirting' and I immediately thought of these two. It's practically canon IMHO.

Who is kicking up the fake flirting a notch differs between the two of them on the daily.

[deanpinterester]

ppl often have stress dreams of being back in school but i also have dreams of being back at my retail job

[mariasont]

mariaaa!! i have another idea!! > 3 <

ok, so…

sleepy, needy, & clingy bimbo!reader with hotch

either before they together or when they first get together <3

Hot & Bothered (No, Like, Literally, You Have a Fever) - A.H.

summary: bimbo!assistant!reader is feverish, clingy & just a little delirious, except, not too delirious to shamelessly flirt with your very attractive, very exasperated boyfriend. pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader warnings: sick!reader, no use of y/n, established relationship, soft!hotch, flirty banter, suggestive-ish content, clingy!reader, hotch ignoring all cdc guidelines, reader is kinda being a baby about everything (just like me fr), theatre kid hotch. wc: 2.3k

You started off playing it cute. All little sighs, sending Aaron pouty texts filled with emojis, making sure he knew you missed him, but in a haha, just kidding (unless?) kind of way. Now you're way past that. The cute phase had dissolved into something far more desperate.

You were sick-sick. The terrible kind of sick where your limbs feel like they're made of granite, and your skin somehow manages to burn and freeze at the same time.

Worst of all, Aaron wasn't here.

And really, what was the point of having a boyfriend as stupidly gorgeous, painfully competent, and naturally overprotective as Aaron Hotchner if he wasn't going to be around when you need him most?

You knew you were being dramatic. You knew this was your own fault. Aaron had practically ordered you to let him come home with you, standing there in his office with his disapproving frown, telling you that you shouldn't be alone if you weren't feeling well.

But in your infinite wisdom, you had waved him off, told him to stay at work. Because at the time, you were fine. Or, more so, fine-adjacent. And because sometimes, your brain tricks you into thinking you are a capable, independent woman who does not, in fact, require Hotch-shaped supervision.

So now you're curled up in bed, drowning in the well-worn fabric of his FBI academy hoodie, the one that smells like him. And it helps. But not enough.

Because if he were here, he'd be so good at taking care of you. He'd probably be all bossy and stern about it, telling you to drink your water, go to sleep, and stop pouting. But then he'd turn around and betray himself completely by smoothing your hair back so, so softly, by tucking the blankets up to your chin like you're something delicate. Contrary to popular belief, he did have a soft side.

Maybe you should call him. Maybe you should be really, really pathetic about it and beg him to come home.

Maybe you're just a little too codependent. (Just a little.)

The second the front door opens, you think you must be imaging it. You convince yourself it's the fever, twisting reality into want instead of what actually is. Because Aaron shouldn't be home yet.

You squint at the clock, but it's just a bunch of blurry numbers, and math is already hard enough without feeling like your brain is actively melting.

But then there's the sound of leather against hardwood, and not just any leather.

You know those shoes. The custom Italian Oxfords you forced him to let you buy. He'd grumbled about the price, all exasperated and dramatic (as if he had any real concept of what good leather actually costs), but he still let you drag him to the store. Still let you lace them up for him. Still let you kiss him senseless in the parking lot because he looked too insanely sexy in them to be allowed to exist without immediate compensation.

You'd told him once that good shoes take you good places. And now look where they took him.

Straight home to you.

The relief is so instantaneous, it makes your head spin. And suddenly, he's there, shoulders broad against the door frame, arms crossed, eyes warm despite the unimpressed look he's attempting to pull off.

"My poor baby," he says, half-teasing, but mostly just achingly soft.

Your bottom lip wobbles. "It's not that bad."

Aaron sighs loudly, already loosening his tie as he strides over, assessing the damage, which, in this case, is you, buried under what is objectively a very reasonable amount of blankets.

"Uh-huh." Flat. Dry. But he's already reaching to fix them, like he can't help himself. "That why you're buried in every blanket we own?"

You burrow deeper into said blankets. Maybe if you commit hard enough, he'll stop looking so smug.

"They're comfy."

He crouches beside the bed, undoing the last button on his cuff before pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. His touch is cool, and you lean into it immediately, shameless at how much you enjoy his skin against your overheated own.

"You're hot."

You blink at him, dazed, and—without thinking—mumble, "So are you."

The moment the words leave your mouth, you regret them. Not because they're untrue, that's indisputable, but because of the sheer pathetic delivery of it, all scratchy and pitiful and nothing like the effortless flirtation you usually bring to the table.

You groan, squeezing your eyes shut like that might somehow reverse time.

Aaron, of course, is completely unbearable about it. His lips twitch, and you can see it happening in real time, his struggle not to laugh directly in your face.

"Flattered," he drawls, his thumb brushing over your temple, fingers carding through your hair in slow strokes. "Have you been drinking enough water?"

You wrinkle your nose. "Water is boring."

"You're boring."

You gasp, sniffling as you try to look offended, despite the congestion ruining your tone. "Boring? You weren't calling me boring last night when I—,"

"Okay."

Aaron cuts you off immediately, already leaning down, pressing kiss after kiss to your face—forehead, cheeks, anywhere he can reach. You squeal in protest (or, well, try to, your voice is too weak for it to be truly effective), but he just laughs against your skin, relentless.

"Okay, I take it back," he murmurs, kissing your nose like an apology. Like a bribe. "You're the most exciting person I know. Now be exciting and drink some water before I have to force it down your throat."

"Force it down my throat?" you rasp, a weak smirk pulling at your lips as your fingers prod into his dress shirt. "You promise?"

"So inappropriate." He lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head, but his hands are already cupping your face, his lips pressing to yours, like he loves kissing you too much to stop himself.

You barely have time to enjoy it before your brain remembers how sickness works.

"Wait, germs!"

Aaron just smirks, tilting your face up with a knuckle under your chin. "Since you brought up last night, that's an interesting concern, considering where your mouth was last night."

You should say something flirty in return. Something about how that was different because it was basically an act of public service (one you love providing). Because that's what you do. You throw him off, make him sigh like you're exhausting and adorable at the same time, watching his ears flush pink when he pretends he's not affected.

But the words never come, instead, your brain hands you a far worse visual. Aaron, like this, but worse. His face pale, head pressed against a pillow, forehead creased with discomfort he wouldn't acknowledge. You can see it clearly, the way he'd insist he's fine, the way he'd make it through a workday half-dead before even considering rest.

And suddenly nothing is funny.

Your fingers clutch at his shirt without thinking, like holding onto him will somehow fix the terrible, awful, no-good mental image you just had.

You're frowning, and you don't even realize it, not until Aaron does, his thumb pressing lightly against the center of your forehead, like he can smooth it away.

"I don't want you to get sick."

"My sweet girl," he murmurs, fingers threading through your hair once before he stands. "I can handle a cold. What I can't handle is you being miserable and dehydrated. Be good and let me take care of you."

Aaron disappears before you can argue and by the time he returns, a glass of water in hand, you've barely had a chance to process how much you missed him in those few seconds.

You watch as he puts it down on the nightstand beside you.

"There. Now drink."

"Yes, sir," you mumble, taking a few small sips just to prove that you're listening.

But if he really wanted you hydrated, he should've just kissed you again.

Aaron's eyes narrow, shooting you a pointed look.

You sigh, loud and put-upon, then take another sip, longer, just to appease him. You make a show out of it, before immediately reaching out, patting the empty space beside you with undeniable urgency.

Aaron snorts. "Didn't last long, did you?"

"I'm sick. I need warmth and love."

He exhales so dramatically, shaking his head. "If that's what my poor, suffering girl needs, then I suppose I have no choice."

Alright, theatre kid.

You bite your tongue, not because you're wrong, but because self-preservation is a skill, and you'd like to see another sunrise. And, fine. If he wanted to pretend like sitting still for five minutes was his own personal crucifixion, then who were you to deny him. It wasn't your fault, he ran himself into the ground, like he was trying to beat time himself, working to the bone until someone (you) had to physically drag him to bed.

You watch, maybe a little too intently, as he kicks off his shoes, undoes his belt, and swaps out his boring, stuffy work pants for the sweats. Your sweats. The ones you have a deeply personal attachment to.

You have history with those sweats.

"You know, you put those on and suddenly I start feeling a whole lot better." Call it divine intervention, maybe. "Do you think if you let me sit on your lap, I'd be at full strength again? Because I think we should at least try. For medical purposes."

Aaron settles in beside you, pressing one, two, three kisses to your lips, because he can, because he wants to. When he pulls back, he's smirking.

"Cheeky girl," he murmurs, thumb skimming your jaw. "And here I was, thinking you needed me to take care of you. Turns out you just wanted an excuse to climb all over me. How tragic. I've been completely fooled."

You brain-to-hand coordination is questionable at best, but that doesn't stop you from attempting to very subtly slip your fingers along the waistband of his sweats.

Aaron grabs your wrist instantly laughing—an actual, real, Hotchner laugh.

"Sweetheart," he muses, so damn amused, his thumb tripping over the pulse point of your wrist. "You can barely hold your head up, and you're trying to start something?"

"With a boyfriend like you, I'm like, legally required to start something."

Aaron lets out the longest, most suffering sigh known to man.

Like you said—theatre kid.

"Don't I know it. You're insatiable."

You open your mouth, fully prepared to launch into a passionate defense of you very reasonable levels of attraction to him, but a sneeze—tiny, weak, kind of embarrassing—ruins it.

Aaron's smirk evaporates. It happens fast, like a switch flipping, like he's just remembered, really remembered, that you're not at full strength, that beneath all your teasing, you're a little delicate, too easily worn down.

For a second, he just stares, jaw tight, brows furrowing ever so slightly, like the sight of you, flushed cheeks, fever-glazed eyes, pathetic sneezy, physically pains him.

And then you're moving, no he's moving, pulling you in, tucking you into his chest, as if you were something his hands were built to protect.

"And yet, here you are," he murmurs, kissing your temple, breathing against your hair, "disease-ridden and tragically adorable."

You sigh, shoving your face as close as humanly possibly, like some kind of human limpet. His heartbeat is strong beneath your ear, soothing, a constant thump thump thump that makes your eyelids droop.

"I really missed you today."

Aaron's arms tighten around you, but then you sniffle. Not the same pathetic little sound from earlier. This one's different. This one is softer, wetter.

He tenses just enough for you to feel it, enough to make you regret it, because now he knows.

You blink rapidly, tilting your face down, trying to breathe past the sudden, stupid sting behind your eyes, willing it go away before he—

Too late.

His arms loosen just enough to tilt his head down, scanning your face like he's already trying to figure out how to make it better.

You turn, burying your face in his chest. "I'm fine."

A lie. A bad one at that. So laughably transparent that even you wince a little.

Aaron doesn't call you on it, however, just pulls back slightly, just enough to cup your cheek, catching the tear before it falls.

"Oh baby," he breathes, voice a little rough, like he wants to pull the sadness out of you and keep it for himself.

He presses another kiss to your temple, then another, then another, like he needs to fix something unfixable, his fingers curling around the nape of your neck.

"You're killing me here."

You sniffle. Again.

"M'sorry," you mumble. "This is probably like... super unattractive."

Aaron shifts again, tilting your chin up as his thumb brushes against your cheek.

"Still the prettiest girl I've ever seen," he murmurs, but his jaw is tight, his fingers flexing against your skin. "I should've come home sooner."

"You wouldn't have lasted," you mumble, voice slowing, words dragging just a little.

Aaron raises an eyebrow. "And why's that?"

"Because you'd stress yourself out." You hum sleepily, tracing absent circles against his shirt. "You'd take my temperature every hour. Make me drink disgusting tea. Then, once you ran out of things to fuss over, you'd start deep-cleaning the grout just to feel useful."

He snorts, shaking his head. "You make me sound unbearable."

"You are unbearable," you murmur, but your grip tightens around him, contradicting yourself entirely. "But in a very sexy, very productive way."

He laughs and presses a kiss to your temple.

"You know what would make me feel better?"

Aaron's chest rises with a deep inhale, like he already knows. His arm tenses around you. "Sweetheart—,"

You grin against his shirt, weakly.

"A very hands on wellness check."

Aaron chokes out a laugh, tightening the blankets around you. "Christ."

He presses one last kiss to your forehead and you think you hear him mumble should've seen that one coming under his breath.

You hum in agreement, mentally ranking all the times he should've seen something coming.

This moment, obviously.

The time he let you fall asleep on him once and then acted surprised when it became a permanent thing.

The time he told you to be serious and then immediately realized that was the worst possible way to get you to stop joking.

The time he tried to fight it, tried to keep you at arm's length, tried to act like this thing between you wasn't inevitable.

You should tell him. You should. But then he tucks you closer, breath hot against your temple. And before you can launch into your incredibly important findings, you're already too far gone.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[hauntedfawnn]

⟡ Honey, Lemons, And Apple Pie ⟡

(Alpha!Doctor!Steve Harrington x Omega!Fem!Reader x Rockstar!Alpha!Eddie Munson)

You’ve always known in your heart and soul that you are destined to be an omega, scent matched to your bestfriend, Eddie Munson. No matter how hard you try, you can’t shake that feeling. Even Eddie gave up on you. Even if you are almost 30 and still haven’t presented. But when you meet a sexy, goofy doctor, things change drastically. And fast. It doesn’t help that your past is coming back to haunt you.

Warnings: Angst between Eddie and reader(but he makes up for it I swear and Steve is there being sweet and perfect to soothe the burn), best friends to lovers, alpha!Eddie Munson, Alpha!Steve Harrington, Omega!Fem!Reader, mentions of Reader being in therapy in the past and it’s implied that she has shitty parents, soo much flirty banter, pet names, typical omegaverse behaviors, knotting, scenting, marking, heats, rough unprotected sex, minor Steddie, one mention of blood, spanking, choking, pussy eating, hair pulling, face fucking, Eiffel Tower, cum eating happy ending! WK: 17k💀 18+MDNI!

You’ve made a nice life for yourself. You have a good job at a social media advertising company and you were able to save up enough to buy yourself a small two bedroom house. You have your cat, mochi, and your best friend, Lina. Who's also your personal assistant. You have lunch together every weekday and brunch on Sundays. Your life isn’t boring, per say, it’s comfortable. But no matter what you do to try and make yourself happy and secure you always feel like something is missing. What makes it even worse? Is that you know exactly what that void inside of you is and you have no idea how to fix it. 

Ever since you were old enough to understand what secondary genders were, you knew you were an omega. Everything in your body and soul told you so. But you’re almost thirty years old and you’ve still yet to present. You thought at first maybe you were just a late bloomer, trying anything and everything the doctors suggested to get your omega to come out. Not only did you not want to disappoint your mother who always assumed you’d be an omega because she is. You also knew for a fact in your heart of hearts that your best friend was meant to be your alpha. 

Eddie Munson. He presented when you were both sixteen and you both always assumed you’d follow short after him. You’d never fully crossed the line between friends but you fantasized about and planned your life together, banking on the fact that you’d be each other’s mates. But by the time you were twenty things started to look grim for you. 

Eddie had finally graduated and planned on moving to Chicago with the Corroded Coffin guys. A manager there offered them a shot and there was no way they weren’t going to take it, even if they failed. You weren’t quite ready to leave Hawkins yet, you wanted to stay until your little sister graduated since your parents hardly paid her any attention. It was only two years, you could save up and then go be with Eddie. You’d have to present by then. You just knew it. 

But your sister's graduation came and went and you were still just a beta. Eddie and the guys blew up fast. He was on his first headlining world tour following the release of their second album. But he still video called you once a week and texted you all the time. He still seemed like he had hope that you’d be together one day. That’s why when out of nowhere, on a random Tuesday in mid August, he called you to tell you he had found his scent match you were completely blind sided. 

You didn’t understand how that could be possible when you were Eddie’s scent match. You knew it in your heart and soul. An omega having more than one alpha scent matches is rare, but an alpha having two omega scent matches is essentially unheard of. You felt like your whole world fell apart that day. Suddenly the words of every doctor, every specialist, every peer and even your parents came crashing down on you. Maybe you really weren’t an omega. Maybe it was all in your head. You really questioned your sanity after that. You had a full mental breakdown. It took a lot of therapy, basically brainwashing you into believing what your body was telling you is a lie. Even if you never fully believed it. 

Eventually you were able to get to a point where those feelings of anguish were bearable. You pulled yourself out of that dark abyss and got a job at the local diner so you could save up and still move to the city. Not for Eddie, for yourself. It took years to get yourself to this point where you were comfortable with your life as a beta. A whole decade to be exact. But there is still that little piece inside of you that knows that isn’t true. In your heart you still know that you are an omega. Even if you are almost thirty and still haven’t presented yet. You just need to find out why. 

Although you’ve worked so hard to achieve the life you have now, a big drive for you has always been being able to afford to go and get a full genome mapping done. To see if maybe, just maybe, there really is a reason you haven’t presented yet. And now, you finally can.

You take in a shaky breath as you look up at the sign on top of the large white building in front of you that reads “Omega Specialist and Treatment Center”. Today is the day that will make or break the never ending war waging inside of you. That gnawing feeling that something is just wrong or trapped. If they don’t find anything, you’ll finally accept yourself for what everyone’s always said you are. A beta. But if they do find something? You might be validated for the first time in your life. 

And it’s worth the risk. 

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑.

Your nurse is a nice, bright blue haired, beta woman who takes your vitals with a smile. She draws your blood with ease before kindly telling you that “Dr. Harrington” will be in shortly with your test results. You busy yourself by fidgeting and aimlessly scrolling on your phone. You aren’t even really processing what you’re looking at, your thumbs just idly tapping on your screen as your eyes glaze over. You’re so anxious you feel like you’re going to burst out of your skin. 

There’s a soft knock on the door before it pushes open and a whole different type of nerves roll through you. A man who you assume is your doctor walks into the room and he just might be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. Besides Eddie. You internalize a frustrated sigh at the thought. No matter what you do, you feel like you’ll never fully escape him. But that doesn’t take away from how absolutely gorgeous this man is. 

His perfectly styled, chestnut hair looks silky to the touch and his face is almost unreal. He has soft hazel eyes that instantly make you feel at ease. The pointed slope of his nose causes you have to stop your mind from going somewhere dirty and so do those plush lips, outlined in a thin layer of stubble. Like he hasn’t shaved in a few days. A sharp jaw that looks perfect for kissing and nipping on your way to the side of his neck that looks like it was made for shoving your nose in so you can inhale his scent. 

Which strangely enough, when this alpha walks into the room your senses are flooded with the smell of fresh laundry. There’s a hint of lemon and something sweet, like whipped cream. You’ve never had the ability to scent anyone before though, so he must just have a really nice cologne. 

“Hello, I’m Dr. Steve Harrington and I'm going to be going over your lab results with you today.” He smiles at you kindly before sitting on the round rolling chair across from you. “So, you are almost thirty years old and haven’t presented yet.”

Your heart feels like it’s going to stop as it sinks into your stomach and you prepare yourself for the worst. Again. “Give it to me straight, doc.”

“Well, although you haven’t presented, your genes are almost entirely omega.” Your heart subtly beats again and you feel it start to rise back into your chest ever so slightly. “There’s just one gene that’s off, and it’s very rare but I think it may be the reason you have yet to present.”

“You’re still beating around the bush, Dr. Harrington.” You glare at him but there’s no malice behind it and it makes the corner of Steve’s lips tilt up. You’re his patient so he absolutely shouldn’t think so, but, you’re cute. And something about you feels comforting to him. Like he’s known you all his life. Even though he’s never seen you until less than five minutes ago. 

“Sorry.” He chuckles awkwardly but it’s endearing. “As I was saying, this gene typically only shows up when an omega has met their scent match and their alpha either rejectes them or left their life in some way.” 

“Oh…” Your heart sinks so far back down into your stomach you feel like it’s going to fall out of your ass. That or explode out of your intestines from how fast it’s beating. Your hands shake and tears well up in your eyes before silently spilling down your cheeks as you stare at the doctor, speechless. 

“I’m so sorry if I said something to upset you!” Steve immediately feels panicked, like he’d do anything to get you to stop crying and destroy anyone in the world that’s ever caused you any kind of pain. But all he can manage is awkwardly fumbling for the tissues in his desk and holding them out to you. 

“It’s just- let me make sure I have this right.” You take a wobbly deep breath. “You’re saying that I am an omega. But, I haven’t presented because my scent match rejected me?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying, miss.” Steve’s eyes widen at the way you growl and slam your hand down on the paper covering the little plastic bed you’re sitting on. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” You let out a dry laugh that completely contradicts the ocean of tears that flow from your eyes. You’re feeling so many emotions at once that it’s making your entire nervous system confused. 

'No, I uh - I’m deadly serious.” Steve isn’t exactly sure what to do or say but apparently his body does. He doesn’t realize he released an extra puff of pheromones until he sees the way your nostrils flare before your shoulders relax. Your tears don’t stop though. “Are you okay?”

“No? Yes? I don’t fucking know!” You throw your head back and groan. “It’s just, for the last decade I’ve been called a delusional beta, put in intensive therapy, and been laughed at.” 

You scoff out a dry laugh as you shake your head in disbelief. “And now you’re telling me, that after all this time, I was fucking right? Which I’m stoked about, don’t get me wrong. But you’re also telling me the entire reason I’m broken is because I was abandoned and that’s just- It’s just a lot to process, doc.”

“Abandoned?” A growl rumbles deep in Steve’s chest as he rises to his feet and takes a few steps toward you. He doesn’t even realize his actions until he sees the way your eyes widen and a faint smell of honey and chai tea hits his nose.  “Forgive me, I don’t know what came over me. That was extremely unprofessional.”

“It’s - it’s alright, no worries.” You squeak out. Your insides heat at his actions, adding a whole new level of confusion to your emotions. There’s just something about him that you can’t quite put your finger on, something akin to the first time the warm spring sun hits your face after a long winter. You want to drink it in and drown in it. “Is there… Anything I can do to fix it?”

“Other than being around your scent match? I’m not sure, if I’m being honest.” Steve rubs the back of his neck awkwardly as he stands only about a foot away from you. But he can’t seem to get himself to back up. It’s like he’s cemented in place and the only way he can physically move is toward you. “There haven't been many studies on this gene in which an omega presents without the help of their fated alpha. The only exception being if they have more than one scent match and that alpha happens to come into their life, which is extremely rare. Otherwise they can go their entire life without presenting.” 

Your head hangs down between your shoulders as a sob wracks through you, tears dripping down onto your bare thighs where your pencil skirt from work rides up. Steve feels awful, the fact that you’re upset is really getting to him. He has to physically stop himself from taking you into his arms. “I won’t give up on you though. I’ll do some research on this gene and see what I can come up with, maybe there’s some type of loop hole.” 

That makes your head shoot up, tears still streaming down your face, smudging your pretty makeup. But there’s the tiniest bit of hope in your eyes and Steve feels like he will do anything to keep it there. He closes the distance between you and rests a strong hand on your shoulder while leaning down so he can fix you in a warm, hazel gaze. “We will figure this out, omega.” 

You’re taken back the title and it has another wave of tears streaming down your face. 

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry! What did I say now?!” Steve’s hand on your shoulder runs down your arm, caressing you gently. The fact that he’s upset sends off alarm bells in your head and you immediately feel the need to soothe him. 

“It’s nothing bad! I mean, it is, but it isn’t.” Your hand subconsciously rests on top of his as you're flooded with his warm, clean, scent and it makes your head feel a little clearer. You at least have somewhat liner thoughts for the moment. Steve makes you feel grounded for a reason you can’t seem to put your finger on. 

“No one has ever believed me. I have always known deep in my heart and soul that I am an omega and you’re the first person in my entire life to acknowledge me as such. Thank you, Dr. Harrington.” 

“I- Of course, miss, I’m just doing my job.” Steve offers you a lopsided smile even though he’s screaming on the inside. He didn’t even realize he called you by your designation title. You’re making his instinics go haywire and he needs to get away from you before he does something truly stupid. You pull your hand off his and he misses your touch immediately. He pats your arm awkwardly before turning around to grab your paperwork. “Here are your test results, my card is attached if you have any questions. I’ll do some research on my end and be in touch.”

You take the outstretched papers and smile sweetly at the kind, sexy doctor, the one who finally listened to you and confirmed every doubt you’ve ever had about yourself. “Thanks, Doc, really. I can’t put into words how much this means to me.”

“Like I said, just doing my job.” He returns your smile with a thousand wat one that makes you swoon. “Have a good day, Omega.”

“OH! I - um - Thank you, Alpha…” Steve turns and leaves after that and you can’t shake the feeling that he’s taking a piece of you with him. 

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑.

You decide you deserve your favorite take out and a comfort movie after the emotional rollercoaster that was that doctor’s appointment so you stop at your favorite Chinese spot on your way home. You ordered your food and you’re waiting at one of the booths but it’s so hot in here you feel like you’re suffocating. It’s a rainy February day but it feels like their AC is broken in the middle of summer. Your work shirt feels like it’s constricting your body and your vision feels hazy. 

It also smells horrible in here. It’s like you can smell every individual dish they’re cooking in the kitchen and the scent of the three alphas and two omegas in the restaurant blend together to make one sickly sweet, musky mess. If you didn’t already pay, you would get up and leave. 

But they finally call your name and you get up on shaky legs and make your way to the counter. Your body feels like it’s being weighed down by bags of sand and your ears feel like they’re underwater. Your muscles suddenly ache like you just worked out for two hours straight and your mind is so cloudy you can hardly think straight. 

You grab your food and right as you turn to leave the door swings open, bringing a scent that is like a saviour among the fragrances flooding the room with it. It’s the scent of a warm apple pie with a cinnamon glaze. One that someone’s cooking on a rainy fall day with the windows open. It reminds you of being at your grandmother’s house on Thanksgiving as a child. One of the few places you’ve ever truly felt at home. Home. It smells like home. 

It’s then you realize who the scent is being carried by. A man you haven’t seen in person in ten years but you’ve watched from afar through social media and his very public music career. Eddie Munson.

He’s even more beautiful than any camera could’ve ever captured. His curly brown locks brush against the leather jacket that’s taunt against his thick arms. His big, chocolate eyes hold so much emotion you aren’t even sure you could begin to unpack it. His cute button nose you used to always poke and give innocent kisses growing up has a million memories flashing through your mind at once. It’s the same as it always was, just a little bigger and he has a nose piercing now. His lips are as plump as ever and you want to bury your face in his thick, tattooed neck and inhale his apple crisp scent. 

Eddie says your name and suddenly you’re so dizzy you feel like the room is on an axis and you aren’t sure why the floor is coming towards you. Your heart is beating so fast you can hear it pulsing in your ears and your eyes start to roll into the back of your head. Then your mind goes blank. 

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑.

Your nose is filled with the most relaxing aroma. It’s like sitting on a freshly mowed lawn after spring cleaning. The windows are open so you can smell the fresh load of laundry in the dryer wafting out while you have an ice cold glass of lemonade. But when you open your eyes you realize you’re very much not outside. 

The fluorescent lights above you are nearly blinding and the medical posters on the wall tell you that you’re in a hospital bed. But not only does it not smell even the slightest bit like a hospital, the bed beneath you is warm and breathing. It takes a second for you to feel like you can move but when you’re finally able to tilt your head up you couldn’t be more surprised. 

“Dr. Harrington?” Your eyes blow wide as they meet soft hazel ones and as you look down and take in more of your surroundings you realize you’re laying nearly entirely on top of him in a tiny hospital bed. “Why am I here? What are you doing here? Why am I laying on top of you?”

“Hey, hey, calm down.” Steve’s strong hand runs down your back and that fresh, clean scent thickens in the room, instantly relaxing you. “You presented. You fainted and when they brought you here they found my card on you and assumed I was your doctor so they called me… But when I got here I smelled you and…”

That’s when it clicks in your mind. Steve’s scent. He’s your scent match. You feel that same at home, bone warming, feeling you felt when you scented Eddie earlier and that’s when it all really starts coming back to you. 

The doctor's appointment. Stopping to get food. Running into Eddie. 

“You’re my scent match.” You can’t help the smile that breaks out on your face despite the events that got you here. You presented and this handsome, slightly goofy doctor is your scent match. “That still doesn’t explain why I’m laying on top of you though…” You giggle.

“You were whimpering in your sleep and your scent was filled with distress…” Steve sighs as he brings his hand up to smooth your hair. “Instincts kind of took over and I felt this overwhelming need to be close to you. I’m really sorry if that’s weird or invasive, I just-”

“Steve.” The sound of you calling him by his name for the first time is like music to his ears. “It’s okay, I’m glad you’re here. I’m feeling sort of… strange. Kind of like I want to cry tears of joy and sorrow simultaneously. If that makes sense.”

“It does.” Steve cups your jaw and rubs his thumb along your cheek. You nuzzle into it and he feels like he could melt. “You’re basically going through puberty again at thirty. Not only that, but you've had a lot of big changes today. It’s only natural that you’re feeling emotionally overwhelmed.” 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I woke up this morning not knowing if I’d ever present and now not only have I presented but I have two scent matches… It’s a lot to process.” You sigh and subconsciously shove your nose into his chest, inhaling his scent. 

“Speaking of that… Your other alpha is here…” You tense in his arms again and Steve lets out a puff of pheromones to try and calm you. 

“He’s not my alpha.” You growl. “I don’t want him anywhere fucking near me.” 

“It’s okay, honey.” Steve grabs onto your wrist, bringing it up so he can run his nose along it, the smell of chai tea and honey filling his nose. Your scent is much stronger than it was just a few short hours ago. 

“He’s in the lobby losing it because they won’t let him see you. He keeps telling them you’re his omega but there’s no documentation of you being mates and you aren’t marked. They can’t just let any alpha back to see an unmated omega. Honestly once they see me in your bed I’m worried they might kick me out too.” 

“I won’t let them.” You let out another little growl that Steve can’t help but think is adorable. “This might sound crazy but the thought of being away from you right now sounds like actual torture.”

“It doesn’t sound crazy, we might have just met but we were meant for each other. It’s normal for us to feel an instant attachment to each other. Being away from you sounds like torture too. I feel this overwhelming need to protect you.” Steve runs his nose along your wrist again and it sends shivers down your spine.

“You smell so fucking good by the way. Like chai tea and honey.” Steve chuckles gently. “Which is funny because I’m not a coffee person. I drink tea in the morning and at night. It soothes me and so does your presence. It’s fitting.” 

“You smell so good too, doc.” Steve chuckles at the nickname. He might be goofy but as far as he can tell so are you and he already loves that about you. “You smell like fresh laundry, warm spring days, and perfectly sweetened lemonade.”

“Dr. Harrington, that is hardly appropriate! Get off that patient right now!” You and Steve are broken from your little bubble when your nurse comes in with an alarmed look on her face. You’re sure this looks bad, an unmated alpha in the hospital bed of an unconscious, umated omega. 

“No.” You grip tightly onto Steve’s chest and wrap your leg tighter around his waist. Your body heats and you suddenly start to feel the same way you did in the chinese restaurant. You want to tear off all of Steve’s clothes and ride him like your life depends on it right in front of this nurse. “He’s mine.” 

“It’s okay, I’m her scent match.” The nurse furrows her brows as if she’s assessing the situation.

“Why are you written down as her provider then? And why wouldn’t you mention that when you got here?” You know rationally that this nurse is just doing her job to protect you but that part of your brain that is starting to feel clouded wants to tear her eyes out because why is she so concerned about what your alpha is doing, does she want him for herself?

“It’s a long story, but the short version is that we didn’t know until I got here. She has a condition that made it so she didn’t present until now so she’s having heat spikes, which is what’s happening right now. But I swear on my medical license there’s nothing weird going on.”

“It’s the truth, he’s mine.” You muster up enough rationality to know you need to defend your alpha but it’s really hard to think about much other than his knot being buried deep inside you. 

“Alright, well, in that case you can’t be her physician. But all of her tests came back normal so I’ll send in another doctor with her release forms and get you guys out of here as soon as possible.” The nurse scribbles something down on her clipboard before exiting the room. 

“Don’t leave me.” You whine as you squeeze onto Steve and shove your face into his neck. You vaguely processed him saying something about heat spikes but you’re struggling to focus. You just know you can’t be away from him. “Come home with me. Need you.” 

“I can do that, honey.” Steve caresses your back and politely ignores the way you’re subconsciously grinding down on his leg. Even if it does make his cock twitch in his pants. “I need to go by my place and get some stuff and then we can go to your house, how’s that sound?”

“Mhm, yes. I just wanna be near you.”

“Me too, sweet girl.” Steve sighs contentedly. “Do you want to sneak out the employee entrance so Eddie doesn’t see you?”

That snaps you back to reality right quick and you feel a rush of embarrassment over your behavior over the last few minutes. You can’t see Eddie like this. You aren’t even sure if you want to see him ever, despite the fact that your body is screaming to be near him. You won’t cave that easily. Not after everything. He only wants you because you’re an omega now. He abandoned you. He lied to you. 

“Yes, please.” You whine and you want to slap yourself. God you’re a mess. “I’m sorry for-”

“Shhh, stop apologizing. Being an omega is going to take some getting used to, don’t be embarrassed. I’m here for you all the way.” Steve gives you that sweet, warm smile as he perfumes for you and you can’t help but swoon. “Let’s get you out of here and then we will figure the rest out together, yeah, omega?”

“Yeah.” You sigh dreamily. “That sounds good, alpha.”

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑.

You’ve been living with Steve for two months now. After the first night he stayed with you, you asked if he would stay for a while. And a week later you asked him to just move in. Your place was bigger and nicer than his so he had no issue giving it up. He brought his clothes, his extensive mug collection, and three full bookcases that now line the living room wall. It always felt like there was something missing there. He also brought his fat orange cat, Puff. 

Being with Steve is as easy as breathing. There was no awkward phase, just a getting to know you phase. You wanted to know everything about each other. From your favorite colors to your mom’s middle names. 

On days you both work, you get home around the same time and immediately get in comfy clothes. You cook together or order take out before curling up on the couch together. You watch each other's favorite movies, chat for hours, sit next to each other while you read. You’re even binging old Jersey Shore episodes together right now. You drink tea together and he cuddles up with you in your bed every night. But he still hasn’t fucked you. 

There’s been lots of kissing and several make out sessions with heavy petting, especially when your heat spikes hit. But it hasn’t gone further than that. And you can’t help but feel like maybe it has something to do with you. Maybe he isn’t attracted to you physically, just your scent. And now he’s stuck with you. You want him so badly though. Especially since your first real heat is coming in the next few weeks or so. You want to be sentient the first time Steve fucks you. 

You got off a little early today so you came home and took an everything shower, fixed your hair, and put on your sluttiest pajamas that could almost be lingerie. It’s a little pink silk tank top and shorts set with lace bordering. 

Steve got home about an hour ago and he’s now in the kitchen, prepping dinner. In nothing but a pair of fucking grey sweatpants. They’re hanging low on his hips and there’s the tiniest bit of bush poking out of the top. It leads up to his happy trail and all the way up to his delicious chest hair. You swear this man is actually trying to drive you insane. You walk up to him and lace your arms around his waist. He smells so good you can’t help but nuzzle into the skin on his mole covered back and inhale his scent. You place a gentle kiss on his back and follow it with another. And then another. 

“Hey beautiful.” You can hear the smile in Steve’s voice and his hand comes up to caress your arm that’s tucked around his waist. You continue your trail of kisses, letting them get gradually wetter and more open mouthed as you go. You’re trying to kiss every single mole on his back and connect them with your lips to form your own brand new constellation. You run your hands up his chest and back down as you press your body tighter against his back. “Mmm, that feels nice.”

“I missed you Stevie.” Steve twirls around in your arms and takes your face in his hands, giving you that smile that makes your insides melt. He leans down to kiss you gently but you lace your hands in his hair to pull his mouth against yours more roughly. You run your tongue along his bottom lip and he immediately grants you access, swirling his tongue with your own. You moan into the kiss and Steve grips onto your hips, pulling your body flush against his. 

“I missed you too, honey, so bad.” Steve’s voice is breathless from your kisses and he leans down to shove his nose into your neck so he can scent you. You feel his cock start to harden against your stomach and you can’t help but grind against him. Steve groans before pulling back so he can look at you. “Let me cook for you.”

“Steve. Do you not want me?” You hate how vulnerable you sound but you’re tired of walking around not knowing. If he’s not attracted to you you’d rather find out now rather than later. 

“What?” Steve gasps and his eyes blow wide. “Why would you even think that? Of course I want you, baby. I want you so bad it hurts.”

“Then why won’t you fuck me?” You can’t help but pout. 

“Honey.” Steve runs his thumbs along your cheeks. “I just don’t want to rush you. I don’t want you to think I’m some meat headed alpha who feels entitled to sex because we are scent matches.”

“That’s really sweet and all, and I’m really glad that you respect me but I really need you to start disrespecting me before I go fucking crazy, Steve. I need you to fuck me before my first heat. I wanna be fully here for it.” You rub your stomach against his now fully hard cock and run your manicured nails down his back to prove your point. 

“I’m also nervous, if I’m being honest. I know once I cross that line with you I’m going to lose control and I don’t want to scare you off…” 

“Scare me off… how?” You raise a brow at him. You don’t know what he could possibly do to scare you off. 

“With my um - sexual preferences.” Steve clears his throat awkwardly as he looks anywhere but you. 

“So let me get this straight, doc.” Steve can’t help but smile at the little nickname you’ve given him. Your comforting scent fills the room causing his shoulders to relax.

 “You’re telling me that I not only scored an alpha who’s hot as hell, a doctor, you’re goofy, smart and you’re a freak in bed? I think I scored the alpha fucking jackpot.” 

“Are you sure?” Steve bites his lip as he looks down at you nervously. “I know I seem like kind of a boring guy but when it comes to sex…”

“Steve.” You giggle. “I want you to fucking tear me to pieces and fuck me like a rag doll.” 

“Yeah?” Steve smiles down at you like you just told him he won the lottery. 

“Yeah, silly.” You press up on your tiptoes so you can run your nose along his scent gland. “Why would the universe destine us to be together and not make us sexually compatible?”

“That’s good.” Steve laces his fingers through your hair and yanks your head back so you’re looking at him. “Because I’m about to fucking ruin you, baby.”

“Do your worst, Dr. Harrington.” You giggle and smile at him mischievously. 

“Oh, now you’re just asking for it.” Steve chuckles as he uses his grip on your hair to spin you around so you’re bent over the counter. Steve leans over you, covering your body with his firm, strong form. He runs his nose along your scent gland possessively before brushing the shell of your ear with his lips. 

“I don’t know how you could ever think I don’t want you. You smell so fucking good and then I come home to you wearing this? God, you’re so fucking sexy.” 

“Mmm, thank you, Stevie.” You hum as you wiggle beneath him, grinding your ass back on his hard cock. Steve inhales your scent again and licks along the column of your throat before leaning back. He runs his hands down your body, letting the silky material of your pajamas caress his skin. He suddenly pulls his hand back and lands a harsh smack on your ass causing you to moan loudly as you jolt forward. 

“I love this perfect ass. You’re so perfect for me.” Steve admires the way your back looks arched over the counter, the way that silk hugs your curves perfectly. 

Steve spanks you again and is nearly hypnotized by the way your ass bounces in retaliation. He gives the other cheek the same treatment before taking the globes of your ass into his big hands and kneads it. He spreads you open and not only can he smell the rush of slick that drips from your pussy, he sees it wet that pink silk right before his eyes. A wave of your lust filled pheromones hit his nose and that’s when instinct truly takes over. Steve’s grip on your satin shorts tightens until they rip at the middle seam. The torn material falls down your legs and you aren’t wearing panties so it leaves you completely bare for him with your slick, glistening cunt on display. 

“Steve! These are my favorite jammies!” You gasp.

“I’m sorry, baby, I’ll buy you new ones.” Steve gets down on his knees behind you and grips onto the backs of your thighs, pulling you open. Slick drips out of your pussy and onto the floor and he can’t help but growl at the fact that it’s going to waste. “But right now I’ve gotta fucking taste you.”

He shoves his face between your legs, running his nose along your wet slit, groaning as he inhales your honey-sweet scent.

Steve flattens his tongue, licking a long stripe from your hole to your clit. He sucks it into his mouth before bringing his tongue back down to swirl it around your entrance. He shoves his tongue deep inside of you and flicks it against your walls, practically scooping up your wetness. 

“Oh my god, Steve.” You moan loudly as your back arches further and it shoves Steve’s face deeper into your pussy. 

Steve feels like he’s going to go insane. He’s drunk on your pretty moans and your sweet taste. He could eat your pussy until your legs gave out if his cock didn’t feel like it was going to explode. He needs you to cum on his face first though. His lips wrap around your pulsing clit as he circles two thick fingers around your entrance before pushing them knuckle deep inside you. 

“Fuck, that’s so good, you’re gonna make me cum.” Steve curls his fingers against your sweet spot while he circles his tongue around your clit and it has pleasure wracking through your entire body. If you weren’t bent over the counter you’d probably fall on your ass from how bad your legs shake. Steve pulls his fingers from inside you and sucks them into his mouth before licking up the slick that is dripping from your pussy.

“You taste so fucking sweet, just as good as you smell.” Steve mumbles against your skin as he peppers messy kisses on your thighs. He kisses your ass before sinking his teeth into it, not enough to break the skin, but enough to sting deliciously. Steve stands up behind you and pushes his sweats down his hips before kicking them off. He takes his thick, hard cock into his hand and runs his tip through your slick. 

“Please Alpha.” You wiggle your ass against him and Steve lines up with your entrance before thrusting balls deep inside you and you both moan in unison at the stretch. He doesn’t give you time to adjust before he’s brutally thrusting into you. Steve grabs onto one of your hands and pulls it behind your back and the other comes up to press your head into the side of the cool marble countertop. 

“I’ll never make you beg, baby girl.” Steve uses his grip on your hand and your for leverage as he pounds into you. “Unless you act like a fucking brat, then maybe I’ll make you beg for mercy.” 

“Fuck, I guess I’ll make a note to get on your nerves sometime.” You chuckle but it morphs into a loud moan when Steve’s fingers lace through your hair and yank your head back. 

“God, you really were made for me, huh?” Steve pulls your head to the side so he can shove his nose into your neck and greedily inhale your scent. 

“Mark me.” Steve slows his thrusts to deep pumps of his cock inside you and pulls back so he can look into your eyes. 

“Are you sure?” It takes literally everything in Steve to not just sink his teeth into your throat the minute you ask. 

“Of course I’m sure, you’re my mate. Mark me. Make me yours forever.” Steve leans down and kisses you messily before yanking your head back to the side by your hair and sinking his teeth deep into your neck. It makes your pussy pulse around him as an orgasm crashes through you like a tsunami. Steve pulls back and licks the blood left behind from his teeth marks and then pulls out of you, manhandling your ass onto the counter. He pushes your legs apart and grabs onto his cock, thrusting back into your glistening cunt.  

“Your turn.” Steve bares his neck to you and you feel like he just offered you the world. 

You loop one of your arms around his neck and rest the other against his chest as you lean forward to kiss along his scent gland before sinking your teeth into his skin. You feel your bond snap into place and it’s like a piece of you that was always missing is finally a part of you. You can feel Steve in every fiber of your being and it makes you cum so hard your vision goes white. 

“Oh fuck, I feel you everywhere, alpha.” 

“Mine.” Steve growls and grips onto your thighs as the pace of his hips picks up. It only takes a few pumps of his cock to have him cumming right along with you. His cock twitches inside you, ropes of his cum spilling deep into you. Steve grips onto your face and kisses you deeply. While you’re kissing you feel his knot start to expand inside of you before locking in place. It makes you yelp out but it quickly morphs into pleasure as you cum around his cock a final time.

“Everything feels so right.” You sigh dreamily as you look into your handsome alpha’s eyes.

“Yeah, it really does. You’re fucking perfect.” Steve gives you that boy next door smile that makes you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush. “I’m sorry for knotting you right here on the kitchen counter though.”

“Oh my god, Steve! You’re such a fucking dork.” You giggle and swat his chest playfully. “One second you’re spanking my ass and ripping my shorts off my body and now you’re apologizing for knotting me. I could stay here all night, honestly. I’ve wanted this for so long.”

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑.

You’ve been doing surprisingly well not thinking about Eddie. Having a super hot, super funny alpha like Steve has helped a lot. But the closer you get to your heat, the more often your mind starts to wander to him. And more and more you start to feel like another piece of you is missing. It’s almost like he can sense it too because you don’t know how he found out where you live but he’s started sending you courting gifts. 

A few days ago there was a knock on your door and when you opened it there was no one there, but, sitting on your doormat was a little black box. Your eyes immediately filled with tears when you opened it. There was a silver chain necklace with a little bear charm hanging from it. You didn’t need a card to know who it was from. Your Teddie. 

Then the other day when you got home from work there was takeout from your favorite Chinese place sitting on your doormat. The place you passed out in just a few weeks ago. There was a note attached, that read: “I hope this is still your favorite.” 

It wasn’t signed, but you’d recognize that messy handwriting anywhere. You’ve seen it a thousand times. Passing notes in class, doing homework together, notebooks filled with pages and pages of D&D campaigns. That combined with the fact that he remembered your Chinese order brought tears to your eyes all over again. It’s like he’s trying to make sure you can’t forget about him when you’re trying everything you can to keep him out of sight out of mind. Even if you are still stalking his socials. 

Which you’re doing right now. You’re supposed to be working but you have a few minutes before your meeting with your new client so you took it upon yourself to pull up Eddie’s Instagram. 

He hasn’t made any new posts but you look at the old ones like you haven’t seen them a thousand times before. His many pictures from Corroded Coffin shows, pictures of his hands and his toned, tattooed body. He’s so fucking hot it pisses you off. He posts pictures of his nice cars and his husky dog. God, the cats would hate that. You immediately scold yourself for letting your mind wander to thoughts of what it would be like if Eddie joined your little pack. 

He hasn’t made any new posts but he did post on his story. A flyer for an upcoming festival, a picture of his lower stomach tattoo that has to be one of the banes of your existence because every time you see it you can’t help but imagine running your tongue across it. And lastly, there was a selfie of him with a caption announcing that he would be going live tonight at 8PM. 

“Miss, your 1 o’clock is here.” Your assistant Lina pops her head into your office and you give her a small smile as you let her know you’ll be in the conference room shortly. You aren’t exactly sure who this new client is but your boss said it’s for a big record label. You take a final longing look at Eddie’s instagram before standing up, straightening your pencil skirt and walking out of your office. 

As you pull open the door to the conference room you’re hit with a waft of deliciously sweet apple pie. At first you think your client brought an actual apple pie with him but when your eyes roam the room it only takes you seconds to realize the true source. Eddie fucking Munson is sitting at the head of the large table with a mousy looking beta man that you assume is with the record label. Your body immediately fills with rage at the sight of him. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You laugh dryly. “Is this a fucking joke? You really think you can just walk into my work after ten years like it's just casual?”

“Princess, please just hear me out.” Eddie looks at you pleadingly and you can’t help but roll your eyes. 

“Hear you out? Hear you out?” You scoff as you round the table so you can get in Eddie’s face. His scent distracts you but it doesn’t outweigh the anger you feel towards him. “You fucking lied to me Eddie. And you wanna know what that lie did to me? Not only did it break me into a tiny million pieces and make me question my sanity, your rejection suppressed my omega gene for a quarter of my life!! And now that I’ve presented you suddenly want me?! Fuck that!”

Eddie sits there wide eyed, his jaw nearly on the floor as he processes your words. “I didn’t - I didn’t know. I was just trying to protect you. What if I really did find my scent match and she didn't want a beta around? I thought - I thought I was doing the right thing… But I never stopped missing you.”

“I find that really hard to believe, Edward. You’ve been living out all of your wildest rockstar dreams, I really doubt that you’ve spent all these years thinking about some girl you grew up with.” You feel tears start to burn the rims of your eyes but you force yourself to keep them inside. He doesn’t deserve to see you cry. 

“Sweetheart, you’re not just some girl to me. You never have been” Eddie looks at you pleadingly as he reaches for your hand but you snatch it away and he deflates. “Please, just give me a chance?”

“You want a chance? Bombarding me at my place of work isn’t the right way to go about it, Eddie. This wasn’t cool.” You shake your head frustratedly. “I can’t take this deal, I’m really sorry. I’ll have my assistant give you the card for our sister company and I’m sure they can help you out.” You look at the man who is awkwardly sitting next to Eddie in silence and shoot him a polite smile. “Have a nice day.”

You turn around to leave but Eddie calls your name and as much as you don’t want to give him the time of day you can’t help but look back at him. 

“Please, don’t shut me out. I need you. I miss you. I’ll do anything.” The look in Eddie’s eyes and the way his shoulders sag make the omega in you want to curl up in his lap and shove your nose in his neck, anything to make your alpha feel better. But you fight against it.

“You don’t want me to shut you out, Eddie? Maybe find a better way to go about it than this.” You sigh heavily as you look into his eyes. “Thank you for the necklace, I’ll see you around.” 

You turn and walk out of the room but not before Eddie’s eyes flash to your chest where he sees the little silver bear resting against your soft skin. You’re wearing it. Maybe there’s a chance for him yet. He will do anything and everything to prove to you that he wants you, that he’s always wanted you. 

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑.

“Whoa, hey! What’s going on?” Steve’s eyes blow wide as he gets up off the couch to rush toward you. You pushed the front door open so hard that it slammed against the wall before slamming your purse on the kitchen island. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

“He has some fucking nerve showing up at my job like that!!” You growl as you rip your coat from your body and throw it on the ground. “Who the fuck does he think he is?! Bombarding me at work after not seeing me for a fucking decade!!”

Your chest heaves as you kick your heels from your feet across the room. It only takes Steve a second to gather who “he” is. Especially considering how worked up you are. He can’t help but think you’re adorable huffing and puffing around like this. He’s also worried though.

“Baby.” Steve walks over to you and lets off a wave of his pheromones to try and calm you. It works a little, enough to get you to stop growling long enough to look at him. He rests his hands on your shoulders before running them up and down your arms soothingly. “Did Eddie show up at your work? Is that what’s happening right now?”

“Yeah! He fucking got his production company to set up a deal with my office just so he had a reason to see me!” You growl. “He just showed up after all these years, looking sexy as ever, smelling like a goddamn apple pie, with his stupid fucking face calling me that stupid fucking nickname he gave me when we were eight. Looking at me with those wet, pathetic, puppy dog eyes, ugh!!”

Steve can’t help but chuckle a little. He has to give Eddie props for creativity. 

“I’m sorry he did that to you, sweet girl.” Steve hums as he leans down to kiss his mark on your neck and it lights up every nerve in your body. “But it kind of seems like you were a little happy to see him…”

“What?!” You gasp and pull back so you can look in Steve’s eyes. He’s smirking and you kind of want to slap him. “I was not happy to see him, Steve! I can’t stand him. It’s like you’re on his side or something.” You pout. 

“Hey, don’t get it twisted. I am loyal to you first and foremost. At the end of the day I will do whatever makes you happy.” Steve takes your face in his hands. “If you want to give Eddie a chance, I support that. If you want to reject him, I’ll support that too. But I will say that I think you will regret the ladder. You’ll just be hurting yourself all over again if you reject him. I do think you should make him work for it though.” 

“What did I do to deserve you, Steve Harrington?” You look at him with teary, wonder filled eyes. “You’re perfect, you know that?”

“I could say the same thing about you, my love.” Steve smiles at you sweetly before leaning down to nuzzle his nose against yours. “But I do think you should think about what I said.”

“I will.” You nod and press a sweet kiss to his lips. “I might have seen that he’s going live tonight when I was stalking his instagram earlier… Would it be weird if I tuned in?” You bite your lip anxiously. 

“Not at all, I think he’d probably cream his pants if he saw your username pop up.” Steve smirks down at you. “Especially after that display today, it seems like he’s desperate for your attention. Throw the dog a bone. But like I said, make him work for it. You deserve the world, make him prove to you that he’s worth forgiving.” 

Eight o’clock rolls around and you’re cozied up on the couch with Steve and the cats. He bent you over in the shower and ate you like a starved man before fucking you until you screamed. Eddie is supposed to go live any minute now and anxiously scroll through instagram while Steve reads his current book of the week beside you. You finally get the notification that he’s live and your hand shakes when you click on that little circle with his photo in it. 

“Hey guys.” Eddie smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes the way you remember. He looks so fucking good though. He’s wearing a tight black tank top, displaying his toned, tattooed arms. And his fluffy hair is up in a messy bun, like he just took a nap. You can’t see the lower half of him but he has his knee propped up in view of the camera and he’s wearing fucking grey sweatpants. What is it with these men in your life and grey sweatpants? It’s like they’re trying to make you a puddle of slick or something.

“It’s been a while since I went live. But I have a song I wanna share with you guys, I hope you like it.” You watch as Eddie pulls his acoustic guitar in his lap and begins to play. 

He plucks the first few notes of the song with his skillful fingers before his voice joins in. It’s been a long time since you heard it like this. Corroded Coffin is first and foremost a metal band. Eddie’s harsh vocals and rough high notes are otherworldly, he commands every room he’s in and his stage presence is mesmerizing. You’ve heard every single one of their songs. You’ve listened to his entire discography back to back a hundred times and there’s maybe three ballads in total. Ones you secretly hoped were about you. 

But when you were younger, Eddie would always serenade you with his acoustic. He’d sing to you on warm spring days while you had a picnic, or while you dozed off in his bed in his trailer. They were always songs about princesses and dragons. He wrote a few songs about all the reasons he loved you that could be passed off as platonic but were just barely teetering the line of something more. As he begins to sing you realize you recognize this song, it’s one of those songs that was about you. It’s different now though, it’s not borderline romantic, it’s a full blown love song. 

Eddie sings about how beautiful you are, how easy being around you has always been, he sings about your late night milkshake runs to the diner and how his life would’ve never been the same without you. Even if you’re the only person in the world who knows it, he’s singing this just for you. To you. You aren’t sure if he knows you’re watching but the fact that he’s doing it even with the slim chance that you’d never see it means a lot to you. 

You don’t even realize you’re crying until Steve’s thumb comes up to wipe away your tears. He’s watching over your shoulder and he doesn’t feel jealous at all. He feels like something is missing. Like he knows Eddie is supposed to be here with the two of you. He would never push you to do anything but he really thinks you should at least hear him out. Plus you’re not wrong, Eddie is hot as hell.

Eddie plays the last few notes of the song before leaning down to get a better look at the comments flooding in. They’re mostly people wondering who the song is about and girls thirsting after him. You can’t help yourself and you drop a little pink heart emoji. And you can’t stop the butterflies that start to flutter in your belly at the way Eddie’s eyes grow comically large when he sees your comment.

“To all of you guys asking who this song is about, it’s something I wrote a long time ago.” Eddie chuckles gently. “When I played it for her originally, I changed the lyrics around so it seemed a little less romantic because back then we were just two best friends pretending we weren’t in love with each other. This is the way it was originally written though. I’ve taken a few liberties since it’s been so long… But I didn’t change much.” 

He takes a deep breath before looking directly into the camera and saying your name. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. I know I fucked up. Bad. But please, just give me a chance to explain? You’re not just my omega because of whatever cosmic bullshit that made us scent matches, you’re also my best fucking friend. I would choose you even if you weren’t meant for me. Even if you were a beta. Like I should’ve before. I was young and dumb but I love you and I’ll do anything it takes to prove that to you. I’ll go all the way to Mordor and back if that’s what it takes, princess. Just say the word.”

Eddie smiles at the camera gently before ending the live. 

“Wow.” Steve blows out a puff of air as he looks down at you. There’s tears streaming down your pretty face in buckets and he can’t help but pull you into his lap. He runs his hands along your back soothingly. “That was… Are you okay?”

“I - I don’t even know.” You laugh but it turns into a sob. “I miss him so much but I’m scared, Stevie.” You tuck your face into his neck and inhale his fresh scent to help ground you a little. 

“I know, honey.” Steve hums as he smoothes out the back of your hair. “But I think you’ll feel better if you just talk to him. And I can’t lie, I have to give him props for that, it was smooth as hell. I feel like even I was swooning a little.”

“Steve!” You chuckle as you swat his chest playfully. 

“I’m sorry baby, but I have to admit, the man is pretty and talented.” Steve shrugs as you look at him in shock. You’re about to tease him because it kind of seems like he has a crush on Eddie but your phone dings a bunch of times in a row, distracting you. When you pick it up and look at it, you see instagram message notifications from Eddie. 

“Thank you for watching, princess.”

“Please just give me a chance to explain myself?”

“I’ll be at the diner near your work tomorrow at 5PM. Will you meet me? Just to talk.”

“I was such a fucking idiot for letting you go. But I never will again, if you just give me a chance. I miss you so much.”

You read the messages and take a deep breath, throwing your head up toward the ceiling. You gather your thoughts for a moment before typing out your reply. As angry as you still are with Eddie, you know that you can’t live without him. If you reject your bond it’ll be like losing a limb and you’ve already lost him once. 

“Okay.” Is all you type before hitting send. 

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑.

“Are you sure about this?” Steve stops you by your shoulders to look into your eyes. It’s a little after five and you’re standing outside the diner Eddie said to meet at. You would’ve been earlier but you wanted to go home and change. You also decided last minute that you wanted Steve to come with you. You said no when he originally offered (without pressure of course because he’s perfect in every way) but after thinking about it, you realized it would be best to be upfront with Eddie about Steve. If he isn’t okay with Steve being part of your life, then he’s already ruined his chance. So it’s also a bit of a test. 

“Yeah, let’s fucking do this shit.” You give Steve a determined nod before pressing a kiss to his lips and marching into the diner with your head held high. Steve watches after you for a second, you’re so fucking cute when you’re all fired up. Plus the way your ass looks in those shorts is almost criminal. 

You look around the dimly lit diner. There’s black and white checkered flooring and retro art on the walls. The tables and chairs are a shiny red that perfectly matches the red and silver counter bar. You look around for Eddie and it isn’t hard to spot him. The diner isn’t very busy, there’s an old man sitting at the bar and a younger couple in a corner booth. And then there’s Eddie. Sitting in one of the large round booths, looking annoyingly irresistible. His hair looks like he just washed and styled it and he’s wearing a white cut off band tank that has his toned, fully tattooed arms on display. There’s a soft look in his pretty brown eyes when they meet yours but when they travel to Steve who has his arm resting on his lower back his lip curls up in a snarl. Shit. 

“Who the hell is that?” Eddie’s voice comes out as a growl as you approach the table and stop a few feet away. 

“This is Steve, he’s my alpha.” Your eyes shoot daggers at Eddie, challenging him to question you. “Is that going to be a problem? Because if it is, then we can just leave.”

“No, don’t go!” Eddie’s look softens again as he urgently shakes his hands in front of him. “I was just surprised, I’m sorry, please don’t go.”

“It’s fine. Me and Steve are a package deal though. There is no me without him.” You cross your arms, pushing your tits together in your little tank top and it makes Eddie’s cock stir. “He’s my scent match too.”

“God, I missed your sassy little self.” Eddie smiles at you and it takes everything in you to not just cave and forgive him on the spot. 

“I really want to punch you in the fucking face, Eddie.” Steve bursts out laughing at that and Eddie can’t help the smirk that spreads across his lips. 

“Well, if that’s what it takes for you to forgive me, I’ll gladly let you punch me in the face as many times as you want.” That makes you snort out a laugh, the tension between the three of you easing a bit. You slide into the booth next to him and Steve follows suit. Eddie’s crisp, warm apple cinnamon scent floods your nose and it makes you clench your thighs to try and hide the scent of the slick that drips into your panties. 

“I missed you.” Eddie rests his forearm on the table so he can turn toward you and you have to physically rip your eyes away from his ringed hand spread out on the table. It doesn’t help that he’s still wearing the skull ring you got him back in highschool.

“I missed you too, Eddie.” You sigh as you look over at him with sad eyes and Eddie wishes he could kick his own ass for it. 

“I’m sorry.” Eddie takes in a shaky deep breath as he closes his eyes, grounding himself before meeting your gaze again. “I was such a fucking idiot, princess. I really thought I was protecting you. I’d never hurt you just to hurt you. I didn’t know you’d just disappear from my life. I didn’t know I’d… I didn’t know this would happen. I didn’t know it could happen. I’m so sorry I did this to you.”

His bottom lip quivers as he looks up at the ceiling to try and keep the tears in his water line from falling. 

“You knew I loved you Eddie, you knew I had always imagined us together. In what universe would you telling me that you’d never want to be with me, that you found someone else, not be painful?” The wide eyed look of hurt on your face makes Eddie blink hard, a few stray tears spilling down his cheeks. 

“If the roles were reversed, if I was an omega and you never presented as an alpha I would’ve stuck by you, Eddie. Yeah, my silly childhood dream was for us to be fated mates but that wasn’t all it was about. It was about you, about us, not just our designations. If you didn’t love me, you could’ve just said so, you didn’t have to go to all this trouble to lie in order to reject me. Or if you really did care that much about if I was an omega or not, if that’s what was make or break for you, maybe I just never really knew you at all.” 

“No.” Eddie brushes the tears on his cheeks away with his ringed thumb. He doesn’t deserve to cry right now. “That is not how it is, at all. I’m just a fucking idiot. I loved you, I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything in my entire life. I got in my head, I convinced myself that shutting down any chance of us being together was the right thing. I thought if I told you I found my omega before I actually did, it would be easier for us both in the long run. I made that decision for both of us and that wasn’t fair, I should’ve talked to you first. But I didn’t, I smashed your heart into a million pieces. I gave up on you. You knew you were an omega, my omega, and I didn’t listen. I’m not any better than your parents and all those doctors. I failed you.” 

“Yeah, you did.” You look over at Eddie with your brow furrowed, you want so badly to go off on him, be mean like you always planned. But now that you’re here? Smothered between His cozy autumn and Steve’s fresh spring scent, you feel at home, you feel complete. Steve’s hand finds your bare thigh, his thumb gently caressing your skin, grounding you with his presence in the way he does. You peer over your shoulder at him, he gives you a reassuring nod and it gives you the courage to go on. 

“You broke me, Eddie. You shattered me into a million pieces. Not only did you break my heart, you broke my mind too. Every single word of doubt and discouragement I’d heard in those years flooded me to the point that I questioned my entire existence. I knew I was an omega, I knew with every fiber of my being. But no one believed me. Not even the one person who was always there for me. So maybe it really was just all in my head, huh?” You shake your head as you chuckle dryly. “Doctors deemed me mentally unwell and delusional. I was forced into rehabilitation therapy and they wouldn’t let me stop until I finally just lied to them and told them I knew I was a beta, that I was ready to let my ‘fantasy’ about being an omega go. Even if I never truly believed it. Do you have any idea how hard that was for me?”

“God fucking damn it.” Eddie groans and pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes. “That’s fucking disgusting, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I wish I had words for how fucking sorry I am. I never should have left you. It was the worst thing I’ve ever done and I completely understand if you want nothing to do with me for the rest of our lives, I’ll respect that. But, god, it would kill me. I’ll do anything, anything to prove to you that I was wrong. I haven’t been happy since I lost you. I achieved my biggest dreams but it felt dull and grey without you. Nothing has ever felt right without you. I’d give it all up in an instant if it meant I could go back in time and spend it with you instead. I’m such a fucking dumb ass.” 

“Yeah, you are.” You giggle as you look over at Eddie with tears in your eyes and he can’t help the goofy smile that spreads across his lips. “I never could stay mad at you, could I?” 

“Nah, you can’t resist my dorky ass.” Eddie chuckles and he takes your hands in his before the look on his face turns serious. “I understand if you stay pissed at me though, you have every right to be.”

“Oh, I’m gonna be pissed for a while.” Eddie’s face falls slightly but you squeeze his hands to keep his eyes on you. “But, I quite like the look of the pathetic beggar on you, Munson, so I think I’ll keep you around.” 

“Yeah? You’d bestow such a high honor on a lowly peasant like me, fair maiden?” Eddie’s eyes twinkle with hope and you couldn’t dream of crushing it. 

“Yeah, dumby. But you better not fuck it up.” You roll your eyes and shove his shoulder playfully.

“Wouldn’t fuckin’ dream of it, princess.” Eddie smiles at you and it heats your entire body, a million good memories flashing through your mind.  

“Kiss, kiss, kiss.” Steve whisper chants on the opposite side of you and Eddie doesn’t need to be told twice, he takes your face in his hands so he can pull your lips against his own. You’ve kissed Eddie before, a playful peck as children, that one time you learned how to make out by practicing on each other. But nothing like this. 

Eddie’s lips feel like heaven as they mold perfectly against yours. Your entire body lights up like wildfire and you don’t think any amount of clenching your thighs could cover up the smell of the slick that drips out of you at his taste. Eddie’s tongue sweeps across your bottom lip and you open your mouth so he can slip it inside, your hands find purchase in his curly mane as you tangle your tongues together. You start going at it like horny teenagers, almost completely forgetting where you are until Steve clears his throat. 

“You guys are really hot together and all, but we are in a public space and the pheromones coming off the two of you could send even a beta into a frenzy.” Steve chuckles at the way Eddie’s face turns bright red and you stick your tongue out at him. He thinks he could get used to this dynamic. 

“Oooh, Stevie, you think Eddie is hot?” You wiggle your eyebrows at him. 

“Honey, look at him.” Steve gestures toward Eddie with an almost lustful look in his eyes and the images of them making out that flood your brain have another wave of slick dripping from you. 

“I think your boyfriend is hitting on me.” Eddie leans down to whisper in your ear loud enough for Steve to still hear. His warm breath fans out against your neck as his scent almost swallows you whole and you want him to sink his teeth into your mating gland right fucking here. “But that's okay because he’s pretty cute.”

“He’s so sexy, right?” You giggle. 

The three of you bound easily, meshing together like the missing pieces of a puzzle. You order food, crack jokes, tell life stories. Eddie tells Steve what you were like growing up and Steve tells the both of you about how he was in highschool. All while you’re practically glued to the seat by the slick that’s now seeping out of your yoga shorts. You know this isn’t the time to be absolutely feral but the longer you sit here between them the more horny you get. They both smell intoxicating and their body heat pressed to either side of you warms you from the inside out to the point that you’re starting to sweat and overheat. But the thought of not being between them at this moment makes you whine deep in your throat.

“Whoa, honey.” Steve stops talking abruptly, his eyes searching your face. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just - I was thinking about how we are going to have to leave soon and I got really anxious all of a sudden.” You tangle your hands together as you look down at your lap. 

“Hey.” Eddie rests his fingers under your chin, tilting your head up so you’re looking at him. He smiles gently. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? As long as you want me, I’m yours.”

“That makes me really happy to hear, Eddie.” You smile back but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “It’s just right now the thought of walking away from you after this even just for the night, I don’t know, it just sounds really awful if that makes sense? God, is it hot in here?”

Steve’s hand rests on your forehead, checking your temperature. He observes the thin layer of sweat on your skin, how strong your scent is, the hazy look in your eyes. “Baby, I think you’re going into heat.”

“What? It’s probably just one of my heat spikes, I just need some fresh air-” Your words are cut short by a stabbing pain in your abdomen that makes your body bend in half. “Oh my god, ow! Shit, okay, maybe you’re right.”

“Fuck, should I go?” Eddie looks over your shoulder at Steve in a panic. The thought of leaving you right now disgusts him but he isn’t exactly sure where he fits in this puzzle yet. Steve’s eyes widen as he shakes his head slowly while mouthing the word “no”. 

“No!” Your hands fly to Eddie’s arm in a panic, your nails digging into his bare skin from the strength in which you latch on. “Please, no. Don’t leave me again, Eddie, I need you.”

“Sweetheart, you’ve barely even forgiven me.” Eddie pulls your hands from his arm and takes them in his own, caressing your heated skin gently. His touch calms you a bit and slight embarrassment sets in at your desperation. “Are you sure? I don’t want to do anything you’ll regret when your heat is over.” 

“I’m still upset with you, Eddie. But I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you if you don’t stay with me through this. I need you with me.” You meet his eyes, forcing the haziness from taking over just long enough so he can see how much you mean it. “I am still sound of mind enough to know that I want this, I want you. Please?”

“I don’t ever want to hear you beg me for a single goddamn thing, alright?” Eddie drops your hands so he can cup your cheeks instead. “I am the only one who should ever be begging for anything in this relationship. I will always give you what you need.” 

The way his words mirror the ones Steve said to you before he fucked you the first time heats your body and your heart. A few months ago you were still a lonely beta and now you’re an omega, with two alphas that are devoted to you and your happiness.

“What if I’m a real bad girl and you have to punish me until I beg you to stop or let me finally cum?” The haze in your eyes returns as you look at Eddie lustfully, your bottom lip secured between your teeth. Steve and Eddie both groan in unison as a puff of each of their pheromones fills your nose, making you dizzy.

“Oh, jesus fucking christ.” Eddie’s cock feels like it’s going to burst out of his jeans and he really isn’t sure what’s stopping him from knotting and claiming you right here in this booth. 

“Alright, we better get the fuck out of here before it starts getting pornographic.” Steve chuckles as he starts to slide out of the booth but you latch onto his arm with both of yours, stopping him. “Honey, I’m going to go pay and Eddie is going to take you out to the car, then we will get you home and give you all the knots you want, alright?” You let out a cute little growl as you clutch onto him tighter. 

“Princess, it’s okay.” Eddie grabs your hands and gently pulls them off Steve. “Steve will be just a second, right Steve? And then we will all go in the same car together. We can leave Steve’s car here.”

“What? Why my car? I know the way there, I should be the one driving.” Steve raises a brow at Eddie.

“No offense dude, but, I saw your mom wagon and I'd waaay rather leave that here than my Lambo. You can drive, though.” Eddie pulls his keys from his pocket, points the fob toward his car to unlock it, and throws Steve the keys before picking you up bridal style and carrying you out of the diner. 

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑. 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑.

It takes everything in Eddie to not sink his cock into your dripping heat in the passenger of his two seater. The drive to your house is only about ten minutes but you’re sitting on his lap and the material of his jeans is soaked through from you grinding your needy, slick dripping pussy against him. It doesn’t help that you’re pawing at his clothes while you look at him with big desperate eyes and your scent was so thick in the small space he felt high off of it. “Princess, the first time I fuck you is not going to be in my car, okay?”

“We’re almost there honey, only like one more minute.” Steve peaks over at you and he feels like his cock is going to explode out of his jeans. 

When Steve pulls into the driveway he’s barely parked before he’s out of the car and speed walking around the front. He pulls the passenger door open and practically rips you from Eddie’s lap and speed walks toward the front door with Eddie close on his heels. Once you’re inside he heads directly for your room while you writhe around in his arms. 

Steve throws you down on the bed amongst the various pillows and articles of clothing you’ve been arranging there for the last week. Your skin is flushed and covered with a sheen of sweat and your little pink yoga shorts are completely soaked at the crutch, making them a shade darker. You’re breathing heavily, making your tits bounce in your little top and the look in your eyes is feral. Eddie comes to stand at the end of the bed with Steve and your knees subconsciously fall to your sides, causing a strong wave of your arousal to waft through the room. 

“Please?” You whine as you look up at them with glassy eyes, they’re both so fucking hot. Steve in his tight white t-shirt that you can just barely see his chest hair through and his thick cock straining against his jeans that always seem to mold perfectly with his body. His chestnut hair is tousled and his hazel eyes are almost black as he stares down at you hungrily. That goddamn cut off shirt Eddie is wearing shows off his tattoo covered arms and it hits just above his belt, giving you a delicious view of his happy trail and slutty lower stomach tattoo. His ripped black jeans fit looser on the bottom but they’re tight in all the right places. Like his ass and his big fucking cock that you’re dying to see, his zipper looks like it’s going to burst and you kind of hope it does. Also they both smell so fucking good it’s making you more dizzy than you already.

A stabbing pain shoots through your abdomen causing you to cry out. “Please fuck me? Bite me, knot me, fill me with cum until I’m so full it just keeps spilling out and then fill me some more.” 

Steve’s nostrils flare and he breathes out through his nose almost like a bull. He rips his shirt over his head so fast you hear a tearing sound and tosses it on the bed among the various clothing items already there. His large hand wraps around your ankle and he pulls you to the edge of the bed until your calves are hanging off. He grips onto the top of your shorts, ripping them in two with such ease you’d think they were a piece of paper. When he sees you’re not wearing panties, your glistening, puffy cunt on full display for him with your honey-sweet scent flooding his senses, he loses it. 

“Mine.” Steve growls and drops to his knees in front of the bed, throwing your legs over his shoulders and shoves his face between your legs. He runs the tip of his nose through your folds, inhaling deeply. He flattens his tongue and licks a long stripe from your hole to your clit, he circles your bud a few times before bringing his tongue back to your hole so he can taste your sweet nectar. Sweet fucks you with his tongue, sucking your clit and shoving his tongue as deep as it will go inside of you until you’re coming apart for him. Your back arches off the bed so far he has to pin you down and your slick drips down his chin and neck as you cry out his name. 

“Fuck, that’s a beautiful sight.” Somewhere amongst your orgasm haze you hear Eddie’s voice and it has another orgasm hurtling through you. Steve fucks you through it before standing up and riding himself of the rest of his clothes. Eddie comes to sit beside you on the edge of the bed and your pussy clenches around nothing at the sight of him. “You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

“Need you.” You reach for him as another shooting pain stabs through you but he grabs onto your hand, lacing his fingers through yours.

“I know, sweetheart.” Eddie pushes some of your hair out of your face and runs a ringed finger along your temple down your jaw. “But it’s only fair that I let Stevie here have you first.”

“I think I just might like you, Munson.” Steve smirks at Eddie as he grabs onto one of your thighs and throws it around his hip. He cups your pussy, grinding his palm against your pulsing clit so he can collect some of your slick. Steve takes his shaft in his wet hand and pumps it a few times before lining up and burying his cock inside you in one rough thrust. Your pussy greedily sucks him in, the feeling of his cock easing the stabbing pain coursing through you. He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back into you and starting up at a rough pace. 

“Oh, fuck yes.” You moan loudly as Steve practically uses your pussy as a cock sleeve, you hear a zipper next to your head and when you look over you see Eddie pulling his cock from his jeans as he watches the way Steve slides in and out of you, the sounds of your slick filling the room. His ringed hand slides between your legs rubbing against your clit. His palm rests against your mound as he spreads his fingers down the middle and runs them down either side of Steve’s cock that’s nestled inside you. He slides his fingers up and down a few times, gathering your slick as his rings rub against the soft skin of Steve’s cock. You watch Steve’s face for his reaction and when you see the way he’s looking at Eddie with fire in his eyes it makes your walls clench around him. 

“I think I might like you too, Steve.” You tilt your head to look at Eddie and he has that shit eating grin that you know all too well plastered on his face. He pulls his hand from between your legs and uses it to lube up his cock before gripping onto it so he can stroke himself. 

“God, that was so hot.” Your words are slurred and you have this hazy look in your eyes but that doesn’t spot you from returning Eddie’s smirk with one of your own. “I wanna see you guys kiss.”

“Yeah? Maybe one day, honey.” Steve grabs onto your thighs and throws them over his shoulders as he pumps his cock into you, the new angle has the head of him pressing right against your sweet spot and it makes your pussy clench like vice grip around his cock while you come undone for him. “That’s a good girl, cum all over your alpha’s cock.”

“You’re taking him so well, baby girl.” Eddie cups your cheek gently as he looks down at you in awe. He’s stroking his cock leisurely while he watches you, scared he might bust his nut at the sight of you like this if he gets too carried away. “I can’t fucking wait to be inside you, how does she feel, Steve?”

“So fucking good, so fucking tight and wet. Her pussy is fucking perfect.” Steve moans as he leans over you, his hands coming down on either side of your head with your legs still thrown over his shoulders, practically folding you in half like a pretzel. 

“Yes! Oh my god alpha, that’s so good.” Your hands grip onto Steve's forearms, your nails digging into his flesh deliciously. “I’m so close, choke me, Eddie.”

“Jesus Christ, are you for real?” Eddie groans and his cock twitches in his hand. 

“She’s deadly fucking serious, our omega is a little masochist.” Steve chimes in for you.

“God, I’m so fucking obsessed with you.” Eddie licks his lips as he brings his free hand to your throat. He wraps his thick ringed fingers around your flesh before squeezing just tight enough to obstruct your air flow. You pussy spasms around Steve’s cock as another ogasm has euphoria over taking your entire being. 

“I’m gonna fucking cum.” Steve moans as he pushes himself up to stand again, he grabs onto the back of your thighs and pushes them to your chest as he fucks you like a wild animal. It doesn’t take long for his cock to pulse inside you as ropes of his cum fill your walls.

“Knot, alpha, give me your knot. Need it.” Your mind is so foggy it feels like silent hill has taken up residence there and all you can think about now is how badly you need Steve’s knot inside you. You don’t have to want long because as soon as he stops cumming you feel the head of his cock inflate inside you. There’s a stabbing pain that’s quickly replaced with otherworldly pleasure, your eyes roll into the back of your head and your body probably would’ve flown off the bed if Eddie’s hands didn’t come down to pin your hips. It feels like it takes you forever to come down from your high. But when you finally do, Steve grabs onto you so he can pick you up just long enough to lay down on the bed on his back with you straddling him. 

“Mmm, you feeling any better, honey?” Steve’s knot is still nestled inside of you and he runs his hands down your hair to your back where he traces little circles on your skin with his fingertips. You feel the mattress shift and when you peel your tired eyes open you see a now shirtless Eddie propped up on his elbow the bed beside you.

“Yes, a little.” You nod, your cheek rubbing against Steve’s sweaty chest hair. “But, I need Eddie’s knot too.” Your bottom lip juts out as you look over at him with puppy dog eyes.

“And I’m going to give it to you, sweet thing.” Eddie hums. “As soon as Steve’s goes down, I’m all yours.”

After about ten minutes you feel Steve’s cock start to soften inside you, his knot unlocking from your walls. You’re so wet he slips out of you once he’s fully soft and Eddie wastes absolutely no time ripping your body from Steve’s and throwing you onto your back. He hovers over you on his knees and the sight of him all tattooed and now fully naked makes you whimper. He runs two of his fingers through your slit, gathering your slick and Steve’s cum onto them. He brings them to your lips, smearing the wetness across them like lipgloss. 

“Taste it.” You oblige him, taking his thick fingers into your mouth until his rings hit your lips. You swirl your tongue around, your eyes rolling back with a moan at the taste of you and Steve together. Eddie pulls his fingers from your mouth and leans down to lick your lips before kissing you hard. He runs his tongue along your bottom lip and you open your mouth so he can slide it against yours. He tangles your tongues together before sucking yours into his mouth and pulling off, a string of spit still connecting you. 

“Damn, you guys taste delicious together.” Eddie smirks over at Steve with his wet mouth and it has his cock hardening again already. 

“Are you flirting with me, Munson?” Steve raises a thick brow at him, returning his smirk with one of his own. 

“I thought it would be obvious by now.” Eddie chuckles.

“You guys are super cute and all but I feel like I’m getting stabbed and if you don’t fuck me soon I’m gonna lose my shit.” You look between them, a devious little smirk of your own finding your lips. “Unless you guys are gonna kiss, then I can wait for that.” 

“Well, what the princess wants…” Eddie leans over you to grab the back of Steve’s neck so he pull his mouth against his in a hard kiss. Steve’s hands find purchase in Eddie’s hair and their lips move together roughly. Their mouths open and you see their tongues dancing with each other messily. It’s messy and rough and it looks like they’re fighting for dominance.

“That’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” Your voice has your alphas breaking their kiss and their attention directed back to you. “Maybe I can watch you guys fuck someday.” 

“I’m sure you’d love that.” Eddie chuckles before wrapping his hand around your throat and squeezing. He leans down so his face less than an inch from yours, his hot breath hitting your face. “But right now, you’re fucking mine. I have waited so long for this and I’m about to fuck you until you can’t walk for days.”

“Do it. Fucking ruin me, Eddie.” It’s like you said the magic words because Eddie grips onto your hips so he can flip you onto your stomach. You push yourself up onto your hands and arch your back so your ass is in the air for him. His hand comes down on your asscheek hard, his rings biting your skin. He gives the other cheek the same treatment before thrusting two thick fingers inside of you.

“You’re so fucking wet.” Eddie groans as he pumps his fingers in and out of you at a fast pace. You clench around his fingers, your orgasm just in reach, but he pulls his fingers out of you, taking your orgasm with him.

“Hey! I was about to cum!” You whine.

“I know, baby, but I need you to cum on my cock.” You feel the tip of Eddie’s cock slide through your folds before his slams into you in one thrust and starts to fuck you with no remorse. “Oh fuck, you’re so tight, oh my god.”

“You feel so fucking good, alpha.” You bounce back against him, meeting his thrusts the best you can. Eddie’s hand smacks your ass again before he roughly grips onto your hips as you fucks you like his life depends on it. 

“Damn, you’re right, that is a beautiful sight.” The sound of Steve’s voice has your head whipping toward him and you moan at the sight of him. His hair is a complete mess, his skin is shiny with sweat, including his glistening chest hair, and he’s jerking himself off. “You look so fucking gorgeous, baby.”

“So gorgeous.” Eddie agrees as he wraps your hair around his hand, he pulls it so hard it makes your hands raise off the bed. He snaps his hips into you over and over again, the sound of skin slapping on skin and your slick practically echoing off the walls. 

“Bite me, Eddie.” You lean your head to the side, bearing your neck to him.

“Fuck, princess, are you sure?” Eddie’s thrusts slow for a moment as he looks down at you, hesitantly. He shoots Steve a questioning look and the other alpha gives him a reassuring nod.

“I’m so fucking sure, I’ve wanted it for as long as I can remember, I’m done waiting.” Eddie growls, pulling out of you and pushing you onto your back and slamming his cock back into you before you hardly have time to miss it. 

“You’re mine, baby, you always have been, and now you always will be.” Eddie presses his hand under your head so he can cup the back of your neck before leaning down and running his tongue along the column of your throat as he pulls his cock almost all the way out of you and then he bares his teeth, sinking them into your flesh while he slams his cock into you rough and deep. Every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire and you have the most mind blowing orgasm of the night. Eddie pulls away and looks at you like you just gave him the world, because you did, you’re his everything. 

“My turn. Where can I…?” You look over Eddie’s inked form, there isn’t much left that isn’t tattooed but as you’re looking for a spot to bite him, you spot an empty patch of skin right on the side of his neck, underneath one of his neck tattoos. You run your finger along it as you look into his chocolatey eyes. “Is this spot okay?”

“Of course, that’s your spot, remember?” Eddie cups your jaw and runs his thumb along the apple of your cheek. You try to search your foggy mind for what he’s talking about but you’re coming up short. You give him a puzzled look as you shake your head gently. “It was right after I presented when we were sixteen, we were sitting in the back of the van at the lake. It was a hot ass hell summer day so we went swimming and you brought lunch for us because you’re just always prepared like that.” Eddie chuckles fondly. “I was shirtless and had just gotten my first chest tattoo for my birthday and you look at me dead in the eyes, pointed at that spot on my neck and said ‘I know you want to be covered in tattoos one day, but you better always leave this spot open for me to mark’ and so I did.”

“Eddie’s that’s-” You eyes well up with tears as you look up at the man you’ve loved all your life. He’s so beautiful, his button nose, those plush pink lips, those sweet chocolate eyes that assured you on your worst days. You lost him, and you were so angry at him for it. But now he’s here, inside you, with a beautiful patch of porcelain skin that he kept bare for the last seventeen years, for you. “I fucking love you, Eddie munson.”

“And I fucking love you, sweetheart.” He sends you that goofy smile that you love so much and you wrap your arms around his neck pulling him down so you can sink your teeth into him. A second shockwave buzzes through your body as you feel your bond with Eddie snap into place, an unexpected orgasm taking you by surprise. “I’m glad we covered that because I’m going to fuck the shit out of you and knot you now.”

“God, you guys are so cute.” You hear Steve gush beside you and you smile over at him sweetly.

“I love you too, Stevie.” Your eyes don’t stay on him for long because Eddie rolls onto his back, pulling you with him so you’re straddling him. He plants his feet on the mattress and grabs onto your ass as he fucks up into you hard and deep. 

“I love you honey, get that knot.” Steve chuckles and you suddenly feel like he’s too far from you. Your sweet, handsome, dorky doctor. 

“I wanna suck your cock.” You pout through the moans that are falling from your lips like a song from the way Eddie is fucking you. 

“Anything for you.” Steve crawls over to you and presses himself up on his knees, planting one foot on the mattress. He grips onto the back of your head and pulls you down to his cock. You open your mouth and Steve doesn’t waste any time thrusting into it, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag. 

“Goddamn, princess, look at you.” Eddie groans as he continues to thrust up into you, using his grip on your ass to bounce you even faster up and down on his cock. “You’re such a good little omega, taking us both so well.”

“Mhm, you’re such a good girl.” Steve moans at the feeling of your lips wrapping around his cock, your tongue running along the vein on the underside of his shaft. His hand palms the back of your head as he starts to fuck your throat. Eddie’s thumb finds your clit and it has your eyes rolling in the back of your head. Steve’s fingers lace through your hair, yanking your head back and his free hand wraps around your throat. “Look at me while Eddie makes you fall apart on his cock, I wanna see the look in your eyes while he takes what belongs to us.”

“Give your alpha’s your cum, cum on my cock, baby.” Eddie’s words are what teeters you over the edge. Your walls practically swallow his cock and it has him cumming right along with you. Eddie growls as his thick cock pulses cum into your wet cunt. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum too.” Steve’s grabs both sides of your head in his hands as he fucks your mouth until his balls twitch and he’s cuming in ropes down your throat as he stares deeply into your eyes. “That’s it, omega, swallow every drop.” 

“Shit, yes.” Eddie’s knot pops inside of you causing you to pull off Steve’s cock with a cry. The pain turns into another orgasm, your body going rigid as you fall forward on Eddie’s chest. You lay there, sweaty and panting as you come down from your high. Once your heart rate starts to even out you feel how right everything feels. You can feel your bond with Eddie and Steve both and you finally feel complete. Steve lays down on the bed next to you, looking over at you sweetly while he gently caresses your back. And you’ve never felt more at home than you do right now, wrapped in their fresh lemon and warm apple scents. 

“You did so good for us, omega.” Eddie sighs contently as he presses a kiss against your sweaty forehead. Your mind feels a little less foggy than before but you know it won’t be long until you’re a knot hungry monster again. 

“You’re amazing, honey.” Steve leans over to kiss your lips sweetly. “I’m gonna go to the store and get supplies for the week. Two knots won’t be enough for long.”

“You’re leaving?” Your brow pinches and you feel a sudden rush of panic hit you.

“Just for like thirty minutes, baby, I’ll be back as soon as you can. Eddie will be here with you. It’ll be good for you guys to have a moment to yourselves.” Steve kisses you again before getting up to get dressed. Eddie smiles up at him, mouthing thank you and Steve shoots him a wink. That makes Eddie blush even though they just made out less than thirty minutes ago. All three of you are definitely looking forward to exploring that more. Steve leans over to kiss your head again before leaving you and Eddie alone. 

“I’m truly sorry, sweetheart.” Eddie sighs. “I’m so sorry I deprived us of this for so long.”

“Yeah you really fucked up on that one.” You chuckle, pushing yourself up so you’re sitting, his knot still nestled inside of you. You smile down at him fondly as you take his face in your hands. “We have it now though, for the rest of our lives, and that’s all that matters. Holding onto that pain won’t do us any good.”

“I’m not worthy of you, I love you so fucking much.” Eddie pulls you down so he can kiss you deeply, pouring all his apologies and love into this one kiss that makes your head spin and your pussy clench. 

“I love you too, Teddie.” You giggle, resting your forehead against his. “I’m glad we covered that, because I’m really fucking horny again and your knot just went down.”

Eddie chuckles at you throwing his earlier words back at him before throwing you on your back. He leans over you, sending you that smile that you never want to go another day without seeing. “Alright then, let’s feed the knot monster.”

Taglist: @eddiesxangel @eerielamb @moonlightseranade @lesservillain @take-everything-you-can @phantommoondoll @frombeyondthegravez @ali-r3n @sugasweettea @minniture @micheledawn1975 @bellalillyrose @bakusquadobsessed

Dividers by: @anitalenia & @strangergraphics

[rafesangelita]

♡ deciding to take a ride on the ‘tunnel of love’ roller coaster at the annual valentine’s day fair, rafe happens to catch you before it starts, conveniently locking himself in next to you. annoyed, you tell yourself you’ll be out and away from the man once the ride is over but (un)luckily for you, it just so happens to break down, leaving you two stuck together until it’s fixed..

warnings: one sided enemies to lovers (reader is the one who can’t stand rafe lol), forced proximity, teasing, flirty banter, slight angst (just a teeny tiny bit, it’s literally almost nonexistent), light fluff

a/n: now presenting… ‘TUNNEL OF LOVE’ 🤍 my town just so happens to be having a valentine’s day fair.. maybe (hopefully) i’ll go!

link: VALENTINE’S DAY CELEBRATION ໒꒰ྀི｡- ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

wc: 1.4k

[7:57 PM] bestie ♡: it looks like kelce is going to take me out for v-day after all!! don’t wait for me, i’ll catch up soon, promise!

you had just bought an extra large funnel cake for you and your best friend to share when you read her text, your sugary sweet smile faltering as you took a seat at a nearby bench. “more for me, i guess..” you sighed, feeling a little bit silly at the fact that you sat here by yourself when everyone who passed you by was either in a group setting or hand in hand with someone who was most likely their significant other.

you picked at the fried goodness, not really feeling as festive as you were just two minutes ago. “yo, y/n!” you recognized the voice before you even looked up, your eyes immediately rolling as none other than rafe ‘insufferable daddy’s money’ cameron made his way over to you. ‘please let this be quick..’ you whispered under your breath, not sparing the man a single glance as he plopped down ridiculously close to you.

“what do you want, rafe?” he smiled when he heard his name roll off of your tongue, his muscular arm draping across your shoulders as his mouth dropped next to your ear. “can you at least act like you could tolerate me?” you scoffed, shrugging him off. “no, i can’t,” you finally looked at him, “because even that is too difficult to do.” he swallowed thickly, feeling slightly defeated before he went for the funnel cake that sat in your lap.

“i’m really not that bad, i’ll make you realize that soon.” rafe was also too confident and cocky for your liking— more reasons you could add to your seemingly never ending list as to why you think you two would never work out.

“i highly doubt that.” rafe was licking powdered sugar off of his fingers when you met his gaze again, your eyes flickering down to his tongue. the one thing that you couldn’t put on your list was that he wasn’t hot. anyone with eyes can tell you that rafe was insanely attractive, but of course, you’d never admit that to him out loud.. or so you thought. “you’re staring.” he smiled when he saw that your eyes stayed trained on his mouth, a smug expression taking over his features.

you blinked away, deciding you had enough chit-chat for one night. “in your dreams, ‘cameron.” rafe watched you get up from your seat, gladly taking the funnel cake you basically shoved into his hands. “why, thank you.” he took another piece, popping it into his mouth. you flashed him a fake smile before adjusting the strap of your crossbody purse. “i’ll see you around!” he called out, waving obnoxiously in your direction. “no you won’t!” you whispered to yourself, deciding to explore the fair a bit more.

little did you know conversation between you and rafe was far from over.

you walked around the fair grounds for almost fifteen more minutes before you had decided you were better off at home eating some greasy takeout and having a rom-com movie marathon in nothing but your comfy pj’s.

just as you were on your way to the exit, a flashing heart with the words ‘TUNNEL OF LOVE.. find your lover inside!’ caught your attention. deciding you’d at least inquire about it, you walked up to the ride operator and asked away. “excuse me! hi, i was just wondering what does the whole ‘find your lover inside!’ thing mean?” the woman lit up as if she had been dying to answer this question.

“so basically there’s another roller coaster coming from the other side, and once you two meet inside, the ride will stop for two minutes before coming back out to the respective entrances.” she explained. “so it’s like speed dating?” you smiled, the idea enthralling you. “yeah, that’s exactly it!” she nodded. you weighed out your options and decided a little excitement wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“i’m suprised you don’t have a line, how much is it to get on?” you took your wallet out of your purse as she replied. “if you have a full-access wristband it’s free, but if not then it’ll be five dollars exactly.” you handed over the small bill, smiling to yourself as she let you through the metal gate. “it looks like two people can fit in here—” just as you stepped in, rafe came running from the opposite direction.

“stop the ride!” he shouted, his chest rising and falling as he bent over to catch his breath. you blinked. “it’s not even on, you drama queen.” taking a seat, you were about to pull the metal bar over your lap before he shouted again. “i’ll give you fifty bucks if you let me get on with her!” you crossed your arms over your chest, not expecting the ride operator to actually let him in. “seriously?!” you gasped when he walked through, flashing you a wink.

“sorry!” she pushed the guardrail over you and rafe until it locked in place before starting the ride. “this will all be over in two minutes.” you glared at him, trying to scoot as many centimeters away from him as you could. “that’s fine with me.” he shrugged. he leaned back in the cart, red and pink flashing lights illuminating the space in which you two rolled into slowly.

rafe kept his eyes on you, watching as you avoided his gaze. “why don’t you like me? serious question..” you sighed, finally giving him your full undivided attention. you opened your mouth to speak but no words came out. “what?” you acted like you didn’t hear him the first time, wracking your brain for any kind of answer. he smiled teasingly, pointing a finger at you. “i asked you why you don’t like me and you can’t even answer me!” you waved him off, facing the other way to hide the smile on your lips.

truthfully, you didn’t really know who rafe was. like just by himself as an individual. you knew that his friends were all assholes though, including the one who your best friend was willing to drop everything for. “i hate your friends,” you started, “and you are who you keep company with, sooo..” rafe cleared his throat as the roller coaster came to a stop. the inside of the ‘love tunnel’ was lit up with baby cherubs along the walls, red hearts and fairy lights adorning the interior.

“me and my friends are very different from each other.. i think you’d be surprised.” you hummed, adjusting the pendant on your necklace. “maybe..” the other roller coaster cart strolled in from the other side, the seats empty. “i guess it’s a good thing that i tagged along, since you would’ve been all by yourself if i didn’t.”

you glanced over at him, his blue eyes standing out in the pinkish lighting. “..yeah, i guess.” rafe’s head shot up as soon as the words left your mouth. “you really think so?” he scooted closer, the action making you laugh. “don’t push it.” you warned him, in which he held his hands up defensively. “okay, okay!” rafe had this smitten look on his face as if making you smile was his life’s greatest achievement.

“so you told me why you didn’t like me, which is fair, but i want a real chance at proving you wrong. can you at least give me that?” rafe hesitantly rested a hand on your knee, the hopeful look in his eyes making your heart melt into a soft puddle of mush. “hmm..” you pretended to think, the anticipation making rafe’s leg bounce. “okay. only under one condition though..” rafe nodded frantically.

“anything.”

“tell me why you like me so much when i avoid you like the plague, and never seemingly look in your direction.. like ever.” the man next to you snorted. “you want me to go down my full list? ‘cause we’ll be sitting here all night—” just then, the ride operator’s voice boomed through the intercom speakers from inside the tunnel. “hi, i’m so sorry for the inconvenience, but we’re having some technical difficulties and my electrician guy says it’ll be at least an hour or two before you could leave. i promise to issue a full refund once you two are off.”

you and rafe looked at each other half concerned and half amused. “..so, you were saying?”

[reginyani]

Lessons | s.reid x fem!bau!reader

summary: You take it upon yourself to help Spencer Reid, your genius FBI co-worker develop confidence and social skills— especially in flirting. As you continue to give Spencer casual lessons in flirting, you both begin to realize this isn't just 'casual'. This leads Spencer into overthinking, and making a rash decision which ends in with him in your apartment half-naked.

cw: smut, 18+, mdni, flirty!reader, mentions of being in bar and drinking, use of y/n, clueless!spencer, sub!spencer, softdom!reader, p in v, unprotected sex, reader rides spencer, spencer comes inside reader

wc: 2.7k

a/n: please like and reblog if you enjoyed! support is always appreciated<3 (i listened to smarty while writing this and im absolutely screaming.)

Spencer Reid had many strengths. He could recite the periodic table in under a minute, read 20,000 words per minute, and could quite literally remember every single word ever said to him in perfect detail. But when it came to social interactions?

Well.. He was a work in progress.

You had noticed it early on— how he hesitated before speaking, how he fumbled over his words when confronted with casual banter, how he shrank away from physical contact as if it burned him. It wasn't that he lacked intelligence, in fact, he quite literally was the definition of intelligence. The guy could outthink just about anyone. But social nuance? The art of casual confidence? That was definitely not his forte.

Which is why, one evening after work, you decided it was time to do something about it.

"You really are hopeless sometimes, you know that?" You said, leaning back against your desk as Spencer furrowed his eyebrows at you in confusion.

"I don't— what do you mean?"

You smirk, pointing toward the break corner, where a young woman from accounting had just left from, looking vaguely disappointed. "That girl was flirting with you, Genius."

Spencer blinked. "No she wasn't."

"Yes, she was."

"She asked if I liked tea," he said while rolling his eyes, as if that was somehow an airtight defense.

You groaned, shaking your head. "Spencer, she was looking for an excuse to speak to you. She was touching her hair, laughing at everything you said— even the things you said that weren't funny."

Spencer frowned. "I wasn't exactly trying to be funny."

"Exactly," you say, crossing your arms. "Which means she wasn't laughing at the joke. She was laughing because she liked you."

For a moment, Spencer just stared at her, eyes narrowing in thought as if he was cataloging this information for a further study and analysis. Then he suddenly sighed loudly. "Even if that were true, it's not like it matters. I'm not.. great at that kind of thing."

You tilted your head. "At what?"

"Flirting. Making conversation that isn't strictly informational. Even as a profiler I struggle reading people." He gave an awkward shrug. "Flirting isn't really a skill I ever needed."

You studied him for a moment before pushing off your desk. "Alright, that settles it. I'm making you my new project."

Spencers eyes widened slightly. "What does that mean?"

"It means I'm gonna teach you how to be more confident," you said with a smirk. "How to read body language of a person who isn't a serial killer, and how to hold a conversation without sounding like a Wikipedia page, and maybe even know how to throw a decent punch while we're at it."

He scoffed, though there was a faint blush creeping up his neck. "I don't need—"

"Yes, you do," you interrupted, grabbing your coat from the back of your chair. "Come on, Boy Genius. We're getting drinks."

Spencer hesitated. "I don't really—"

"It's a lesson, not a date," you teased. "Unless you're scared."

That did it. He straightened his back, squaring his shoulders slightly. "I'm not scared."

"Good," you said, patting his arm. "Let's go then."

When you both arrived at the bar, it was quieter than most. It was a small spot near your apartment that you go to occasionally to decompress. Spencer had never been here before— not surprising, given that he rarely went anywhere that wasn't work related.

"You do realize I don't drink, right?" he asked as they slid into the booth.

"Yeah, yeah, I got that memo," you said, crossing your arms. "You can have water if you want, alcohol isn't exactly the point, it's the atmosphere around us."

He folded his arms together, looking skeptical at your words. "And what exactly am I supposed to learn here anyway?"

"Confidence, Reid. Social ease. You spend way too much time in your own head that you forget to live in the moment. So, here's your first ever lesson: stop overanalyzing."

He opened his mouth to argue, but you raise your finger to stop him. "Nope. Don't say anything. Just trust me on this."

Spencer exhaled heavily, looking vaguely pained in annoyance, but he nodded anyway. "Fine. What do I do then?"

You gestured to the bar. "Pick someone in the room and tell me what their body language says. C'mon, use those profiling skills to good use."

He listened, scanning the room, until they landed on a man at the bar nursing a whisky glass. "That guy is probably going through some kind of personal issue. His posture is slightly slouched, and his fingers are tense around his glass, and he hasn't checked his phone once, which most likely means he's avoiding calls or texts from someone or possibly has no one to even reach out to."

You raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Damn. Alright, expert profiler. Now, please do it with someone less miserable."

Spencers gaze shifted to a couple laughing together in a nearby table. "Well, the woman there is interested in the man, but he's clearly not picking it up that well. She's leaning towards him, angling her body to fully face him, but he keeps glancing away, distracted. Either he's oblivious, or not interested in the conversation at all."

You grin. "See? you're better at this than I thought."

Spencer huffed out a small laugh. "Observing is one thing. Applying it in real time is another."

"Okay, well then let's practice." you say, leaning froward slightly. "Tell me what my body language is saying."

Spencer hesitated for a moment. "You're.. teasing me."

"Obviously, Genius. What else?"

He studied you, his eyes darting over your posture, the way you rested your chin in your hand, and the slight smirk playing at your lips. "You're comfortable. Your body language is opened, relaxed. But you're also amused, probably at the fact you know I'm over thinking this."

You laughed. "Bingo!"

Something flickered in his eyes, something victorious, straightening a bit as he smiled.

"Alright," you said, finishing your martini. "Lesson one complete. Next up is casual confidence!"

Spencer groaned. "This is going to be painful."

"Excruciating," you said with a grin. "But trust me, Spencer. You will thank me later."

Over the next few weeks, your lessons continued on.

You taught Spencer how to hold eye contact without looking away in embarrassment, corrected his posture when he hunched over too much. Much to his horror, you even demonstrated how to casually brush someone's hand without making it completely awkward.

But somewhere throughout these lessons, things started to shift between the two of you.

It started out subtle at first. A glance that lasted a little too long. A touch that lingered a second past appropriate. The way you started to notice how his eyes crinkled when he was smiling, and how his voice softened just enough when he spoke to you.

It wasn't supposed to mean anything, but it did.

Another normal evening, after a round of drinks, you both found yourselves outside of your apartment complex. It had surprisingly been a good night— Spencer had successfully navigated himself through a conversation with a stranger without stammering, and you were so damn proud of him.

"You're getting better at this," you nudged his arm as you both walked up the steps of your apartment building.

Spencer smiled, small but real. "You're a good teacher." he said as you both made it to your apartment door.

Something in the atmosphere changed in that very moment, the air charged with clear unspoken tension.

You weren't sure who moved first, but suddenly, you were closer, looking up into his unreadable expression.

For a second, just a second, you wondered.

Then Spencer cleared his throat awkwardly, stepping back. "I should go."

You nodded quickly, shoving your hands into your pockets. "Yeah, yeah.. of course." you said disappointingly.

Neither of you said what you were thinking, and it was quite clear you didn't have to.

The were both wrong about this 'just being a 'lesson', and you both knew it.

As you heard his footsteps fade away, you quickly fumbled through your purse to find your keys. When you did, your hands shakily inserted the key into the keyhole as you unlocked the door.

When you finally entered, you let out a heavy sigh, removing your shoes at the entrance and putting them on a rack.

The door had just barely clicked shut before a loud knock echoed throughout your seemingly empty apartment.

You immediately froze, already knowing who was on the other side of the door.

Your heart thudded against your chest, your fingers curling around the doorknob. He didn't even enter, theres no way he left something behind— he never did anyway. He definitely didn't just come back to say goodnight either.

No, there was only one clear reason he was standing on the other side of your door.

Swallowing hard, you reached for the handle of your door, hesitating for a fraction of a second before pulling it open.

Spencer stood there, his expression unreadable, his breathing uneven and as if he had walked down the stairs and immediately ran back up. His hands were curled at his sides, and for once, he wasn't overthinking— he was only acting on his emotions.

Before you could speak or process anything, he leaped forward.

His hands found your face, fingers threading into your hair as his lips crashed against yours.

A startled gasp escaped your lips before you melted into his touch, your own hands gripping at his jacket to pull him in closer. It was desperate and certainly messy, all the built up tension from the past few weeks of lessons spilling over in one perfect, and reckless moment.

Spencer Reid —your best work partner and friend— was here, kissing you like he had been holding himself back from it far too long. And honestly, maybe he had.

He wasn't being shy now. There was no hesitation on either of your ends, no second guessing. His lips moved against yours like he had been studying the movement for years, like he memorized every possible way to make you feel like your knees could give out beneath you at any moment.

Your back hit the doorframe as he pressed closer, and eventually he pushed you inside, shutting the door. His hands slid from your face down to your waist, gripping your hips like he was afraid you might disappear if he were to let go.

But God, no, you were definitely not going anywhere.

You tilted your head, deepening the kiss, your fingers tugging at the soft curls that hung at the nape of his neck. He made a quiet, shuddering sounds at your contact, and you grinned against his lips before pulling back just enough for both your eyes to meet.

His pupils were completely wide, his chest rising and falling unevenly as he caught his breath.

"Spencer," you whispered softly, still catching your own breath.

His hands continued to tighten on your waist, like he wasn't ready to let go of you just yet.

"I was completely wrong," he admitted, his voice low, almost dazed.

You arched one of your brows in confusion. "About what?"

"About not having feelings for you." His thumb traced against your waist, tapping in nervousness. "About this just being a lesson."

You let out a breathless laugh. "Took you long enough, Genius."

He huffed, half exasperated and half relieved. "You knew?" he asked in confusion.

"Of course I knew. I was just waiting to see if you were gonna figure it out."

He shook his head while letting a soft chuckle escape his lips. He finally let himself lean back, being able to fully take you in now. "And what now?"

You smirked, reaching up to brush your thumb against his soft pink bottom lip, swollen from the kiss.

"Now," you said, tugging him back toward you. "I teach you everything else you haven't learned in lessons yet." you say, grinning as you start to pull him away from your door and onto your couch.

Spencer is at a complete loss, unsure of what to do as you straddle his lap. He gulps, his eyes glued to you as you remove your shirt, throwing it somewhere across the room.

As if he were just following your lead, he removes his own shirt, completely unsure of what to be doing. His stomach seems to be twisting in knots, the heat rising in his chest.

Your lips crash into his once again, sucking on his bottom lip as your hips move against his lap, your skirt lying against your thighs. You pull away, the friction overwhelming and just enough on its own. Your hands grip onto his shoulders, feeling his erection through his pants.

Spencer bites his lip, holding himself back from letting out a loud whine, or saying something embarrassing like 'holyfuckpleasejusttouchmealready'. Although, as hard as he tried, of course he was unsuccessful.

"I.. need you, Y/N.." he whimpers, panting heavily as you move.

"That's all I needed to hear, baby." you tease, your hands quickly making their way to the clasp of his belt, quickly unbuckling it. You then unzip his pants, but instead of immediately pulling his boxers down, you rub his cock through them.

This drives him nuts, making him let out a loud moan.

"Please, just.." he mumbles, throwing his head back in pleasure.

"Please.. what?" you smirk, raising an eyebrow as you continue to move your hand, watching him as eyebrows furrow and his slick lips part.

"Just fuck me already!" Spencer begs, at this point almost screaming.

Although you wanted to tease him more, you could feel your own pussy throbbing as it quietly begged for the touch of the man beneath you. So instead, you smirk, allowing him to pull his boxers and pants down to his thighs.

You quickly scrapped your skirt, leaving you in just a pair of pink laced underwear. You look down at him, your own lips parted as you move your underwear to the side.

Suddenly, your hand takes his cock, slowly stroking it, before quickly speeding it up, making him moan in pleasure. "Holy— shit, Y/N.. Ah!—" he manages to sputter out, practically melting in your touch.

"Ready?" you ask, smirking down at him. He nods rapidly, not wanting to wait any longer.

At his approval, you lift yourself from his lap and position yourself above his cock, allowing it to hit your wet entrance. You groan in pleasure, feeling his tip slowly enter your pussy.

Eventually, his cock is all the way inside you, and you're bouncing up and down, feeling the warmth of him inside you as both your moans and slap of skin on skin filled your apartment.

"Fuck, Spencer... you feel— so good." you moan, stuttering as you continue to bounce on his cock, feeling him pulse inside you.

He rocks his hips, sliding in and out of you as you both begin to chase your high, sending Spencers mind reeling as he gasps.

"Is this okay?—" he asks, continuing to rock at a decent pace.

"Fuck, yes.. So good, Spence.." you answer, allowing the noises that are escaping your lips be the answer. "Shit.." you breathe out, "You're so fucking incredible, darling."

Spencer squints his eyes shut, feeling himself get driven closer and closer to the edge.

"Y/N.. 'M close.." he warns, beads of sweat rolling down from his forehead as he gets closer to coming.

"You gonna come for me Spencer?" you say with watery eyes, close yourself. "Look me in the eyes, baby." you demand him.

He looks up, his eyes meeting yours as you continue to fuck yourself into him, moaning in pleasure. You throw your head back, now your practically yelling out.

"Yes! Right there, Spencer! Come inside me!" you wail, your bodies now moving in synchronized motions.

This finally sends him through, jolts of electricity shooting through his body as he comes, legs shaking heavily as he fills you up with his sweet liquids.

You come soon after, moaning as the warmth of him inside you makes your own orgasm feel even better.

Eventually he pulls out, and your body finally gives out as collapse next to him, feeling empty without him inside you now.

"You better take me out after this." you tease, still catching your breath.

"Aw, do I have to? I wasn't planning on it." he jokes, chuckling as you smack his arm playfully.

"So, do you think my amazing lessons payed off then?" you ask, raising an eyebrow as you smile.

"Eh, I guess they were alright." he answers, zipping up his pants as he shrugs.

"Oh, c'mon!" you whine, defeated.

tags:

[grandline-fics]

Hi Kerrie, thank you for your wonderful writings! I was wondering if we could we see the ‘waking up the morning after’ prompt with Shanks and/or zoro and sabo (if you enjoy writing for these characters). Thanks, I hope you’re having a great day! ✨

DESCRIPTION: Prompt: Waking up the morning after

WARNINGS: a little suggestive but nothing explicit? mostly fluff

CHARACTERS: Shanks, Zoro

WORDS: 1,889

A/N: Thank you for requesting this! I kept everything more on the fluffy and sweet side and only managed to think of something for Shanks and Zoro. I might do something with this for Sabo separately if I think of a scenario for him. Hope you like what I managed to come up for this one.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

SHANKS

You’d always known what you were getting yourself in for when you joined the Red Hair Pirates. You knew the type of man Shanks was, his presence alone commanded everyone’s attention and that was before he’d even opened his mouth to begin the effortless charm that flowed from him. He was as charming as he was powerful and unapologetically flirty with everyone he came across. Even before he’d offered you a place on his crew your first interaction with him head been a flirtatious one. It had been so natural and easy, you’d never had an interaction like it. If it hadn’t been interrupted by the group of bandits attacking in the middle of your conversation you’d been sure that you would have gladly followed Shanks to where his bed had been for the night and never seen him again when you woke. However it was thanks to the bandits that Shanks had gotten to see just how formidable a fighter you were and insisted you be a part of his crew. 

Naturally you couldn’t say no to him with an offer like that but now that he was your Captain you’d made it a firm rule that nothing would happen physically between you both. It would just become messy if it was only a one time thing. It would muddy the waters between seeing him as a lover without lessening his authority as your leader. While you knew deep down that Shanks would never kick you off the crew you didn’t want to risk it. You’d kept firm in your dedication to just being his subordinate and resisted his charms when the crew partied. Yes you indulged in the playful banter but that’s as far as you allowed it to go. You just always felt so comfortable with him that the second his lips met yours the evening before during one of your late night talks that all sense went out the window and you gave in to temptation so easily.

That’s why you refused to open your eyes, because if you did that meant facing the fact you’d royally fucked up. Still denial was the more appealing option because the warmth of Shanks’ sleeping body against yours was just as enticing as he was when he was awake. No, you had to be strong. With a deep breath you forced your hand to rub your eyes and slowly opened them, internally cursing when you saw the sight of Shanks sleeping all too peacefully beside you. It really wasn’t fair how good he looked but you couldn’t get distracted. You needed to talk about what happened. Glancing down you looked at his arm across your body, fingers lightly curled against your hip. As if sensing what you were awake, Shanks’ peaceful expression shifted to one of groggy stirring. His fingers secured themselves against your side before his arm pulled you sharply to hold you by his chest. Your breath lodged in your chest when he let out a content sigh, nuzzling his face against your neck. “Mornin’ gorgeous…” Heavy with sleep, his voice was even deeper than normal. When you didn’t immediately answer, Shanks’ eyes finally opened, regarding you carefully. “What’s up?”

“You really have to ask?” You asked softly with a small laugh, turning you head to look at him. You never had an issue being open and honest with Shanks. Even now as you both lay naked and about to talk about what happened between you both you felt no hesitation or need to hold back. “Last night shouldn’t have happened, should it?”

“You asking me or telling me?” Shanks asked softly, fingers lightly moving to play with yours. “I don’t regret it.”

“This isn’t about regrets Shanks.” You sighed, settling your free hand over his to still the gentle but distracting motions. “This is about what happens next. This is about balance. What are the crew going to think?”

“I think the words ‘fucking finally’ and ‘Cap’n you lucky bastard’ will be the general consensus.” Shanks grinned at you, relieved to see you fight a smile and playfully roll your eyes at him. “I’m serious though. The only one overthinking this is you. The crew have been waiting on this for so long so nothing’s going to change with them. The only question is, did you want this to have been a one-time thing?”

“Shanks you don’t do relationships. Not in the time I’ve been on the crew.”

“Yeah because I only wanted to do a relationship with you.” Shanks explained, lacing his fingers between yours to lead your hand up to his lips and press the softest kiss against your knuckles. “So what do you think?”

“I think you’re a very dangerous man Red Hair…” you sighed, stunned at his confession but not rejecting it. His effortless charm and commanding warmth was dangerous. Even more so was how safe and happy he made you but you had no fears about this.

“You’re one to talk.” Shanks chuckled, lowering his hand to pull you closer. “You’ve had me under your spell since the first day we met and I’ll be damned if I let you go now.”  

ZORO

You and Zoro always had a strange sort of tension underlying in your friendship. On the surface you both were warm and comfortable in each other’s presences. Perfectly balancing the other and both having a strong understanding of the other without needing to communicate beyond brief words and the slightest shifts in stance. On the ship you two were considered the closest of friends. Underneath it all? You both held heavy attraction and intense want for each other but at the same time the restraint you both had to never step over that line and delve deeper into what you both desired was stronger. For now you were both set on getting stronger and enjoying your adventures together with the rest of the Strawhats. Deep down you both knew that the other wouldn’t reject any advances if they were made but still you both held back, believing there would be plenty of time for that. That you’d both know when the time was right. 

Then Sabaody turned the tide for you all. Under the assault of the Marines you were all defeat so easily and with terror in your eyes you realised you were all outmatched. Out of instinct you looked to Zoro and you could only watch helplessly and washed in cold dread as the swordsman disappeared in the blink of an eye. Then one by one the rest of you were dispatched by Kuma, struck out of sight and before you knew it you were on a completely different island. Alone and scared for the first time in a long while, missing and fearing for your crew. Just when you thought things couldn’t get worse you were faced with the news that your Captain had lost his brother. Thankfully you deciphered his coded message and resolved yourself to spend that time getting stronger. 

Through the two years away from your friends you always thought of them, hoping they were safe and training too although Zoro crept into your mind most of all. On your worst days, the image of him training on Sunny’s deck like he used to helped motivate you to push through your mental blocks and keep going. Finally the day came when you stepped foot on Sabaody again and a shudder ran through you at the memory of what had happened the last time came to your mind. You had faith in your crew that you’d all improved and it would never happen again but it was hard not to remember the fear of that day as if it was happening all over again. Setting off you made your way to the grove for the long awaited reunion. 

Night had begun to fall when you spotted the familiar sight of Sunny’s head and your steps quickened from your relaxed pace into a full run. Just as you climbed onto the deck you felt a presence rush towards you. Sharply you turned and lifted your weapon in time to block the blade being swung at you. Your eyes lit at the sight of Zoro, the relief that flooded you quickly gave way into all those old feelings hurtling back and your smile grew to see the recognition appear in Zoro’s expression. Then your smile fell slightly to see one of his eyes was scarred and shut. Without thinking you reached out and settled your hand on his cheek, your thumb gently touching his scar. The small action was all it took to bring those old feelings that had always danced dangerously close to the surface reappear stronger than even given the two years of separation. “Who else has arrived?”

“No one. It’s just us.” Zoro answered while capturing your hand that was still against his cheek. Without needing to say anymore you both closed the distance remaining between you both and your free hand fisted in the collar of his clothing and yanked him forward while his grabbed your waist. Neither of your wasted anymore time in finally coming together and kissing intensely, something both of you had spend the two years apart regretting hadn’t happened until now. Even then it wasn’t enough, you were both so desperate for each other, to make up for lost and wasted time holding back that you both fell headlong into your desires now; acting in perfect synchronisation and the almost wordless communication that was unique to the two of you.

Finally when morning came you woke feeling calmer and more at peace than you ever had before. Even with the weight of Zoro’s arms holding you tight and secured against his body you felt light and happy. More importantly you didn’t feel scared about the next part of your adventures with the crew. Your eyes opened to see Zoro was already awake and watching you carefully, seeming to be just as relaxed as you were. “Hope you’re not planning to greet everyone back like this.”

“As if.” Zoro rolled his good eye but the slow grin began to appear on his face as he took in your face in the morning light. The two years had changed you both, but not in the ways it mattered. You were still you and apart from his loyalty to Luffy, you were the only other person he worked hard to get stronger for and return to. At his response you grinned brightly and Zoro let his knuckles lightly stroke your face, he’d missed your smile. He’d missed you. Zoro leaned forward with the intention of pulling you into another kiss only to stop when a familiarly ‘super’ cheer broke through the calm morning air. 

“Looks like we won’t have the ship to ourselves anymore.” You grinned, leaning in to press a quick kiss against his lips as you prepared yourself to get up and change to greet Franky. It wouldn’t be long now before you were all finally reunited. You were stopped when Zoro sat up with you and pulled you back to hug you tight, his silent way of telling you he wasn’t going anywhere ever again, not without you. With a warm smile you squeezed his arm in a reassurance that you felt the same way.

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa

[mywritersmind]

Fewtrell reader is staying over at Maxs and hes out and Lando comes over and asks “is he home?” and she offers to let him in and wait and the tension is HIGHHH (hes her childhood crush) and you can be creative from here. 🫣

FUCK WITH MY HEAD - LN4

listen up : banter banter banter!! mentions of sex. ty for the request this like vibe is always in my mind (flirty bantery brothers best friend)

word count : 1061

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I’m not even dressed yet, but the consistent knocking and ringing of the doorbell is driving me mad, “Whoever you are, you better have a good reason!” I yell at the unknown person as I yank open the door, only a towel wrapped around me. “Of course it’s you.”

“Wow, not even a hello? And I thought we were friends.” Lando Norris stands in front of me, holding his chest like I've hurt his heart. His eyes check out my towel situation before asking, “Your brother home?”

I practically groan in his face, walking away from the door, “You couldn’t have texted him!? He’s gone for another hour.” I say as I slam the door of the guest bedroom closed so I can change in peace.

I hear the front door shut, “Someone’s in a good mood today.” I mock him only for myself to see as I pull on white shorts and an oversized t-shirt.

I walk back out, breathing deeply and reminding myself that he can’t get to me if I don’t let him, “You’re sort of ruining my only time alone this week.” I’m visiting my brother and as much as I love the guy, he’s fucking obnoxious to live with.

“Had to listen to P and Max go at it, huh?” He leans over the counter, taking a crisp from my bowl.

I make a disgusted face at him, “You’re disgusting and you know for a fact I would be gone if that happened.”

“Wish I was spared from their sex life.” I roll my eyes and pour myself some water, “So… How’s your trip been?”

Small talk? Seriously weird coming from Lando.

“Why are you here anyways?” I don’t answer his question, he stands and joins me at my side, “You know that phone you have? It actually can message someone so you don’t randomly show up to their house!” I smile and blink at him.

He takes another crisp, “But then I wouldn’t be getting this lovely time with you.” I shake my head as I sip my water, pretending not to notice Lando’s eyes roam my body.

It’s a weird feeling to look back at your childhood crush in general; but when your childhood crush is your best friend's brother, famous, rich, and ridiculously attractive, it’s even worse.

Lando Norris was the object of my desire at thirteen and clearly I was onto something. He's dressed in a black shirt and jeans, sporting sneakers and a singular ring on his middle finger.

Still, like every historically accurate childhood crush, Lando never showed any interest. Until we hit our 20s and Lando learned how to flirt.

I don’t see him often, we would run into each other during breaks or holidays. I watch quadrant videos while I do my makeup or races while I pick out an outfit, but Lando hasn’t been this close to me in a while.

The last time we were like this was the beginning of last year. Like I said, we see each other for some holidays. I happened to be invited to his and Max’s new year’s party.

I also happened to be Lando’s new year's kiss. Maybe a bit more, but a lady never tells.

I fake sweetness, twirling my hair, “I’m honored! Lando Norris likes,” My voice goes dry and I walk away from him, “ruining my me time!”

I hear him chuckle as I sit on the couch with my food and phone, “You get sassier everytime I see you.”

I bite into my food, “As I should.”

“And hotter.” I’m paused with my food halfway in my mouth. What the fuck.

I take a breath, not daring to look back, “You shouldn’t say shit like that.”

“Why? I know you like it.” how is his voice attractive?

I turn around, he’s got a shit eating grin on his face, leaning back against the counter. “Max.” I say simply.

“Last time I checked,” He pushes off the counter, walking to the couch and looking down at me, “Max isn’t here.”

“You’re getting far too optimistic.” I look up at him, “Fame going to your head?”

“No I think it’s just you…” His gaze stays fixed on me, “In my head, I mean.” He does this shit too often. Gets in my head while boosting his confidence. I blush and he smirks, it’s a sick cycle that I can’t help but love.

His eyes are glued to mine, I narrow them, trying to figure out his aim here.

“Get in line.” I roll my eyes and turn back to my food and open my phone. I see him bite back a smile, jumping over the couch and laying face up.

He tilts his head back at me while I text my friend, “So… Uni. How many boyfriends have you got?”

I don’t look at him, “I’m currently dating my textbooks. Who has the time?”

“Alright, how many fuck buddies you got?” I eye him, all cute and upside down.

I put my phone down, “You really wanna know the truth?”

“Are my feelings gonna get hurt?”

I look away and he sits up, looking at me in that way I hate so much. It’s not even been twenty minutes and he’s already fucking with my head.

He scoots closer to me and I push my hand over his face to get him away, “You’re ridiculous. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

He doesn’t look away, he never seems to have an issue with eye contact when it comes to me, “What am I doing?” His tone is egging me on, “Go on. Tell me.”

I shake my head, “You’ve got that look in your eye… Like how you looked at me during new years.” The corner of his mouth lifts at the memory.

“Is that a bad thing?”

I sigh, what am I supposed to do? We never talked about it. Max could never know. And as attracted to him as I am, It will never happen again.

I tilt my head a bit, “What are you gonna Lando? Fuck me on my brothers couch?” I catch the slight blush on his cheeks, how his eyes flicker down.

Then he looks back up at me, but not meeting my eyes, his smile grows, “Seems like a pretty appealing offer right now.”

I groan and stand up, “I’m resuming my me time, try not to break anything.”

“You’re not slick, darling! Think of me when you touch yourself.” He blows me a kiss, I reply with my middle finger.

[rindreamery]

drive it real far.

michael kaiser finds it hard to focus on the race when he's got you beside him, and a burning jealousy after seeing you talk to another racer. street racer!michael kaiser x reader ─ suggestive, w.c. 600+ ─ content: extremely unsafe driving, not a manual car or else this would not be possible, kaiser is toxic but are we even surprised

note. puri and i spend 90% of our time talking abt kaiser and coming up with potential drabbles, and this is the fruit of one of those conversations (inspired by sports car by tate mcrae 🤭)

with another sharp turn of the car, kaiser’s grip on your thighs tighten.

the way he drives is reckless, like he’s always been— but something is different tonight. he’s tearing down the street with more speed than usual, drifting wide through corners, with the tires of the car screeching loudly in your ears. there’s zero hesitation behind his movements, zero regard for the way he wears his tires thin, zero regard for the way he’s putting unnecessary strain on his transmission. his face remains unchanging, eyes on the road ahead, gleaming with that dangerous focus you’re all-too-familiar with. 

dangerous, from the fact that he’s got half of his focus on winning, half on something else. 

you can tell he’s ticked off— infuriated, even. as much as he tries to keep his face neutral, his anger always slips through the cracks. you can see it in the way his lips press into a tight line, not a single sound slipping past. the flirty, fun, quick-witted banter is, instead, replaced with an unfamiliar silence. and the way his jaw clenches, hard, emphasizing the shadows on the side of his face. 

but you can also feel it in the way his hand lingers on you.

while kaiser’s got a hand on the wheel, the other remains on you. unmoving, unyielding, no matter how many times you remind him to drive with two hands. his fingers are digging into the plush of your thigh, pressing so hard that you can almost feel the heat seeping through the fabric of his gloves, that you can almost imagine the feeling of his skin on you. searing hot. pressing so hard that it almost feels painful, like he’s holding onto you as if you would slip from his grasp. 

it's so unlike him.

“mihya,” you call out to him, voice laced with concern, as you try to pry your way into his mind. “tell me what’s wrong.”

but he doesn’t answer you immediately, choosing to press harder on the gas, sending the car lurching forward. the street lights blur into streaks of red, orange, and blue outside your window. they warp and bend with each miniscule change in the car’s direction, fleeting, and something you can’t grasp onto. you can feel the adrenaline in your veins, thick and surging with each rapid shift of the car, and you can barely keep your breath steady. 

in a breathy, surprised gasp, you call his name again. 

his eyes flick over to you for a second, before they’re back on the road. and even when the corners of his lips curl into something that’s barely a smirk, there is not a hint of amusement in it— it’s so dark, so possessive. 

“saw you getting real cozy with isagi earlier.” kaiser finally answers, his tone low and accusatory.

your brows pinch together, because while it gives reason for his anger, it doesn't make sense to you. “it wasn’t anything like that—” you try to reason, and he scoffs.

the grip on your thigh loosens momentarily. a foolish part of you thinks, for a brief second, that he might’ve actually, somewhat, believed you. but your thoughts are cut off by the feeling of his hand sliding up your thigh, slow and testing, fingers forming a trail of embers on your skin as they go. they inch up, and then more, your heart starting to beat erratically as they inch dangerously close— waiting for you to grab his wrist and stop him.

you can hear the rapid thud of your heart in your ears as he thumbs at your skin, kneading, toying with the pressure. "mihya—" you look at the turn up ahead, and then him, a nervous look in your eyes.

"i find that hard to believe when he was making heart eyes at you." he's practically sneering at the thought, pressing even harder on the gas. "i hate it when he wants something that's mine."

© rindreamery, 2025

[bossuary]

Neve is painless. Rook is real.

Lucanis likes Neve because she represents what he is desperate to regain. He wants to feel normal, to work and cook and focus on the things he used to enjoy (such as they were) before the Ossuary. He wants capital R Romance, right out of a book.

Most importantly, he wants to get rid of Spite. He wants to pretend that he is the man he was...not this abomination.

Without truly knowing her, Lucanis believes Neve is a pathway to all of that. He's attracted to her, and she to him. Their flirting has an edge, but it's also friendly. She dislikes Spite, and her presence makes Spite disappear.

Neve will tell Lucanis that he's still himself, and that Spite doesn't change that. She will never be the one to reconcile Lucanis with Spite, to get them to accept each other. So, yeah, he gravitates to the charming, flirty, warm person who (through no fault of her own, really) feeds his desire to pretend he's not an abomination.

Even early on, I think he's smart enough to know that accepting Spite is his only option, but he...just... can't. With what tools? Nothing in his life has prepared him to deal with this. Rook does that. When denial tears Lucanis apart, Rook puts him back together with acceptance. Rook accepts the reality of Spite, and deals with it head-on every time.

Neve will remind Lucanis that she's not going anywhere. She'll tell him to open his eyes and look at facts, but she (probably) won't be the one to push him out of his own prison. Lucanis knows this, so Spite knows this, and therefore Spite will not look to Neve for help.

It's important for Lucanis to accept that Spite has changed him. But when it's Rook who says it--for whom Lucanis has developed real feelings, not idealized ones--well, it destroys the fantasy Lucanis clings to so vehemently, the one where he isn't this.

For me, the Lucanis/Rook romance feels the way it does NOT because the writers "preferred" that Lucanis and Neve get together, but because Neve is simply easier for Lucanis to accept. She's easier to talk to, unchallenging. Easy isn't bad! Comfort isn't bad! God knows they both deserve some comfort.

Loving Rook is a profoundly complex choice. There's not a lot of cute ways to work that profundity into sexy banter. It makes sense, then, that Lucanis doesn't have as much dialogue for a romanced Rook as he does with Neve. What he can do is cook, make small gestures. He can, heartbreakingly, tell Rook, over and over, that he doesn't have the words to express how he feels. That's such an awful state, knowing that the person you care about needs to hear words you simply cannot locate. As soon as he does have the words, he shares them.

Rook is real. And real is not easy.

To Lucanis, Rook represents a difficult path to recovery, a path he has to keep choosing to follow, every day. At a time in his life where he is incapable of seeing Spite (and his own PTSD ) as anything but a 'distraction' to shove aside, Rook shows genuine interest in helping Lucanis heal. Rook takes consistent action toward that goal, particularly when it's clear that Lucanis doesn't know how.

Lucanis also has to believe that he's worth the effort, his own and his love's. Neve is great, love her, but I don't see this struggling cynic, this chronic worrier, being very helpful in the self-worth department. No, people in a relationship do not have to perform therapeutic roles. But, partners do have to respect each others' boundaries and needs.

Of course Lucanis goes all-in for Neve, romantically, even while he and Rook are dancing around each other. Accepting how much he loves and cares for Rook means looking at himself the way Rook does. That is so much harder than whatever will happen with Neve.

The fact that Lucanis isn't afraid to pursue Neve, even if Treviso is blighted, tells me that Neve is an indulgence for him. Again, that's not a value judgement. If they treat each other with respect, then the merits of the relationship don't have to fall on whether Lucanis 'heals' as a result. Sometimes not hurting all the time is enough.

BUT. Contrast the ease he feels with Neve with his feelings about Rook:

"When I was afraid to want you..."

That is a powerful admission.

What was he afraid of? The annihilation of neglect, worthlessness, and shame. The awful but knowable pillars of his existence.

Wanting Rook means that Lucanis wants to dismantle everything he knows in pursuit of something he doesn't. To love Rook is to love and accept himself, exactly as he is.

Then...then...Lucanis finds real comfort.

[f1fantasys]

Thought you were mine all along, guess I was wrong - Part 3.

Summary - You meet Lando..and Magui, plus an old friend. Sooo, I did a thing.... I've made FE's Mitch Evans a Neom McLraren driver for this!!

Warnings - 18+ minors DNI, smut, p in v sex, ANGST

Part 1. Part 2.

You loved love him.

The thought came rushing through your mind as a memory popped up on your phone. A selfie you'd taken in a hot tub the night after the Las Vegas race. You were sitting on Lando's lap, his arms wrapped tightly around your torso while his lips were planting a kiss on your temple, the both of your smiling widely like two small kids.

Your heart ached at how he moved on from you without so much as a pause. Hell, he moved on before ending what ever it was you had going on.

For the longest time, you denied your mind and heart from leaning on the L word. But now, you owed it to yourself to accept feeling the way felt, but also to heal each day and let those feelings go. You had no other choice.

Since that picture, your socials were filled with new pictures everyday, so you willed yourself not to go on your phone, and rather concentrate on how the hell you were going to get through tomorrow night at the event.

As much as you wanted to back out, it was your job, and you loved it. You weren't going to let him get in the way of it.

You flew into London this morning, going straight into a briefing with all the details for tomorrow. McLaren were hosting a gala for their sponsors and you were to host the evening, as well as chat/interview a few of the team. Lando included.

As you were making notes of what questions to ask, your mind drifted off to a time before Lando and yourself had started fucking, when he was still messing around with her.

Lando and Magui. They always had a flirty banter going on, though their personalities were miles off each other. You often used to think why Lando would associate himself with someone like her, normally he wouldn't give the time of day to people like that. But with her he was enthralled. But, for the sake of your budding friendship with Lando, you made an effort with her. You got zero in return though. Minus even. She tret you like trash. She actually tret everyone in your friends circle like trash. So no one was really a fan of hers. They fucked around a few times, until Lando started seeing her for who she was, when he abruptly stopped leading her on. Not even a month later and he was jumping into bed with you. And now after everything that's happened, for him to go back to her heart you all the more.

You weren't gonna let yourself dwell on that though. You had things to do, still having to pick out a dress to wear.

Deciding on a black gown that had a slit on one side, with two massive bows, you knew you looked hot. You finished off your makeup before making your way downstairs to get your ride to the venue of the event.

But the night couldn't have started without the universe playing tricks on you.

Fuck me, you thought to yourself when you saw who stepped into the elevator on your way down.

Fuck me, and what the fuck.

Them, hand in hand, looking like the perfect couple.

You seriously wanted the ground to open up and take you in because when Lando's eyes landed on yours, they darkened, as he shamelessly let them roam your body, spending a second too long on your cleavage.

You breath hitched, til her head poked out from behind him and pulled him in for a sloppy kiss to which he responded earnestly, immediately thrusting his tongue into her mouth as they both battled for dominance, his hands groping her ass.

You forced yourself to look away, block out the noises coming from them as the elevator seemed to be taking forever.

Was this really what it had come to? Having to endure the fact that you ex-friend-ex-fuckbuddy-ex-whatever and his new girl were all over each other not even two steps away from you? That the guy you fell in love with doesn't even respect you enough to at least greet you, let alone put on a whole PDA show with the girl he left you for right in front of your eyes. You swore your heart was beating out of your chest, tears threatening to spill at any moment though you willed yourself not to let them.

After what felt like forever, you finally reached ground floor. As soon as the doors opened you made a bee line for the hotel entrance, noticing your car already waiting for you.

You tried to calm your racing heart, finally letting the tears flow as you sobs silently into your hands, allowing yourself a few minutes to wallow before putting on a brave face, fixing your makeup, and getting in to the right headspace for tonight. You were at work, and you'd give it 110% even if your heart was breaking.

Once the event started you were too busy to even think about Lando, let alone dwell on the fact that Magui's eyes were glued to you practically since they'd stepped into the conference room.

You'd handled the stage perfectly, and now it was time for the interviews. You went through Zak, Andrea, Oscar, and now it was time for Lando. Very few people had known about your relationship with Lando, so to everyone, especially the public, it was an innocent interview.

Goosebumps rose on your skin as you announced his name, breath hitching when he walked onto the stage looking deliriously handsome, and when his eyes locked with yours, you were sure your legs were about to give way, feeling like jelly so you quickly took your seat as he took his.

Your first question to him, as with everyone else, was how he was.

He gave you the biggest smile, ''I'm great.'' he started. Then his face turned to crowd, searching... for someone? when his smile returned, looking back at you. ''I'm doing really good.''

You willed yourself to overlook the fact that it was Magui whom he found in the crowd. He was doing really good because of her.

With a poker face, you continued with the interview, asking him questions about the team, his car, the rest of the season, what his plans were for the summer break. You learned he was going to ''Dubai with my closest people.''

You ignored the ache in your heart as the interview finished and it was now time for dinner and drinks. Your part of the night was over.

Deciding you needed a drink, you headed to the bar with one of the McLaren interns that you'd become friendly with. Busy chatting away and your eyes caught onto someone walking towards you that you knew all too well.

Mitch Evans.

You'd hooked up with him a handful of times a few years ago, the one 'relationship' where there were no strings, just lots of fun. He was good company and though you'd kept in touch over the years, you hadn't slept with him in over 2.

''Hello stranger'' he said, leaning in to kiss your cheeks and give you a quick hug.

''Hellooo Mr FE!'' you squealed as he ordered a round of shots for you both. He'd just won the championship last weekend, and you were honestly so happy for him.

Just as you started chatting and catching up after downing your shots, his team principle pulled him away to go talk to some sponsors. His eyes told you he'd be back as you giggled back at him.

Not 30 seconds later and another familiar figure slid into his placed. You couldn't help but scoff internally as her eyes bore into yours. But you bit back, and greeted her.

''Hey'' you said softly, taking a sip of your drink which you wished was stronger.

She skipped a greeting in return. ''You couldn't even wait a few weeks after Lando and I broke up last time before you jumped into bed with him. I though you'd have more respect for him and for yourself'' she spat.

You couldn't help but chuckle at the words she threw at you, and you didn't hold back. ''Umm, last I checked, you guys didn't break up because you weren't even dating, and, he jumped into my bed, so you can't exactly call me out'' you responded.

Her face fell. ''Well, whatever. I have him now. So back off.''

''Back off? I litera-''

You were cut off by Lando coming to stand my Magui, wrapping his arms around her waist. ''What's going on?'' he asked, pecking her temple.

You took a deep breath while Magui smirked at you. ''Nothing baby, just catching up'' she sweetly said, pulling him in for a kiss''

You scoffed again as you watched them before turning your head to look around the room. It didn't go unnoticed by Lando so he broke their kiss and turned his head to you?

''What the hell?'' he asked.

''What?'' you said, surprised by his question.

You noticed an anger in his eyes, you'd seen it often, though directed at others, not at yourself.

You instinctively took a step back. ''Seriously, why the fuck can't you be happy for me? I've found someone, and I'm in love. Thought as my friend that's the least you could do'' his words tore through you.

It's not that you weren't happy for him..It was just that you needed to mend your heart first and foremost.

''I-''

''You what?'' he said, stepped closer, and you noticed a few people turn their heads in your direction at the rise in his voice.

You cleared your throat, taking in the sight of a smirking Magui behind him, and a furious Lando before you. ''I'm not doing this right now'' you murmured as you turned on your heel and walked to the door.

You took a few deep breaths as the fresh air hit your face, the corners of your eyes already stinging with unshed tears as you walked towards the benches by the lake.

Just as you sat down, you heard footsteps approach you, and of course when you looked up to see who it was, it was Lando. He stood there with his hands in his pockets, anger still evident on his face.

You couldn't stand him at the moment. This wasn't the man you knew. ''Save it, Lando'' you said, not in the mood to listen to whatever he was about to go on about.

This time he chuckled, stepping closer to you. ''Why?'' he asked.

''Why what?''

''Why haven't you even bothered to get friendly with Magui too? She's a part of me now, so you get us both or nothing at all''

''What?''

''Yeah''

''Well, considering she's a narcissistic bitch, I'm good where I am, thanks'' you threw at him, gaining confidence from the alcohol in you.

''Okay'' he said, nodding his head. ''You've lost me then..you've lost my friendship, everything. We're done.''

You looked at him, the sadness so evident in your eyes. ''I lost you 2 weeks ago Lando...And about earlier, I am happy for you. I'm just broken for myself..''

With that, you got back and sobbed to yourself as you ordered an uber to take you back to the hotel. You'd truly lost Lando for good now.

As soon as you got back you took a long bath, washing away all the negativity from the night. Your eyes were red shot as you looked at yourself in the mirror, doing your night time skin routine while letting a few tears slip down your cheeks.

You'd just put your robe on when there was a knock at the door.

Odd for someone to be here now, you thought to yourself as you dodged the peephole and opened the door immediately.

Despite all the sadness tonight bought, you couldn't help but smile at the sight in front of you.

Mitch with a bottle of champagne and 2 glasses, sheepish smile.

''I come with reinforcements'' he said, showing off those beautiful dimples of his.

You smile lasted all but 30 seconds before the tears started again, and within seconds he put the contents of his hands on the floor and pulled you in for a tight hug.

You sobbed into his arms as his hands combed through your wet hair.

''You're okay'' he said, calming you down until your sobs subsided.

Eventually you let him in, and you were grateful he was able to distract you for a while, telling you how the Formula E season was going.

''I saw what happened. Do you wanna talk about it?'' he subtly asked.

''Not really.'' you said, knowing he wouldn't push you, and he didn't. So the rest of the night, or early morning by now, was spent with easy conversation until he suggested to call it a night.

''Stay? Please'' you asked, also knowing he'd never think of it as you 'using' him but rather him being there for you. It was just how your friendship worked. You could trust each other whole heartedly.

''Of course, let me grab some clothes from my room quickly.''

While you waited you laid on your side of the bed and scrolled your phone, and eventually he came back, stripping himself of his tshirt leaving him in just his shorts.

You couldn't help but linger your eyes at his toned abs, a wetness already pooling at your core as your mind went back to all the times you'd fucked.

''Like what you see?'' he asked, smirking, though adjust the bulge in his shorts.

''Very'' you said, watching him slip into bed next to you.

''Come here'' he said, ushering you to side side and you rested your head on his chest, his arm wrapping around you.

You stayed silent as the room went dark and all that was heard was your two soft breaths.

Your mind needed an urgent distraction from Lando and you made a note to thank Mitch tomorrow for sticking around.

After a while, it was clear you wouldn't be sleeping easily tonight, and you were sure whether Mitch was awake or not. You shuffled your body slightly, the heat in your core growing eager by the second, so as discreetly as you could, you rubbed your thighs together.

''Fuck y/n, you're making it very hard not to do anything right now''

''So do something'' you said quickly, too quickly for your liking.

''You need to sleep. It's been a long night'' he said, running a hand through your hair again.

You smacked his chest playfully before removing yourself from his hold and facing your back to him, knowing it was only a matter of time until he'd break.

And he did. In no time Mitch's hands were wrapping around you again, sliding through the string on your gown.

Your body responded immediately, goosebumps raising on your skin as his hand palmed your breasts, tugging on your nipples as you let out a desperate moan.

''Please'' you begged, and finally his hands wandered down to your cunt. You heard his breath hitch when he realized you weren't wearing any panties, sliding his fingers through your folds as you clenched around nothing.

''So fucking wet'' he all but growled, but as if a flip switched in him, he pulled back.

You were about to protest when you looked back to see him reach for someone on the table by his bedside. You heard the rustle of foil before smiling to yourself and turning around again.

Mitch eventually settled behind you again, his thick girth resting against your back as his fingers found your core again, wasting no time in sliding two through you.

''Oh, god, yes'' you panted as he thrust his fingers in and out of you at a relentless pace.

''Just opening you up for me, yeah?'' he asked, his thick New Zealand accent turning you on even more.

''Uh huh'' you managed, already gushing your cum all over him as you came with a guttural moan.

He withdrew his hand and licked his fingers clean of your juices, moaning at the taste of you.

''You sure?'' he asked.

''Please'' you begged as he finally pushed in with a single hard thrust.

You held your breath, your walls clenched around him painfully as you spread your legs further to allow him to go deeper.

''Fucking hell'' he whispered as he started moving in and out of your cunt, deep, hard, raw strokes, filling you to the brink.

''Mitch, fuck, please'' you begged some more, already feeling another orgasm building up.

''Not gonna last long, you're so fucking tight'' he said, his hands finding your clit and tugging at it.

It wasn't even a few seconds after that you were cumming again, your juices coating his condom-clad dick that only made him speed up his movements, desperate for his own release.

''Shit'' Mitch groaned as he spilled his seed into the condom, cock twitching as he bought you to another orgasm that had your body shaking in his arms.

You both layed still, slowing your breath and calming your shuddering bodies down as the cool air was blowing on sweat that had built up. You shivered as he pulled out slowly, hissing at the loss of contact before he pulled the covers up to warm you up.

He disposed of the condom and within minutes you both were fast asleep.

You woke up in the morning, your mind spiraling with how last night unfolded.

Lando, Magui, Mitch, Lando, Mitch, alcohol, sex, Lando, Mitch. Fuck.

Mitch stirred behind you as you gently turned your body around to face him. You couldn't help how angelic he looked. But very quickly, your mind drifted back to how the mornings with Lando looked. You missed them. Missed him. But now you had no choice but to move on from him.

Involuntarily, Mitch pulled your closer and when you giggled, his eyes flew open, also coming to senses of where he was and who he was with.

He smiled back at you. ''Good morning'' he mumbled.

''Morning'' you said, cuddling to his side again.

''Thank you for last night.'' you whispered, pecking his chest.

''It's no worries. It's like that with us right, always thee for each other without the risk of..complicating things'' he said softly, obviously referring to your situation with Lando.

''Always'' you said, leaning up on your elbow to look at him.

He pulled you down to lock lips in a slow but deep, lingering kiss. Tongues battling each other as you moved to straddle his hips.

Just as you started grinding down on him, a loud knock of your door startled you.

But choosing to ignore it, you continued with your actions until the knocking became persistent. v

With a huff, you climbed off him and slid his tshirt on your naked body, with it being long enough to just about cover your pussy.

He watched you with hooded eyes, a cheeky smile playing at his lips as you carelessly skipped the peephole again and opened the door with a pep in your step.

That pep was short lived though. There stood Lando, his eyes immediately traveling down your body to take your barely-covered pussy and legs in.

Behind you, Mitch shot up, redirecting Lando's eyes from you to him.

Your world froze. This really couldn't be happening, could it? Your eyes glued to Lando who was now looking at you with disgust.

''Lando'' you whispered, your heart shattering for the millionth time in the last month.

''Mmm, yeah, got it'' he said, deep British accent coming through.

A/N - hope you all enjoyed this twist!! Let me know what you think.

Taglist - @somanyfandomsbruh @lanf1an @annimausi @ernegren @plotpal @hurtblossom @rbv3rstappen @tylerstacobell @wanderingreigns @bowielovesyou @alexanderachillesisgay @sarx164 @xoxomansee @hurtblossom @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @msimpala-67 @jxnellat @chlmtfilms @abq654 @ernegren @stav2004 @myformula1addiction @ayap4paya @l0nelyhe4rts-club @callsignwidow widow-cevans meglouise00

[niallerspayno]

Only Angel

Materlist

When you land a job as your dad’s assistant on One Direction’s tour, the last thing you expect is to fall for Harry Styles—especially when your dad is Paul. What starts as flirty banter turns into something secret, messy, and real, and hiding it from the band (and your very protective father) proves harder than you ever imagined.

Tags: Harry x reader, long hair harry, Paul's daughter reader, smut (fingering, unprotected p in v, female and male receiving oral), some fluff and angst

Author's note: Set during the Made In The A.M. era, but I've kept Zayn in the fic

...

You adjust the strap of your bag and shift awkwardly in the elevator as it climbs to the top floor. Your heart’s been doing this annoying fluttery thing all morning, but you keep telling yourself it’s just nerves. That, and the fact that your dad didn’t tell you much—just that the job was yours, and to be on time.

That’s how you find yourself here, freshly unemployed, freshly humiliated, and now… freshly hired as an assistant for One Direction.

The doors slide open with a soft chime, revealing a hotel suite already buzzing with energy. You barely get two steps inside before—

“There she is.” Your dad’s voice cuts through the chaos. “Alright, lads, eyes front. This is my daughter. She’s joining the crew, so try not to scare her off on day one.”

Your mouth opens to say hi, maybe something funny, but then you actually look up and see them.

Louis is sprawled across the couch like he owns the place—legs kicked up, phone in hand, smirk firmly in place. “Paul, mate, you didn’t tell us your daughter was fit.”

“Louis,” Paul warns.

“I’m just saying!”

Niall gives you a small, friendly wave from the kitchenette, a spoon sticking out of his mouth and a tub of Nutella in hand. “Heya. You want some? Helps with first day nerves.”

Liam is the first to actually stand, his expression warm as he offers you a hand. “Ignore them. Welcome to the circus.”

You shake it gratefully. “Thanks. I brought my own straightjacket.”

He laughs, and something in your chest unclenches just a little.

Then there’s Zayn—quiet, observant, perched near the window with a sketchbook balanced on his knee. He lifts a hand in greeting, dark eyes flicking over you once, twice. You smile back, a little unsure.

And then—

“Hi.”

The voice is deeper than you expected. Smooth, slow, dragging like honey over gravel.

You turn—and your heart does that annoying fluttery thing again, but this time it’s not nerves.

Harry Styles is taller in person. His hair is pulled into a loose knot at the nape of his neck, a few curls escaping to frame his face. He’s dressed in a worn black tee and jeans that cling far too well to his hips, rings glinting on his fingers as he extends a hand toward you.

“I’m Harry,” he says, smiling like he already knows how this story ends.

You clear your throat and slip your hand into his. “I’m Y/N.”

His grip is warm, his touch lingering just long enough to be noticeable before he lets go.

“Pretty name,” he murmurs. “Didn’t expect Paul to have such a stunning daughter.”

You raise a brow. “Didn’t expect Harry Styles to be such a cliché.”

That earns a low laugh. “Touché.”

Before he can say more, Paul claps a protective hand on your shoulder, his tone all business. “Alright, that’s enough. She’s working under me. Strictly professional. Got it?”

Harry holds up both hands like he’s surrendering, but the grin tugging at his lips betrays him. “Loud and clear, boss.”

Paul narrows his eyes for a second longer, then turns his attention back to you. “Come on, I’ll show you where we keep the schedules and what’s on for today.”

You follow him through the suite, but you feel Harry’s eyes on you the entire time. Burning into your back. You don’t dare look—mostly because you’re pretty sure if you do, he’ll smirk, and that might just kill you dead.

“Don’t let them get to you,” your dad says, handing you a clipboard. “They’ll try, trust me. Especially that one.”

“Noted.”

You sneak one glance over your shoulder anyway.

Harry’s still standing there. Still watching. And when he catches you looking, he winks.

You quickly turn back around, heat crawling up your neck.

Yeah. You’re in trouble.

...

It’s been a week.

Seven days of wrangling schedules, fetching coffee orders with ridiculous customizations, and reminding five grown men what “soundcheck” actually means.

And somehow—somehow—Harry Styles has managed to be both the bane of your existence and the highlight of every damn day.

He’s made a sport of flustering you. Brushing past a little too close. Whispering “good morning” like it’s a secret. Stealing your pen just to hand it back with a wink. Every look feels like a dare. Every smirk like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

Spoiler: he does.

You’re mid-way through checking everyone off for soundcheck when you realize—of course—he’s the only one missing.

You scan the suite, then glance at the time. Five minutes until they’re due downstairs.

Paul is across the room, deep in conversation with the stage manager, so you slip your phone out and shoot off a quick group text.

You: Everyone here for soundcheck except one suspiciously curly-haired diva.

Immediately, Louis replies.

Louis: If I have to drag him out of bed again I swear to god.

Zayn: He was in the hallway like 10 mins ago?? Probably wandered off being mysterious.

Liam: Check the roof. Or the mirror. That’s where I usually find him.

Niall: Want me to check the buffet?

You roll your eyes, bite back a smile, and head out to find him yourself.

You’re halfway down the hall when you hear it—low humming, half a tune, half a distraction. And then, there he is.

Leaning against the wall just outside the fire escape, head tipped back like he’s posing for a damn magazine cover. One boot pressed flat against the wall, sunglasses perched on his nose despite the fact that you’re inside and the lighting is dismal at best.

You pause in the doorway, one brow raised. “Lost track of time, did we?”

He doesn’t jump. Doesn’t even flinch. Just tips his head toward you like he was waiting for this exact moment.

“Knew you’d come,” he says easily, a grin curling at the corner of his mouth.

You cross your arms. “It’s part of my job.”

“Mmm.” He tilts his head at you. “Is that what this is? Work?”

You narrow your eyes at the way his voice dips on that last word. “You’re five minutes late.”

He pushes off the wall with deliberate ease, the heel of his boot thudding softly against the floor as he closes the distance between you.

“Five minutes,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on yours as he approaches, “and already you’re chasing me down. Can’t stay away, can you?”

You scoff, but your feet don’t move. “I’m chasing a paycheck. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Oh, I’m not flattering myself,” he says, dipping his head a little, like he’s letting you in on a secret. “I just pay attention.”

He stops in front of you, close—too close. His scent hits you first, something warm and clean, laced with the faintest trace of mint tea and cologne. His sunglasses slip down the bridge of his nose, revealing green eyes that scan your face like he’s memorizing it.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

Your breath catches. “I look at you the same way I look at the coffee machine. With exhaustion.”

Harry grins, his tongue just barely swiping across his bottom lip like he’s tasting the flirt off the air.

“That so?” he asks, stepping in even closer, until your back brushes the edge of the doorframe and there’s nowhere else to go. “Because I don’t make you nearly as jittery as that machine does.”

You hate the way your heart stumbles. Hate more that he can probably feel it, standing this close. Your voice comes out tighter than you’d like. “You’re full of yourself.”

“Maybe,” he concedes, cocking his head, “but I’m also right.”

His hand lifts, slow, and for a terrifying second you think he’s going to touch you—but instead, he tugs the edge of your lanyard gently between two fingers, the one with that damn silver ring catching the light.

“You should be careful with me,” he says softly. “I’ve been known to cause… complications.”

You lift your chin, refusing to be the one who backs down first. “I’m not scared of complications.”

That gets you a real smile. Dangerous and dimpled.

“Good,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “Then maybe you’ll stop pretending this is just a job.”

And with that, he drops your lanyard and steps back, like he didn’t just completely knock the air from your lungs.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he calls over his shoulder as he strolls back toward the suite. “Wouldn’t want to keep your dad waiting.”

You don’t move for a full ten seconds.

Then you exhale, check your pulse, and mutter to yourself, “Get a grip.”

But you’re smiling.

And you are absolutely in trouble.

...

You’ve had enough.

It’s been ten days of Harry brushing your arm in passing, whispering cheeky comments under his breath, letting his gaze dip a little too low when you think no one’s watching. He always leaves you breathless, flustered, two steps behind while he walks off smug as hell.

Not today.

Tonight’s show is in a big arena. VIPs in the wings, cameras everywhere. The energy’s electric, the crew a well-oiled machine. And you? You show up early. On purpose. Hair done, lip gloss on, and a tight black dress under your tour jacket—fitted, simple, just the right amount of dangerous when the light hits the sheer paneling over your thighs. Just enough to make a certain someone’s brain short-circuit.

He finds you in the green room. Of course he does.

You’re leaned against the counter, phone in hand, sipping water like you don’t notice the moment his eyes land on you.

But you do.

You feel it like a heat wave. The pause in his step. The way his jaw ticks. He says nothing at first—just watches as you turn slightly, jacket slipping off your shoulder like it has a mind of its own.

You glance up through your lashes. “Something wrong, Styles?”

He blinks once. Then again. “That’s not your usual… assistant attire.”

You shrug, taking another slow sip. “Guess I felt like being appreciated for more than my scheduling skills today.”

He steps forward, eyes raking over you with a little more bite now, the teasing replaced with something darker. “You trying to kill me?”

“Not at all,” you say, all fake innocence. “I just thought I’d remind you that two can play this game.”

His tongue presses to the inside of his cheek. That stupid smirk returns—but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes now. Something sharp. Possessive.

“I like this side of you,” he says lowly, inching closer. “Confident. Calculated.”

“Dangerous?” you offer, tilting your head.

He smiles. “Only to me.”

You don’t move when he stops just in front of you, the counter behind you pressing into your back. His hands don’t touch you—he doesn’t even lean in. But it’s the tension in the air, the electric pull between your bodies that says he’s one wrong breath away from giving in.

Then, slowly, deliberately, his fingers find the edge of your jacket, brushing the fabric aside just enough to skim his knuckles over the bare skin of your arm.

“You really wore this for me?” he asks, voice barely a whisper now, his eyes locked on yours like you’re gravity itself.

You keep your chin high. “Maybe I was curious what it’d take to wipe that smug look off your face.”

His laugh is quiet, dark, a little breathless. He braces one hand on the counter beside you, his body angled into yours—not touching, but close enough that you feel the heat of him.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.”

“And you’re stalling.”

His eyes flick down to your mouth, then back up. His free hand lifts, fingers tracing a featherlight path along the exposed skin at your collarbone. Just the barest touch, but it sets your whole body humming.

He leans in, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Tell me to stop.”

You don’t.

You can’t.

His nose drags along your jaw, breath warm, teasing. His hand trails lower, grazing your waist, his rings cool against the fabric of your dress. Your fingers curl around the edge of the counter to keep from grabbing his shirt.

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again, his pupils blown wide, chest rising with shallow breaths.

Then—

“Whoa—Jesus, I didn’t see anything!”

Louis’ voice barrels into the room like a wrecking ball, followed by the loud slam of the door as he immediately backpedals out again.

You and Harry both freeze.

A beat of stunned silence.

Then you let out a breathy laugh, pressing your forehead to Harry’s shoulder. “Well. That was subtle.”

Harry groans, tipping his head back toward the ceiling. “He’s never letting me live this down.”

You pat his chest and step around him, fixing your hair like you didn’t just nearly kiss him against the catering counter. “Guess we’ll both have to behave now.”

He grabs your wrist, gently but firmly, pulling you back just for a second.

His voice is low. Serious.

“I don’t want to behave.”

Your stomach flips.

But your dad’s voice booms down the hall again, this time closer: “Y/N? Where the hell’s that setlist?”

You swallow, nod once, and finally pull away.

“We’ll finish this later,” you murmur.

And Harry just grins.

“Promise?”

...

The concert’s a blur.

You spend most of it half-focused, jotting notes and checking cues, trying to keep your head clear and your hands busy. But your eyes keep drifting to him. To the way his shirt clings to his chest by the second chorus. To the damp curls sticking to his forehead under the stage lights. To the way he glances toward side stage after every song like he’s looking for something.

Like he’s looking for you.

By the time they hit the last note and the crowd roars, your heart is pounding louder than the bass.

You slip away during the encore, weaving past techs and assistants and Paul, who’s preoccupied with a headset and shouting something about exit routes. Your feet move on instinct now. Backstage hallway. Left at the corner. Harry’s dressing room.

The door creaks as you push it open, and there he is—half changed, hair a wild mess, shirt undone, chest still heaving from the rush of the set.

His eyes find yours in the mirror.

You shut the door behind you. Locking it.

“Still want to behave?” you ask quietly.

He turns, slow, eyes dark. “Not even a little.”

In two steps he’s in front of you, one hand cupping your jaw, the other landing low on your waist as he backs you gently against the door. His mouth hovers over yours, breath mingling, teasing.

“You’ve been driving me mad,” he murmurs. “All night. All week.”

You smile, just a little. “Payback’s a bitch.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, but it dies on his lips as they finally crash into yours—hot, hungry, no more teasing, no more games.

It’s a kiss that says finally. His hands are everywhere—trailing your sides, gripping your hips, tugging at your jacket like he can’t decide if he wants you clothed or bare.

You tug him closer by the front of his shirt, bodies flush, mouths parting with a shared gasp as his tongue slides against yours. The kiss turns messy, desperate. His hand slips under your dress, palm skating up the back of your thigh. Your breath stutters.

He pulls back just enough to murmur, “Tell me to stop.”

You shake your head. “Don’t you dare.”

That’s all he needs.

His mouth crashes into yours again, rougher this time, all teeth and tongue and heat. His grip on your thigh tightens, dragging it up around his waist as he pins you to the door. The sharp bite of the wood at your back is nothing compared to the way his hips slot against yours, hard and eager, already grinding into you through your dress.

“Fuck,” he groans into your mouth. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You do. You can feel it—his cock pressed against you through his jeans, straining, twitching every time your hips roll up to meet his.

He lifts your other leg, and instinctively, you wrap them both around him. He groans at the contact, rutting forward, lips dragging down your jaw, your throat, biting at the spot just below your ear.

“Harry—” you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders.

“Been thinking about this all night,” he growls. “Thinking about you in that little dress, walking around like you weren’t fucking begging for it.”

His hand slips between your bodies, fingers brushing the edge of your underwear. He swears again, breath hot against your collarbone. “Already soaked.”

You gasp when he pushes the fabric aside, dragging two fingers through your folds—slow, teasing, obscene.

“Been like this all day, haven’t you?” he murmurs, voice rough as his fingers press in, sliding deep. “Knew exactly what you were doing. Walking around in that fucking dress, looking at me like you wanted me to lose control.”

You cry out, your back arching off the door as he curls his fingers just right, his thumb grinding tight circles over your clit.

“I—I wasn’t—”

“Liar.” His mouth finds your neck, biting hard enough to leave a mark before soothing it with his tongue. “You knew. You wanted this.”

You moan as he picks up the pace, his fingers pumping fast and filthy, knuckles hitting that perfect spot over and over. Your thighs are trembling already, your body taut with pressure, pleasure building fast and hot in your belly.

“God, you feel so good around my fingers,” he groans, forehead pressing to yours, breath ragged. “So fucking tight. Bet you’ll feel even better around my cock.”

You whimper at the thought, hips rocking against his hand, chasing every sensation he gives you.

Then he pulls back slightly, eyes locked on yours. “Take it off.”

You blink, dazed. “What?”

“The dress,” he says, licking his lips. “Take it off. Want to see you.”

You nod, breath catching in your throat as his fingers slip from you. He lets you down gently, your legs trembling as they meet the floor again. His hands never leave you—trailing down your arms, steadying you, worshipping every inch.

You keep your eyes on his as you reach for the hem of your dress, tugging it up slowly. He watches, transfixed, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip as inch after inch of skin is revealed.

When the dress clears your head and hits the floor, you stand before him in nothing but your bra and panties—both already crooked from his earlier teasing. You should feel shy, exposed. But under his gaze, you feel powerful.

He breathes out like he’s been holding it in for hours. “Jesus, baby…”

Your hands go to the clasp of your bra, but he steps in, catching your wrists.

“Let me.”

He unhooks it with a practiced flick and lets it slide from your shoulders, baring you completely to him. His hands come up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples, watching the way you arch into his touch.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, more to himself than you. “So fucking perfect.”

Your hands go to the hem of his shirt, fingers brushing his stomach as you pull it up and off. His chest is flushed, tattooed, still glistening faintly with sweat from the show. Your hands smooth over the planes of it, slow and deliberate.

Then you drop to your knees.

His breath hitches, but you only reach for his jeans—unfastening them, dragging them down along with his boxers. His cock springs free, hard and aching, and you can’t help the way your mouth waters at the sight of it. Thick. Flushed. Dripping at the tip.

You glance up at him, and his jaw is clenched tight, eyes dark and locked on you.

“Later,” he mutters, pulling you back up to your feet, already guiding you toward the couch. “I need to be inside you.”

You let him lead you, knees hitting the cushions as he drops behind you, settling back against the sofa and pulling you into his lap. His cock presses against your thigh, hot and heavy.

You reach between you, guiding him to your entrance, and the moment his tip pushes in—thick and aching—you both moan like it’s the first breath after surfacing from underwater.

He grips your waist, fingertips digging in as you sink down, slow and deliberate, inch by inch until he’s fully seated inside you. The stretch burns just right, and the way he fills you makes your whole body tremble.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, head falling back against the couch. “So tight. So wet. You feel—god, you feel like heaven.”

You plant your hands on his chest, roll your hips once, slowly. He twitches inside you, eyes flying open to watch your every move.

You start to ride him properly then, lifting and dropping your hips, letting the motion grow faster, harder. He meets you thrust for thrust, fucking up into you with just as much heat, just as much need, the slap of skin on skin building between your bodies.

“You’ve wanted this, haven’t you?” he pants, hands moving from your waist to your ass, gripping, guiding. “Wanted me to fuck you like this. You knew exactly what you were doing in that little dress.”

You whimper and throw your head back, grinding down onto him as deep as he’ll go. “I knew.”

He groans like you’ve ruined him.

Your hands slide into his hair, finally giving in to the temptation that’s been driving you mad for days. It’s soft and wild beneath your fingers, curls slipping through as you tug, hard, forcing his head back.

His mouth drops open. He swears.

“Do that again,” he breathes.

So you do—twisting your fingers tighter, dragging a moan from his throat as you ride him faster, messier now. Your breasts bounce with every movement, his hands never leaving you—touching, squeezing, worshipping.

“Look at you,” he rasps, bucking up into you harder. “Taking me so fucking good. Like you were made for me.”

You crash your lips to his, teeth and tongue and heat, and he groans into your mouth, one hand slipping between your bodies to rub tight circles over your clit.

“I’m close,” you whisper, pulling back just enough to breathe.

His eyes are wild now, hungry. “Then come. Want to feel you fall apart on my cock.”

His words send you tumbling.

Your hips jerk, thighs trembling as the orgasm rips through you—hot and fast, stealing your breath as you clench tight around him. A strangled moan escapes your lips, head falling forward, forehead pressed to his.

“That’s it,” he groans, his voice a wrecked whisper. “Just like that, baby. Fuck, you feel—”

He cuts off with a gasp as your walls flutter around him, milking him, dragging him right to the edge.

His grip on your hips tightens, almost desperate, and he forces out, “Can I—fuck—can I come inside you?”

You lift your head, eyes dazed but clear, meeting his.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, I’m on birth control—please.”

That’s all it takes.

He moans your name like a prayer and slams up into you, deep and hard, once, twice—and then he’s spilling inside you with a low, guttural sound, fingers bruising your hips as he holds you down, burying himself as far as he can go.

You feel every pulse of it, every hot wave as he fills you, your body already aching and slick with the proof of it.

For a long, breathless moment, neither of you moves.

You’re still pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around you, his breath hot and uneven against your neck. The thud of his heart pounds beneath your palm, matching the rush still echoing in your ears. He’s still buried inside you, the heat of him thick and warm, your bodies locked together, trembling in the aftermath.

But eventually, your thighs start to ache and your body gives a little shiver.

“Okay,” you whisper, voice shaky but content, “I should… probably move.”

“Slow,” he murmurs, nodding. “Easy.”

You lift your hips gently, carefully easing off him with a soft gasp as his length slips free. He holds you steady, fingers tightening for a second as he watches the way your body clenches from the loss. You feel the mess of it between your thighs, sticky and warm—but all you care about is the way his hands settle back on your waist, grounding you.

You shift to straddle his lap more comfortably, your chest still against his, legs trembling slightly. One of his hands rubs slow circles into the small of your back, and the other tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

And then your fingers are in his hair again.

You’ve been dying to do this—really do this. Not just tug at it in the heat of the moment, but run your fingers through the soft curls, comb them back from his forehead, memorize the way they coil between your fingers.

He hums, eyes fluttering shut as he melts beneath your touch.

“You really like my hair, huh?” he murmurs, lips brushing your cheek as he leans into your hand.

You smile, lazily dragging your fingers through another curl. “I think I’m obsessed with it, actually.”

He laughs, breathless and warm. “Dangerous thing to admit when you’re sitting in my lap.”

You smirk. “You’re the one who begged to come inside me.”

He groans, tossing his head back dramatically. “And I have zero regrets.”

You lean forward, brushing your lips to his jaw. “Good.”

He wraps his arms around you again, holding you tighter, your skin still damp and sticky, but neither of you cares. You could stay here forever—limbs tangled, hearts still racing, your hands playing in his hair like it’s the only thing keeping you steady.

After a beat, he sighs, voice low against your neck. “You alright?”

You nod, still tucked against him. “Better than alright.”

“Good.” He presses a kiss to your shoulder. Then one to your collarbone. “Let me clean you up, yeah?”

You let out a sleepy groan, nuzzling closer. “Don’t wanna move.”

“Same,” he mutters, but he’s already shifting, helping you gently off his lap. “But if your dad catches us like this, I will die.”

You giggle, letting him scoop you up off the couch as he stands. “Guess I’ll let you live, then.”

...

It’s been a few days.

A blur of shows, travel, crew dinners, and secret glances across crowded rooms. A blur of stolen moments. Locked doors. Late nights. His mouth on your skin, your clothes in a pile on the floor, his hands learning every inch of you like he’s making up for lost time.

And now… now it’s one of those nights again.

Harry snuck into your hotel room an hour after the band finished press. He barely got the door closed before he was on you—kiss rough, hands eager, laughter muffled into your neck when you pulled him onto the bed by the front of his hoodie.

Now, your room is dark except for the city lights filtering through the curtains. The air is warm with the smell of skin and sleep and something softer than either of you will say out loud.

He’s lying on his back with his head in your lap, one arm flung lazily across your thigh, curls spilling over your bare legs as you card your fingers through them again and again. His eyes are closed, lips parted, a tiny satisfied smile on his face like you’ve lulled him into the safest place on earth.

Your fingers pause for a second, tangled in the curls behind his ear.

He notices.

“Don’t stop,” he mumbles, voice gravelly from sleep and sex. “That’s cheating.”

You laugh softly. “Sorry.”

You resume the soft strokes, but your heart's hammering now, nerves coiling under your ribs.

He sighs again, content. So damn content.

You bite your lip. Then, quietly. “Can I ask you something?”

His lashes flutter open. He doesn’t lift his head, just looks up at you with those soft green eyes. “Course you can.”

You hesitate, thumb sweeping slowly across his temple. “This thing between us…”

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.

You exhale. “Is it just sex? Like, a friends with benefits thing? Or is it…”

You trail off, not sure how much to say. Not sure what you’ll do if he says it’s nothing. That you’re nothing.

He’s quiet for a second.

Then he shifts, lifting his head from your lap so he can sit up beside you, facing you properly. The movement is slow, almost cautious. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing your jaw.

His voice is quiet. “I don’t think I’ve ever had sex like that and not felt something.”

Your breath catches.

He leans in, eyes searching yours. “I sneak into your room at night because I can’t sleep unless I’m near you. You drive me insane in the best way. I want you—every version of you. And if you’ll let me… I want more than just this.”

You blink, trying to catch your breath, trying to make sense of the warmth blooming in your chest.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Good. Because I… I want that too.”

His whole face softens.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, leaning in to brush his nose against yours.

“Yeah.”

He kisses you then—slow and tender, mouths brushing like neither of you wants it to end. When you finally pull apart, his forehead rests against yours, breath warm, fingers still curled gently beneath your chin.

“I want this,” he murmurs again, like a vow. “But I know what comes with it.”

You nod slowly, your hands sliding down to rest over his. “My dad would kill you.”

That gets a soft laugh, but there’s no humor in his eyes. “He’d kill me slow.”

“And the boys…” you sigh, pulling back enough to see his face. “They’d tease you mercilessly. Or worse—worry it’s gonna mess with the band.”

“And management?” he adds, voice low now. “They’d have a meltdown. Headlines, speculation… you know how fast things spread.”

You nod again, the weight of it all sinking in. “So… we keep it quiet. For now.”

His thumb traces your bottom lip, his expression unreadable for a beat.

“Can you live with that?” he asks softly. “Sneaking around? Pretending like you’re not mine when all I want is to show everyone?”

Your heart stumbles.

“I can,” you say. “If it means I am yours. Even if it’s just for us.”

His jaw tenses, and you can tell he’s battling every instinct to pull you in and say screw it. But he doesn’t. Instead, he exhales slowly, pulling you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you like he never wants to let go.

“You are,” he whispers into your hair. “You’re mine.”

You press your face into the curve of his neck, breathing him in, the warmth of his skin, the rise and fall of his chest.

“And you’re mine,” you murmur.

He kisses the top of your head and holds you tighter. “Then they don’t have to know. Not yet. Not until we’re ready.”

You nod, curling closer.

It’s dangerous. It’s reckless. It’s complicated.

But it’s real.

And for now, that’s enough.

...

It’s been three days since that night in your hotel room.

Three days of stolen glances and secret smiles. Of brushing past him in narrow hallways, pretending not to feel the burn of his hand on the small of your back. Three days of aching.

And today?

Today has dragged.

Everything feels too loud, too long, too slow. Every call sheet is wrong, every email never-ending. And Harry… Harry’s been a menace.

It’s like he knows exactly what he's doing to you.

The way he leans back in his chair during interviews, legs spread like he owns the world. The way he tucks his hair behind his ear, slow and deliberate, curls bouncing around his face like he’s in a shampoo commercial. The way he chews on his thumb while looking down at his lyric notes—lips pink and plush and perfect.

You’ve been pretending to focus all afternoon, clipboard in hand, chewing your pen cap like it’ll distract you from the very real, very filthy thoughts in your head.

But nothing helps.

Not when you keep imagining those curls in your fists.

Not when you keep remembering what his voice sounds like between your thighs.

By the time the boys finish rehearsals, you’re restless. Wound so tight you might snap if he so much as breathes in your direction.

And of course—he finds you the second he’s free.

You’re tucked away in a quiet dressing room going over the revised schedule when the door shuts behind you with a click. You look up—and there he is.

Sweaty. Smirking. Hair a mess.

Fucking beautiful.

He says nothing at first. Just watches you.

You swallow. “We don’t have long.”

“I don’t need long,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “I just need you.”

Your breath catches.

He closes the distance in three strides, his hands slipping around your waist, pulling you against him. His lips graze your ear.

“You’ve been looking at me like you want to eat me alive,” he whispers.

“I do,” you breathe. “But I was trying to be professional.”

He pulls back enough to meet your eyes, curls falling loose around his face, his pupils already blown.

“Fuck professionalism.”

Then his mouth is on yours.

Hot. Urgent. Desperate.

His hands slide down your back, gripping your ass, lifting you onto the counter behind you. Your legs spread without hesitation, heels hooking behind his thighs to keep him close.

You kiss him like you’ve been starving, like you need this to breathe. Your hands go straight to his hair, finally tugging like you’ve wanted to all day—hard and greedy, curling your fingers into the roots and pulling just enough to make him groan against your mouth.

“God,” he gasps, grinding into you. “You love my hair.”

“Can’t help it,” you murmur, dragging your nails lightly along his scalp just to feel him shiver. “Wanna pull it while you’re buried between my legs.”

His head drops to your shoulder with a growl. “Say that again and I’m dropping to my knees right now.”

You smirk, breathless, tugging again. “Then what are you waiting for?”

He growls low in his throat, and in one fluid movement, his hands are on your jacket, shoving it down your arms. His mouth never leaves yours for long, just broken kisses between quick movements—your fingers fisting his shirt, tugging it up over his head, revealing warm skin, inked muscle, and the kind of body that makes you ache.

“You first,” he murmurs, dragging the hem of your dress up, up, up—until you lift your arms and he peels it off in one smooth pull.

You’re left in your bra and underwear, flushed and already wet, and he looks at you like he wants to ruin you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes.

Then he drops to his knees.

He kisses the inside of your knee first. Then the other. His fingers slip under the band of your underwear, tugging them down your thighs slowly—like he wants to savor the reveal. He slides them off your ankles, discarding them somewhere behind him, and then his hands are on your thighs, spreading you open wide as he settles between them.

You shudder at the first brush of his breath against your core.

He groans, low and rough. “You’re already dripping.”

You can only nod, fingers curling around the edge of the counter behind you.

And then his mouth is on you.

He licks a slow, deliberate stripe up your center, groaning again like he’s tasting heaven. His tongue flicks your clit, light at first, teasing, circling, then pressing firm and hot as he sucks you into his mouth. Your hips jolt.

“Fuck—Harry—”

Your hands find his hair without thinking, sinking into the curls, tugging hard.

He moans against you.

The sound vibrates through you and only makes you tug again, a little rougher this time, wrapping your fingers tighter. He loves it—you can feel it in the way he groans, in the way his tongue moves faster, deeper, like every pull of his hair spurs him on.

Like he’s addicted to it.

He eats you like a man starved—messy, unrelenting, burying his face between your thighs with no care for control. His hands slide under your ass, holding you steady as he works you over with his mouth, dragging his tongue through every part of you until you’re panting, writhing, begging.

You pull hard on his hair again, and he groans louder, grinding his tongue against your clit in tight circles.

“You like that?” you gasp, tugging again.

He pulls back just enough to look up at you, his mouth shiny, lips swollen. “Fuck yes.”

Then he dives back in.

You cry out, one hand braced on the mirror behind you, the other still tangled in his hair, pulling as he flicks his tongue faster, harder—relentless. Your thighs start to shake.

“Harry—I’m gonna—”

He moans like he’s proud, sucking your clit hard as two fingers slip inside you, curling just right.

That’s all it takes.

You fall apart with a choked gasp, hips jerking, thighs trembling, his name spilling from your lips over and over as you come undone against his mouth. He holds you through every second of it, tongue dragging through your slick, licking up everything he can get, like he’s not letting a single drop go to waste.

And still—still—your hands are in his hair, tugging without rhythm now, desperate and delirious. And still, he groans for it. Like he wants to be wrecked by you.

You don’t know how long it takes before you finally collapse back against the mirror, thighs twitching, chest heaving, completely undone.

And he’s still kneeling, lips swollen, eyes dark, grinning like he just won something.

Which—fuck—he did.

Your breathing’s still uneven, thighs trembling from the aftershocks, but when Harry finally rises from between your legs, his lips glossy and jaw tight, you catch the fire in his eyes.

He swipes the back of his hand across his mouth, tongue dragging across his bottom lip like he’s savoring every drop of you.

“You’re fucking unreal,” he breathes, almost reverent.

You don’t respond.

You act.

Your hands slip up under the hem of his shirt, palms flat against his flushed, tattooed skin. He hisses softly at the contact, your touch gentle compared to the wreckage he just made of you. You push the shirt up slow, watching every muscle in his stomach tighten under your hands, until you finally tug it over his head and drop it to the floor.

“Your turn,” you murmur, gaze dropping to the waistband of his jeans.

His breath catches. “Yeah?”

You nod, backing him up until the backs of his thighs hit the edge of the chair in the corner. He sits without resistance, legs spread, eyes on you like you’re a fantasy come to life.

And then, slowly—purposefully—you sink to your knees.

Harry’s mouth parts, chest rising sharply.

Your hands find his belt, unfastening it with infuriating calm. He lifts his hips just enough to help as you drag his jeans down his legs, then his boxers, releasing his cock—already flushed and heavy, the tip glistening. He’s hard again, impossibly so, despite what he just gave you, and the sight of it makes your mouth water.

You glance up at him through your lashes as your fingers wrap around the base. “So responsive.”

He laughs, but it’s breathless, strained. “Sweetheart, you exist and I’m hard.”

You hum, giving him one slow stroke. “Poor thing.”

And then you lean in.

You start soft—just a kiss to the head. Then another, lower, your tongue flicking the underside as you stroke him with a lazy rhythm.

Harry’s head falls back against the chair, his fingers already threading through your hair. But he doesn’t push. Doesn’t guide.

He lets you have him.

You lick a stripe up the side of his cock, kitten-licking the head again before finally taking him into your mouth—inch by inch, dragging your tongue along the underside, eyes still locked on his.

“Fucking hell,” he groans, hips twitching. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You hum around him, sinking down deeper, and the sound makes him shudder.

“Jesus,” he gasps, breath catching. His hand flexes in your hair again, the other gripping the armrest like it's the only thing keeping him grounded. “You feel—fuck, you feel so good.”

You set a steady rhythm—slow at first, teasing, taking him deep before pulling back and dragging your tongue over the head. Your hand wraps around the base, stroking in sync with every movement of your mouth, your spit slicking him up messily, perfectly.

He’s panting now, mouth slack, eyes barely open as he watches you.

“You’re unreal,” he whispers, the words broken by a low moan. “You’re so fucking good to me.”

Your fingers dig into his thigh as you pick up the pace—taking him deeper, faster, letting his cock glide over your tongue until your lips meet your fist and your jaw aches, but god, you don’t stop.

He’s close. You can feel it in the way his hips twitch, the way his thighs tense under your hands.

“Baby—” he gasps, voice cracking. “I’m—fuck—I’m gonna come.”

You don’t stop.

You don’t want to stop.

You look up at him, eyes dark, lips stretched around him, and he breaks—with a strangled moan and a sharp jerk of his hips, he spills down your throat, hot and thick and overwhelming.

You swallow every drop, slow and messy, your hand still working him through it, gentle now, coaxing out every last twitch, every last moan.

He slumps back in the chair, completely undone, chest heaving, sweat glistening at his hairline.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs, head rolling against the cushion. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

You smile, dragging your tongue across your bottom lip, smug and satisfied.

And that’s exactly when—

Knock knock knock.

You freeze.

Harry’s eyes fly open, wide and panicked.

“Y/N?” It’s Liam’s voice. Too casual. Too close.

You scramble upright, nearly tripping over your own knees as you snatch Harry’s shirt off the floor and throw it at him with a whisper-hiss: “Get dressed!”

He’s laughing silently, still boneless in the chair, but he yanks the shirt on while fumbling for his jeans.

You swipe a hand across your mouth, grab your dress and jacket, running a hand through your hair as the door opens.

Liam steps in, mid-sentence. “Paul’s looking for you—what the f—?”

He stops dead.

The silence is instant.

Your dress is halfway over your hips. Harry’s shirt is inside out and only buttoned halfway, his belt dangling undone, hair a mess, lips still swollen.

And Liam sees all of it.

His eyes bounce between you, wide with shock, disbelief, and dawning horror.

“Liam,” you start, breathless. “I—this isn’t—”

“You’re kidding me,” he says, stepping back like he walked into a crime scene. “You’re—oh my god.”

“Mate, just—” Harry stands quickly, trying to fix his belt, but his voice is too calm. Too Harry. “Can we talk about this like adults?”

“Adults don’t sneak around like horny teenagers in dressing rooms!” Liam snaps. “Are you serious right now?”

You wince, dragging your dress down properly. “Please don’t yell.”

“I’m not yelling,” Liam says—loudly—his jaw clenched, voice trembling more from sheer rage than volume. “I’m processing. I walked in and saw my bandmate half-naked and Paul’s daughter with her dress around her waist. What exactly am I supposed to do with that?!”

Harry sighs, buttoning his shirt correctly now. “Liam—”

“No. No, you don’t get to play this calm, charming bullshit right now,” Liam snaps, pointing at him. “That’s Paul’s daughter. Paul. The man who literally pays our salaries and trusts us not to fuck around.”

Harry holds his hands up. “I’m not—this isn’t just fucking around, alright?”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Liam bites. Then he turns on you, betrayal flashing across his face. “And you. You’re supposed to be the responsible one.”

“I am,” you say quickly, stepping forward, jacket clutched to your chest. “Liam, please, I know how it looks, but we didn’t plan for it to happen like this. It’s not a joke. I swear.”

He stares at you, eyes searching. “Are you together?”

You hesitate—then nod. “We’re figuring it out. But yes.”

He makes a strangled sound and looks like he’s about to launch into another rant, so you grab his arm.

“Please don’t say anything. Please. Just not yet.”

His eyes widen. “You want me to lie to your dad?”

“I want you to give me a chance to tell him myself. When I’m ready.”

Liam looks like he might explode. “Y/N—”

“Liam, come on,” Harry says quietly. “You’ve known me forever. I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t real.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” Liam snaps. “Because if it is real, then it’s even worse. You don’t think Paul’s gonna lose it when he finds out one of us is secretly dating his daughter?”

You flinch, but don’t let go of Liam’s arm. “Please. I’m not asking you to lie forever. Just… let me handle it.”

Liam stares at you for a long, heavy moment.

Then, finally, he exhales through his nose and drags a hand down his face. “You have one week. One. Then I’m telling him.”

You nod instantly. “Okay. Thank you.”

He looks between the two of you again, still fuming. “You better hope he hears it from you first.”

Then he storms out, the door slamming behind him.

Silence settles again. You exhale shakily, then glance at Harry.

“Still think it could’ve gone worse?”

Harry raises a brow. “Yeah. He could’ve punched me.”

You groan. “Give it time.”

He walks over and wraps his arms around your waist, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You okay?”

“Nope.”

“You were amazing,” he murmurs. “Even if he hates me now.”

You sigh, leaning into him. “I don’t think he hates you.”

There’s a pause.

Then you add, “Yet.”

You and Harry manage to make yourselves look somewhat presentable before slipping out of the dressing room separately.

Ten minutes later, you’re in the green room, clipboard in hand, pretending you’re not still shaking from what just happened—and from the fact that Liam hasn’t looked at either of you once.

He’s seated on the edge of the couch, elbows on knees, jaw tight, staring at the floor like it’s personally offended him.

The other boys filter in casually—Louis first, sipping from a water bottle, followed by Niall and Zayn mid-conversation.

Louis’s eyes skim the room once before landing on you. Then Harry.

Then Liam.

Then back to you.

And his brow lifts. “What’s with this vibe?”

Niall looks up. “Yeah. Did something happen? Liam looks like he’s about to start throwing furniture.”

“I’m fine,” Liam says tightly, not moving.

“You’re not,” Louis says slowly, eyeing him. “You look like someone slept with your sister or something.”

There’s a beat.

Harry coughs.

You freeze.

Zayn, who’s been leaning against the wall, straightens. “...No.”

Louis’s eyes widen. “No.”

Niall’s head snaps between all three of you like he’s trying to catch up mid-film. “Wait, what—?”

Then he squints.

At Harry.

Then at you.

And you know it’s obvious.

You’re both freshly flushed. Your hair’s a mess. Harry’s shirt is still on inside out, and there’s a faint pink flush crawling up the side of his neck, dangerously close to a hickey. He hasn’t stopped smiling since he walked in.

And you?

You haven’t made eye contact with a single person.

Louis gasps. “Shut. Up.”

Zayn groans. “Unreal. Absolutely fucking unreal.”

Niall’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wait—are you two actually—?”

Louis just cackles, pointing at Harry like he’s won a game show. “I knew it. I fucking knew it.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands.

Zayn shakes his head slowly, arms crossed. “Wow. And here I thought the sexual tension was just for sport.”

“I knew something was going on,” Louis continues, grinning like it’s Christmas morning. “You think I haven’t heard the noises coming from Harry’s room the past few nights? I thought he was just really, really into that meditation playlist.”

Harry snorts. “Definitely wasn’t meditating.”

“Harry!” you hiss, smacking his arm.

“What?” he says, entirely unrepentant. “Just saying, I was in a very mindful headspace.”

Liam lets out a strangled noise that sounds part scream, part groan. “Oh my god. I’m going to throw up.”

Niall, still catching up, squints at you. “Wait. So this is real? Not just a one-time thing?”

You glance at Harry, then nod. “It’s… real.”

Louis whistles, low and dramatic. “Well, congratulations, Styles. You’re a dead man walking.”

Zayn nods. “Start writing your eulogy now. And maybe pick out a nice coffin.”

Harry just smiles wider, all teeth and smug satisfaction. “Totally worth it.”

Liam shoots him a glare sharp enough to kill a weaker man. “You are not going to survive this tour. You understand that, right? The second Paul finds out—”

“He won’t,” you say quickly. “Not yet. Liam’s giving us a week.”

“Which is incredibly generous,” Liam mutters.

Louis claps his hands. “Right, so we’ve got six days, twenty-three hours before Paul goes full wrath-of-God on Harry.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Liam mutters, standing. “Because once Paul finds out, your fun is going to be at the bottom of the ocean.”

He storms out again, grumbling under his breath about children and poor life choices.

The door slams behind him.

Silence lingers for a beat—then Louis lets out a long whistle. “Yikes.”

Niall blinks. “So. Do we… do we comfort him? Or do we just let him stew?”

Zayn shrugs. “Man needs a minute.”

You exhale and sink down onto the nearest couch cushion, pressing your clipboard to your chest. “That could’ve gone worse.”

Harry sits beside you, completely unbothered, arm slung across the back of the couch. “Could’ve gone better.”

Louis snorts. “Could’ve gone nuclear.”

Niall points at you. “You alright?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah. Just… didn’t expect to get caught mid-scandal.”

“Mid-oral scandal,” Louis corrects with a grin. “Let’s call it what it was.”

Harry snorts, reaching for your hand. “We’ll be more careful.”

“Bold of you to assume you’ll get another chance,” Zayn says dryly, arching a brow.

Harry winks. “Oh, I will.”

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks flush anyway.

Niall grins. “God, you two are so obvious now. How did we not catch this earlier?”

“Because I’m good at lying,” you mutter, half into your clipboard.

“And I’m just incredibly charming,” Harry adds helpfully, squeezing your hand.

Louis fake-gags. “Ugh. Disgusting. Someone tell Paul now just to get it over with.”

“Do not joke about that,” you say, pointing at him. “I’m already imagining the heart attack. Do you want to be responsible for giving my father a coronary?”

Louis raises both hands in surrender. “Nope. I like Paul. I’d just prefer not to be within five miles of Harry when he finds out.”

Zayn pushes off the wall with a sigh. “Well, we’ve got a week to brace for impact.”

“And hide anything sharp,” Niall adds under his breath.

The others start filtering out of the room, still murmuring and laughing among themselves, leaving just you and Harry on the couch.

He watches you for a moment, eyes soft now, playful edge melting into something quieter.

“You really okay?” he asks again, gentler this time.

You lean into his side, bumping your shoulder into his. “Yeah. As long as we make it out of this alive.”

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We will. I’ve survived screaming fans, Simon Cowell, and Louis’s cooking. I can handle your dad.”

You laugh. “You’re so full of shit.”

Harry grins. “Maybe. But you’re still into me.”

You look up at him, brows lifted. “What gave it away?”

“The blowjob probably.”

You groan, smacking his chest with your clipboard. “You are the worst.”

“Still totally worth it,” he says, tugging you closer.

You sigh, letting yourself relax for a moment in the quiet.

And for now, at least—he’s right. Totally worth it.

...

The next morning starts deceptively normal.

Room service trays cover the table. Coffee cups, half-eaten toast, and little pots of jam are scattered across the surface like breakfast exploded and no one cleaned up. Louis is reading the headlines aloud in a dramatic voice, Niall is already on his second croissant, and Liam is definitely pretending to focus on emails just so he doesn’t have to make eye contact with you or Harry.

You’re seated beside said menace.

Harry’s in a worn grey t-shirt and sweats, curls still damp from the shower, and he smells like mint and hotel soap and last night. You’re in one of your tour hoodies and bike shorts. Totally innocent. Totally casual.

Except your knee keeps bumping his under the table.

And his pinky keeps brushing yours.

And you are absolutely not thinking about the way he kissed you breathless before you even left your hotel room that morning.

You stab your fork into a piece of fruit. “You’re doing that on purpose.”

“Doing what?” he asks, far too innocent, reaching across you to steal a grape off your plate. His arm lingers longer than necessary, brushing your chest as he leans back. “Sharing?”

You glance at him. Narrow your eyes.

He grins—dimples and danger wrapped in a face you really shouldn’t trust.

You should know better by now.

But your hand still slides under the table, settling on his thigh.

Too high.

His breath catches, sharp and quiet, as your thumb starts to move in slow, teasing circles. His leg tenses under your touch, and you feel him shift slightly, like he’s trying to decide whether to stay still or drag you into his lap.

You’re just starting to smile when—

“Seriously?” Zayn’s voice cuts through, bone-dry.

Your hand stills instantly. Harry’s doesn’t—his fingers slide higher up your thigh in a slow, deliberate stroke that makes your breath hitch.

Zayn doesn’t even look up from his coffee. “Right in front of my toast?”

Niall nearly chokes on his juice, coughing into his sleeve.

Louis leans across the table, grinning like he’s been waiting for this moment all morning. “Told you two you’re not slick.”

Liam groans, dragging a hand down his face. “I regret giving you a week. This is going to be the longest week of my life.”

Harry smirks, entirely unbothered. “I’m a dead man walking. May as well enjoy the time I’ve got left.”

“By giving us a live porn show?” Zayn deadpans.

Louis rolls his eyes but still grins. “There’s an empty storage closet three doors down with your names on it. Soundproof-ish. Go be disgusting in private.”

You glance at Harry.

He raises a brow.

Then you’re both out of your chairs at the same time, barely waiting for permission.

“I swear to God,” Liam mutters behind you, “if I hear anything—”

“We’ll be quiet,” Harry tosses back without looking.

“You’ll try to be quiet,” Zayn mutters.

Louis raises his coffee cup in salute. “Good luck, soldier.”

Harry tugs you down the hall, quick and determined, fingers locked with yours like he might combust if you don’t get there fast enough. He finds the closet Zayn mentioned, swings the door open, and pulls you inside.

The door hasn’t even clicked shut before he’s on you.

Harry kisses you like he’s been waiting hours—days—for this. Like the idea of keeping his hands off you for one more second is physically painful. His mouth crashes into yours, urgent and hungry, his body pinning yours to the wall in the tight space. Your back hits it with a soft thud, breath knocked from your lungs, and it only makes you kiss him harder.

His hands slide beneath your hoodie, fingers spreading wide across your waist, the heat of his palms branding your skin.

“I’ve wanted to do this since breakfast,” he murmurs, mouth trailing down the side of your jaw, then lower, brushing over the base of your neck. “The way you touched me under the table—fuck, you’re a menace.”

You laugh, breathless and already trembling, your hands tugging his shirt up and over his head. It drops to the floor as your nails scrape lightly down his chest.

“You started it.”

His eyes flick up to meet yours, pupils blown, mouth already swollen. “And now I’m going to finish it.”

His lips crash into yours again—messy, open-mouthed, claiming. One of his hands grips the curve of your ass, pulling you flush against him while the other curls around your jaw, tilting your head until you’re exactly where he wants you.

You moan into his mouth, fingers finding his hair. You tangle them deep in the curls, tugging hard enough to make him groan, the sound low and wrecked against your lips.

It’s frantic. Desperate. Dizzying.

And then—

Click.

The door swings open.

“Y/N—”

Your whole body jolts as you whip around, heart slamming into your throat.

Your dad stands in the doorway.

Frozen. Eyes wide. Face blank.

He takes in everything in one horrible, split-second glance—your hoodie hanging off one shoulder, Harry shirtless, lips swollen, your fingers still twisted in his hair, both of you flushed and breathless, clearly tangled in something that was about to become much more.

You and Harry spring apart like you’ve been burned.

“Dad—” you start, voice thin, shaky.

“Don’t.” His tone slices through the air like ice.

Your breath catches.

He doesn’t shout. Doesn’t storm in or slam the door again. He just stares. Like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing.

Like he doesn’t want to believe it.

“I trusted you,” he says quietly, but it lands heavier than any scream would have.

You open your mouth to explain, to say something—anything—but nothing comes out.

Harry takes a cautious step forward, shirt still bunched in one hand. “Paul—”

“No.” Your dad lifts a hand, firm and final. “You don’t get to play the nice guy, Harry. Not when you’ve been sneaking around with my daughter behind my back.”

Harry flinches, the silence after the words hanging too heavy to breathe through.

“It’s not like that,” you manage, voice hoarse. “We weren’t trying to hide it to hurt you—we just—”

“That’s enough.” Paul’s voice is sharp, final. His eyes narrow as he cuts you off. “Get dressed. Meet me back in the suite.”

Then he turns, and the door slams behind him with a force that makes you flinch.

Silence rushes in, thick and suffocating.

You’re still frozen in place, hoodie slipping off one shoulder, heart racing like you’ve just sprinted off a cliff with no idea where the ground is. Your hands tremble at your sides—you don’t even realize you’re still clutching the front of Harry’s sweats until his hand gently wraps around yours.

“Hey,” he says softly, voice low and grounding. “You okay?”

You nod. Then shake your head. “I don’t know.”

He exhales slowly, eyes searching yours as his thumb brushes lightly across your cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

You close your eyes for a beat, leaning into the warmth of his palm. Letting it steady you. “I can’t believe it happened like that.”

“I know,” he murmurs. “But it’s going to be okay.”

He pulls you into his chest and you go without hesitation, letting yourself melt into him, your face pressed into his bare shoulder, arms wrapped tight around his waist. His skin is still warm. His heart is still racing, too.

“We’ll talk to him,” he says, threading his fingers through your hair, “together. It’ll be okay.”

You nod into his neck, barely a whisper. “Okay.”

But even as you say it, you’re not sure either of you believes it yet.

You let him hold you for a moment longer, burying your face in the curve of his neck, wishing you could stay there just a little longer. But eventually, you pull back, tugging your hoodie into place with trembling fingers.

Harry grabs his shirt from the floor and slips it on, movements slower now. More careful. Like he’s trying not to make things worse by rushing.

Then his hand finds yours. Fingers intertwine, warm and grounding.

You hold on.

Together, you make your way back to the suite.

Paul is pacing, arms crossed, jaw tight. The other four boys are planted across the room, wearing matching expressions of guilt—like they’d all just been caught watching the world’s most awkward car crash.

Louis is the first to notice you. His mouth opens, then shuts again, which might be the most restrained he’s ever been in his life.

Liam is all clenched jaw and twitching fingers, eyes darting between you, Harry, and Paul like he’s waiting for something to explode.

Niall shifts uncomfortably, clearly trying to melt into the arm of the couch.

And Zayn just sighs and mutters, “Told you it was a terrible idea.”

Paul stops pacing the second he sees you. His eyes drop to your joined hands—Harry’s fingers still laced tightly with yours—and something flickers behind his expression.

Disappointment. Hurt. And something that cuts deeper than either: betrayal.

“Sit,” he says simply.

You and Harry obey without a word, sinking onto the couch side by side.

Paul doesn’t sit right away. He stands across from you, arms crossed, jaw tight. The silence stretches painfully long. You feel Harry tense beside you, feel his fingers twitch like he’s preparing to take the hit for both of you.

From the corner of your eye, the other boys try—and fail spectacularly—to look busy.

Louis has a magazine open upside down.

Zayn is suddenly very invested in the stitching on his jeans.

Niall keeps adjusting the lid on his empty water bottle.

Liam stares out the window like he’s praying it’ll crack open and suck him into the void.

Paul ignores them all.

“Alright,” he says, voice calm in that scary, clipped way you know too well. “You’ve got two minutes. Start talking.”

You and Harry glance at each other.

Then Harry clears his throat and says, “It started about a month ago. And it wasn’t planned. It just… happened.”

Paul’s brows raise. “Just like that?”

You speak quickly. “We weren’t trying to lie to you. We just—didn’t know how to tell you.”

“And sneaking around seemed like the better option?” Paul’s eyes cut sharply to Harry. “I trusted you. Not just as one of my artists, but as someone I thought had a little more respect than this.”

Harry straightens slightly. “I do respect you. And I care about her. A lot.”

Paul doesn’t flinch, but his voice drops a note colder. “So much that you risked her job? Your job? The stability of this entire tour?”

No one breathes. You’re fairly certain Louis has stopped blinking.

Harry holds his ground. “I didn’t go into this to mess anything up. And I know it looks bad. But it’s real. I wouldn’t be sitting here if it wasn’t.”

Paul turns to you. “And you?”

Your voice comes out quieter than you expect. “I care about him. This isn’t just some fling.”

There’s a long pause.

Then Paul exhales and sinks into the armchair across from you, rubbing a hand down his face.

“Do you have any idea the position this puts me in?” he mutters. “The press, management, the fans… and I can’t even fire one of you, because that’d mean firing my daughter or blowing up the band.”

Niall makes a tiny choking noise in the background.

Zayn kicks him under the table.

Paul’s head snaps around.

His eyes narrow. “You,” he says, pointing at Niall. “How long have you known?”

Niall freezes mid-sip of his empty water bottle. “Uh…”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Niall sets the bottle down slowly, like it might explode. “A few days. Maybe a week. Kinda hard to miss when Harry started acting like a lovesick golden retriever.”

“Niall,” you hiss.

He shrugs helplessly. “What? It’s true!”

Paul shifts his stare to Zayn, who doesn’t flinch.

“How about you?”

Zayn leans back with a sigh, arms crossed. “Saw it coming a mile away. Just didn’t realize it was this serious until Liam caught them half-dressed.”

Harry lets out a quiet groan beside you.

Paul turns to Louis next. “And you?”

Louis grins, completely unapologetic. “Oh, I’ve definitely heard things through hotel walls. Thin ones. Also, you did say not to scare her off, and I’m just saying—I think she’s brave for sticking around.”

Paul raises a hand to his temple like he’s fighting a migraine.

“And Liam,” he says slowly, “my last hope.”

Liam lifts both hands. “Don’t look at me. I tried to stop them. Gave them a whole week to come clean.”

Paul blinks. “You knew and said nothing?”

“They promised to tell you!” Liam protests. “And I’ve been living in a state of constant anxiety ever since.”

Paul groans and rubs both hands down his face. “Unbelievable. All five of you.”

“We’re very supportive,” Louis offers.

“Quiet,” Paul snaps.

The room falls silent again, thick with unease.

Then Paul turns back to you and Harry, fixing you both with a look that could level a stadium.

“One chance,” he says firmly. “I’m giving you one chance to do this right. If anything happens—if the media catches wind, if fans start speculating, if anything compromises this tour or your safety—you’re done. Both of you. I don’t care how serious this feels or how in love you think you are. You do not come before this job.”

Harry sits up a little straighter, no trace of his usual charm on his face. “We understand.”

Paul’s gaze shifts to you, waiting.

“I understand,” you echo, your voice quiet but certain. “We won’t let it interfere.”

For a long moment, Paul doesn’t say anything. Just looks at you like he’s trying to find the kid he raised in the mess you’ve made.

Finally, he exhales through his nose, jaw still tight. “I need some air.”

And without another word, he turns and walks out the door.

This time, it closes softly.

Not a slam. Just final.

The moment it clicks shut, the breath leaves your lungs in a rush.

You slump back into the couch, pulse still thudding in your ears.

“Well,” Louis says brightly, tossing his magazine over his shoulder. “That was fun.”

Zayn lets out a low whistle. “Never thought I’d see Paul go full dad mode in a band meeting.”

Liam rubs his temples. “Can we all just take one day—one day—off from emotional trauma?”

Niall gives you a small, lopsided smile. “You alright, love?”

You nod slowly, fingers still tangled with Harry’s. “Yeah. I think so.”

Harry squeezes your hand. “We’re okay.”

And despite everything—the fallout, the lecture, the fact that the entire band now knows way too much—you believe him.

You’re okay.

[theoncomingchaos]

Easy steps that could have improved the Lucanis Romance

Pacing:

Make the cake scene the first romance scene. He cooks little treats for everyone anyway. It would be a good friendly scene that gives a chance to build the relationship. We could see that Lucanis cares and is paying attention to what Rook likes, give Rook another chance to flirt, and let us see that small uncertain smile to make it clear Lucanis is interested but hesitant. Maybe a companion makes a comment about how much more effort he put into Rook's dessert than theirs. Lucanis quickly escapes the room with Spite telling him to turn around and offer to hand feed Rook. Spite is a menace.

Make the wall scene the commitment scene, but don't break Lucanis's character. He isn't good at romance, he has no experience with it, he wants it so badly and has read romance novels, but he shouldn't be confident and suave about seduction. Not after what happened with Viago. Instead, have a talk about why Lucanis has been distant and hesitant, allow Rook to reassure him, then let Lucanis so, so happily give in.

In the cafe scene, let us really talk about Spite's place in the relationship and learn more about how they are actually doing. Particularly, how they affect one another.

Let us kiss and chat to our L1 whenever we are at the lighthouse. Let us ask about their lives, factions, etc. Maybe Lucanis can invite us to the book club!

Additional Scenes I wanted:

Romantic gondola scene! After we escape the Crow party let us have a moonlit gondola scene!

Cooking together for the team. Flirty flour fight included. If Rook ends up on the counter all the better.

Varric warning us to be careful with him and comparing him to Anders. Yes, I know the truth, yes I am in denial. Real or not I want it. Continue the tradition!

More of Viago's reaction about a Rook de Riva and Lucanis being a thing. We could see him find out about it and then maybe in a banter Lucanis could mention having been threatened. Maybe Lucanis could even talk about the irony of the fact that his first crush was a de Riva and now his first love is a different de Riva. Rook actually chimes in: "I would have appreciated the dagger." "I'll get you an even better one next time we are in Treviso."

Caterina finding out- especially for a de Riva Rook. Caterina demanding they have dinner together.

[silenceofserenity]

BNHA BOYS as book tropes - PART 2:

Pairing (s): bnha boys x gn! reader

↳ Includes: Sero, Shinsou, Shigaraki, Dabi & Hawks

Part 1 includes: Midoriya, Bakugo, Todoroki, Kirishima & Kaminari HERE

HANTA SERO

↳ FLIRTY FRIENDSHIP

the first day the two of you met, you bonded instantly

flirty banter has always been apart of your friendship - it's what makes sero and y/n, sero and y/n!

you two were hanging out after class, sitting on the roof of the school building to watch the sunset

your legs are stretched out as sero lays back against the bricks, taking a drag from his cigarette

"you're staring"

you scoff, "yeah right," but you were - just for a second at least

his head tilts up to face you with a lazy smirk, "nah i could feel it. you checking me out, l/n?"

"in your dreams, tape boy."

he taps his cigarette against the ledge, letting the ashes fall

"that wasn't a no"

he leans in slightly, "it's okay, you can admit it. i know i'm irresistible"

you exhale slowly, letting the wind fill in the silence before you turn your head to look him in the eyes

"you love hearing yourself talk, don't you?"

sero laughs and shuffles a little closer to you, "only because i know when i talk, you think about me"

the two of you had undeniable chemistry and even more undeniable banter, but you'd never really thought anything would come from it

"well... i'm thinking about pushing you off this building."

he chuckles and moves his cigarette higher to show you it, "can the pushing wait until after i've finished?"

HITOSHI SHINSOU

↳ FORCED PROXIMITY

you and shinsou were on a stakeout mission inside a cramped shed near a suspicious building

it was late and the silence stretched on longer than usual as you struggled to stay awake

however, he was fine, calm and focused all in one - not a single sign of fatigue

"how much longer do we have to stay here?"

"as long as it takes"

the night air was chilly and suddenly you were regretting not bringing an extra layer

"cold?"

you shrug, "what gave it away?"

he chuckles and throws you a thin jacket, "here. it's not much but it's better than nothing."

muttering a thanks, you put it on just in time to feel his skin graze past yours

"watch it"

"woahh, you say it like it's a problem y/n, but i don't see you moving away."

you look around and see that he is, in fact correct - there is plenty of room yet you're right beside him

"still... just don't get any funny ideas, shinsou."

he smirks, leaning in closer to you, "am i the only one with funny ideas here?"

a sudden noise outside cuts the moment short, causing you both to get back into hero mode

"looks like we have to save the funny ideas for later."

TOMURA SHIGARAKI

↳ OBSESSIVE (HERO X VILLAIN)

you were a pro-hero and he was the leader of the league of villains. opposites on paper but those lines blurred long ago

every time the two of you fight it feels more like a game - he enjoys you the chase

you stand in an alley, blood dripping from a fresh wound on your arm

"you're hurt."

shigaraki steps out of the shadows, red eyes watching you like prey

"stay back."

he doesn't listen, he never does.

"i could've killed you earlier," he tilts his head, "why do you think i didn't?"

you begin to activate your quirk, "because you'd miss me too much?"

he looks at you amused

"is that what you think? you talk big for someone bleeding out in an alley."

you swing at him but his gloved hand catches your wrist and pushes you against the wall

your quirk is powerful, yet you choose not to attack, why?

"you're always chasing me." he says mockingly, "but what if i just stopped running?"

"then i'd take you in myself."

he laughs in your face, "would you? or would you finally admit you like this chase just as much as i do?"

and just as fast as he came - he disappeared.

DABI

↳ "TOUCH THEM AND YOU DIE."

you and dabi aren't officially dating but everyone knows you're his

you were laying on the couch at the hideout, scrolling through your phone while Dabi leans against the bar, watching from afar

a new recruit, who you've been training lately walks over to you with a grin

he tries to strike up a conversation, touching your shoulder as he makes a joke

dabi's eyes flick between you and the new recruit in silence

he pushes off the bar and strolls over, placing his hand on his shoulder - mimicking what he did to you

a small flicker of blue flames burn into his skin

"i'd suggest you take your hand off them."

the guy winces in pain and stumbles back

"touch them again, and i'll make sure the only thing the heroes find are a pile of ashes."

dabi takes his hand off the new recruit, watching him stammer an apology and scurries off

"you're making me look really bad in front of the new recruits, you know?"

dabi stretches lazily, "didn't realise your ego was so fragile."

"you're deflecting" you say with narrowed eyes

his signature smirk finally reappears "and you're avoiding the fact that you like it when I get like this."

HAWKS

↳ FRIENDS W/ BENEFITS

you and Hawks are both pro heros working for the same company so you're often sent on missions together

after a long mission, he invites you to his apartment

"you've been looking at me weirdly all day"

you raise an eyebrow, "i think you're imagining things"

shuffling closer to you on the couch, he whispers in your ear "am i?"

the tension thickens and you're unsure of what to say, but you keep your eyes on him

"i think you want something"

straightening up, he keeps his confident persona, "and i think you know exactly what i mean."

you're speechless. how can someone be this bold?

"maybe i do. but what happens after?"

he reaches out to touch your thigh gently, "we'll figure it out later."

silence floods the room and you swear he could hear your heartbeat booming

in a quick movement he pulls you closer, waiting for some sort of response

caving in, you sigh and think for a moment

a nod, "just don't make it weird, yeah?"

"me? never." he smirks, "unless you wanted me too."

one moment of weakness led to something far more complicated than you had ever intended

and that's how it started.

[goofygubegubler]

𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬

You’re trapped with the one person who always gets under your skin. And this time, there’s no escape—just options.

wc: 4.8k |F!Reader (Intern) x Spencer Reid (BAU) | cw: enemies-to-lovers, mutual pining, locked-room tension, flirty office chaos, bratty reader x repressed Spencer, slow-burn heat, heavy innuendo, power play lite, Gen Z banter, Hotch is so done.

A/n: This is a pick-your-ending fic — at a certain point, you’ll choose between smut or fluff, each in its own post with separate warnings and word counts. If you’re into this format, let me know! It just fits certain stories, y’know? Love and chaos—MWAH 💋

The BAU was supposed to be a serious, elite unit. You had envisioned it as a whirlwind of case files, high-stakes chases, and brooding men in bulletproof vests. What you hadn’t expected was for it to be filled with this many attractive people—or for the most infuriating one to be Spencer freaking Reid.

He was unbearable. All logic and statistics and that smug little way he corrected people, like a walking, talking Wikipedia page you wanted to shove into a filing cabinet. And, of course, he always had to insert himself at the worst possible moments.

Like now.

You were halfway up the stairs to Hotch’s office, arms full of paperwork, when Spencer materialized beside you, keeping pace effortlessly.

"You look focused," he mused, sipping from his stupid World’s Best Genius mug. The Caltech logo gleamed mockingly under the fluorescent lights.

You ignored him.

"Or frustrated," he added, tilting his head like he was observing something under a microscope. "Maybe both."

Your grip on the files tightened. "Do you ever shut up?"

"I do. Statistically speaking, though, you tend to provoke responses, so the probability of silence is low."

You stopped dead in your tracks, turned to glare at him, and exhaled sharply. "Do you hear yourself when you talk?"

Spencer blinked. "Yes. That’s how hearing works."

Your nails dug into the folder. "I hate you."

"That seems like a misdirected use of emotional energy," he replied smoothly.

You inhaled sharply, clenching your jaw so tightly it could crack. Ah, yes, self-control. A beautiful, fleeting thing. Before you could hurl something at him—your files, your shoe, your entire existence—you flipped your hair with deliberate defiance and kept walking, your heels clicking a little louder than necessary against the steps.

Truth be told, you weren’t just frustrated—you were livid. Not just because of the mountain of paperwork threatening to bury you alive, though that was bad enough. Deadlines loomed, your patience was nonexistent, and apparently, the BAU believed in torturing interns via bureaucracy. But no, the universe wasn’t content with that level of suffering. No, you had to be ovulating, too.

And your body? Oh, your body had decided to make that fact impossible to ignore. Every brush of fabric, every deep inhale around a particularly nice-smelling coworker—hell, even the way Derek Morgan smiled at people was suddenly a personal attack. And then, as if the gods of humiliation weren’t done with you, there was Spencer Reid.

Unbearably smug. Infuriatingly brilliant. And, much to your horror, the hottest of them all. It was an objective fact, but one you would sooner choke on a case file than admit.

You stomped into Hotch’s office like a woman on a mission, dropping the stack of paperwork onto his desk with a satisfying thud.

Hotch barely glanced up. "Not so easy."

You groaned. "Hotch, please."

"All intern paperwork has to be proofread and signed by a superior agent," he said, sliding the files right back toward you without even looking.

You narrowed your eyes. "You didn't even check."

Hotch finally glanced up, unimpressed. "You think I don't know when something’s unfinished? The weight is off. The stack isn’t dense enough. And if that weren’t enough, you wouldn’t have dropped it like it burned you."

You inhaled sharply, then exhaled through your nose like a bull about to charge. "I know, but every time I try, they’re too busy, and besides, Hotch, you know me—"

"Reid’s not busy," Hotch cut in. "He does paperwork the fastest. Morgan even pays him to do his, not that I officially acknowledge that particular rule-breaking."

Your soul left your body. "You cannot be serious."

"It wasn’t a question." His expression remained unreadable, but you swore there was amusement in his eyes. "Reid is your assigned agent from now on."

Your hands are clenched at your sides. "Hotch, you don’t understand. That’s cruel. That’s a human rights violation. That’s—"

"Efficient," he interrupted smoothly. "And unavoidable. Unless, of course, you’d rather I reassign you to Rossi. He loves a good mentoring opportunity, and I hear he enjoys dictation."

Your mouth snapped shut. That was how he won. Every. Single. Time. He had a way of shutting you up with a perfectly placed, completely infuriating threat that left you with no choice but to storm out with whatever dignity you had left. You inhaled, exhaled, and bit back the thousand things you wanted to say.

But, of course, Hotch wasn’t done. He leaned back slightly, fixing you with that assessing stare that made your spine straighten. "And," he added, "we talked about the skirts."

You smirked, tilting your head, letting your inner party girl out for just a second. "Yeah, yeah, you’re required to say that, but let’s be real—HR only cares if it’s disruptive, and last I checked, no one’s tripped and fallen into a scandal because of my legs."

Hotch’s lips pressed into a flat line, his patience visibly thinning. "I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that."

You grinned, victorious. "Good choice, bossman."

His stare didn’t waver. "Leave."

And because you valued your job (and, fine, maybe because getting the last word on Aaron Hotchner was a dangerous game), you spun on your heel and strutted out, thoroughly pleased with yourself.

God, if you didn’t have a massive, wildly inappropriate crush on Spencer, you’d bounce on Hotch in a heartbeat. Even if he was divorced. Even if he had a kid. Even if he was old enough to be your father. Domineering, dangerously competent men were simply your type, and unfortunately, you were surrounded by them.

As you made your way back to your desk, you let yourself fantasize—just a little. Maybe, in another life, you could have both. A little Eiffel Tower moment, if you will—

"Hey, you in?"

Penelope’s voice pulled you from your wildly inappropriate thoughts. You blinked, turning to her just as she plopped down in the chair beside you. "In?"

"For going out tonight. Drinks, dancing, chaos—our usual."

You hesitated, your attention snagged by movement across the bullpen. Hotch stood by Spencer’s desk, speaking in that low, measured tone of his. Spencer, ever the picture of unbothered intellect, nodded along, his fingers idly drumming against a case file. Hotch’s brow furrowed, and something about the intensity of his gaze made your stomach twist.

"Okay, now I know you’re distracted." Penelope snapped her fingers in front of your face, making you jolt. "What’s got you zoning out like a lovesick teenager?"

You tore your gaze away and cleared your throat. "Hotch just told me I have to start running my paperwork through Spencer."

Penelope’s eyes widened. "Oof. Condolences. What did you do to deserve that?"

"Apparently, Hotch thinks I’m not cutting the ropes as a newbie," you deadpanned. "But he likes me otherwise, y’know."

Penelope snorted. "Oh, sweetheart. That is the most delusional thing I’ve ever heard—and I’ve been in a fandom war."

Before you could respond, movement caught your eye. Hotch and Spencer were walking toward you, Hotch balancing a precarious stack of files in his arms. You barely had time to brace yourself before he stopped beside Penelope, giving her a pointed look.

"Garcia. Back to work."

Penelope pouted dramatically. "Ugh, you are such a buzzkill, you know that?"

"And yet, here I am, still insisting," Hotch replied dryly. He barely glanced at her. "Garcia. Work."

Penelope gasped, clutching her chest like he’d personally wounded her. "Rude. And here I was, ready to offer my radiant presence for a night of fun. But nooo, crushed by the oppressive fist of bureaucracy once again." With a theatrical sigh, she stood, smoothing out her skirt. "Fine, fine, I’m going. But if my sparkle dims, Hotchner, just know it’s on your conscience."

"And yet, somehow, the world survives," Hotch replied flatly. Then, without another word, he plopped a massive stack of files onto your lap. "You and Reid need to redo this entire stack before you leave."

"Oh, fantastic," you drawled, shifting the weight of the folders in your arms. "Because nothing gets me hotter than redoing paperwork with my favorite human encyclopedia."

"That’s between you and HR," Hotch deadpanned before turning on his heel and walking away.

You scowled after him. "I hate this place."

"And yet, you continue to show up," Spencer mused, already pulling a file from the stack in your hands. "Let’s see how much damage you’ve done this time."

"Oh, bite me," you shot back, dropping the rest of the files onto your desk with a dramatic sigh. "Before you start spewing unsolicited critiques, just know that I put my heart and soul into those."

Spencer flipped through a few pages, his lips twitching. "You used gel pens again."

"So?"

"So, it smudged everywhere."

You rolled your eyes. "Forgive me for wanting my bureaucratic misery to sparkle a little."

"And your phrasing," he continued, ignoring your defense. "This is meant to be objective. What is ‘a concerning amount of eyebrow waggling’ supposed to quantify exactly?"

"It means the guy was sketchy!"

Spencer gave you a long, suffering look. "You are the worst intern in FBI history."

You smirked, tilting your head just enough to be insufferable. "Aw, Doctor, you say that like it’s a bad thing."

Spencer just exhaled through his nose and turned back to the files, flipping a page with unnecessary force. "If we ever have to testify based on your notes, the jury’s going to think we’re making it up."

"Oh, please," you scoffed, leaning back in your chair. "Eyebrow waggling is a known intimidation tactic."

"According to whom?"

"Me. Obviously."

Spencer pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something about the downfall of modern law enforcement before refocusing on the paperwork. The clock on the wall ticked steadily, marking the slow exodus of the office. First, Morgan and Emily strolled out, offering half-hearted goodbyes that suggested they were thrilled not to be stuck with this nightmare. Then JJ, then Rossi—each departure leaving the bullpen quieter, the fluorescent lights humming louder.

By 6:30, even Penelope had fled, but not before dramatically sighing, "Ugh, this is so unfair! We were supposed to have a girls' night. Or at least get you drunk enough to make some questionable decisions!"

"Oh, trust me, I am questioning every decision that led me here," you deadpanned, glaring at the endless stack of papers.

Pen just pouted. "Well, hurry up and get it done so we can still salvage the night! I have snacks, face masks, and enough gossip to fill an entire season of reality TV."

"Maybe if someone would stop talking, we could actually finish this," Spencer cut in, not even looking up from his work.

The clock ticked on, relentless and unsympathetic. 7:15. Then 7:45. Then, somehow, 8:30. The bullpen had long since emptied, the low murmur of voices replaced with nothing but the scratch of pens and the faint hum of fluorescent lights.

And, of course, the sound of your own pulse hammering in your ears every time he shifted, every time he exhaled a little too sharply. The air between you crackled with something neither of you would dare acknowledge—something electric, infuriating, and impossible to ignore. Spencer was always irritating, but tonight, the sharp edges of his voice sent heat straight to your spine. His rolled-up sleeves, the furrow in his brow, the way his fingers tapped impatiently against the desk—it was too much. And he had no idea.

You shifted in your chair, pressing your thighs together, as another agonizing minute crawled by. The warmth pooling deep in your stomach was getting harder to ignore, bleeding into every impatient twitch of your fingers, every sharp inhale you tried to steady. It was making you reckless. Every movement he made—every flicker of irritation tightening his jaw, every absent tap of his fingers against the desk—sent another unwanted jolt through your system.

And you were nowhere near done.

You propped your chin in your palm, elbow sinking into the desk, twirling a pen between your fingers in a half-hearted attempt at distraction. But the numbers on the page swam uselessly in and out of focus, blurring into meaningless symbols. How were you supposed to concentrate when the biggest source of your frustration was sitting just feet away—close enough to feel, close enough to rile you up with nothing more than his presence?

Spencer’s voice was sharp, his presence sharper, and despite the fact that you supposedly couldn’t stand him, your body clearly hadn’t gotten the memo. You were existing in a frustrating limbo—exhaustion pressing at your skull, attraction setting fire to your nerves. Your skin felt too hot, too tight, hypersensitive to every minute movement across the desk. You could feel the weight of his eyes even when he wasn’t looking at you. If you weren’t careful, this night was about to get a whole lot longer in more ways than one.

It took exactly one sharp exhale from across the desk for your tenuous grasp on focus to fully snap. Spencer, who had been nothing but an irritatingly efficient machine for the past two hours, finally looked up. And oh, he was irritated. The pen in his hand hit the desk with a clatter, and he leveled you with something caught between exasperation and begrudging patience.

“Are you even paying attention?”

You blinked slowly, head tilting. “Hmm?”

Spencer sighed, dragging a hand through his already slightly tousled hair. “Your lack of attention to detail has ensured that we need the regional case file, not this—a duplicate copy.” He gestured at the offending document like it had personally insulted him. “Which means, thanks to this mistake, we need the actual original file.”

You stretched your arms over your head, arching your back slightly just for the principle of it all. His eyes flickered downward before snapping back up, his jaw tightening, but you pretended not to notice.

“And?”

“And,” Spencer said tightly, voice teetering on the edge of patience, “Garcia’s already gone for the night, so we can’t just pull it from the digital archives. That means I have to go to the file room and physically retrieve it.”

You raised an eyebrow, lazily dragging your gaze back to him. "Cool. Have fun."

His expression darkened. "The file room is in the basement."

“Sounds like a you problem.”

His jaw flexed. "The file room is on sublevel two—buried under concrete, terrible ventilation, not a single camera, and if that door shuts behind you? You're stuck until someone remembers to check."

You blinked at him, unimpressed. "So, what I’m hearing is: a perfect setting for a horror movie."

Spencer's lips pressed into a thin line. "It’s a security feature."

"It’s an oversight. The FBI, an organization that prides itself on preparedness, has a room where someone could just get stuck until an unsuspecting soul wanders down there?"

He exhaled, slow and measured. "Yes."

You grinned. "That’s insane."

Spencer, to no one’s surprise, did not grin back. "That’s protocol."

You sighed dramatically, leaning back in your chair, stretching deliberately slow. His gaze flickered downward for the briefest second before he forcibly dragged his eyes back to your face. Oh, he noticed. And that little detail sent something devious curling inside you.

“Well, since you’re the one so concerned with protocol, go get the file."

His stare was unimpressed. "You made the mistake. You go."

You scoffed. "Oh, please. If I hadn’t made a mistake, you’d have found another reason to be insufferable. You were just waiting for an excuse."

Spencer inhaled sharply, like he was holding something back. "That’s not true."

You smirked. "No? Then what was that little lecture just now? Don’t tell me you just enjoy talking down to me. That’s kind of kinky, Doctor."

His fingers flexed against the desk, a telltale sign of irritation but also something else. His voice came out quieter, a touch too taut. “The file name is ACB-714. Basement archives, second cabinet on the left."

You gave him a lazy salute. “Consider it handled."

Truthfully, you needed an excuse to step away. The way he’d spoken to you—sharp, clipped, just on the edge of losing control—had sent your brain spiraling into places you did not need to be right now. It was bad enough working alongside him when your body was already betraying you, but the fact that he sounded that good when he was frustrated was unbelievable. Unnecessary. Unfair.

And the way he looked at you? Like he was barely keeping himself in check? Like he was two seconds from saying something neither of you could take back? That was dangerous.

You pushed back from your desk, the sharp click of your heels against the tile the only indication of certainty when everything inside you was anything but. Maybe the basement’s clinical chill would help, its walls lined with forgotten case files and the ghosts of bureaucratic neglect grounding you back into something solid. Maybe the hum of the fluorescents, cold and impersonal, would smother the slow, insidious heat crawling beneath your skin—the heat fed by too many lingering glances, too many tension-laced arguments that never seemed to resolve.

The door groaned as you stepped inside, its weight swinging shut behind you with an eerie finality, unnoticed in your distraction. The file room stretched ahead, a silent graveyard of paperwork, thick with dust and the acrid bite of industrial-strength cleaner. Overhead, the fluorescents flickered erratically, their jittery glow casting restless shadows against the endless rows of filing cabinets standing like sentinels in the dim light.

Your mission was simple—retrieve one file, ACB-714, and get out. But the second you stepped into the file room, your focus was already shot to hell.

Spencer Reid was ruining your life.

Okay, maybe that was dramatic, but at the very least, he was ruining your concentration. He had rattled off instructions with that sharp, impatient cadence, his fingers pressing into the bridge of his nose like he was physically restraining himself from strangling you. The worst part? It wasn't just the irritation that got to you. It was the way he watched you, the way he always seemed locked in on you, even in exasperation.

You wanted to be annoyed. You wanted to let it roll off your back. But your body betrayed you, heat curling at the base of your spine in a way that was neither productive nor appropriate for a professional setting.

Your fingertips skimmed over the metal cabinet labels, your eyes skimming but not really seeing. Was he always like this? So insufferably exacting? So unwilling to let anything slide? It wasn’t just the way he corrected you—it was how he did it. Precise and controlled, like he knew exactly how to get under your skin and lived for it.

It was honestly impressive.

You blew out a breath, pushing your hair out of your face as you rolled your shoulders back. Focus. Find the file. Get out. But instead, you leaned lazily against a filing cabinet, barely noticing how the movement nudged the doorstop at the threshold.

The sharp click of metal shifting barely registered before it was too late.

Your stomach dropped.

The door.

Oh, you had to be kidding.

Panic didn’t hit immediately. No, it crept in slow, slinking up your spine like a cold hand tracing your vertebrae. You turned on your heel, already knowing what you’d see before you even reached for the handle.

Locked.

Of course it was fucking locked. Because why wouldn’t the government’s precious archive room operate like a goddamn haunted house? You stared at the heavy metal door, willing it to magically swing back open. It didn’t.

Your hand flew to your face, pinching the bridge of your nose as you exhaled. This was just perfect. You had let your brain wander off into Spencer Reid–induced nonsense, and now you were locked in an FBI basement because you couldn’t be bothered to properly secure a doorstop.

And you weren’t just trapped. You were trapped while ovulating, which meant your body was already in a state of desperate, hormone-fueled hysteria. Which meant you had spent the last fifteen minutes alternating between rolling your eyes at Spencer’s condescending attitude and staring at his hands. His long, unnecessarily pretty hands, which had absolutely no business looking that good while shuffling through case files.

Great. Now you were locked in a basement, overthinking, and horny.

You slid down against the filing cabinet with a groan, head thumping back against the metal. How long would it take for someone to notice? Would Penelope come looking for you, or would she just assume you finally gave in and quit? Maybe Spencer would realize something was off. Maybe he’d put the pieces together, retrace your steps, and...

No. No way. If anything, he’d think you were just slacking off. He’d probably roll his eyes, make some condescending remark about how you were the worst intern in FBI history, and move on with his night. Because that’s what he did—he got under your skin, poked and prodded and found every little thing that made you tick.

And the worst part? You let him.

You sighed, staring up at the ceiling, determined to push him out of your head.

Then, just as you started to resign yourself to a long, embarrassing night of solitude, a noise broke through the thick silence.

Footsteps. Slow. Purposeful.

Then—finally—the sound of the door handle turning.

The door swung open, and there he was, framed by the dim hallway light, looking every bit as exasperated as you knew he would. His gaze flicked over you, arms crossed, mouth already pulling into a disapproving frown.

"Unbelievable," he muttered, stepping inside with an exasperated shake of his head. "You, of all people, got yourself locked in a room that explicitly warns you not to let the door close behind you. I even told you."

You scoffed, pushing up from the floor. "Wow, Spence. So good to see you, too. Did you miss me?"

"Not particularly," he deadpanned, but his eyes betrayed him, lingering on you for half a second too long. Then, with the same distracted precision he applied to everything, he grabbed the doorstop and wedged it beneath the heavy metal frame.

"There. Now, let's get—"

The sharp, metallic click of the door lock echoed through the room.

Silence.

Spencer froze.

You blinked.

Then, slowly, terribly, you turned to face each other.

"Reid," you started, voice calm in a way that meant you were absolutely about to lose it. "Did you just—"

"No," he said immediately, but his voice had gone slightly higher. "No, I didn't."

Your arms crossed, mirroring his stance. "Then what was that noise, genius?"

Spencer inhaled sharply through his nose, then reached for the handle, twisting it once, twice, then yanking with just enough force to confirm the worst.

Locked.

You stared at him. He stared at you.

"You," you said, pointing an accusatory finger. "Just locked us both in."

He opened his mouth, then shut it, jaw tightening. "Technically—"

"Oh, no. No, technically, Spencer. You just pulled a me."

His eyes narrowed. "Pulled a you? I think not."

"Oh, I think so!" You threw your arms up. "Because last I checked, I was the one who got us into this mess and you were supposed to be the responsible one!"

Spencer let out a long breath, adjusting his stance like he was physically restraining himself from escalating. "Okay, well, panicking isn’t going to fix anything."

"Who’s panicking? I’m not panicking." You were definitely panicking. Not because you were locked in—no, you could handle that. But because it meant you were stuck here. Alone. With Spencer. For God knows how long.

And you were already on edge.

Already warm, restless, caught in some ridiculous hormone-induced haze that had made your brain hyperfocus on things you had no business noticing. Like the way Spencer’s shirt sleeves were pushed up, revealing the lean, tense muscles of his forearms. Or how his hair was just slightly mussed, like he’d been running his hands through it in frustration. Or the way he smelled—like old books and something subtly sharp, like cedarwood and coffee grounds.

God, you needed to get out of here.

"This is your fault," you muttered, pacing a tight circle.

"Oh, so it’s my fault you got distracted and let the door close on you?" His voice had that smug edge again, laced with something else—something almost amused, like he’d warned you this would happen and was now relishing in being right. It made you whirl on him, irritation flaring hot beneath your skin.

"Yes, actually! If you hadn't been hovering over me like some insufferable know-it-all, I wouldn't have lost my train of thought."

Spencer scoffed. "Hovering? I was doing my job. You were the one lost in your own head, probably thinking about something ridiculous like—I don’t know—lip gloss flavors or whatever occupies that overly cluttered brain of yours."

You gasped, shoving at his chest. "Oh, bite me, Doctor Condescension! Not all of us have an eidetic memory to store every single useless fact known to man. Some of us have normal human brains that get distracted when we’re trying to multitask!"

Spencer barely budged from your shove, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smirk. "Right. Multitasking. You mean twirling your pen and zoning out?"

You opened your mouth, ready to snap back, but the reality of the situation hit you again like a truck. The file room. Locked. No way out. You groaned, dragging your hands down your face.

"Okay, genius, how do we get out? Since you're so brilliant and never make mistakes?"

Spencer crossed his arms, the smugness practically radiating off of him. "We wait. Someone will come looking."

You threw up your hands. "Oh, great! Because getting caught in a locked basement with you is exactly how I wanted to end my night."

He rolled his eyes. "You act like this is some unbearable torture."

"It is!" You gestured wildly. "I could be out right now, drinking with Penelope, having a girls' night, doing literally anything else but this! But no, I’m stuck in here with you, arguing over whose fault this is when we both know it’s yours."

Spencer let out a sharp breath, tilting his head. "You’re exhausting."

"You’re infuriating!"

"You’re impossible."

"You—" You jabbed a finger into his chest. "—are the bane of my existence!"

"And yet," he said, voice dropping just enough to send something shivering down your spine, "you can’t seem to stop talking to me."

You faltered for half a second before scoffing. "Oh, please, don’t flatter yourself. If I had any other option, I wouldn’t waste my breath on you."

Spencer stepped closer, his presence suddenly suffocating in the small, stale room. "Funny. Because despite all your complaining, you never actually walk away."

Your heart slammed against your ribs. This was new. This was dangerous. The air shifted, tension curling like a live wire between you, and you hated that some deep, embarrassing part of you liked it. Too much.

You swallowed, forcing out a breathless laugh. "What, and let you think you’ve won? Not a chance."

Spencer studied you, his gaze flickering down to your lips so fast you might have imagined it. Then, just as quickly, he scoffed, a deliberate shift in his expression that screamed of warning more than dismissal. "See? Impossible. I told you."

Something inside you snapped. Maybe it was the stress. Maybe it was the sheer absurdity of this situation. Maybe it was the fact that you were ovulating, and his stupid smug face was the only thing in your line of sight. But before you could even process the words spilling from your lips, you blurted out, "God, I hate how much I like you."

The silence that followed was deafening. You barely even registered what you’d said at first, not until Spencer’s entire expression shifted—his usual composure cracking just enough to reveal something startled, something unguarded. His lips parted slightly, his breath hitching just enough for you to catch it.

And then, like a freight train hitting you at full speed, the realization crashed down.

You panicked. "I mean—not like like, obviously. Just, you know, tolerate. Barely. In a work acquaintance kind of way. Like an annoying gnat I’ve learned to ignore, except I can’t ignore you because you never shut up, and—"

Spencer surged forward and kissed you.

The force of it backed you against the filing cabinets, steel biting into your spine as his hands found your waist, gripping just hard enough to steal whatever breath you had left. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was months of pent-up frustration, sharp and heated and all-consuming.

You barely had time to process it before you were kissing him back, fingers tangling in his shirt like you needed something to hold onto. Like letting go meant losing whatever the hell this was.

Spencer pulled back just enough to murmur against your lips, "Shut up, for once."

You would’ve argued. You really would have. But then he kissed you again, and suddenly, there was nothing left to say.

PICK YOUR ENDING

➤ [Ending 1 – Smut]

➤ [Ending 2 – Fluff]