#these were differ friends then the one mentioned before

[bitchlessdino]

Good Roommates Don't (m)

for @ddeonghwa-s secret cupid collab i recieved you @haologram!

Pairing: roommate! Minghao x barista!afab!reader Word count: 14.1k rating: R Summary: Xu Minghao had been the most ethereal being you've ever laid your eyes on to the point being unable of functioning like a normal person, but now you're roommates. Only time will tell when you lose your mind keeping your hands to yourself, so there needed to be a list of things you don't do if you wanted to be a good roommate. tags: meet-ugly, strangers to roommates to lovers, college au, barista au, down bad!reader, mentions of band, brief bdsm, mc fell first he fell harder, cum swapping, spitting, oral (giving and receiving), face riding, unprotected sex author note: thank you @lovetaroandtaemin and @gyubakeries beta-reading this with me. after writing towtsyfdtotbycf (holy shit) i was in a little bit of a slump and had several and i mean SEVERAL versions of this and for months racked my brain how i wanted to do this. Alta, i care for you deeply and we've gotten close in the last year or so, so i really wanted to write something that would amuse you and that you'd enjoy. and if you hate it you can use it as leverage to berate me on discord lol. but please, my valentine, enjoy my gift to you. happy Valentines day Alta (and tell me was i really not that slick) <3

When you first met Minghao, you almost killed him trying to save his life. At least, that's what you thought you were doing.

All you had to do was bear a normal shift at the Coffee Shop, attempt a semblance of a smile for the oncoming customers, and clock out at your normal hour, but the universe couldn’t even give you that. Instead, they sent you the hottest guy imaginable, along with the swiftness of a gazelle, the strength of a gorilla, and the intuition of a garden gnome. That day just confirmed that some things were better left alone.

A few things were already going wrong that day. For one, your alarm didn't go off. The alarm being your mom, who usually kicked you out of bed first thing at 9 am, since she had a doctor’s appointment. Fair enough. The strings of fate got you there. All the more reason why moving out seemed like a distant dream rather than a close reality. Were you really capable of being a functioning adult? 

Then there was the bus and having to shell out twenty bucks for a Lyft when the next scheduled bus was reported to have broken down and was no longer an option. That twenty bucks could’ve been your meal for the next week, but no, being fiscally responsible was a circus act, and you were the clown being pied in the face repeatedly. As if you weren’t already putting on a face and juggling multiple things enough on a daily basis, today was no different. 

And then, you were late to work—which again, was nothing new—but you were hoping that Nayeon, who was scheduled as the shift manager, she’d let you off with a warning. Yet, somehow, that went wrong as well, seeing that the shittier manager on your shift, Manager Fi, was present instead. And, by the look in the old man's eyes, he wasn’t happy about it either, especially considering he assigned you bathroom duty for the end of your shift to make up for your tardiness. He never liked you since you started. Then again, he didn’t like anybody, and vice versa.

This morning was bad omen after bad omen.

Leading up to finally meeting Minghao—tall, scorchingly hot Minghao, , with lips that looked soft as clouds. You hadn’t seen him around before until today, and perhaps it should’ve stayed that way, because you couldn’t see yourself facing him ever again.

He walked in with his large group of friends, all almost nearly as charming as him with a handful of faces that you’ve seen once or twice, but none that stood quite out like his. He had the kind of face that made you want to paint murals, write ballads, or stare long enough to linger too long over the same spot you were cleaning on the counter, windshield wiping until the wet streaks you wiped off devolved to discoloration and damaged the countertop’s cheap sealant. Eventually, you averted your gaze to conceal your flushed cheeks—turning away in clear embarrassment, thinking about how much of a fucking creep you probably looked overtly gawking at him—but you’d soon realized that was the least of your worries. You’d soon wish it ended with you looking like a creep.

The next moment you lifted your eyes towards him again, you found him in a compromising position, one that had you thinking—and that was your first mistake. His face twisted with discomfort, and he gasped as he covered his mouth. A million thoughts raced through your mind, considering all the possible reasons for his distress, and one screamed the loudest above all, setting off alarm bells. So you—being meddling and troublesome you—acted on instinct.

Hopping over the counter, you raced towards him, pulled him off the booth which he was luckily on the edge of, and immediately attempted the Heimlich. Finally, your CPR certification could be put to use. You embraced him from behind, putting pressure on his ribcage as you launched and thrust yourself against him, forcing whatever was lodged in his throat out of his body.

“I’ve got you!” you exclaimed heroically.

You put in as much strength as you could muster, truly hoping to save a life today, thinking out of all things that have gone wrong today, at least this would be one thing you’ve done right. You could feel your ancestors looking down on you to witness a proud moment in your otherwise boring and mundane life. 

After several rough collisions with his body, he eventually spat something chewed up and unsightly onto the booth’s table, drawing the attention of several onlookers if your boisterous shouting hadn’t already. His friends were quick to look away, wincing in disgust while the cute boy doubled over in pain, holding himself by the ribs as you ran your eyes over at him in concern.

“Are you alright, sir? That must’ve been terrifying to suffocate on something so suddenly.”

He then finally lifted his head. His cheeks were flushed as anguish took over his features. “I wasn’t choking,” He rasped.

“...Come again?”

“Oh my god!” A third-party witness stood up dramatically from their seat. “This barista just saved this young man’s life!”

Suddenly, you were punished with attention, cheers specifically. All except the people who sat at the cute boy’s table clapped for you—or, rather at you now—and gave you standing ovations for your grand heroic act, when in fact, it wasn’t heroic at all. Meanwhile, you attempted to settle them down, flapping your hands dismissively and growing hot all over. You looked over the man you so-called saved as he strained to sit back in his seat, being tended by the friends he came with.

“Dude, you okay?”

“Shit, that looked like it hurt.”

“You probably shouldn't have been drinking it that fast, Minghao.”

It turned out you had severely miscalculated the situation. What appeared to be choking, prompting you to improperly administer a rough but appropriate Heimlich maneuver, was simply a mildly exaggerated reaction to hot coffee followed by a muffin to alleviate his burnt taste buds. You, of course, profusely apologized, as if you weren’t embarrassed enough for staring at him the whole time working your entire shift at the coffee shop because he was the most breathtakingly stunning person you’ve ever seen in your life. You might’ve just about broken his ribs and made his life flash before his eyes by abruptly slamming your body against him repeatedly, and not in the fun way.

Rather than an apartment, you were in desperate need of a hole deep enough to lead you to the core of the Earth to hide you from everyone else on the crust, ideally with cheap rent and good air ventilation. 

You bowed your head in humiliation, unable to meet any of their eyes, especially with the possibility of them remembering your face with a lawsuit waiting to happen. “I can’t believe that happened, I am so sorry. If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you, please let me know.”

“It’s okay, really, but I think we’ve had enough excitement for today if you don’t mind.” 

The attractive stranger—or Minghao, as you’ve learned from his friends who immediately rushed to him in concern—shook his hand in the air reassuringly. “Just, no more of that, alright? Make sure someone’s actually choking before trying to save them.”

“Right, please have a wonderful rest of your day,” you said, before returning to your station and disappearing behind the breakroom, screaming into your cubby and avoiding human interaction for as long as you could.

That scene replayed in your mind over and over like a recurring nightmare, burning the image of his beautiful face with such disdain for all eternity, while his name etched into your brain in permanent ink, embedded in every wrinkle in your brain. Minghao. A devastatingly beautiful name for a devastatingly beautiful owner.

Ugh. Get a fucking grip.

You just needed to get through the rest of the day. It would just be a couple more hours until your shift ended, and then you’d leave on the dot. It’d be just in time to make your appointment to meet your new potential roommate. Hopefully, it would be the silver lining of today’s catastrophic mess.

You met on electronic class forums while attending the same Cultural Studies course and somehow ended up relying on each other for notes. By your chat history, you seemed to have a lot in common—with the exception of his preference for tea over artisanal coffee—and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t get giddy seeing the green circle next to his username. Recently, he had just talked about moving into town after pondering the idea for so long, and as fate may have it, you’ve been looking for your own place to stay. You figured he seemed nice enough, and he even offered a reasonable quote on rent. It wouldn’t hurt to take a look. You just hoped he was as friendly in real life as he was online—with the day you had, you needed a win.

And, that win started with Chinese food, his choice, and it was a good one. You hadn’t been at this location before, taking note of the old-fashioned aesthetic touched by the harshness of modern neon signs that lit even the darkest of hallways. You were now thinking you ought to come more often as the heavenly notes of soy, ginger, and whatever concoction bled through the kitchen curtains and wafted through your nostrils the moment you passed through the double doors. Immediately, you were greeted by the host, visibly tired and overworked, with dark circles under his eyes, before he led you to a table in the center of the restaurant. You settled your nerves with a glass of water, trying to let the horrific events from today fade to as black as the soy sauce loitering on your table, waiting for a plate of dumplings to accompany them.

Funny how you could still have an appetite after everything that happened.

It wasn’t too long after you heard the same doors you walked through open, setting off the familiar sound of its wind chimes. You peered behind you, catching a glimpse of the new arrival, and immediately spun back in your seat, startled by the face that passed through your eyes. Trepidation brewed within you as the unsolicited visitor had your stomach in knots. 

You couldn’t take another incident tonight. 

You slunk into your seat, burying your chin in your shirt, hoping you’d somehow camouflage into your seat, facing away from the new arrival. Meanwhile, his eyes skimmed the room, walking in with purpose without guidance and greeting the employees as if he were right at home. Fortunately, he had yet to notice your presence as you slinked out of view the moment he passed by you to sit at the bar, while you made way into a booth in the dark corner of the restaurant, cursing the fates for their cruel games once again. You just had hoped that your new roommate would hurry it up already so you could get out of here before you were discovered.

And after about ten minutes, it felt as if all hope was lost. There was no sign of them and you were wondering if you had been stood up. Amid your anticipation, you were forced to pay attention to the person you were avoiding, seeing his patience wear thin with the tap of his foot as he sipped the last of his iced tea. Not a moment too soon, you saw him pluck his phone out from his pocket, fingers skittering over the screen before bringing it to his ear and scanning the restaurant’s floor plan. In the same instant, your phone went off,  blaring your cursed ringtone, ‘Pocketful of Sunshine’, and the realization—along with the panic—quickly set in. 

Alerted by the noise, his head whipped up from his screen. His eyebrows rose in shock, not all expecting the outcome that arose, and he dropped to his feet and quickly darted toward the sound that you—for the life of you—could not turn off fast enough. His footsteps matched the rate of your heart pounding in your chest, growing louder and closer until he found the source and located you cowering in the corner.

You lifted your head to lock eyes for the first time since this morning just as you finally managed to silence the ringtone and gave him an awkward laugh, waving with your phone in hand. Taking a nervous gulp, you awaited his disappointment, expecting him to make his quick exit after evaluating in the two seconds of your meeting that this arrangement would not work out because you were a deranged psycho with a savior complex. To your pleasant surprise, that didn't happen. Instead, you were met with a gentle smile and a glint of curiosity in his eyes. “There you are.”

You forced a sheepish chuckle. “Here I am, ha.”

Minghao softly chuckled before tucking his phone in his back pocket. “And to think just this morning you ‘saved my life.’”

You shut your eyes tightly, hands pressing together as if begging for forgiveness. “Again I am so, so sorry for that. It did look like you were choking.”

He shook his head reassuringly. “So you’ve said. I’m Minghao, or PalE8. Nice to meet you, CafeMixr0.”

“Is it…nice to meet me?” You asked dubiously.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

You blinked incredulously. “Well, for several reasons.”

He shrugged before entering the booth and leaving a healthy distance to sit just across from you. “Can’t think of any. Have you ordered anything yet?”

You shook your head, befuddled by his nonchalance, waiting to see the catch, if there was any.

“Good thing I know everything worth ordering.” His hand shot up before grabbing the attention of a server to get his order taken.

You weren't sure where the night was going. All you knew was the boy that you almost killed this morning was sitting across from you looking as breathtaking as he did this morning, even while slurping up his stir fry that was glossed with a sheen of chilli oil and swelling up his already full lips. Rather than a roommate meetup—if that was still the case—it felt like a date, a date you were exceedingly ill-prepared for.

Suddenly, you could feel the sweat on the back of your knees, feeling the strong urge to sniff the clothes on your back, unsure when the last time you did a fresh load of laundry and if your current attire was included in that load at all. Not to mention that bathroom duty that was forced upon you, which no doubt seeped into your clothes. You were better off naked, but then that would be an entire different kind of meeting, wouldn”t it?

“You’re okay, right?” You asked, trying to distract yourself from your spiraling thoughts as you barely finished your portion of chow mein—which was absolutely heavenly, to put it lightly.

He let out a light chuckle before kindly reassuring you. “How many times are you going to ask me? You and everyone from this morning. I’m fine, able-bodied and everything.” 

“I just felt really bad. You looked really hurt.”

He couldn’t suppress his grin, finding your cautiousness amusing, but it only added to your unease. “I was hurt. You’re really, really strong.”

You winced. “Again. I am so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s a quality of a good roommate.” He finished the last bit of his meal before dropping a couple of bills without asking for the tab. “Come on. I’ve got to show you the apartment.”

You raised an eyebrow while sipping your warm tea before tapping your mouth with a napkin. “You still want to room with me? After this morning?”

“There’s not a lot of good options for roommates in the city, and what are the odds that you’ll try to kill me twice?”

He had a fair point, and it wasn’t like you had options lining up either. You just had to hope he didn’t regret taking this chance on you.

A big reason why you wanted to move out was to learn to be on your own, but in addition to that, the city had pretty much everything to offer. The city had it all, from job opportunities to the right people to meet, and the apartment Minghao led you to was the center of the entirety of it. High above the town square, in a room several floors up, there was a nook that had a view through a large window overlooking everything within about a two-mile radius. If there was anything nice to say about the city, it definitely looked better from where you were standing. The street lights illuminated streets, neon signs brought the local businesses to life, and people that ran the night life lived it to the fullest in the flashiest clothes imaginable. You had never seen your city like this before.

Meanwhile, the apartment itself was gorgeous and already fully furnished with stylish furniture and greenery that touched the kitchen and living room. It was graced with Minghao’s taste in art and an eccentric—but tasteful—color palette of warm browns, olive greens, and rustic oranges. It felt like walking into Minghao’s mind, seeing into his world, and you were given the opportunity of it being yours, being part of his world. He was generous enough to even let you pass through the front door.

“So?” he asked, gauging your interest, watching as you looked down at the city from the large window nook in awe.

You softly scoffed, unable to take your eyes off the beautiful view calling to you like a siren at sea.  “Um, I’m sorry, you had trouble finding a roommate, how?”

He crossed his arms, admiring the sight with you, glancing at you through his peripheral vision and grinning when he saw the childlike sparkle in your eyes. “I’m new to the city, and everyone I know here has their own living arrangements. I didn’t want to go too far in looking for a new roommate. I thought we'd work well together, since we’re based in the same city now and have a lot in common based on our conversations.”

“I almost killed you this morning,” You’ve pointed out to…death.

“Although you’re…impulsive and unpredictable, I’ve seen worse. I think I’ll manage.” He splayed his hand in front of you, gesturing for a shake to officially seal the deal. “What do you say? Do you still want to be roommates?”

Everything about this screamed it was a bad idea. Putting aside the fact that you nearly killed the man, you could barely stand in the presence of him without your mind drifting to dark waters. It didn’t take rocket science to understand that putting you in that same living quarters with Minghao meant you might have to live every day together with your hands tied behind your back and thighs taped shut. You’ve surprised yourself with how you’ve managed to keep your composure sharing the same air—the air you were even thinking of savoring as you contemplated this offer.

You were down-righteously-bad. You weren’t a fit roommate for Minghao in the slightest.

Yet, you took his hand, letting his cool palm clash with your warmth as his digits wrapped around you in a tight squeeze before shaking. “Let’s do it.”

And that marked the start of a new chapter of your life, unraveling the challenge of being Xu Minghao’s roommate. Only, he wasn’t the challenge. He was a breath of fresh autumn air. He was kind beyond words and accommodating in every step of your move. You were already familiar with his gentle and patient nature, as he had frequently taken the time to clarify complex ideas for class, and you’ve learned about the majority of his interests prior from your online discussions, but seeing PalE8’s traits in person—embodied in Minghao—was bizarre. You realized he was still a stranger after all. A stranger that claimed your breath with a single bat of his eyes and turned your stomach inside out worse than a bad case of food poisoning, no less.

Meanwhile, the neighbors knew him by name, were endeared by his presence, and found him to be a delightful conversationalist as well as a helping hand when the situation called for it. He was better than your friendly neighborhood spiderman. He was your kind, considerate, intricately woven, beautifully complex, and knees-bucklingly handsome Minghao. 

You weren’t usually a sexual deviant, at least not to this extent, but Minghao brought something out of you that you hadn’t felt for another person. However, if you were going to live together, that had to change. This crush was going to have to dwindle out of existence if you wanted to live together—emphasis on you—in peace.

So, that’s when you decided to make a list of rules that only you had to follow. Sure, you were an adult, and the thought of giving yourself rules to keep your hands to yourself was juvenile and stupid, but for the sake of your sanity, you were looking for anything that might work. That’s when you decided to make a list of things “good roommates don’t do”, thinking it would be shorter and easier to sum up than a long redundant list of things good roommates would do, and the first thing to top the list was easy.

Good roommates don’t almost kill each other (again).

That seemed easy enough to remember, considering the first time was traumatic enough, and fortunately, it didn’t take too much effort, considering you hardly saw each other despite living together. 

You ended up taking up more shifts at work, desperate enough to even join the catering team, to keep yourself busy and afford the new expense of rent, sacrificing a lot more of your free time. Meanwhile, Minghao’s work schedule was not only demanding, it was inconsistent. Working at a popular art gallery as an artist and attendant with frequent and erratic events to go to until late at night prompted your roommate to be seen home a lot less than expected. By the time either of you got home, there wouldn’t be so much of a hello or goodbye either, just the sounds of bodies falling on beds in either rooms as the day’s fatigue engulfed you until you succumbed to sleep.

You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t a little disappointed by these circumstances, but then again, perhaps it was a blessing in disguise. Seeing him as little as you did meant less opportunity for you to screw things up around him, because it seemed to happen quite frequently when he was around. The few times you did cross paths, you still found ways to humiliate yourself.

“That’s mine.”

You held the toothbrush mid-scrub, bubbles foaming at the corners of your mouth, “Eh?”

“I think you’re using my toothbrush.”

Your cheeks immediately grew warm, and you shielded your face with the back of your hand. You spat into the sink and splashed water on your face to rid yourself of toothpaste residue before turning back to respond, his words jumbling in your head and bouncing from corner to corner to process them. “I-I don’t think so, this is the one I always use.”

He snickered, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms, delectably dressed down in a gray tank top and sweatpants. The tempting taste of domesticity was sweet and permeated your tastebuds. “If that’s the case, we’ve been sharing, because I’ve always kept my brush there in the marble cup. Yours should be behind the medicine cabinet where you first left it.”

“What? You sure?” you pinned the used toothbrush on the sink’s porcelain before cracking open the medicine cabinet. “I’m pretty sure I took it—Ah!”

Startled by your findings, you dropped the toothbrush you gripped in your hand onto the floor when you’ve proven Minghao right as his toothbrush fell to the ground, now defiled with your oral bacteria and whatever was on the floor. The one day you take a shift later than usual because a member begged to take on more shifts, it blew up in your face. Seokmin, you will rue the day. “I-I’ll clean it!” You offered in a panicked tone.

He pushed himself off the threshold, waving his hand dismissively. “Don’t, please. It’s dirty; I can just replace it.”

Filled with guilt, you stepped aside to watch him pick up the dirty brush before disposing of it in the waste bin, “Sorry.”

“You say that a lot.” 

He pulled a fresh toothbrush out of a drawer and ripped it out of its packaging. It was notably identical to his previous and your current abandoned toothbrush, down to the bristles. “No worries. See,” he turned the new hygiene tool for inspection, “Clean.”

“Regret having me as a roommate yet?” you joked anxiously towards his reflection in the mirror.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Nothing I can’t manage. I lived in a boarding house full of guys that shared things without asking and it didn’t stop at toothbrushes. You’re the first roommate I’ve had that’s apologized. I say that’s an upgrade.”

He went on to brush his teeth with his newly obtained brush, christening the bristles with a squeeze of fluoride toothpaste before scrubbing against his pearly whites. He never ceased to amaze you with his aloof attitude towards the situation, as if he’d become accustomed to your chaos when he didn’t need to be at all. This situation, however, did indicate that you had another thing to be added to the list.

Good roommates don’t use each other’s toothbrush (even by accident)

In your room just before you left for work, you haphazardly added to the list you put on a crumpled piece of paper you kept in your wallet, ensuring you held your list close before setting the pen aside. Your heart pounded against your chest, thinking what that had meant all this time. How you’ve pretty much swapped saliva nearly every day with Minghao since moving in. The fact that it had gone on for so long repulsed you, but not anymore than the tiny part of yourself that maybe had always known and continued to do it. 

You held your digits to your lips, brushing the pads against the slit of your mouth, ragged breaths slowly leaving your lungs as you reached your enamel. Tension pooled in your stomach as the images that infiltrated your dreams were currently being conjured in your consciousness, while arousal chased down your legs as you clenched them together. Jolted back to reality, you wound your eyes shut, remembering how little he cared about the matter, how nonchalant he was when he found out. Meanwhile, here you were: perverse, losing your mind, and letting your imagination run wild like a hormonal teenager with her celebrity crush. 

Fuck. You needed a night out. You had been cooped up in the apartment for too goddamn long. The only other place you went was work, and knowing labor laws, they had to give you a night or two off for all the time you’d been putting in. There was a whole outside world, and you needed to buck up and take advantage of it. You had to do something other than fawn over your very hot roommate. Losing some spare change was worth the sanity. At least, you hoped it was.

“You going out tonight?”

Hearing a familiar tenor voice, your head lifted up from fixing the strap of your shoes to see him remove his coat and store it away in the front entrance closet. “Oh, you’re home,” you stated.

“Yeah. The gallery is closed tonight for a bigger show this weekend, so I have a couple days where I’m off earlier than usual.”

More time for Minghao to be at home. Great. 

You nodded, keeping your cool at the sight of his turtleneck hugging his lean and toned frame, making your heart work overtime in place of you this evening. “I see, but yeah. A couple of my friends and I are trying out that new place that just opened up in midtown.”

“Oh, let me know how that goes. Me and some friends had plans to go there too.”

“Okay.” You hurried your way to the door. “Don’t wait up.”

“Wait.”

Hand on the door knob, you cursed under your breath, squeezing your eyes shut as if bracing for impact before opening them, and turned around with an innocuous expression. “Yes?”

He held out his hand. “Your phone please.”

“Hmm? Why,” you asked, unlocking it before complying.

He smiled accepting it, before swiping his fingers off the screen. “I’m sending myself your location.”

And there your heart when pitter-patter again at thoughtful and kind hot as fuck Minghao. “I just told you where I’d be.”

“That could always change. Here,” he said, handing your phone back, beaming back at you warmly. “Just in case something happens, and you can always call me if you feel unsafe, okay?”

You gave a soft pout, cheeks growing warm at the thought of Minghao’s concern over you. It pleased you more than it should’ve. “Thanks. What are you gonna do tonight?”

He shrugged, taking a quick glance over his shoulder. “Maybe do some light reading and tea, paint if inspiration hits me.”

You gave a small grin, thinking just how Minghao those activities sound. “Sounds enlightening. Okay. I’ll be home soon.”

“Be safe.”

Even long after you’d left, you kept thinking about that interaction. How domestic it felt, how safe it made you feel, how seen you really were. It made you wonder if he was tracking you right now, looking at his phone, staring at the dot indicating where you were located. You wondered if he was thinking about you right now, because you were most certainly thinking about him.

Your mission of trying to forget Minghao by going out definitely was not working, but you took that as a sign to keep drinking. Your friends didn’t get to see you often with how much you worked, so they were just happy to see you were having a good time, not knowing you were trying to drown out the consuming thoughts of a certain man with a peculiar color scheme. 

They wouldn’t have known the way you let yourself get felt up by a stranger near the dance floor, standing so close you could smell the knock off cologne he was practically bathing in as his breath hung in the air against your neck. When it went nowhere, he eventually left, looking for prospects elsewhere, while you stuck to your mission, seeing it work at some point at night. Until it didn’t, but you didn’t remember because eventually it’d all fade to black.

Your eyes ripped open, waking up with the biggest headache, blinded by the natural rays of light bleeding through blinds—only your room didn’t have blinds. You specifically made sure to have blackout curtains because you couldn’t stand waking up to the sun, and that hasn’t ever changed. Grumbling irritatingly along the lines about who turned on the lights, you flipped on the other side of the bed with a half awoken daze, your blurry vision making out a lumpy figure underneath the covers.

You drew closer in confusion, trying to make sense of what you were seeing before taking in the fact the lump had a face as blinding as the sun you turned away from, startling you upon recognition. Your eyes shot open, wide awake now, and you nearly stumbled out of the mattress before his arms grabbed you, latching on you before you could fall off and safely secured you in his tucked embrace. 

“It’s a bit early for your charming antics, isn’t it?” Minghao chucked with closed eyes.

You blinked back at him, licking your lips anxiously. “How am I here right now?”

His eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the light. “You mean alive or in bed with me?”

Your cheeks grew hot. “B-both.”

“I wish I had an answer for the first question, but it seems your creator had more plans for you. As for your second concern, you seemed confused and tired, and I assumed you confused this bed for yours.”

“You should’ve kicked me out.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, rubbing his hands over your shoulders and sending a chill down your spine. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

You let out a soft sigh, ridden with guilt. “I’d deserve it. I must’ve been annoying to deal with.”

He knitted his brows together, the corner of his lips softly turning down. “You really don’t like yourself.”

“No—well, maybe not lately. Maybe I’m just coming to the realization I’m not a good roommate.”

“No one is good at anything their first time.”

“You’re not denying it!”

“You’re a fine roommate.” Patting you on the back, he threw off the covers and pushed himself out of bed, leaving his room to trod toward the kitchen. You followed after curiously, like a duckling that imprinted on its mother, watching as he pulled out ingredients from the fridge’s shelves. “Anything you’re allergic to?” He asked over his shoulder.

“Nothing comes to mind.” You answered hesitantly.

“Good. The recipe is fairly easy anyway, it shouldn’t kill you.”

Your eyes widened and you quickly stood by his side as he set all the items down, he followed with gathering bowls and cookware. “You’re cooking for me?”

“Mmh-hmm.”

“You don’t have to.”

He turned his head slightly. “You have a headache, don’t you?”

“Yes but—”

“It’s just egg drop soup.” He patted your shoulder nodding his head over at the counter stool either of you would often have breakfast. “Sit. It’ll be done in a few minutes.”

You sat patiently by the counter, watching him chop and throw ingredients into a small pot, which filled your shared residence with a savory aroma. As soon as he was done, he presented the dish in front of you, garnishing it with fresh chopped scallions and parsley. He picked up a serving with a soup spoon and gently blew on the top before taking a quick sample and grinning at the result. Scooping with the same spoon, he held a serving towards you with proud eyes.

“Try it,” he urged.

As you accepted the offering, you tried not to think about how you were about to share yet another household item that would enter both your mouths and let the simple flavors fan out on your tongue, the warmth of soup dispersing throughout your body. You hummed in delight, already feeling it work its magic. “It’s delicious,” you said softly.

He grinned. “Feel better.”

“Thanks, Minghao.”

“No problem at all.” 

As you enjoyed your thoughtful breakfast, your roommate cleaned up his mess. He wiped down whatever residue was left behind before heading to his room and coming out properly dressed in brown slacks and muted green patterned sweater when you were just about done eating. “Heading to work now.”

“You had work?” You asked surprised, “Why did you waste time cooking? You could have left already.”

He softly scoffed heading to the door. “I spent—what, five or ten minutes? It’s fine. See you later.”

In the last 24 hours, Minghao managed to make sure you were safe by tracking your location, gave you a good night's rest by not disrupting your sleep, and made you breakfast right before work. Then there’s you, black out drunk with almost no memory of last night (probably good you didn’t), annoying your overly nice and overly hot roommate, hogging a bed that isn’t yours, and eating a home cooked meal that probably set back his schedule. You were the worst. All the more reason for a new addition to the list.

Good roommates don't sleep in their other roommate’s bed piss drunk (again)

It seemed that this list of “don’ts” was getting longer, probably because you’re an awful roommate, and if there was a reward, yours would already be at the front door. You really, really had to make an effort to do something about this arrangement. Now that some time had passed and these interactions were becoming more frequent, avoiding him seemed to be out of question unless you wanted to give him the wrong impression. You would just have to become a better roommate, and that started with making up for this morning.

In the following months together, to atone for the bed incident and good deeds that followed suit, you shared the occasional breakfast if you had time (that is if you didn’t burn anything), even sometimes grabbing dinner or a late meal in the small gap before or after work. While in the late hours, when both of you should’ve been sleeping, you’d have a cup of your favorite beverages. He’d have his brew of tea for the night while you’d have a mug of coffee, awake under the stars and basking in the night, watching from the nook that you both grew fond of that was in the direction of the moon when it’s at its peak.

Of all people to share these moments with, you couldn’t imagine it with anyone else but Minghao. He was the peace amongst the chaos, the quiet you came home to after dealing with the noisy world that helped you heal like nothing else. You liked that about him, and now you were liking him too much, to the point you thought of him every day. What it’d be like for him to hold you in his arms, letting his warmth envelop your entire being the way his voice naturally does with a simple “it’s okay.” 

You’d imagine how he’d look at you, how lovers do when they ache for one another so desperately they could feel it down to every atom. You’d thought of the words he’d say to you, the words he’d say to someone he’s madly, irrevocably besotted with, and every letter and word and sentence would be spoken poetry. He’d feel like love. You didn’t think it was possible for you to grow more attracted to him, but learning all these wonderful things he does and seeing up close and personal how beautiful inside and out he was, you were developing feelings and growing all these desires that you were ashamed to admit out loud.

And with that, you pulled out your list and a pen, jotting in a new item.

Good roommates don’t live in every waking moment staring at them or thinking about wanting to kiss them (no matter how hard it is)

You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve already broken that rule, but the least you could do was hold yourself accountable.

However, writing the rule didn't prevent future instances. Not from fantasizing, not from wet dreams, not from imagining a life together where you rid all your inhibitions and clothes and succumb to drowning in each other. Unlike every other rule that you’ve managed to avoid, this one was the outlier, flipping your world on its head and preoccupying every second of your thoughts with all things Xu Minghao. And what sucked was you were so guilt ridden, you couldn't even let yourself enjoy it. 

This was your roommate for crying out loud. Your wholesome, nice, forgiving, and tolerant roommate that went beyond what was necessary to make you feel at home and comfortable. Only time will tell when he’ll see through you and finally kick you to the curb.

“Let’s go out.”

Your head lifted up from your phone with eyes large as saucers. “What?”

“We haven't really done anything together,” he suggested, cleaning up the dishes of the dinner you both had just had.

It was one of the few nights that you were both free. The coffee shop had more than enough staff, and you’ve exhausted the hours put in, while the art gallery was planning a grand exhibition, so they needed all hands on deck for the mornings for a few weeks, but evenings would be free until the week of. That left you two a lot more free time than you knew what to do with.

“We see each other all the time,” you pointed out.

“At home. We don’t hang outside the apartment aside from that one dinner the first day we met, so let’s go out.”

You blinked, watching him grab his coat before you could argue as he waved you over, his smile luring you closer and putting you under his spell without you realizing until it was too late. “Uh, where? It’s 9PM.”

“Anywhere.”

For someone who had only arrived in town a couple months ago, Minghao knew a lot of the good spots in the city.  If it wasn’t food, it was book stores. If it wasn’t book stores, it was tea shops. He had a clear plan of the city, and without so much looking at a GPS, he could find his way around better than any native. And considering all the people he came with that day you met the coffee shop and all the staff at the Chinese restaurant, his index didn’t stop at places. He seemed more familiar with the people in your hometown than you were. Between you two, he looked like the real local.

Walking alongside your roommate, you turned to him curiously, “How do you know the city so well when you’ve moved in somewhat recently?”

He gave a soft smile looking into the distance, as if the gust of wind that passed through you both hit him with a wave of nostalgia. “I’ve been visiting for about four years. I only had the guts to become a resident recently.”

“Why’d it take you so long?”

“Student visa processes, paper work, all those things. Also, this city is great, and everyone I've met and have become close with is amazing, but home is just home. It’s all I’ve ever known.” He let out a deep sigh, taking in a deep breath before stretching out his arms and let fall back to his sides, turning slightly to you. “This country and town has become a second, though, some things even my home can’t beat.”

You mused at that, intrigued that he could find something appealing in here, then again you've been here all your life, yet Minghao showed you more you could ever imagine of it. “Like what?”

He simply smiled as their feet stopped at their final destination, a location they both aimlessly walked towards just a little off the center of the town. “I’ll tell you, as soon as we try this place out.” 

Just off the center of town was a bar you had never heard of with a theme you’d never thought to put together on your own and definitely a place you’d never think to walk into with your roommate you were trying to keep platonic feelings for.

“Hey sexy babies, welcome to the Love in Leather BDSM Bar, where all your sexy dreams can come true.”

Oh, my god.

You were petrified. Every wall was decorated with leather or latex, either on display in a box, on a vulgarly displayed mannequin, or on an employee that was dressed in next to nothing, leaving no room for imagination. You weren’t shy about the theme of BDSM—there was always a small part of you curious about it—but it’s not like you’ve talked extensively about it with Minghao. The same person you were trying really hard not to think about sleeping with, which was especially hard in a place that served ‘cum shots’ and with their special for tonight being ‘buttery nipples.’

Glancing back at your roommate to get his reaction, he seemed to be just as startled with his findings as you were, but perhaps not as terrified as he should be, taking you by the wrist and weaving through the crowd with a marveled expression. You were grateful for the loud music playing the explicit versions of songs you wouldn’t otherwise hear on the radio, drowning out the sound of your heavy breathing and the loud thrum of your heart. You just had hoped he couldn’t feel your pulse under his fingertips, unable to untangle from his grasp as you felt the heat of his touch spread out through your whole body. You were trapped in a web you didn’t want to leave and that was the hardest kind to be in.

Suddenly, lights poured on the center stage of the bar. The music then slowed down, transitioning to another song, and a scantily leather clad woman entered that would erupt cheers of all clients seated in the chairs in front of her, to which she sent an air kiss and wink. Following the crowd, both you and Minghao decided to cheer along with them, your sounds of encouragement drowned out in the more enthusiastic and obscenely creative audience members of the establishment. Walking across the stage, she made a show of it, caressing her body in ways that would have a man on his knees howling at the moon (which you swore you heard once or twice in there) as money was thrown strewn stage like confetti, enough to pay for a few nice dinners uptown. After garnering the excitement, she descended down the steps of the stage, walking into her live audience. Her eyes skimmed through the endless crowds of people, landing on and picking one lucky front row member—a young, spry man no older than twenty-five—and brought him on stage, ensuing roars and applause, indicating the start of the real show.

What happened next was something you did not want to get into detail, but in layman’s terms, that audience member was having the time of his life with the use of a flog while everyone watched. You could only make the distinction of excruciating pain and pleasurable pain by the very loud affirmations coming out of his mouth and bouncing off the board he face planted on, and the words that passed through one of your ears and never wanted to come out the other. You were slack jawed from the scene, not at all expecting this scene today, and holy shit, you could not feel more suffocated knowing Minghao was witnessing all of this beside you. 

He stared back at the scene, expression unreadable, but he seemed interested and unable to look away like it was an oncoming train wreck, looking as if he was stuck on the tracks and was making sense of what he was seeing. Suddenly, his eyes locked with yours and you watched as they softened with a glint of something behind them before you swiveled your head, feeling yourself burn from your face to your ears, clenching your free hand. This felt eerily like a date, but unlike the first dinner, this felt like a real one. An immense sexually charged one. 

You were surrounded by sex at all angles, being tested to the most extreme degree. Tonight, you’ve learned dominance wasn’t particularly your thing, but if it were Minghao, perhaps you wouldn’t have minded. 

But this, this was overwhelming. As if sensing your turmoil, Minghao tugged your wrist, making you fix your gaze on him again and read the words that he mouthed from his lips. “Time to run.”

Your fingers interlocked and feet picked up speed as you headed toward the door, running aimlessly for miles out of the bar in fits of smiles and laughter. There was no plan and no destination, you both just wanted out, and you’d only stop running when you reached a bridge, both your bodies collapsing against the metal railing. You both gave out in heavy pants, your breaths mingling as you faced one another. 

“That’s crazy,” you managed to rasp. “Why did we think we could go in there?”

He gave you a tired grin back, looking in the direction from which you came. The light layer of perspiration made his shirt cling to his skin, and you get a sliver of his chest as he aired it out for comfort. “I don’t know. Try something new, but that.” He pointed where he faced. “That’s how I know so many places, I just walk inside.”

You ran your hand over your chest, baring the biggest grin. “Gosh. I feel like dying.”

“Iced coffee?” He kindly suggested.

“And tea?” You cared to offer.

Nodding back at each other, you both decided to walk the rest of the way back around, making a stop at a light night cafe and occupying their second floor balcony to taste the crisp air. As you sipped on your iced coffee and Minghao sipped on his warm tea, you quietly basked in the moonlit sky, as you’d done many times before. The adrenaline of tonight coursed through you still while you leaned against the railings and stared up at the stars, your elbows grazing close enough to spark that electricity that you’d feel whenever he ever got too close. This time, you were too tired to fight it, or you learned it’s about time you stopped trying to.

“I don’t drink coffee.” He abruptly confessed, penetrating the silence.

You softly scoffed, turning your head to him, taking his reminder as a jab for your ‘inferior’ tastes before taking a bigger sip of your delicious fresh roast press. “I know that. You prefer tea.”

“I mean, I don’t drink coffee, but the day you ‘saved me,’ I did.”

You hummed. “Oh. Yeah, you did. Funny. You got a coffee that day instead?”

He shook his head, smiling. “No, ask me why I drank coffee that day.” 

You rolled your eyes, placing your drink on the side table before leaning your elbows over the railing. “Okay. Why did you drink coffee, Minghao?”

“I drank my friend’s mug on accident, thinking it was my tea, then tasted how scaldingly hot and wretched it was—”

You gasped, offended as a barista, “I work really hard on those!”

He waved his hand to calm you down. “Let me finish. I mistook my normal tea for coffee…all because I got distracted, unable to stop thinking about the cute barista who wouldn't quit staring at me from behind the counter.”

“...I apologize for being a creep.”

He shook his head smiling and set his tea cup aside. “Not my point.”

You stared into the contents of your drink, shaking the ice inside as you stirred the straw, trying to find any remains of your beverage and stalling for time to follow up with a response. Lips pressed in a firm line, you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, silence met on the other end as he keenly observed you, mirroring your posture while he sipped his tea. “So…You thought I was cute,” you managed to sum up.

“Thought…think…know.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?” You timidly asked.

“We’re roommates,” he reminded you, plain as day. “We should be honest with each other, right?”

“Honest,” you repeated, lethally soft.

“Yes, honest,” he confirmed just as quietly. “Don’t be afraid to tell me whatever is on your mind, just as I’ve told you what was on my mind.”

His honesty was cute, flattering. Your honesty could write up a restraining order. “Is that necessary? We only really live together.”

“It’s necessary because we live together, so yes, be honest about your feelings. Let me in on your thoughts, whatever they may be.”

Good roommates don’t forget to be honest about each other’s feelings.

He stood in front of you dangerously close, the lingering smell of his cologne that reminded you of the ocean wafting into your nose as he drew near. His gaze beckoned you close without so much a word passing through his lips, and you felt his presence close in on the distance as he leaned against the railing. You softly batted your eyes, adjusting to your sense being overtaken by all things Minghao, mind just filled to the brim with Minghao, as if you couldn’t get enough of him.

“You’re really committed to being a good roommate. I respect that,” you stated, harshly gulping. “Honesty. Where can I start?”

“Well, what are you thinking about right now?” He asked, face mere inches away from you, lips so plush you let out a wistful sigh.

“I’m thinking that…it’s really hard to think with your face so close in front of me.”

Despite that, he didn’t move, and instead he pushed a lock of your hair behind your ear, brushing against your helix to feel your flustered warmth bloom between his fingers. “Fair enough. What else?”

You wrapped your hand around the railing, stabling yourself on the floor in hopes of not falling over on your two feet, your breath being stolen in real time by your roommate who was looking more and more inviting by the second.

“And if I knew any better, I’d think you're about to kiss me.”

“Let’s wager that then,” he said as he reeled even closer, his fingertips once in your ears now guiding your chin, letting the surface of your lips feel the ghost of his as your breaths mingled against one another. “You can predict one of two things. One, I kiss you. Or two, I pull away. You get a prize if your answer is correct.”

“How is that a fair wager? You can easily change your response depending on how I answer,” you pointed out, ultimately playing along.

“I won’t,” he reassured in a coaxingly smooth tone. “I’ve made my choice.”

You raised a brow, attempting to look only subtly intrigued when in reality you’ve let him enchant you. “What’s my prize?”

“Loser grants whatever the winner wishes.”

“That’s irresponsible.”

“Knowing you, your request would be far from unreasonable.”

“I’m talking about you.” You narrowed your eyes, swallowing at seeing him come at you so close. “But, okay. I’ll play.”

The corner of his lips lifted mischievously, tilting his head to the side as his eyes narrowed back at you. “So, what’s your answer?” 

Your eyes flickered up to him, rounded up in intrigue as you tried to follow his gaze. “You’ll…pull away. Public displays of affection are cute, but maybe not your cup of tea, at least not grand ones like kissing, unless maybe it’s one the cheek or on the forehead.”

He smiled and gently tilted his head, eyes piercing into yours and taking a sharp breath before pulling away, crossing his arms with a soft pout on his lips. “You’re good.”

You felt the sting of rejection despite your victory, as if you’d hoped you’d be wrong. That he’d take you right there against the railing and give you a fervid kiss that broke you down to your knees and you could even taste in your dreams, but a win was a win. A predicted loss was better than a false victory.

“I guess I won.”

He sighed defeatedly, crossing his arms. “You did. So tell me, what desire would you like for me to fulfill for you?”

You shuddered at his choice of words, clamping your legs together. “Well, what would you have wanted me to do if I got the answer wrong?”

“Is that your wish? For me to answer the question?”

You softly scoffed. “Don’t be so cheap.”

He rolled his eyes before taking a sip of his tea, “Doesn’t matter, you didn’t get it wrong. You get the wish. So go on, tell me your wish.”

“…Fine. Grant me your wish as if you had won.”

“You want me to grant my own wish? That defeats the entire purpose,” he chortled with knitted brows.

“It’s my wish, so come on. What’s your wish?”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“And we didn't have to place bets, but it doesn't seem like there’s any rules against it, so go ahead. Tell me.”

Minghao sucked his teeth before complying. “Fine.” 

He moved toward you, hands settling over your hips and settling you on the floor beneath your feet as he gravitated toward, steadying his gaze on you. His face, inches away from you, and your breath hitched in your throat as he drew his lips near your ear. You heard the subtle squelch of his tongue as they licked his teeth, moments before the wish he dared you to grant poured out from his lush lips. “My wish is for you to…make me tea every morning, afternoon, evening, and every time I ask you to. Like my little tea gremlin.”

“Now that’s just evil, Xu Minghao,” You protested, lightly shoving him off.

He laughed. “No, it’s not! Think of it like pour over coffee.”

“Don’t try romanticizing it like it’s anything like my beautiful beans. Tea is tea. Coffee is coffee.”

“It was your wish to grant my wish.”

“Can I take it back?” You whined.

“It’d be dishonorable.”

You groaned. “Fine.”

He chuckled, “Let’s go home, hmm?”

Heading back home, you were embraced by a warm comfortable silence. There was a kind of silence that sanctioned your amicable living arrangement with Minghao to turn into something warmer, feverish even, something that you can’t even help but notice and your hands would occasionally graze one another on the way back, taking turn exchanging timid glances at you walked your path home.

“That was fun,” You admitted, taking off your shoes at the front door.

“Yeah, I think so. We should do it more often.”

You smiled at each other’s reflections as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, seeing you take the same tube of toothpaste and started brushing your teeth. You smiled as he purposely bumped into you, raising his eyebrow as you stared pointedly at him in the mirror, not expecting you to retaliate with a light shove. Ensuing a nudging war, you attacked each other’s shoulders, getting caught in fits of giggles before you forced yourselves to split up, knowing nothing would get done if you both let it go on.

“Do you work tomorrow?” You asked through the gaping door of your room as he cleared a glass a water before bedtime, freshly out of a shower and the smell of his clean, light fragrance was beguiling even from a distance.

“Yeah. Do you?”

“Yeah.”

“Mmh.” He stalked over in your direction, a feign innocent smile on his lips. “That's too bad. We only really have nights like these together, it seems at least only for a little while.”

“It is,” You said, lathering up the last bit of lotion up your legs, feeling his eyes on you as they traveled the path of your hands.

The silence engulfed you, as if both of you were waiting for the other to make a sudden move, yet both of you remained still. Like a predator with its prey, unsure who was who, you both stood with uncertainty and palpable tension hanging in the air, waiting for the other to strike when the moment was right. Even the usually confident Minghao stood back as he observed you from a distance, eyes flickering over at you as you strided slowly towards him guarded with crossed arms.

“I guess, I’ll go to sleep now,” You finally said.

His gaze softened, nodding. “Okay,” he smiled, “good night.”

“Good night, Minghao. Sleep well.”

If only you had taken your own words to heart. 

That night, you couldn’t help but stare back at the ceiling, fiddling with the covers as the night’s events replayed in your head like a home movie, your thoughts traveling at a million miles a minute, too fast for you to stop and collect them—let alone process them—and stole your precious slumber. So, as you lay in bed awake at night, squeezing your eyes shut and waiting for the night to take you, waiting for the fatigue and sleep to come, it never arrived. Instead, your eyes ripped open, heart pounding in your chest as you sat up from the mattress and tore the covers off your body. Your legs pushed you off the bed and lifted yourself off, carrying yourself out the room and out the hallway with determined steps until faltering at the threshold of another front door before you softly knocked. 

You turned the knob, the door creaked open and you peeked your head through to see your roommate on the other end in bed, torso visibly bare as he slowly sat up at his late night intrusion. “Hey,” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “You’re up.”

“I think it’s the coffee,” you excused, clutching the edge of the door, “I can’t sleep.”

Wordlessly, he nodded, stretching an arm to beckon you towards him, and you slowly inched closer to him until you were completely under the covers. Occupying the space beside him, you nestled into the contours of his body as his arm cushioned the side of your head before facing one another, silence enveloping you. The only sound that bit into the silence was muted traffic, infinitely alive outside the walls of your confines. While it looked peaceful, and you felt as though you could melt into his arms, neither of you looked as if you were trying to sleep.

Rather, you stared at one another, making sleep even harder to attain as you traced every feature and took them in as if they were brushstrokes on a painting. Minghao may have worked with art every day, but he was a work of art in his own right, and you couldn’t help favor him above all others. You didn’t need a Van Gogh or Picasso, you had an original, a one of a kind Minghao.

And that’s when you saw his eyes begin to drift, lowering to the bottom half of your face, lips parting in intrigue as his breath fanned lightly against your cheeks. Your face flush in response, pushing your bottom lip between your teeth before they were caught, finding yourself doing the same with him and watching his mouth move in anticipation. You felt your pulse in your throat as much as you felt it between your legs, feeling arousal pooling and soaking your shorts.

“Do you want to wager another bet?” Minghao softly offered.

“What kind?” You breathed.

“The same bet, same prize. Do you think I’ll kiss you, or will I pull away?”

You mused at him, fingers extending toward him reluctantly, aiming for a lock of his hair laying stray on his forehead before smoothing it over his head, softly stroking him, feeling him lean into your touch. “Hmm, this time you’ll…kiss me,” you whispered with absolute certainty. “The tension is practically eating you alive.”

A grin stretched wide across his cheeks as a hand softly clasped over your face, thumb swiping across your cheek. “Right again.”

He closed the gap, slotting his lips between yours and languidly moving against you, letting you chase after his pace. You sighed against him, feeling his hand on your hip as he pulled your torso against his, the other rested against the nape of your neck as he reveled in your heat. Hands flying in his hair, you softly moaned as he kneaded your skin, feeling him trace the inside of your mouth with his tongue before he roughly pulled your weight from the mattress to topple you over him, letting your legs card between his.

“Minghao,” you quietly sounded against his lips, crushing your hips against his groin and hearing his sweet moan in response.

His muscles tensed as you pressed against him, while his legs clung to your thighs. His hands ran over the shape of your figure, unearthing an ungodly moan from your lips as he slipped beneath your shorts, etching over the curve of your ass and claiming your raw flesh in his hands, pushing you against him assertively.

You whimpered, grinding against him. “I know my wish.”

“Anything,” He tenderly mumbled.

“Call off work tomorrow.”

He smiled against your lips, bringing one of his knees to pin your bodies closer together. “Means you should too.”

“Oh, definitely,” You confirmed before reconnecting your mouths in a frenzied liplock.

Feeling the grind of your hips as his pelvis crushed against yours, his grunts slipped through every caress as his hand moved up your back. Soon, you started feeling something you had yet to see from Minghao in all your time living with him, the part of him you managed to evade but have envisioned a multitude of times, growing in his sweatpants and rubbing against your thigh the closer your bodies were.

“I have never wanted someone so bad,” He whispered in a soft ache. 

His hands crept underneath your shirt, brushing against your skin, pressing against the small of your back. Pressing his torso towards you, his erection adhered to your thigh, the tension coiling in your stomach burned like wildfire, at an unstoppable rage. “Minghao,” you mewled, impatience singeing on your tongue.

“Somehow, I can still taste coffee on your breath, but I don't really mind it. It tastes really good on you,” He admitted before kissing you deeper, his moans buzzing against your mouth, hungry and alive as his hands dug into your flesh with utter greed.

“You taste really good too.” Your hand body scoured south, cupping his size under your palm and tasting his gasp as you sucked him between your lips. “I wonder what else tastes good.”

“You are something else,” he mumbled, through quiet chuckles. “Just like you to act on impulse.”

You let out a light scoff. “You are so—”

“Don’t start things you can’t finish,” he softly warned with a smirk.

“I’m not the one you have to worry about finishing.”

You moved down, the covers draped over your head as you kept your eyes on him and resting on the hem of his sweats. Minghao’s breath hitched in his throat, gulping while he felt your nails lightly claw against his bare torso, tugging the waistband off the tent he forged, revealing the lack of underwear and restraint he had left, now sprung against your face.

“Shit,” you said grinning, claiming him by the shaft, thumbing over the precum glistening at the tip. “Even your cock looks pretty.”

A soft pink decorated his cheeks and a hand meekly shielded part of his face. “You staring is how I got myself hurt in the first place.”

“Then I’ll be careful not to hurt you this time—that is, unless you want me to.”

You spat on his cock, a translucent ribbon stretching from your tongue to his length. Your saliva lubing your knuckles, you squeezed his girth in your grip as you stroked and felt him pulse in your hands, growing bigger the tighter you clenched. Minghao’s arms propped himself up and behind him as his chest heaved, blood pumping with every drag of your fingers, shallow breaths slipping out of him as he fisted the sheets beneath him.

You kissed the curve of the head, lips pursed to wrap lightly around him, suckling down his shaft, and feeling him twitch against your mouth when you chuckled. He softly whined, his hand extended toward you to tenderly caress the side of your head and tacitly pleading with you as you teased him. Showing him mercy, you took him with an eager mouth, closing your lips around his cock as you steadied your gaze on him. Moans vibrating around his girth, your tongue tucked on the underside of his shaft, hands wrapped tightly around his base.

“Mmmh like that.” He swallowed, exhaling through his teeth the deeper you took him. His abdomen flexing overtly as you moaned around him, vibrated against his skin, your pink muscle tracing over his veins as you worked your jaw to hug a tighter grip. “God, you’re perfect. Don’t stop, please…” he panted.

He palmed at your hair headily, his motor skills not properly functioning as he sucked in his breath, feeling his presence explore deeper. He leveraged his hips to regain some ounce of control, but the sounds of moisture and squelching burned his ears, and the heart in his chest was running like a marathon. His eyes, fluttering in and out of focus, trained his gaze on you while his stomach tensed, grasping the vision of you getting wide-eyed and bold as you gingerly ate him alive. Burning the image into his retinas, it made him want to explode inside you.

Threading through your hair, he pulled them up and off your shoulders, showing off your pretty features, doing everything in his power not to give his climax an early appearance. “I’ve never seen such a pretty mouth take my cock so well. Then again, I’ve never had a pretty roommate like you, or anyone like you.”

Flustered from the flattery, you sucked him like your life depended on it as you grew hot, making Minghao’s task to regain control strenuous to achieve. You hollowed out your cheeks, leaving no room to breathe, and felt him in your throat as your vision rolled to behind your skull to the point your language deduced to the sounds of gagging. You gripped his hips, nails plunged into his flesh as your drool dribbled down his groin, slobbering over his cock in an erratic, hungry mess.

“Yes, like that. My god,” He praised through ragged breaths, hips jerking gently up into you. He lightly threw his head back, the urge to ram himself down your throat getting exceedingly more tempting, but he suppressed it as he dug his nails into his own palms. “I’m so close to cumming, can I–in your mouth or should I…?”

You hummed a confirmation before you swallowed him whole until you met the base, meeting his groin as he vanished inside you, breathing oxygen not even an afterthought. Images in front of you dulled in color, pictures shapeless and unclear, and you pushed past your boundaries to let him find home in your mouth, deeply intent with him finishing inside you one way or the other.

“F…f…fuck...”

Pleasure rippling through him, Minghao pushed himself up from his position, thrusting weakly as he cradled your head, pouring his thick, ivory load into your mouth, which was insistent on receiving every drop. He filled your cheeks, allowing warmth to coat the inside of your mouth as he tenderly stroked your hair in gratitude. Cupping your cheeks as he let his hips falter, he gently pulled himself out of your mouth, amused at how carefully you were trying to not let any of his cum seep past your lips as you sat between his legs.

His fingers danced under your chin. “Are you gonna swallow?” Minghao tiredly chuckled.

With smiling eyes, you tilted your head, as if asking if you should.

He pushed your hair behind you, softly pressing his lips against your tightly shut lips. “Don’t if you don’t want to.”

An idea occurred to you then, and in an instant you pushed yourself up to board him as your knees took either side of him, looming over him. His hands naturally found your waist as you lifted his chin, eyes staring at you curiously as his hands ran up body and gently clawed down, awaiting your next move. You then thumbed over his bottom lip before dipping between the slit of his mouth and saw it naturally part, taking the digit and settling it between his teeth.

Now confidently, you lowered your head, swirling the contents in your mouth before pushing your thumb deeper, prying the entrance wider, and finding no protest as he sanctioned it. He dug the pads of his digits into your flesh in anticipation. His eyes fluttering, he watched as your mouth withdrew the generous gift he gave to you before you gave it right back to him as it gracefully streamed down on his pulsing, eager tongue. And nothing satisfied you more than hearing him sigh wistfully as it landed.

It sent you shivers how beautiful he looked despite how vulgar the act was. Only Xu Minghao could make tasting his own cum look so ethereal, and it only made you wonder what other things a face this beautiful was willing to do. You swiped whatever fell from the corner of his lips with your thumb, sucking the residue like leftovers before you connected your mouths, sharing and tasting his lewd tang in violent swirls, and pulling away to watch it stretch between your tongues.

“I guess toothbrushes aren’t the only things you like to share,” Minghao teased before pushing you on your back, grinding his resurrecting arousal against your clothed heat and lathering the thick, viscous substance flat between your tongues in your mouths as it dribbled down your chins until there was nothing but slobber. It was a mess, and the most unmannerly you’ve ever seen him, and you’ve never been more turned on.

“My turn.”

With a rough hand, he tugged you by your legs towards him, hearing you let out a yelp, and shoved down your shorts to expose your glistening, mouth-watering, arousal soaked entrance. Be still his heart. He felt himself throb seeing you ruin his bed, but hell if he wasn't going to be sucking those juices out of the sheets until he’d tasted every drop.

He kicked off his sweats, leaving him entirely vulnerable while you witnessed his cock slowly twitch back to life before he laid on his stomach between your arched legs. “If we want to talk about pretty things, your pussy is high up on that list.”

Not waiting for a response, he licked a thick stripe up your inner thigh, flickering over your folds before sucking them in his mouth, using the tip of his tongue to tease your entrance. He felt the flutter of your core before spitting, lathering at the juices, coating at entrance but not peeking to see what was inside. “You’re already so wet, fuck.” 

“Hao…” You whined.

“Mmmh, I love how you sound,” he chuckled, running long strokes up your slit, wedged through you with every swipe, looking arm around your leg to hold you in place as his thumb brushed over your clit. “Are your moans always this delicious? Or are they reserved for when you’re thinking about me?” 

Shaking your head, you were too turned on to answer verbally, while his mouth closed around your clit and sucked, utilizing his fingers to assume their previous position. You clenched your stomach, fisting into the sheets as you spread your legs, feeling them already clam up from the tension as his tongue flicked against your sensitive bud in unison with his fingers twisted up into, and you couldn’t help but writhe underneath him.

“Yes, spread those pretty legs for me,” he encouraged with a haughty smile before burying his face, his moans vibrating up your walls as his tongue massaged your walls and tasted your cock pulsing nectar, sending chills up your spine.

You mewled, and feeling reserved, you held your hands up to your face to shield the tears collecting at your eyes threatening to fall, but Minghao grabbed you by the wrists, roughly pinning them to the bed.

His eyes narrowed back at you before softening almost menacingly, “Don’t cover your pretty face, watch me.”

“But—”

“I want you to watch me fuck your pretty pussy with my mouth. Don’t make me say it twice.” He warned before he got you a quiet nod, earning you a kiss against your inner thigh.

His hand flattened against your inner thighs again, pressing them further away from another and delving his tongue deeper as he rubbed your clit, working your insides until he tasted every inch of you possible. He buried his face, but his eyes were clear, staring at you as he worked his jaw, engorging with his mouth that sent you above and beyond and his eyes that saw you at the result of your undoing. You had no choice but to cling on, freeing yourself from his grasp to have your fingers fly in his hair, navigating him as you took him for a joy ride, his tongue shifting gears as it picked up pace.

“S-shit!” You rolled your hips, threading your fingers through his locks and clamping his head between your thighs as you pushed him deeper.

“Yes, ride my face��fuck, use me, please,” he pleaded in a cracked voice, pouring his heart into his feast until he was practically suffocating, worth it to worship you and bring you to the highest peak of your pleasure.

Your legs trembled as his moans infiltrated your heat, the intense flicks of his tongue titillating you to the brink of ecstasy until he used it to fuck you in time with his fingers thrusting inside, clutching you as you held him in place and grinding against him. “My god, Hao!”

Hips shaking, you bucked into his mouth, and even after your release, he made no effort to stop, lifting you to his mouth as he got on his knees, eating you like a meal he’d never have again until he worked his tongue raw, tasting you and only you as your cum coated his mouth. You squirmed, the suction of his lips on your sensitive core in tandem with his tongue viciously swirling inside you overwhelming you beyond words, unable to kick him off as he held both your knees above his head.

“You’re gonna kill me, Hao,” you cried desperately. “Just put it in me.”

He chuckled before setting you down, meeting your lips halfway as he stroked his fully erect cock, massaging the evening’s concoction against your tastebuds, mingling the contrasting flavors as they battled in your mouth while the knowledge of it all pebbled your skin. Meanwhile, he ran his hands over you beneath your shirt, found your nipples, rolling them against his thumbs as his cock rubbed between your folds, ebbing your moans as they buzzed against his lips. “What if I want to play with you first?” He taunted.

You whined, brushing your lips repeatedly over his. “I want you inside me.”

“You’re cute even when you’re needy,” he gushed.

You clasped your hands over his soft, warm cheeks. “Minghao, please…”

He playfully rolled his eyes, kissing into your palm then down your wrist before his teeth playfully started nibbling at your skin. “Fine, because you asked so nicely. Just to let you know, though, I don’t have a condom on me right now, but I’m clean.”

“Then, we don’t need one.”

He grinned, stroking the back of your head. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”

Rubbing his tip down your slit, he savored your whimpers as he drew circles against your clit before sliding his length through your folds and stretching your walls, letting you slowly adjust to his presence. Your jaw slightly dropped as you took a sharp inhale, fingers digging into his shoulders and clinging on to him before you felt him sink deeper inside you, pacing his thrusts in a steady rhythm. Your eyes flit to meet his, feeling the back and forth of his hips as they snapped, while you reveled in each collision.

“Yes please…”

Before losing himself in his pleasure, he was determined to remember how you looked getting lost in yours, taking in your features as they distorted under his care. He first found your eyes–lost in a galaxy with an infinite amount of stars out of the way. Then, his eyes started to follow the slope of your cheeks, flushed to the touch against the back of his hand, saliva leaking out of your swollen lips. And your body with the shirt adhered to you by the sweat on your skin, clinging to your form and proving to him time and time again that you were not only the object of his desires, you were something straight out of his dreams.

“You look, taste, and feel good? Where have you been all my life? Really?” He landed a harsh thrust, pressing down on your nipples and smiling manically at how you whimpered in response, clutching you as you shuddered against him. “You like that?”

You nodded, clawing your hand up his back.

“Mmh, me too,” he drew his lips to your ear. “And I like you. A lot. I wouldn’t let someone go on and use my toothbrush for months if I didn’t.” He slowed down his thrusts, cupping your face to meet your eyes. “You like me too, right?”

Feeling your ears burn, you frantically nodded again, mewling after you felt him nip at them, teeth scraping under your earlobe before an open mouth pressed against the side of your neck. The warmth of his breath sweltering against you as you struggled to carry on with the conversation Minghao was determined to have.

“Yeah, you want me to take you on a real date?” He said into the nape of your neck, moaning into your skin as he dragged his hips, rutting into you like an animal.  He barely made out your soft ‘yes’s in your sharp gasps. He gritted his teeth, taking you by the hips, pushing himself flushed against you. “Fuck, you’re so cute,” he groaned.

His hips took flight while he separated your mouth in a loud moan, feeling you becoming malleable under his touch and growing weaker as you recoiled against him. He lifted your shirt above your chest and neared your stiff peaks, rolling your bud against the base of his tongue as he pinched the other, moving out of pure instinct. You threw your head back, going mad with sexual gratification. Your body spasmed out of your control, yet you craved more.

“Harder,” You gasped.

He scoffed under his breath in disbelief. “You want even more?”

“Yes…I want you to cum inside me. I want to feel everything that’s yours, Minghao.”

Knees buckling at your titillating request, he gripped your ass in both palms, clutching you against him as he rammed himself up inside you, and you’re forced to hold on. “I’ll do you one better,” he offered, “why don’t I just make you mine?”

“I…Oh, god…” Your brain was becoming mush, only processing the sound, taste, smell, sensation of Minghao’s cock as he plunged himself inside you. It fogged up your thoughts, clouded your judgement, and only formed incoherent gibberish that took place of real vocabulary as they passed through your swollen lips.

“Be mine, hmm?” He asked, pleading. “That way I can be yours.”

Captivated by his words, you nodded, feeling him suck the life out of you as your body felt close to giving out, the hilt of his cock bottoming out inside you. You anchored your legs around him, following his pace before you felt something within reach, just seconds away from ripping a scream out of your throat that would surely ensue a noise complaint from one of your neighbors.

“Hao, I’m going to cum, I’m really close,” you meekly warned.

His hand settled against your thigh, nodding. “I can feel it. You’re shaking so hard. Let me have it, I’ll catch you. Every last bit of you.”

Ecstasy was just a word, but Minghao was everything, and you could breathe in that everything. 

Your bodies crushed against each other, lost in heat as you became one. Breaths blended, bodies embraced, only faltering after you long finished the initial orgasms, coming back for more. You embraced  the sheer carnivorous lust that quelled this several month long push and pull, adhering you by the sweat misted on each other's skin before your mouths tenderly met repeatedly.

Sleep felt futile, while the night felt everlasting. Minghao’s company was more than you could ever ask for, and by the time you did sleep, you were too tired to move. You collapsed against each other, bodies drowning in each other’s releases, sheets and pillows stained by the arousal from the evening’s lack of inhibitions. Minghao should’ve been just as tired, but instead he tended to your tired body, leaving kisses in its wake as he cleaned you off and slept alongside you in your clean bed, letting him worry about laundry in the morning.

With your eyes closed, mind in another world, Minghao was brushing the hair away from your face, softly smiling as you gently stirred and nestled closer to him. In response, he pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, warmth blooming in his chest as a grin developed on your face.

“I’ll take you on a proper date. I promise,” he said while you slept. “And If I don’t, pull the bad roommate card on me. You can punish me however you like.”

“…ok, I will.”

[carnalcrows]

LOST AND FOUND - THE SALESMAN

pairing: the salesman x top male reader

synopsis: A man starts noticing his belongings disappearing after every visit to his best friend’s house—until he stumbles upon the unsettling truth.

content warnings: 18+, bottom salesman, reader is fucking salesman's son, dubcon, blackmail, cheating, fingering, anal sex, implied stalking, dead dove do not eat.

word count: 1.6k

Dinner at your best friend’s house is always an experience.

Not because of the food—his dad’s a damn good cook, actually—but because of the company.

“Hyung, I’m telling you, this lady at work keeps calling me ‘oppa,’ and I don’t know how to tell her I hate it,” Jiho complains, waving his chopsticks for emphasis. “Like, I get it, I’m devastatingly handsome, but can we have boundaries?”

You snort, reaching for more rice. “You could just tell her to stop.”

“I did! And you know what she said? She said I ‘look like the type to enjoy it.’” Jiho groans, collapsing dramatically against the back of his chair. “I feel violated.”

Across the table, Jiho’s father hums, slow and thoughtful. “Perhaps you give off the impression of someone who enjoys attention,” he muses, sipping his soup.

Jiho gapes at him, offended. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

You chuckle, glancing at Jiho’s father. He hasn’t said much tonight, but that’s not unusual. The man is a quiet observer, the kind of person who listens more than he speaks. You’ve had dinner here plenty of times before, and the pattern is always the same—Jiho chatting away, you chiming in, and his father interjecting with the occasional dry remark.

But tonight… feels different.

Jiho’s father has been watching you. Not obviously—just little glances, the weight of his gaze lingering longer than usual. His face remains unreadable, but there’s something sharp in his eyes, something calculating.

It’s not unfriendly, exactly. Just… unsettling.

“Hyung?” Jiho nudges your arm. “You good?”

You blink, shaking off the feeling. “Yeah. Just thinking about how you probably deserve that treatment.”

Jiho makes a wounded noise. “Et tu, Brute?”

Across the table, his father chuckles. A deep, quiet sound. When you glance at him, he’s already looking away, refilling his tea like he wasn’t just assessing you like a goddamn science project.

Yeah. Something’s up with him tonight.

You just don’t know what.

And that? That should’ve been your first warning.

You should’ve gone home.

Jiho had texted that he’d be late—something about running an errand for work—but you figured it was no big deal. You’d been to his house a thousand times before, and waiting around wasn’t exactly a hardship.

But the house was too quiet without him.

It’s why you found yourself wandering, aimlessly at first, then with purpose when you noticed something odd.

A door. Slightly ajar.

You didn’t remember Jiho ever mentioning this room before. Curiosity got the better of you, and you nudged the door open fully—only to freeze in place.

Inside, the walls were lined with shelves. Not with books or storage boxes, but with you.

Your bracelets. Your books. Your toothbrush.

And—most horrifyingly—your underwear.

Stacks of them, folded neatly. Some draped over surfaces, others tucked away like a grotesque collection. And at the very center, in a glass display case like some kind of prized possession, was a used condom—your used condom.

A sickening chill crawled up your spine.

What the fuck was this?

A shadow moved behind you. Before you could react, a deep voice spoke, low and amused.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to snoop?”

You turned sharply. Jiho’s father stood in the doorway, watching you with a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You opened your mouth—whether to demand an explanation or to throw up, you weren’t sure—but he stepped forward, closing the door behind him with a click.

Trapping you inside.

“You’ve been quite careless,” he murmured, trailing a finger along one of the shelves. “Leaving so many things behind. Did you ever wonder where they went?”

Your pulse thundered in your ears. “What the fuck is this?”

Jiho’s father merely chuckled. “Just a collection. I like to keep things that interest me.”

Your stomach churned. This wasn’t just interest—this was obsession.

You tried to move past him, but he stepped in your way, his smirk widening. “Ah, ah. I wouldn’t be so hasty.”

You clenched your jaw. “Move.”

“And if I don’t?” His voice was light, conversational, but there was a razor-sharp edge beneath it. “You could run to Jiho. Tell him. But then I’d have to tell everyone something too, wouldn’t I?”

Your breath caught.

“I wonder,” he mused, tilting his head. “How would your workplace react? Your friends? Your family?”

Your hands curled into fists. You knew what he was implying. Being outed in this country—where tradition and reputation mattered—was a death sentence for your social life, your career, everything.

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “So, what will it be?”

Oh.

Oh hell no.

You let out a short, incredulous laugh, because there is no way this is happening. “Dude,” you blurt. “You do realize your son and I have been—”

“I’m very aware,” he interrupts smoothly, his gaze flickering down your form. “And I must say… I can see why he’s so taken with you.”

You should leave. You should run. But your legs don’t move. Because the way he’s looking at you—intense, predatory, like he’s testing something—sends a very different kind of shiver down your spine.

The air between you shifts.

He’s close now. Too close.

“You’re an interesting one,” he murmurs, reaching out—not grabbing, just hovering, his fingers barely ghosting over your arm. “Most people would be terrified right now.”

“Oh, I am,” you say, flashing a weak grin. “But I also have really bad coping mechanisms.”

His lips quirk up. “Is that so?”

Then, before you can think better of it—before you can stop yourself—you grab him by the tie and pull him in.

His smirk barely has time to widen before your lips crash together.

The kiss is messy. Heated. Too much, too fast, but neither of you seem to care. His hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him, while yours tangle in the expensive fabric of his suit. He tastes like something rich and intoxicating, and damn it, you hate how much you like it.

Your hands move to his waist as his move up to your shoulders, slightly changing the dynamics of the situation. He groans against your mouth at the friction against his crotch, making you hard.

This is wrong, so wrong, but there doesn’t really seem to be another way out.

You tug at his work pants, bringing them down with a firm grasp while pushing him onto the bed in the corner of the room– more like a shrine.

His cock emerges, hard and leaking. Your thumbs trails at the head-- picking up the precum that builds up at the slit. He shudders; he hasn’t touched himself like this in so long.

Wanting to finish what he wants as soon as possible, you shimmy down your own pants, revealing your own erection. You find yourself feeling ashamed at the fact that your grew hard from kissing your fuck buddy best friend’s father.

Searching through his coat pocket, the older man finds a small packet of lube and tosses it at you. You catch it before it flies past you– glaring at him. 

“You're no fun,” he grins, as you rip the packet with your teeth and pour the cool liquid onto your fingers.

You take your lubed digits to his awaiting hole and press them at his entrance, before pushing in. You weren’t going to give this man the mercy of your patience.

His back arched as he let out a loud moan. If your fingers felt this good, how would your cock feel in him?

His thoughts were interrupted by you moving your fingers in and out of him sloppily, not caring if the sudden intrusion hurt (he was a masochist, so you supposed it didn’t matter anyway).

Feeling that he had been prepped enough, you slid your digits out of his hole, and replaced the emptiness with your cock.

The head caught on to the slick of the lube, pushing in slightly– before you slid all the way in. You groaned at how tight he was– even tighter than Jiho if that were possible. You chided yourself for thinking like that before you pulled out almost all the way before slamming back in.

The man’s eyes rolled to the back of his head– your cock hitting the right spot with every thrust. You felt so, so good inside him, and his hole involuntarily clenched around you at the thought.

You held tightly onto his waist as you practically abused his hole, profanities leaving your mouth every now and then.

“Hah– never thought you would get of to being fucked by your son’s best friend, hm?” He could only mumble incoherently at the jab, his brain just too full with being fucked dumb.

He had been waiting so long for this to finally happen, for you to take him like this. He was aware of the relationship between you and his son, and he chose to exploit it instead of doing what a normal dad should do.

But it wasn’t like he was a normal person anyway.

At that thought, he felt himself clench around you more, fucking psychopath. You groaned, feeling his warmth, thrusting into him even further as though you were an animal in heat.

Soon, you felt yourself close to a climax, so you pressed your cock into him all the way, letting yourself come undone– painting his insides a pearly white, before whispering in his ear.

“You can throw away that condom now– you have the real thing in you anyway”, he came, almost violently, when he heard you say that– his semen staining his pristine suit.

You were going to pull out of him, when a sharp knock suddenly echoed through the house.

“Dad?”

You both freeze.

Oh. Oh, hell.

The door creaks open, and there stands Jiho —his son—staring at the two of you like he’s just walked into the world’s worst nightmare.

Silence.

More silence.

Then—

“What. The. Fuck.”

You sigh, forehead dropping against the older man’s shoulder. “Welp,” you mutter. “Guess I am gonna start screaming now.”

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

[shy-writer-999]

How many dreams to say "I love you"? (iii)

Summary: Zoro hasn't been able to stop having dreams about you, his best friend and crewmate. When he goes a few days without one, he thinks he's in the clear. Surely, realizing that he's in love with you is enough to make the dreams stop entirely, right? Right?

Part 3 of 4. ~3.6k words. (read part 1 here!) CW: Equal parts smut and plot. Afab reader w/gendered language (she/her pronouns). Sex! Love-making! Mentions of death, danger, and blood. NSFW content - minors stay away!

Part 3: Scattered polaroids.

Zoro had three whole nights of solace after he realized he was in love with you—three nights of no dreams, three nights of long and restful sleep.

After the third night, he was under the impression that the dreams had ceased entirely. The realization that he loved you was the cure for his sickness, he told himself. Now, he could pine after you from afar during the day and sleep peacefully, minding his business at night.

He did just that. For those three days, during his waking hours, he tried to calculate how to get closer to you. He put together nonsensical equations in his mind over how, why, and for how long he had been in love—he could, and would, keep doing this all day until he returned to his bed, savoring each smile from you.

Evidently, the conversation he overheard between you and Nami was the catalyst for the chain reaction of psychological warfare he had withstood for over a week—the end result was a euphoric crescendo of emotions, his realization that he was capable of romantic love and that his heart had been screaming for attention for months.

But what was there to do about it?

More importantly, did you feel the same?

Zoro needed to find out. He wanted to get to the bottom of everything—the conversation, who you had been talking about, why you were having a hard time being lonely around them, and how you felt about him.

While the swordsman did the mental math of what that discussion may look like between the two of you, he felt sick. He had fought dangerous foes of every kind and been on the verge of death many times before, but nothing ever gave him nerves like this.

If you had feelings for someone, would you tell them? He wondered about you, the sorts of decisions you made, how you would act and feel. If he got to the bottom of this situation and discovered that you had feelings for someone other than him, would he be able to cope with the jealousy?

Jealousy.

The emotion started to seethe when he thought about someone other than himself being with you. It boiled inside when he watched Sanji fawn over you, touch the small of your back, and whisper compliments in your ear. Every bashful smile and flutter of your eyelashes in Sanji’s direction twisted some dial inside of Zoro. Too many twists would prove troublesome. Explosive, even.

He knew that that this emotion, envy, had been there for ages before he recognized how he felt about you. It didn’t feel good, and he knew it was unhealthy. Various images and memories flashed through his mind as he recalled instances in which he felt this same burning envy frequently coupled with a fierce desire to protect you.

Zoro tried to comfort himself with the knowledge of what sort of person you were—if you had a problem with Sanji, or with any other person, you would have said something, no? He was certain that you wouldn’t hesitate to stand your ground.

But that thought was less of a comfort than he initially thought it would be, because you hadn’t ever reprimanded the blonde for his advances (that Zoro knew of), but you did shoo him away sometimes. Your smile felt restrained and reserved whenever it was sent in Sanji’s direction. It looked different than the smiles you gave Zoro.

Well, there was no point in getting himself worked up over the dynamic in question. Nothing would change, probably, unless he did something about it.

It had been a while since you and Zoro last spent time together, one on one. And he thought you had been a bit quieter than usual, recently, so… might as well catch up. Maybe spending some time with you would soothe his heart—it felt like it was aching any time you weren’t around, and when you were around it felt like it was on fire. He didn’t know how to cope other than find ways and excuses to spend time with you.

His solution was… lunch. Practical, at the very least, if not the most effective.

On the morning after his third night of restful sleep, Zoro asked you if you’d like to have lunch with him under one of the trees on the deck of the Sunny. This was nothing too out of the ordinary. He grabbed food, some drinks and some napkins and brought them out to you.

When Zoro handed you your plate, you smiled up at him from where you sat and he felt like he would pass out. He had absolutely no clue how to handle this recently unlocked feeling—the feeling of love—and he was trying to act as normal as possible. He was, all things considered, succeeding. 

He didn’t have much trouble acting ‘normal,’ per say. He was simply hyperaware of how beautiful you were, how fast his heartbeat was, and how blisteringly intense your eye contact was. He had noticed inklings of this before, but he was reminded, strongly. Every moment that your eyes met his, his heart fluttered. He was trying not to blush. It felt very out of character.

“How have you been recently?” Zoro tried to start the conversation casually.

“I’m fine,” you responded with a smile, like usual. “The same as ever. What about you?”

Zoro wondered if that was worth pressing you on, since you seemed a bit sad, or distant, or something along those lines. He decided it was worth it. Ignoring your question to him, he followed up.

“You sure you’re fine? You’ve been a bit quiet recently.”

You tried to brush it off. You had been quieter recently, and for good reason. You thought he didn’t know the reason, but he did. At least, he knew the bare bones of it. Something along the lines of feeling lonely.

“Ah, yeah. I guess I have been a bit down recently.” You responded, trying to hold your smile and pretend like your heart wasn’t crying inside. He studied your face closely, and you could tell.

“Why’s that?”

You had a brief internal battle over whether or not you would be candid with him, but you didn’t have it in you that day and the scenery wasn’t anywhere near private enough. You lied. “No reason, really. I’m not quite sure why.”

“If you ever want to talk about it, let me know.” Zoro smiled sweeter than you had ever seen and then dropped the subject. His smile was uncharacteristically sweet. Heart-stoppingly sweet. Painfully sweet. It was like a dagger.

You told him thanks and the conversation moved on. As a whole, lunch was enjoyable. Afterwards, you both felt significantly more at ease. To spend time together always brought your respective spirits up. It was a great dynamic—no wonder Zoro was in love with you.

Zoro told himself that he should just keep checking on you and go even more out of his way to spend time with you. He’d double down. Maybe it was lunch today, and then tomorrow it could be dinner. And after that, he’d ask you to watch the sunset with him in the crow’s nest. Or would he whisk you away and confess his feelings in his cabin? He was scrambled in the head, confused by that classic paradox of choice, where there are so many options that you’re incapable of choosing one. Was it even the right call to tell you how he felt? Would it screw everything up?

“Oh, Zoro?” Your voice stopped him in his tracks down the hallway after lunch. “Want to have some drinks tomorrow night? It’s been a minute since we caught up. You stood me up last time, remember?”

You were joking, but it was true. Last time Zoro asked you to have some drinks with him after a hard training session he completely forgot and fell asleep. You both laughed about it afterwards, and you used it to poke fun at him sometimes.

He agreed. "Yeah, drinks tomorrow night. I promise."

That was one problem solved.

DREAM 10: Un-solved

That night Zoro dreamed about you. It broke up that momentary peace he had of three nights with no dreams—it seems the internal turmoil of the day was enough to evoke a vivid and striking dream, unlike any others he had before.

Zoro found himself in a dimly lit bedroom lying on a big bed. The sheets and blankets were smooth and plushy. He could hear someone breathing next to him and he knew that you were there.

Turning his head, he saw that you were lying on your side facing away from him, completely nude, hair sitting perfectly on a silk pillowcase. The sheets were pulled down, so he could see your whole silhouette. In the dream, Zoro could feel himself compelled by something, reaching out a hand to pull you closer to him so your bodies were flush.

He smelled your hair, felt how soft your skin was, and ran a rough hand up and down the side of your body, trying to memorize every inch. He ran a palm over your hips and down your thighs, felt your back, shoulders, and waist; he was drinking up every second that his hands wandered over your skin, like your body was an oasis and he was dying of thirst.

You let out an indistinct noise. He couldn’t hear it well enough. It sounded like a sigh. As his hands moved, you stirred, turning your shoulder into his, giving him more access.

The faint sound trickled out of your mouth again, this time audible. Your voice sounded sleepy, sweet and faint. “Zoro.” He could feel his heart trip when his name fell from your lips.

Your hand groped back to grip his thigh and you whispered his name again. “Zoro. More.”

He snuck his hand from your hip to your front, starting to knead and cup your breasts. His fingers elicited another hushed entreaty from your lips. “Zoro. More.”

Suddenly aware of his hard-on pressing on you, his hand lingered on your chest and he began to kiss you. He started with you shoulder blade, marking a trail of kisses up to your neck, taking in deep breaths of your hair and skin. His kisses were soft and loving, coaxing more pleasant sighs from you.

He wanted to taste every inch of you, to draw out those sounds and muffled noises that he was starting to become acquainted with (at least, in his dreams).

Zoro lavished your skin with affection and care for a few moments, and you said his name again. Every time you said his name, it felt like every nerve in his body buzzed.

“Zoro. I need you.”

The dream fogged up and transformed. He was leaning over you from between your legs, missionary style. You were looking up at him, eyes pleading, hair ruffled just right.

Zoro’s erection was positioned right at your entrance, precum beading and pooling around his red, angry tip. The scene was vivid—his mind replicated every facet of what this would look and feel like in real life, down to each atom of detail. It was absurd.

He gawked at you, eyes jumping between your needy face and pouting lips and your glistening core. One of his hands was stroking his shaft leisurely, and the other gripped your waist.

“Please, Zoro.”

As your begging reached his ears, he slowly pressed into you, letting out a hiss of air through his teeth when he bottomed out because it felt so good. You gasped and the sound felt heavenly in his ears.

“Fuuuccckk, Zoro.”

He leaned in to kiss you, bringing a hand to cup your cheek. Your lips were still locked when he started slowly rocking his hips into yours, dragging his cock in and out of you slowly.

You felt amazing, so warm and wet around him, squeezing him perfectly. He sped up, finding the perfect pace. As his hips rolled into yours, you began to moan his name, mewling it into his mouth as he explored yours with his tongue.

Zoro reached a hand and pushed one of your thighs down, allowing for the deepest angle possible. He wanted to hit your g-spot just right; he wanted to make you feel good, wanted to see your eyes roll back in your head and hear his name as many times as possible.

The dreamscape transformed again, just slightly. He was in the same position, but your faces were centimeters away now. You were holding his cheeks in your hands, making eye contact as he thrusted into you, deep and slow.

“Zoro,” you panted. “Feels good, Zoro. You feel so fucking good.”

He could feel your legs wrap around him, could feel you grinding down on his cock, trying to fuck yourself with it deeper.

A moment later, you were holding hands, fingers entwined. You moaned his name and only his name. He could feel himself about to let go. Your eyes were entrancing.

“Zoro,” you keened, arching your back up and squeezing his hands tightly. “Tell me you love me, Zoro.”

His heart stopped again and picked up at a rapid pace; his hips did the same, moving haphazardly, stuttering and shaking. He was seconds away from cumming in you, pleasure building into one massive cliff that he was about to free fall from.

“I—love—you,” he thrusted between each labored breath and grunt. The words tumbled out of his mouth and on the last one he orgasmed. He reeled with ecstasy, convulsing in pleasure as his cum painted the inside of you a hot, milky white.

Zoro collapsed on your chest panting. One of your hands traced circles on his back and the other petted his head, which rested in the crook of your neck. You cooed “good job baby” in his ear and kissed his shoulder.

He woke up, and even though he wasn’t shaking or sweating this time, he felt extremely unwell. It took him a moment to realize that he came all over the inside of his underwear while he was asleep. While his return to consciousness was gentler this time in comparison to his other dreams, he was still disturbed. It was a scarily realistic and wildly intimate dream.

He tried to get his thoughts in order. There was no point in feeling any shame here, he told himself, because you didn’t dream about that on purpose. But really, what the fuck was going on? A wet dream? How long had it been since he had one of these?

The frustration he felt upon waking was agonizing. Three whole days and nights of a clear head. He thought that since he realized he loved you, the dreams had stopped—the realization of his feelings had been the cure to his lovesickness, after all.

Evidently, he was wrong. One intense dream snapped Zoro back into the insanity he had lived in for a week. He felt like he was going to go crazy.

Wasn’t the realization that he loved you enough to make the dreams stop? If that wasn’t enough, then what would be?

Did he have to do something about it?

Fuck.

He really had to do something about it. Perhaps he’d do something about it when he had drinks with you.

But those promised drinks never came.

The next day, the Strawhat crew ran into a hostile pirate group. The skirmish lasted a handful of hours. Lucky for the crew, there were no truly formidable opponents, but it still ended up being a pain in the ass. The crew got separated, and Zoro got lost and left behind—an experience he was well familiar with.

Finally making his way back to where the ship was docked, after hours of wandering around aimlessly on the island and defeating some random mid-tier power user, Zoro returned to the ship. He was met with a startling sight.

The Sunny was ransacked. On first impression, the crew was nowhere to be found. Your absence was starting to agitate him more than usual when he realized the ship was most likely empty. His latent realization of his love was certainly contributing to that.

As the swordsman explored the ship and went room to room, his distress mounted.

There were blood splatters on the walls of some of the hallways—a pattern that looked like someone, gravely injured, was dragging themselves around the ship. In addition, it looked like every inch of the ship had been turned inside out. The kitchen was a mess, pots and pans everywhere, and even the chairs and table were flipped over at odd angles.

In a rising panic, he dragged himself to your room. He was sure it wasn’t you who was injured and struggling, but… what if it was? Might as well check.

As he suspected, your cabin was plundered and empty, too. His heartbeat was through the roof, his vision started to go red in agitation.

Where were you?

In your room, the pirates rifled to their hearts’ content, searching for money, treasure, whatever they could get their greedy hands on.

Your mattress had been ripped off the bed. The drawers on your desk were pulled out and emptied, the sparse contents littered around the floor. Your closet was ravaged, too. Clothes were in piles and tatters on the floor. Your lamp was knocked over, and the bulb was shattered.

Geez, what the fuck were they doing in here? Zoro wondered. He took in the view for a brief second, noting that you weren’t here, and that he needed to move on. If the crew was in a tight spot right now he ought to go help them out instead of dawdling around on the ship in a frenzy searching for you.

Maybe you were with Luffy or the shit cook—maybe you had your snail, maybe he could call you and check if you were okay.

He had only felt this level of panic a couple times in his life so far. A thought cut through his worry—what if I lose her? What if I lose her before I’ve said anything?

He felt like he was sinking. His vision started to tunnel, his hand jumped to rest on one of his swords, getting ready to cut someone down at a moment’s notice. As he turned to leave your room, a lightning bolt of clarity struck him. Scattered across the floor carelessly was a messy tornado of polaroid photos.

Your camera was crushed to bits in a corner, but the photos, which you’d been taking for ages at this point, had been torn from their little box in your closet and thrown everywhere.

Most of the photos, he realized, were of him. His heart panged. He had never seen this many photos of himself in one spot. His memories with the crew slipped through his fingers every day as they happened, but when recorded and hoarded like this he noticed how happy he looked in the photos. Was it because you were taking them?

When did that light start coming into his eyes?

His stomach flipped. You weren’t here. Your room was destroyed. You were in danger.

In a panic, Zoro pocketed a handful of them and darted out of the room. He hurriedly checked the rest of the ship—completely empty, ransacked and pillaged. Luckily, the pirates didn’t find Nami’s stash. But aside from that, almost no corner of the ship was left untouched.

His heart started to feel like it was seizing—if he didn’t find you fast, he was going to snap.

Would the photos you took of him be the only relic of your shared moments of happiness?

He ran onto the deck, out of breath and sweating, and looked at the shore. Time froze.

A wave of relief crashed over Zoro as he took in the sight—the crew was now strewn around the beach. Some were laying on their backs in exhaustion from the battle, others were huddled up, talking, and still, some were injured, getting briefly triaged by Chopper. Nothing looked too serious. His eyes darted around, searching for you.

You were standing next to Luffy, holding your side and wincing. A pool of blood saturated your shirt, radiating outwards from where you pressed your palm to stop the flow of blood.

You were alive. Injured, yes, but alive. He released the tension in his body and a preliminary feeling of relief coursed through him.

It seems like Zoro had forgotten that life on the seas wasn’t just sunshine, lunches on deck, pining, and exploration. Death and danger were key elements of the whole experience.

Not only had he been lacking on his training, but he was lacking on being an attentive and good friend to you, let alone a crew mate that could protect you. In the lapse and haze he had been in for the past couple weeks, he had let his guard down somehow.

Ever hard on himself, Zoro had a ‘come to Jesus’ moment. He needed to sort shit out with you, fast. He didn’t want to have any regrets. He couldn’t lose someone that he loved again.

Taking deep breaths and internally cursing himself out, Zoro made his way down the gangplank and onto the beach. He decided that when the ship was cleaned up, and everyone was bandaged and fed, he would confess.

This love was festering in him. It had festered for far too long before forcing him to acknowledge it. He couldn’t cope anymore. The next chance he got, he would tell you how he felt, no matter what.

< previous part | masterlist | next part >

taglist: @riftmage27 @eggrollforyou @imhwajaez @wiyenspanel @xxmysticxxx @moonmaiden1996 @chibinasu @theilluminatidragonqueen @becca-oak @my-name-is-heartache @the-maladaptive-daydreamers @adamwarlockislife-blog

a/n: happy valentine's day, everyone! thanks for your patience waiting for this one :) the next part won't take as long ❤️❤️

[jungwnies]

wrong time, right person - carlos sainz (2/4)

୨ৎ : pairing : carlos sainz x fem!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis : years after a bitter breakup, you and carlos sainz reunite unexpectedly. old wounds resurface, but so does undeniable love. will history repeat itself?

୨ৎ : genre : romance, angst, humor, drama ୨ৎ : tws : mild language, arguing, friendships ending, bantering, suggestive humor, mentions of alcohol consumption. ୨ৎ : wc : 817

part one | part two | part three | part four

The past was supposed to stay behind you.

You told yourself that more times than you could count. Every time you saw his name trending, every time another headline mentioned his transfer from Ferrari to Williams, every time a new interview clip surfaced on your feed. Carlos Sainz this, Carlos Sainz that.

Your old friends and family still brought him up like he was a permanent fixture in your life.

"Did you hear? He’s moving to Williams." "I saw an interview, he looks different now." "You must be so proud of him."

But you weren’t sure if proud was the right word. Not because he didn’t deserve it, he did, he always did, but because it didn’t involve you anymore.

"That life is behind me." You’d repeat it like a prayer, like if you said it enough times, you’d start to believe it.

And for the most part, you had moved on. Your career had skyrocketed, your face was on billboards in every major city, your name carried weight in the industry. People didn’t just recognize you, they admired you. They wanted to be you.

Carlos couldn’t escape you.

Your face was everywhere he went. Every city, every airport, every magazine stand outside his hotels. It wasn’t just the memories of you haunting him, it was you.

A photo of you staring down at him from a massive billboard in Times Square when he landed in New York for press. A video of you at Paris Fashion Week playing on the airport TV in Italy. A poster of you in a London boutique window while he was out for a run.

He could ignore the memories, the what-ifs, the moments that replayed in his head at night. But how was he supposed to ignore you when you were everywhere?

“Dude, it’s been years,” Alex Albon muttered beside him as they walked through the Williams headquarters. “You need to let it go.”

Carlos scoffed, shaking his head. “It’s not about letting it go.”

Alex gave him a look, unimpressed. “Then what is it about?”

He exhaled sharply. “I just… regret how it ended.”

Alex clapped a hand on his shoulder, offering a sympathetic smile. “Yeah, well, you can’t change the past. Just focus on the season ahead, alright?”

Carlos nodded, but deep down, he knew it wasn’t that easy.

(timeskip)

When your manager called, you weren’t expecting that.

“They want you to attend a Formula 1 race.”

You nearly dropped your phone. “What?”

“It’s a great PR move. You’re at the peak of your career, and showing up at a global sporting event keeps your name relevant in different markets.”

You didn’t miss the hidden implication. F1 fans never really let go of things. You knew exactly what kind of reaction this would get.

“No,” you said immediately. “Absolutely not.”

Your manager sighed. “Look, I get it. But this isn’t about him, it’s about you. You’re bigger than a past relationship. You’re a global name now, and this only makes sense.”

You hesitated, but they kept pushing. “It’s just one weekend. You don’t even have to see him. Go, do the interview, wave at some cameras, and leave.”

You exhaled, rubbing your temples. One weekend.

“…Fine.”

It had been a while since you were last in a Formula 1 city. The sounds, the buzz, the energy. It felt familiar in a way that made your chest tighten.

But this wasn’t for him. This was for you.

You reminded yourself of that as you stepped out onto the bustling streets of Melbourne, sunglasses perched on your nose, blending in as best as you could while shopping for some last-minute outfits before the paddock appearance.

And then it happened.

You turned a corner and froze.

Carlos Sainz was standing right there.

For a split second, neither of you moved.

His expression flickered between shock and something else, something unreadable. Your breath caught in your throat, time stretching impossibly long between the two of you.

He looked different, but also exactly the same. A little older, a little sharper. Still Carlos.

“Hey,” he finally said, voice careful, hesitant.

You swallowed. “Hey.”

The air between you felt too heavy, too thick, too much.

More words could have been said. More things could have been fixed, or shattered even further. But neither of you let it happen.

Instead, there was just an awkward pause, a polite nod, and then,

“Goodbye, Carlos.”

You walked away.

And the paparazzi caught all of it.

Within hours, the internet exploded.

"Old friends reunite in Melbourne?! Is there tension between Carlos and Y/N?" "The past comes crashing back. Will 2025 be Carlos’ season, on and off the track?" "Y/N spotted ahead of the Australian GP. What does this mean for Carlos Sainz?"

The headlines didn’t stop. The photos were everywhere.

And for the first time in years, the world started watching you and Carlos again.

taglist : @willowsnook , @its-avalon-08 , @f1fantasys, (comment to be added)

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[captivating-flavors]

enough | sylus

pairing: sylus x non mc reader

prompt: -

summary: you wanted your love to be enough.

words: 1,399

warning(s): angst, mentions of death

a/n: inspired by rereading the limerence/carpe noctem series by @comatosebunny09 but i havent written anything in like 4-5 years so sorry if its bad :3

“Boss ran out hours ago and has been awol since.”

You knew exactly where he was the moment Luke called you almost an hour ago. You immediately grabbed your keys and sped over. The trip usually took you forty-five minutes but it was taking you longer today, since it was raining and the roads were slippery.

This was the second time this week and this was what he usually does around this time of the year anyway. Her birthday was coming up and this is what he always does within the weeks leading up to her birthday and after. It’s been two years since her death and you knew that he still blames himself for it.

“It’s my fault she’s gone. I couldn’t save her.”

You’d heard that line countless of times and every time you did the pain cuts through you just the same, but as time went on it became a different kind pain. At first, it was the pain of losing one of your close friends. But as your relationship with him progressed, it became the pain of knowing that you could never even come close to her in his eyes.

You first met Sylus when you were working as a bartender in one of the largest bars in the N109 Zone. You were being harassed and he was about to step in when he thought it was going to get out of hand, but you practically broke the guy’s arm in two places. He saw potential in you as a fighter and wanted to take you under his wing, as somewhat of a partner, someone who could act as a backup and accompany him to the dangerous meetings he frequents. So, he tried to recruit you.

“Sorry, but I’m perfectly content with my current job.” And that was the truth, it was the most well-paying job you had and the benefits were quite generous.

“I’m not asking you to quit your day job, sweetie. I’m simply offering you a… freelance gig, if you will. And don’t worry, I’ll train you and reward you handsomely for your assistance.”

That was how you first got entangled with him, five years ago. You thought that there was no harm in having a side gig, so you agreed to have him train you in his private gym three times a week until he deemed you ready for the missions, as he would often call them.

Somewhere along the way, between the missions, the training sessions and the banters, you found yourself slowly falling for him. The smiles, the flirting, the gifts and the heartwarming words he’d say to you every time you made an improvement during training or when you managed to finish the mission well, the attentiveness, who could ever not fall for that. You never said a word, of course, too scared to ruin the seemingly perfect partner dynamic you’ve got going on.

Two years into being his mission partner, you found yourself slowly getting replaced by her. She was better than you as a mission partner, even you had to admit that. She’s had her hunter training and her evol, there was nothing you could do to ever match up to that.

You’d still hung around the base a lot, and he’d still have you help with menial things here and there, but every time there was a mission he would always take her instead. Every time you went to the base, she was always there. Due to that, you got to know her. She was so bright, bubbly and smart that you instantly felt drawn to her. The two of you became even closer upon knowing that both of your families had been lost to unsolved explosive accidents.

But being around the base a lot also made you aware of other things, like the way he would stare at her with those eyes every time she talks animatedly about something that happened during work. The way he would gently smile and kiss her head every time she falls asleep on the couch, before carrying her to his bedroom.

Even though you knew him first, it hurt to see that she was the one able to evoke such gentle, tender, loving side out of him. But he seemed happier with her, and there was nothing you could do about it. You knew your place, so you backed out, created space, found other things to work on to keep yourself busy. You’d still come over and hung out with them and the twins, but just not as often.

A year into it, the two of them walked into an ambush. It was never supposed to be an easy one, but it wasn’t supposed to be hard either. The people of the N109 Zone were never above playing dirty and so they had a sniper five buildings away. The shot was meant for Sylus, but something went wrong on both parties’ calculations, and it ended up hitting her instead.

At first you only wanted to be there for him, comfort him. Do anything to make him feel better. You honestly never intended to get into bed with him, but you did. It hurt you to have him call you by her name as you did it but you’d do anything to help him. You stupidly thought that it could be a win-win solution, as you could make him feel better and also have him closer to you.

But deep down you knew. You knew you were only a placeholder for her. The both of you had similar hair, eye color and build. You knew the reason why he entangled himself with you was because you reminded him of her. Even though you knew, you still fell for it, digging the hole deeper for yourself. Like an idiot. You knew he couldn’t–wouldn’t–ever reciprocate your feelings, but you still genuinely cared for him. Hence, why you have been putting up with this for a year and a half.

You got out of the car and ran past the cemetery gates. You’ve traversed through these grounds countless of times, so the rain and darkness of the night was not an issue. You soon found him in the exact spot you knew he would be at. You stood in front of his sitting form, holding out the umbrella over him, looking down at him and it just breaks your heart knowing that he’s still in agony even after all these times and that there’s nothing you can do to help him ease his pain.

“Sylus.”

He had his back to the side of her tombstone, unmoving. He barely glanced at you.

“…”

“It’s raining. We should head back.”

“…”

“Come on, let’s get you in the car.” You said as you grabbed his arm, in an effort to pull him up and towards the car.

Surprisingly, today he silently complied, unlike when you also had to do this two days ago. The moment he was up and leaning over to you, you could clearly smell the alcohol on him.

‘No wonder he’s being compliant this time,’ You thought to yourself.

You walked the both of you towards the car and put him in the passenger’s seat before closing the door and moving over to the other side of the car, taking the driver’s seat. The both of you were drenched, so you grabbed the towels you’ve stashed on your backseat and handed one over to him with one hand, as you were drying your hair with the other.

“Here. You’ll catch a cold.” Seeing as he still wasn’t responding, you draped it over his head. He weakly raises his hand and starts to rub the towel over his wet head of hair.

“… I miss her.”

“I know. Me too, Sylus. Me too.”

You started the engine and drove straight to base. The drive went on without him saying anything else and the moment you guys arrived, you realized Sylus had fallen asleep, so you had Luke and Kieran help you get him to his room, where you changed him out of his wet clothes before tucking him in. You brushed a stray strand of hair away from his sleeping face and took a seat on the side of his bed, still caressing his soft head of hair.

“I love you, Sylus. I wish that was enough to help you.”

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ birthday spoiling ⋆⭒˚.⋆

(cw: f!reader, TikTok trend, profanity, sexy pics, suggestive, mmm I’ll say mdni to be safe)

Sometimes when you and your friends got to drinking, you didn’t always make the best decisions. A long week of school a cheap and sweet box of wine? Was there anything better for the three of you? Not really! Usually the 3 of you got so drunk you just laid in the floor and screamed all your favorite songs and laughed so hard you cried and peed yourselves.

This time was a little different though. Kira got to complaining about her failed talking stage, Ari got to talking about her relationship, and you happened to mention that Fratboy!Jaehyun’s birthday was coming up. On Valentine’s Day! They both got too excited at that.

Ari put her stripper playlist on, a mix of sensual songs with heady beats and naughty lyrics. Kira got to digging through your drawers looking for something she hadn’t even told you about.

Confused, you set your cup aside and asked, “what are you looking for?”

Kira turns to you, “hello! Your boyfriend is like lover boy incarnate! We’re going to give him a gift for his birthday and Valentine’s Day! What’s sexier than your beautiful girlfriend in lingerie in pictures just for you?”

“Huh?” You ask, the wine making your comprehension a little slow.

“We’re taking sexy pics for your boyfriend!” Kira exclaims while a flash of red goes flying through the air before hitting you in the face.

Ari squeals with excitement, “I’ll get my camera!”

You couldn’t remember much of the night clearly, all you remember is waking up with a bitter taste in your mouth and all of you passed out on the floor in your bras and panties.

The pictures though, the pictures were great. There were a handful of pictures where you thought you could give some models a solid run for their money. You couldn’t even tell you were a little drunk in the pictures you decided to keep. The others were burnt so no one ever saw them.

-

It was easy to hide the pictures for Jaehyun to find. You’d spent the night at the frat house so that you could be the first one to tell him happy birthday and give him his birthday kisses. He was still snoring away as you snuck around the room, placing little rectangular pictures where you knew he’d find them.

One hidden in his laptop so he’d see it when he opened it. Another placed on top of his socks in their drawer. One right on top of his phone. One in one of shoes you knew he would wear. You were planning on hiding one somewhere with the breakfast you were going to make him. There were just a couple more that you decided to stuff into pockets of random jackets and pants so he’d have a nice surprise on a random day.

When Jaehyun trudged down the stairs, sleepily rubbing his eyes to eat the breakfast you’d so kindly made him. He wasn’t expecting to choke on the food.

You’d hidden the picture between the folded napkin beside his plate. You sat beside him, eating from your own plate, watching from the corner of your eye to see when he’d pick up the napkin. Your heart was pounding, watching as his fingers reached for the napkin while he was talking to Doyoung. He lifted the napkin, brows furrowing softly as a flicker of something fell right into his lap. Upon seeing the picture, of you so scantily dressed in red lace, laid back and staring at the camera with a nail between your teeth, he choked.

His eyes were wide, coughing into the napkins as he shoved the tiny picture into the pocket of his pajama pants.

Doyoung watched with a face of pure concern as you hit Jaehyun’s back, asking way too sweetly, “you alright, baby?”

“Fine! I’m fine!” He wheezed out, waving you and Doyoung off.

Jaehyun looked at you, taking a sip of the juice you’d poured for him, his eyes watery but clear enough for you to understand that he was asking you what the fuck was going on!

You smiled smugly, leaning in to press a long kiss to his cheek, whispering hotly in his ear, “happy birthday, lover boy.”

The next picture you set on top of his phone had resulted in you being tackled onto his bed and attacked with kisses all over your face, neck and chest. “Geez, Sweetheart, you’re gonna be the death of me, aren’t you?” He asked before the kisses that went from playful to hungry, leaving you both breathless with swollen lips from a heated make out session.

Unfortunately, you had some classes to get to so you weren’t there to see his reaction to the rest of the pictures he’d found. But you did get texts!

The picture in the sock drawer had come with a picture of the drawer with the caption, “boutta use these socks for something else, sweet girl. Fuck.”

The picture in the shoe came with, “Sweetheart, how am I meant to go to class after seeing this?”

And finally, the one in his laptop didn’t come with a text. No, it came with a phone call.

“Hello?” You asked, voice low since you’d left class to answer the call.

“You need to get to the house in like 5 minutes.” He stated breathlessly.

“Is there a problem at the house?” you ask.

“Yeah! Yeah, there’s a fucking problem! There’s a problem in my damn pants! Sweets I have a fucking boner,” he whispers the last word into the speaker in a low growl, “I got hard in class after I opened my laptop and saw your literal ass so now you need to get your teasing self to the frat house to help me handle it.”

You giggle to yourself. Right, you’d almost forgotten about this picture. The picture where you were bent over on all fours, lace-clad ass in full view while you looked over your shoulder with half lidded eyes and a seductive look on your face. Oh! And no bra, just a little tasteful peek of side boob. It was your favorite of the set.

“Oh, I’m sorry, baby,” you coo, still chuckling to yourself, “I’m in the middle of a lab. I can’t be there.”

He whines into the speaker, a high pitched whine like it physically hurt him to hear you say that. You feel your cheeks heat up at the sound. “Fine, I can meet you at the bathrooms in your building,” he tries to compromise.

“Jaehyun, no, I’ll be back at the frat house after my class. Just watch some cute vlogs and I’ll deal with you when I get there,” you reply.

“Jesus, woman! Do you hate me?! You can’t leave me hanging with blue balls, it’s my birthday!”

“I’ve spoiled you rotten,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“You’re coming?” He asks and you can hear the hope in his voice.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Yes! Thank you, Sweetheart. You’re the best, sexiest, most wonderful, beautiful, loving, awesome, phenomenal, great girlfriend a guy could ever hope for. This dicking down, is for you sweet girl,” he happily laughs into the phone.

“Let me get my stuff and I’ll be there soon.”

“Actually,” Jaehyun starts, “I’ll be patient. Go get that set from the pictures and then come to the house. I love you.”

You sigh, “I love you too. Happy birthday, baby.”

[alsofoundinpeas]

Dinner for Two(ish)

Summary: Since the beginning of your relationship, you and Spencer have made it a tradition to share a candlelit dinner at home every Valentine's Day. But this year, the evening has a surprise guest—one who’s about to change everything.

CONTENT WARNINGS: (While this fic itself isn't explicit content, my blog is 18+ so please keep this in mind!!) Mentions of past infertility issues. Pregnancy announcement. Both reader and Spencer cry but it's happy tears!! Established relationship. Fluff <3 (I think that's all but feel free to let me know if there are any I should add!)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader/afab!reader

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day my angels!! <3 This is way different than my usual fics so I hope you guys like it :') I figured something short and sweet (not a Sabrina reference but still giggling) would be best for today. I did try a different writing style instead of using Y/N so any feedback would be greatly appreciated! I also have a requested fic coming out Sunday or Monday that I'm excited for you guys to read <3 As always, please tell me what you think! If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and share it with your friends :) Thank you and I love you all!!

Nerves wrack your body as you pace the kitchen, your heart pounding so hard you swore it was bound to leap right out of your ribcage if you were to stop moving.

Spencer called a few minutes ago to let you know he was on his way home, leaving you with almost an hour to set everything up for his surprise. You’d kept the call brief and kept your voice even so he wouldn’t suspect anything—a surprising feat, considering your body was (and still is) trembling like a leaf caught in a windstorm. In a way, you were thankful he’d had back-to-back cases recently.

Despite missing him so much it ached and worrying about him every second you were awake (and even in your subconscious as you slept), Spencer being away so often made keeping your secret much easier.

The wedding ring on your finger spun endlessly as you continued to fidget with it—a nervous habit that you’d picked up the second Spencer slid it on. A glance at the clock on the stove told you he’d be home in roughly five minutes. A shaky sigh filled the air as you attempted to swallow your nerves, lighting the candles you’d set up on the dining table and fixing your plates with the food you spent over an hour preparing because everything had to be perfect for tonight.

The familiar sound of keys jingling and the lock turning sent your blood rushing through your veins, humming beneath your skin in an excited current as you wait for your husband to open the door.

Spencer stepped inside, wearing an exhausted smile and holding a bouquet of the most beautiful flowers he could find last minute before the florist down the street closed their shop. His face lit up at the sight of the candlelit dinner, the crinkles around his eyes making your nerves settle just a little. It reminded you that the man in front of you was the love of your life, and that, despite how scary it felt, everything would be just fine.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart,” he murmured as he made his way over to you, pulling you into a tight but mindful hug so that he didn’t crush your flowers. "Dinner smells amazing. You spoil me."

A soft laugh escaped your lips as you waved a hand dismissively, pressing a tender kiss to his before taking the flowers to put them in a vase. "You don’t need to butter me up, Spence. I’m already your wife," you teased, though your cheeks flushed at the compliment.

"Something I’m grateful for every day," Spencer said with sincerity, moving behind you to wrap his arms around you and place a soft kiss on the top of your head.

After arranging the flowers in the vase and setting them on the table, the two of you sat down to eat. As you picked at your food, Spencer noticed you nervously fidgeting with your ring. His brow furrowed in concern as he wondered what could possibly be making you so anxious. Finally, he set his fork down, unable to stay quiet any longer.

"Honey, what's wrong? What's got you so worked up?"

His voice caught your attention, causing you to glance up from where you were gathering another bite onto your fork. Your teeth dug into your lower lip as you averted your gaze, contemplating waiting until the both of you were done eating or just telling him right now so you could get it out of the way. With a deep breath, you decided on the latter, letting your fork hit the plate with a soft clink as you cleared your throat.

"I...um. I actually have a present for you this year. Stay right here," you whispered as you got up, ignoring his protests as you hurried into your shared bedroom to grab the small box you'd put together for him. The box couldn't have been more than half a pound at most, but its contents had you feeling like you were carrying the weight of the world in your hands—and technically, you were.

Spencer eyed you skeptically as you returned, his gaze immediately dropping to the box as you placed it in front of him. "Sweetheart, I've told you that the dinner is more than enough for me—"

"Just open it," you urged, gesturing for him to go ahead with a quick, impatient motion from where you stood beside him.

A surprised chuckle escaped him as he raised his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay! Sorry." His fingers fumbled with the red ribbon, unwinding it carefully as he slowly lifted the lid. You kept your eyes fixed on his face, anxiously watching for his reaction as he peered inside.

Inside was a tiny onesie with Baby Reid printed in delicate cursive, accompanied by an ultrasound photo and the three positive tests you’d taken (because you hadn’t quite believed the first one).

Spencer stared down at the items in complete shock, his mouth opening and closing for a moment before he glanced up at you. "W-we're having a baby?" His voice trembled, his eyes welling with tears at the realization.

For more than a year, you and Spencer had been trying to conceive, with him meticulously tracking your cycle and researching every possible method to increase your chances. But each time, you were met with heartache and disappointment, tossing negative test after negative test into the trash. Eventually, you both resigned yourselves to the reality that, as much as you longed for a baby of your own, it might not be in the cards.

You’d never been happier to be wrong in your life.

Nodding your head, tears began to well in your own eyes as you flashed him a watery smile. "We're having a baby, Spence."

Before you could even process what was happening, he was up and kneeling in front of you, his hands gently cradling your stomach as tears began to fall. A choked laugh escaped him as he looked up at you, eyes wide with awe. "We're having a baby," he whispered again, pressing a tender kiss to your stomach despite the barely-there bump—just over eight weeks along.

The sight made your heart swell, one hand instinctively wiping away his tears, even as your own continued to fall. The other hand rested gently beside his on your stomach. And as you watched your husband speak softly to your unborn baby, you couldn’t help but feel that everything you’d ever wanted was finally right there, just beneath your fingertips.

Continued A/N's: AHHH this got posted a little later than intended because I kept coming back to edit HAHA but I truly hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I did. I truly believe that man deserved a happy ending with baby geniuses of his own and this is my way of coping :') BUTTTT thank you so much for reading and Happy Valentine's Day again <3

REMINDER: I do NOT give permission for my work to be re-uploaded to any other platforms (c.ai, TikTok, ao3, etc.) under any circumstances. If you'd like to translate my work, then please ask me before doing so. I know it sounds whiny, but I (as well as many other fanfic writers) spend so much time on these and it's genuinely not okay to take credit for work that isn't yours. It's insulting and completely unnecessary. If I do see my work uploaded anywhere without explicit permission, I WILL say something.

[merrybloomwrites]

We Know Where We Belong

Summary: When your brother starts working with Harry Styles, you're so excited to see him accomplishing his dreams. What you don't expect is the way this will change your life, and all for the better.

It may take time to get your happy ending with Harry, but when you do, the wait is completely worth it.

Word Count: 9.4K

CW: attempted assault leading to injury that needs surgery, allusions to sex, pregnancy & mention of childbirth

AN: I started this last June and it was originally just supposed to be a cute family story about reader as Mitch's sister, but then decided I wanted to make it a Harry x reader instead.

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Your whole life, you always looked up to your two big brothers. Beckett is the oldest, thirteen years older than you, and one of your first memories is of him getting his first car when he was sixteen. He was always nice to you when he was around, but truthfully that wasn’t a lot. He had his group of friends that he always went to hang out with, and he left for college when you were only five years old. 

Mitch was the opposite, hanging home most of the time, though often hidden in his room. There was always music playing, whether from his radio, or from his guitar. He was always practicing, and you thought he was the best guitar player in the whole world. Sometimes, when Beckett was out, Mitch would play on his drum kit. You were sworn to secrecy, which didn’t always suit you. As the little sister, the baby of the family, you felt it was your duty to stir the pot. But when Mitch promised to teach you guitar in exchange for you staying quiet about the drums, you had to agree. 

The guitar lessons were your favorite activity. Mitch would teach you different skills, always patient when you needed extra help to understand something. Plus, you got to watch him play, and he would test out new song ideas on you. It wasn’t the best idea if he wanted constructive feedback, since you thought everything he played was the coolest thing ever, but it made you feel so special that he trusted you so much.

When Mitch got his driver's license, the first thing he did was take you to get ice cream. Instead of disappearing with friends all the time like Beckett had done, Mitch would take you on some sort of outing each week. But his schedule started to fill up with school, and work, and practicing music with some other boys in the neighborhood. Though he still made sure to hang with you, your guitar lessons and trips to the ice cream parlor started to become less frequent. 

And then he left for college. And you tried to ignore your sadness at how much you missed him. You got into new hobbies which kept you busy and introduced you to new friends. You continued practicing guitar, and all your hard work paid off when Mitch came home to visit and was impressed by your progress. He was always there for your big moments, like when you won the spelling bee and that time your softball team went all the way to states. 

He came back home for a bit after college, but he spent most of his time working and practicing music. You were busy as well, having grown to love your extracurriculars and you had a solid friend group that you were always hanging out with.

But when Mitch announced he was moving to Los Angeles you were devastated. Him going to college was hard enough, and he was only two hours away. But California? This time you didn’t hide your feelings. To fourteen old you, this was the end of the world. Instead of hanging with his friends the night before he left, he spent it at home, having a movie marathon and reassuring you that he’d never be more than a phone call away.

It was hard saying good-bye, but you were proud of him for following his dreams. Your high school years both dragged on and flew by at the same time, and before you knew it you were getting college acceptance letters. While your friends were excited for their Ivy League acceptances or admittance to the biggest party schools, you had your eyes set on one place in particular. 

You called Mitch when the letter came, opening it on Facetime. You screamed in excitement when you saw the words “You’re In!” 

It was official. You were going to UCLA, and were going to live in the same city as Mitch.

Of course your parents worried about their eighteen year old moving so far away, but knowing your brother was close by eased their fears. You flew out that summer, working a waitress job and staying with Mitch who insisted he sleep on the couch so you could have his room. He pretended to be put out and annoyed, but you could tell he was happy to have you there.

And then he got the call. The big break he’d been waiting and working his whole life for. He didn’t tell you the details at first, since you were both busy and didn’t see each other much over those first few days. He mentioned he was working in the studio, but that was all. It wasn’t until Sunday afternoon that you two finally had some time together to hang out. 

“How’s the new gig?” You ask. 

“Honestly, it’s pretty sick. I’m working with Harry Styles,” he replies casually. 

You stare at him for a moment, thinking you must have misheard him. No way has your brother been working with Harry Styles for the past week. 

“Are you serious?” You finally ask. 

“Yea.”

“Harry Styles?”

“Yes.”

“From One Direction?”

“Mhmm.”

“Mitch! Are you serious?”

“Yes, Y/N, I’m completely serious. Why?”

“Why? Because it’s Harry Styles! You’ve met him? You’re working with him? Mitch this is insane! He’s like- he so- oh my god!”

“I’m not following,” Mitch says after your outburst. 

“Mitch, Harry is from one of the biggest boy bands in the world! I was obsessed with them! How do you not know this? And he was always my favorite. And then he grew his hair out and got even hotter.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you but he just cut it.”

“Shut the fuck up. You’re lying.”

“Sorry, but no. He went yesterday, here,” Mitch says and pulls up a picture on his phone. It is without a doubt Harry, his long locks gone. It takes a minute to get used to but you finally reply, “Well, he still looks damn good.”

“Glad to know you’re thirsting over my boss,” he says in a teasing voice. 

“Your boss. That’s so bizarre.”

“You want to meet him?”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Stop asking that.”

“I mean, obviously I want to meet him!”

“Ok. I’ll talk to him. Maybe you can visit the studio next week.”

“Holy shit. Wait. No. Don’t do that.”

“So you don’t want to meet him?”

“I do! But no! Cause that’s terrifying.”

Mitch laughs at that and asks, “How is that terrifying? He’s super nice. Very chill. I promise.”

“Ok fine. Yes, I'd like to come and meet him.”

“Then I’ll set it up.”

“Can I ask about the music you guys are working on?”

“You can ask. But I’m probably not supposed to say anything yet. Maybe you can get a little preview when you visit,” Mitch says.

The two of you continue to talk, though Mitch is reluctant to share more details about Harry or his work. 

You’re busy with your job most of the week, but somehow manage to get Friday off, which is perfect because Mitch has set it up for you to come visit the studio and meet the others. 

You head over with your brother mid-morning, and ignore the way he’s teasing you. Of course you’re nervous to meet Harry Styles, but does Mitch really need to point that out?

Luckily Harry isn’t there when you arrive at the studio, giving you some time to look around at all the equipment. Mitch asks you to tune one of the guitars for him and you do so happily, enjoying having something to focus on.

When you finish that, Mitch grabs another guitar and the two of you play together for a couple minutes. It feels like all those times back home, and any anxiety you had earlier has melted away.

When you finish the song you’re playing you hear someone clapping behind you. The person then says, “Good to know there’s a backup Rowland if we ever need one.” 

Your eyes go comically wide as you realize the person behind you is none other than Harry Styles. Thankfully your brother decides to have pity on you, and instead of teasing you he simply says, “Harry, I’d like you to meet my sister, Y/N.”

You stand and turn, and Harry says, “Hello Y/N, I’m Harry. It’s nice to meet you.” He puts out his hand and you reach forward to shake it, and reply, “It’s nice to meet you as well.”

“While I’d love to chat a bit more, I had this idea last night and I’m itching to get started. You’re free to hang out. It’s pretty casual here. And then maybe you and Mitch can join me for dinner tonight?”

“Sounds good,” you say. “Thank you for letting me watch today, I’m excited to see what you guys are working on.”

“Of course. It’s good to have an audience, get some feedback.”

With that, you take a seat and spend the next couple of hours watching with fascination as they work. The time passes quickly and before you know it you’re seated with Harry and your brother at a nearby restaurant. 

It’s a great evening, and while you’d been nervous to meet Harry, you quickly discover that wasn’t necessary. He’s so friendly and welcoming, and the two of you keep getting lost in conversation, Mitch occasionally managing to get a few words in. But he doesn’t mind. He’s just interested in watching the two of you interact, keeping a big brother eye out. 

After stretching out the meal as long as possible you and Mitch say goodbye to Harry. You don’t expect the hug Harry gives you, and you really don’t expect it to be so prolonged. But you’re not complaining. 

Mitch, however, has some questions once the two of you get home.

“So, what’d you think of Harry?” he asks.

“He’s nice,” you answer simply.

“That’s all? You don’t have a major crush on him or anything?”

You roll your eyes and reply, “Of course I do. Who wouldn’t? He’s attractive, talented, kind. Pretty much the whole package.”

“I just don’t want you getting your feelings hurt.”

“I know. And I promise this is just a silly crush. I’m not gonna act on it and like, lose my mind and ask him out. Plus I’m sure these feelings will pass if I spend more time with him.”

As it turns out, your feelings do not pass. Over the next couple of weeks you see Harry on occasion, and each time, those feelings only grow. You just love everything about him. And he always makes you feel special, and happy. 

When you move into the dorms to start freshman year, Harry is there to help carry your things inside. He texts you after your first day asking how your classes are going. He checks in, and he sends food to your dorm that weekend to celebrate a successful first week.

And then he leaves. Well, him and his whole team, including your brother, for a two month writing retreat in Jamaica. You’re sad to be left behind and to have to say goodbye to them, but college is keeping you busy. While you miss them a bit, you’re focused on classes and you’ve made a great group of friends, so you don’t really have time to dwell on it.

That being said, you are excited when they come back. 

You spend time with both Mitch and Harry, but midterm season is a lot, so you tend to be hunkered down in the library or your dorm studying.

Even when your exams are finished, you still have one project hanging over you, so you spend one more evening focused at the library. You finally complete and submit it, and check the clock for the first time in hours, surprised to see it’s almost 10PM. 

You quickly pack up your things and head out, not wanting to interact with the library worker who would kick you out if you stay another five minutes.

It’s a quiet night on campus as you walk back to your dorm, and you’re enjoying the fresh air when all of a sudden someone roughly grabs and twists your arm. You turn in shock and the man pulls you off the path and into a dark alley.

Through the panic in your mind, you can’t help but think of how much of a cliched situation you’ve gotten into. But then he twists your arm even harder and you cry out in pain. That’s when his mouth roughly covers yours, both to try and quiet you, and to start what he’s obviously trying to do to you. 

Refusing to give in you do the one piece of self defense you can think of, and knee him in the balls as hard as you can. It works, and he backs away, but not before shoving you back so your head hits the wall. You cry out in pain, and thankfully that is heard by a group of students walking by. 

Two girls rush over to help you while a few boys surround your attacker, ensuring he can’t get away. 

“Hey, let’s sit for a minute,” one of the girls says and helps you to the ground. You can hear the other girl on the phone, presumably to get emergency services there. 

“Is there someone you want us to call?” 

“Uhm, yea. My brother.” You take a deep breath, trying to keep the panic and shock at bay in order to open your phone and click on Mitch’s contact.

It rings, and Mitch answers with a cheerful, “Hey, what’s up?”

For some reason, hearing his voice breaks through the barriers you’re trying to build, and you start to cry, too hard to even get any words out.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asks, now clearly panicked. 

Realizing you won’t be able to explain, the girl wraps an arm around you and takes the phone, saying, “Hi, my name is Layla. My friends and I were walking on campus and heard a commotion. Your sister, she uhm, there was a guy. I think he hurt her arm, and uhm-” she stops for a moment and turns to you, asking if you were hurt anywhere else.

“Yea. My head. He hit it against the wall,” you manage to explain.

She nods and turns back to the phone, “She says he hurt her head as well.”

You don’t hear Mitch’s response but then Layla says, “I’ll send you a message with our location, hold on. Okay there, you should be able to find us. We have police and an ambulance on the way. My friends and I will stay with her.”

A moment later the phone is handed back to you. The call is still going so you put it up to your ear to hear Mitch say, “We’re on our way. We’re just down the street, we'll be there soon, I promise.” 

“Okay,” you choke out through your tears. 

It’s relatively calm for a minute or two, and then the scene becomes chaotic. The police and ambulance both arrive, and a moment later so does Mitch. You’re so happy to see him that it takes you a moment to realize Harry is there as well. 

You reach out your uninjured arm to your brother and he quickly sits beside you. He holds your hand and gently strokes your hair out of your face, wanting to comfort you but still way of any injuries you have. 

“Hi, I’m Colleen,” says a paramedic as she crouches down to your level. Before she can say anything else there’s a commotion. The police officers are cuffing your attacker and leading him to the car. 

As this happens, the man looks at you and shouts, “This is all the stupid sluts fault! You bitch!”

You turn to Mitch and tuck yourself into his chest to hide, but still hear the voices around you all yelling at the man to drown him out. One voice stands out, and Harry clearly says, “You’d better stop talking right now, or you’re going to regret it.”

“Harry!” Mitch shouts, calling him off before he can make an even bigger scene. Mitch knows that Harry Styles attacking anyone, even such a lowlife, would not do well for his image. 

Harry quickly walks over and kneels on the ground. You pull away from Mitch a bit and Harry gently places a hand on your cheek and asks, “Are you alright?” The concern is clear on his face, and though you’ve been friends for months, you're still surprised by the intensity of how much he cares for you right now. 

“I’m okay,” you say quietly. “Just wanna go home.”

“I’m sorry,” Colleen says beside you. “By the looks of that arm you’ll need a stop at the hospital first. And I’m told you hit your head as well so we’ll need to check that too.”

Harry steps back to let the paramedics do their work, and you pout at the distance. Your tears return as they splint your arm, and the next thing you know you’re being placed on a stretcher. 

Before they can get you in the ambulance, a police officer walks over and asks for your statement. 

“Does this have to be done right now?” Harry asks.

“We can wait up to 48 hours, but it’s best to do it now. It’s easier to get it done, and the memory is most fresh now,” the officer explains. 

“It’s alright, I’d rather just get it over with,” you say. 

You tell them exactly what happened, your grip on Mitch’s hand tightening as you do so. By the time you’re done explaining, tears are rolling down your cheeks again and your brother gently wipes them away. Harry turns his back to you, but not before you see the angry expression he’s obviously trying to hide.

You look at Mitch and see that his expression is mostly concerned, but he’s definitely mad as well. That’s when you realize that up until now, you hadn’t mentioned the man forcing himself on you. But now that Harry and Mitch know about the kiss, their worst fear is confirmed. This wasn’t a mugging, or someone trying to scare you. No, this man had nefarious plans, and if Layla and her friends weren’t nearby, this would have ended so much worse.

“Thank you,” the officer says, pulling you out of your swirling thoughts. “We have your contact information and we’ll be in touch with any updates or further questions.”

Colleen speaks next, saying, “Let’s get you taken care of so you can get home, hm?”

“Sounds good to me,” you reply, comforted by her calm and straightforward demeanor. 

“Which hospital?” Harry asks, and after hearing the reply, says, “Great, I’ll meet you guys there.”

The next few hours are a blur, and yet also pass in slow motion. Even with Harry pulling strings, it takes forever to get the tests and scans needed. And while you get the good news that you don’t have a concussion, it turns out your arm is worse than expected.

You have what you’re told is called a Galezzi fracture, so not only is the bone broken, but there’s a dislocation at your wrist as well. The worst part is that this requires surgery to fix. But at least it’s considered emergent, and after a few more tests, you’re taken into surgery. 

By that evening you find yourself settling into a comfy bed at Harry’s home. You’re quite fuzzy on the details, since the pain meds in the hospital are rather strong, but Mitch explains that your surgery went great and there was no need for you to stay overnight. And apparently Harry insisted that you all stay with him for a little while, since his place is most secure. 

It’s not even dinnertime, and yet you’re exhausted. Mitch helps you settle in bed and says, “Get some rest. I might run to the store to grab ingredients to make grandma’s soup, but I shouldn’t be gone long, and Harry is downstairs if you need him.”

It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep, and you’re completely unaware of the conversation happening downstairs.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?” Mitch asks, sitting down at the kitchen table across from Harry who’s sipping a cup of tea.

“Yea, of course,” Harry replies.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for all of your help since last night. But you’ve really gone out of your way for me and Y/N. I mean, coming with me, staying with us all night at the hospital, and now having us stay with you? It’s very kind of you, but it’s also a lot. It’s more than I could expect.”

“Mitch, I don’t mind at all. It’s truly not a bother. I have the means to help, and, well I care about you and Y/N.”

They sit quietly for a moment, then Mitch says, “Y/N likes you. The only reason I’m telling you is because those drugs they gave her are pretty strong and I’m almost positive she’s going to spill the beans in the next day or two. But she does. You were her celebrity crush, and she swears that she doesn’t see you the same way anymore. But now I think it’s just a normal crush on a guy she’s friends with. And here you are, as a knight in shining armor, taking care of her after a traumatic experience. I just don’t want her getting hurt.”

“I promise, I would never hurt her,” Harry says emphatically. 

“I know. I also know that I’d kill you if you ever did. I don’t care that you are my friend and my boss.”

“I would expect nothing less,” Harry says, thinking of his own sister and how he’d react in that situation.

“Just, let her down easy, okay?”

Harry is silent again before finally asking, “Can I be honest here?”

“Of course,” Mitch says, curious to hear what comes next.

“I uhm, I like Y/N too. I know that she’s my best friend's sister and all, but I’ve liked her since that first time she visited the studio. But my life is so complicated right now, and I’ve been trying to keep my distance and keep my feelings at bay, but they’re definitely there. I just don’t know what to do.”

“Take me out of the equation,” Mitch says. “I know people say not to date friend’s siblings, but don’t let me hold you back. Obviously I wouldn’t recommend asking her out until she’s recovered from this situation, and you should figure out if it could work with the tour you’re planning. But, I think you’re a good guy. And, uh, I think you and Y/N could be happy together.” 

Silence falls over the pair again. Seeing that Harry is deep in thought, Mitch says, “I’ll let you ponder on that a bit. Is it okay if I run to the store? I told Y/N that you’d be here if she needs anything.”

“Absolutely, of course that’s fine. See you in a bit.”

Harry continues to sit at the table, after Mitch has left, after he’s finished his tea; he sits there and thinks about the conversation with Mitch.

The only thing to break him out of his reveries is the sound of someone in distress. He stands up and immediately heads to the stairs, running up them two at a time when he hears you cry out again. He walks into the bedroom at the exact moment when you finally wake up from your nightmare. 

For a moment he stands there, waiting for you to indicate what you need. At the same time you freeze, reorienting to where you are. Once your brain finally catches up, you reach out to Harry with your good arm. He understands your request for comfort and sits next to you, carefully helping you shift so you can settle in his arms. 

He holds you gently, wiping away the tears that have started falling once again. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you, love.” You slowly relax until you’re able to fall back to sleep, cuddled against Harry. 

When Mitch arrives home he unloads the groceries and promptly checks on you. He’s surprised to see Harry in bed with you and whispers, “Everything alright?”

Harry nods and replies, “Yea, she had a bad dream but she’s good now.”

“Alright, I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

Mitch leaves, and Harry continues to hold you, imagining what it would be like to be able to wrap his arms around you in better circumstances. 

He desires a relationship with you, has for months now. But he knows it wouldn’t be fair to start something when he’s planning to travel so much so soon. He can’t ask you to leave school and come with him, but he can’t leave you behind. 

As you continue to sleep, he comes to the conclusion that the time isn’t right. He’ll release his album, do his tour, and then he can ask you out.

It’s a smart decision. But it’s one he’ll regret for years to come. 

Early the next year, Harry is busier than ever, getting everything ready for his album release. He’s put together a band that he’s excited to perform with, each member showing extreme talent while still remaining down to earth. 

Your arm has healed, but the nature of the injury has made your left hand weaker. No matter how much you try, you can’t play guitar the way you used to. You simply don’t have enough strength in your left hand to press down hard enough on the strings to make the clear sound needed.

You spend time at the studio, watching the band practice and then practicing yourself when they finish. Mitch stays with you, trying to help you retrain your hand, but even with the physical therapy you’ve been doing, you just can’t get it. 

The others are aware of your struggle as well, and all give encouragement. But it’s Sarah who does more and says, “Have you tried drums? You don't need quite as much strength in your fingers, just need to be able to hold the sticks. 

The three of you stay for hours that evening as Mitch and Sarah work together to teach you the basics. It’s fun, and therapeutic, and you can’t help but feel that you may be playing matchmaker. You know your brother, and it’s easy to see the way he looks at Sarah, how he acts around her. 

And from what you can tell, Sarah feels the same way. You admit you’d love for that to be true. Sarah is so nice, and always makes you feel at ease. You wouldn’t mind having her join the family, and it would be nice to finally have another girl around. 

But as always, the next journey begins. Harry, Mitch, and all the others have a busy year ahead of them. 

They leave to travel the world and play concerts for all of Harry’s adoring fans. You dive into your studies, and by the end of the fall semester of sophomore year, you’re happy to report to Mitch that you have a boyfriend. 

It’s amazing how quickly time can fly. Life has changed throughout your time in college, and you’re now in the fall semester of senior year. 

Mitch has helped Harry with his second album, which will be released in just a couple of months. Just like last time, you occasionally got to hear songs as they were being written, giving feedback but mostly being amazed. 

Unfortunately, your boyfriend was not all that happy with you spending time at the studio. After nearly two years together, his bad side reared its ugly head, in the most unexpected way. The last thing you thought you’d see when bringing coffee to his dorm was him in bed with another girl. And yet, that’s exactly what you walked in on.

The fight that ensues isn’t pretty, and it ends with you single and heartbroken, immediately making your way to the studio where Harry and his band are rehearsing. 

“What’s wrong?” Mitch asks the second you walk in.

“Nothing,” you state, clearly lying.

“Liar,” Mitch replies.

“I broke up with Aaron.”

At this news, Mitch and Sarah sit on either side of you on the couch. The rest of the band heads to another room to take a break. And Harry, well, he seems busy, fiddling with a notebook nearby.

“What happened, love?” Sarah asks as she wraps an arm around your shoulders, God, you’re grateful to have her in your life right now.

“I caught him in bed with another girl,” you explain.

If you weren’t so upset, Mitch and Harry’s reactions would probably be comical. 

“He did what?” they shout in unison, clearly outraged on your behalf. You expected this from your brother, but you’re thrown by how angry Harry is. 

“I was bringing him coffee, because he said he was working on a project. That ‘project’ ended up being named Margo. And it turns out he lied to her because she was very surprised to find out there was a girlfriend. So he’s the only asshole here. Margo punched him in the dick, so that was appreciated.”

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” Sarah says.

You want to brush it off, say you’re fine. But it’s not. “Two years together and he just goes and does this? I mean, I thought he was the one! That we’d get married and have kids and all that shit. And now I have to start over?”

“At least you found the truth now before wasting any of your time,” Sarah says.

“You’re young, you have plenty of time to find someone who isn’t a total dick,” Mitch adds. 

“Ugh, I guess you’re right. But,” you pause, collecting your thoughts before saying, “But why wasn’t I enough for him?”

“Hey, don’t even think like that,” Harry says. “You are more than enough. He isn’t good enough for you, you understand me?”

Once again taken aback by his intensity, you nod to show that you’re listening. 

“C’mon, let’s go,” Harry says.

“What? Go where? You guys are in the middle of rehearsal.”

“We rehearsed all day yesterday, we’ll rehearse all day tomorrow. We can end a bit early today. I bet everyone could use a night off. We’ll go out, get some food, get some drinks, it’ll be fun!” 

And that’s how you find yourself in the middle of an L.A. nightclub on a Thursday night, grateful that your schedule for this semester does not include any Friday classes. Because while the night starts pretty tame, things… escalate.

You’re newly 21, and heartbroken, and you’ve had drinks in hand all night, though you haven’t bought a single one for yourself. It’s the perfect formula for things to get crazy. 

Mitch and Sarah head out after a couple hours. They worry about leaving you, but you reassure them a dozen times that you’ll be fine, and Harry tells them he’ll keep an eye on you. That’s enough for them to leave you alone with Harry. In your tipsy state you admit to yourself that this is, in fact, the desired outcome.

You thought you’d gotten over this crush years ago, but being here with him, recently single and a few drinks deep, you know that was a lie. You’d simply pushed down your feelings, told yourself you only liked him as a friend.

And then a song comes on that you love, and you pull Harry out to the dance floor. He goes willingly, happy that you’re no longer in a relationship and he doesn’t need to feel bad about being attracted to you. He hasn’t had much to drink, since his goal for the night is to make sure you’re safe and having a good time, but he’s had enough to feel a little loose. 

Which explains why his hands find your waist just seconds after yours loop around his neck. He pulls you close, until you’re nearly flush against him. The two of you get lost in the music, moving together to the beat, unaware that you’re pulling each other closer. 

It isn’t until his lips brush against yours that you realize your proximity. But neither of you pull away. Instead, Harry presses forward, his lips meeting yours in a surprisingly sweet kiss. It only lasts a second and then he’s gone, stepping back and saying, “We shouldn’t.”

You know he’s right, and part of you feels rejected. But another part of you rejoices in the fact that he kissed you. Not the other way around. Your mind wanders with possibilities, the possibility that he likes you, that he finds you attractive. Maybe he really does want you, but he’s being a gentleman. Afterall, you’ve been drinking, and you just got broken up with. 

This theory is backed by the fact that he still has a hand on your waist, making sure he remains in contact even just a little bit. 

“It’s getting late. We should get going,” he says next.

You pout and say, “Don’t wanna go back to my dorm.”

“Mitch and Sarah’s then?” He suggests.

“So I can see them being annoyingly in love? I’d rather not.”

“Okay. Do you want to stay in my guest room?” he asks, and you light up at the suggestion.

“Yes, please!” you say excitedly. You’ve spent some time at his place, having slept in that bed before after events at his house, and it’s the comfiest, coziest bed you’ve ever slept in. It’s exactly where you want to end this long, emotional day.

Harry picks up his phone and after a minute, says, “Cars on it’s way. Let’s get some water and head outside.” You follow his lead and soon find yourself next to him in the back of a luxurious car. You’re starting to get sleepy, and without thinking about it, you rest your head on Harry’s shoulder. With your eyes now closed, you miss the warm smile that spreads across his face at the gesture. 

A little while later you arrive at his house, and he wraps an arm around you to help you inside. He briefly ducks into his room and comes back with some clothes for you to wear to bed. 

“Go get ready, I’m gonna grab a couple things and leave them in the guest room for you,” he says. 

You go to the hallway bathroom to get changed and do a cut back version of your bedtime routine. When you get to the room, Harry is there placing water, snacks, and some painkillers on the bedside table. Noticing you look at him he says, “Just in case you need anything,” as explanation. “I’ll be in my room if there’s anything else you need.”

He goes to leave but you ask, “Can you stay? For a little while, I mean. Just until I fall asleep?”

His face goes soft at the request, and he replies, “Of course, love.”

You climb into bed, surrounded by the softest blankets in the world. Harry sits on top of the covers, his hand moving to stroke your hair until you quickly fall asleep. He stays for a little bit to make sure you’re really out, then presses a barely there kiss to your head before pulling himself away and going to his own room.

The next morning you wake up feeling better than you should considering how hard you went the night before. You still eat the granola bar that Harry left and take the pain relievers, downing the rest of the water as you do so. 

You sit there and can’t help but think about all the people who would kill to be in your position. Relaxing in Harry Styles’ bed, having kissed him the night before. God, you cannot believe you and Harry had actually kissed. You’d been single mere hours and already kissed another man. 

You’re conflicted by this. You’d spent years with Aaron, thought he was the man you’re going to marry. But you have to be honest, there was always a part of you that remained attracted to Harry. You know that you probably would have left Aaron if you had any chance with Harry, and that leaves you feeling incredibly guilty. 

Picking up your phone you see a number of texts and missed calls from Mitch. Without even reading through everything you text him saying, “I’m fine, crashed at Harry’s. Can you come pick me up?”

He replies, “On my way,” almost immediately. 

You wait a few minutes before heading downstairs, knowing you’ll see Harry but now knowing what to say. You finally suck it up and leave the guest room, bumping into him almost immediately in the hallway.

“Hey. Good morning. How are you feeling?” he says.

“Good, I’m good. Thanks for looking out for me last night. It was fun.”

“Yea, it was a good night. Can I make you some breakfast?” 

“Oh, that’s okay. Mitch will be here in a couple of minutes,” you reply. 

“Got it. That’s good then.”

The two of you stand there awkwardly, more timid around each other than usual. You can only assume he’s ignoring the kiss that happened just like you are. 

Thankfully your phone dings with a message that your brother is there.

“Guess I should get going,” you say.

“Of course, I’ll let you out.”

Harry walks with you to the front door, but before he opens it he turns to you and says, “I know it’s hard to heal from a breakup, so just, you know- I’m always here for you. If you need anything.”

It’s shockingly earnest, and takes you by surprise. This man who is more busy than anyone you know, willing to help you through a broken heart. You don’t know what to say so you just wrap your arms around his neck in a quick hug. He’s barely returned the gesture when you pull away, thanking him once again and heading out the door and into your brother’s car. 

Mitch waves to Harry as you buckle your seatbelt, and once you’re ready, he starts driving. 

“So what happened last night?” he asks. 

“Nothing.” 

“Y/N.” 

“I mean, not nothing. But like, nothing to worry about. So don’t worry about it.”

“Okay well now I am worrying.”

“It’s fine!” 

Silence falls over the two of you, an awkward air permeating the car. It wears you down, and finally you break and exclaim, “Okay, fine! Harry and I kissed! But just like, a little bit. So tiny. Like, blink and you miss it. So it’s no big deal, got it?”

“Oh shit,” is his only reply.

The silence is back, and has you feeling restless. 

“Mitch?”

“Yea?”

“Are you mad?” you ask.

“What? No,” he answers immediately. “I’m not mad. But you just had your heart broken. And any relationship with Harry would be complicated, especially a rebound.”

“He’s not a rebound! I like him. It was just one kiss. That’s all. I don’t plan on going further, I swear.”

“Okay. Did you have breakfast? I can make pancakes.”

“Pancakes sound good,” you answer, once again grateful for your brother who knows exactly how to support you through anything. 

Pancakes with Mitch and Sarah are just what you need. And when you do go back to campus and tell your friends what happened, they help you even more by cursing Aaron’s name, saying they’ll make sure word gets out that he’s a cheater.

You move on from that relationship, but no one new catches your eye. You’re finishing your second to last semester at college, starting to focus on job hunting, and spending time with your brother, Harry, and the band before Fine Line’s release in December.

They’re busy of course, but take a break for the holidays before picking things back up in the new year. You’re prepared to say goodbye to them for months, so it comes as a shock when a pandemic shuts down the world and leads to you moving in with Mitch and Sarah when your dorm closes. 

After only a couple weeks Harry moves in as well. He’d been living alone in his big house and you all knew it was weighing on him. He is clearly relieved to be staying with people, and the four of you make the most of this time in lockdown. 

Since the house isn’t that big, Harry ends up sleeping on the pull out couch in the living room. This naturally leads to the two of you spending a lot of late evenings together watching movies after Mitch and Sarah have called it a night. You guys both make fun of them for becoming an old married couple, but they clearly don’t mind the teasing.

You and Harry grow even closer during this time. Since your classes have switched to online, and Harry rarely has anything scheduled, you tend to stay up late talking about anything and everything. 

May comes, the world still shut down, and you officially graduate college. Mitch, Sarah, and Harry manage to surprise you with a graduation celebration to mark the big occasion. As always, you and Harry stay up late, talking about hopes and dreams and big plans. All the things that a graduation has people thinking about.

It’s even later than usual, and you and Harry end up sliding closer and closer as the minutes tick by. Just like the time at the club, you don’t notice how close you’ve gotten until you feel Harry’s breath ghost across your skin. 

This time you do pull back, just enough to look in Harry’s eyes and confirm he wants this too. When you see the determination there, you lean in again. There’s a slight pause, just enough to build the tension, and then your lips brush. 

And then you hear a noise, jumping back a second before Sarah walks in the room. The three of you look at each other, no one speaking a word for an agonizingly long time.

“Just grabbing some water,” Sarah says as she walks to the kitchen. 

When she walks back through the living room to go upstairs you feel you need to explain and say, “We were just talking. Lost track of time.”

“I’m sure you did,” she replies with a knowing smirk before she walks away. 

The moment having passed, you say, “I should probably get to bed.”

“I guess so,” Harry answers as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. The gentle contact makes you blush and he says, “Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Harry,” you reply.

You lay in bed, thinking about how close you came to kissing once again. It was clear he wanted it, and there was no alcohol to blame this time. You’ve been single for months, you start a totally virtual job soon, and all the reasons for staying away from Harry in the past, don’t seem like reasons anymore. 

You remember years ago promising Mitch you would never ask Harry out, but now you’re determined to break that promise. Your brother will understand. You hope.

The next day Sarah invites you and Harry to join her and Mitch on a walk. You decline, saying you planned to facetime with your mom. Harry decides to stay home as well, claiming he needs to catch up on some emails he’s been putting off.

You ignore the knowing smirk that Sarah once again sends to the two of you, grateful that Mitch still seems oblivious. 

Once you and Harry are alone in the house he asks if the two of you can talk.

Seated at the kitchen table, mugs of tea in hand, Harry begins. “I don’t really know how to say this. But I feel like I should just be honest.”

He pauses, and your mind swirls with what it is he’s going to be honest about. 

He takes a large breath, exhaling loudly before saying, “I like you. Have for a while. You just- you’re one of my favorite people to hang out with, and you’re so smart, and kind, and funny, not to mention talented and so, so pretty. And if you’ll agree, I’d love to take you out on a proper date.”

You sit there, eyes wide and mouth slightly open in shock. Sure, you were just last night thinking all those things about Harry, but to find out he feels the same way as you? Even with the sweet moments and the chemistry you’ve been feeling, this admission still hits you like it came out of thin air.

Harry starts to squirm and you realize you should probably answer him. You compose yourself and manage to say, “Yes. A proper date. That sounds lovely. And, uhm, I like you too.” The end comes out at barely a whisper, but you know Harry hears it as he smiles so big both dimples appear on his cheeks. 

But then a thought occurs to you, and you ask, “How are we doing a proper date in a pandemic? We can’t go out anywhere.”

“Don’t worry about that, I have a plan,” he says with a pleased expression. 

And that, the fact that he’s obviously put thought into this, proves that he’s felt this way for a while, just like you have. 

“Then I’m looking forward to it,” you reply.

“How about tonight?” He asks.

You’re surprised by that, and he must notice because he backtracks and says, “Or we can wait a couple days. I don’t mean to rush you, I just, we’ve waited so long-”

You cut him off and say, “Tonight is perfect.” You agree, enough of waiting around. 

“Wonderful! Then it’s a date.”

“It’s a date,” you confirm. 

The two of you finish your tea in companionable silence before you get up to actually call your mom as you’d promised her. 

For the rest of the day you can’t help but wonder what Harry’s plan is. He does tell you to get a little dressy, so you spend much of the afternoon getting ready. Harry leaves for a couple hours and goes back to his house, leaving you with a very nosy Mitch and Sarah.

They know something is going on between the two of you, and keep asking questions, but you repeatedly brush them off. Truthfully you don’t have many details to give. 

When Harry gets back he’s dressed in slacks and a blouse, one of your favorite looks on him. It’s the perfect combination of casual and fancy, just enough buttons undone to tease. He’s holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers, which Sarah helps you find a vase for. While the two of you are busy with that, Mitch takes Harry aside to give the typical big brother talk. 

Finally, Harry is leading you out to the car, Mitch and Sarah watching on like proud parents. Harry continues to keep the plan a secret, so you’re curious when he pulls into the driveway of his home. He parks the car and comes to open your door like a true gentleman. 

The two of you walk through the house and out to the back patio, where you see the beautiful surprise Harry has planned for you. He’s decorated the whole area, a bottle of wine ready on the table, and he explains that dinner he’s prepared.

He pulls out your chair and helps you settle in before bringing out appetizers. All of the food is delicious, and you enjoy every minute of the meal. There's a moment as you cut your food that your left hand slips a bit, never having regained full strength after the attack your freshman year. Noticing this, Harry quickly reaches over to finish the task for you before gently reaching out to hold your hand, his thumb stroking over the scar from your surgery. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t bring it up, but comforts you all the same. 

The rest of the meal passes without incident, and the sun sets just as you’re eating dessert. It’s perfect, and romantic, and truly is the best date you’ve ever been on. The night ends in Harry’s bed, both of you too impatient to wait any longer after years of wanting one another. 

Since you and Harry have been friends for so long, it only feels natural to slip into this new relationship status of boyfriend and girlfriend. You start spending more and more time at Harry’s house, which apparently gives Mitch and Sarah more alone time together, since at the end of summer they share the news that Sarah is pregnant. 

The next three years are the most exciting whirlwind for all of you. Mitch and Sarah get married, then have a baby just days after they all perform together for the Grammys. Love on Tour begins a few months later, and you're so excited that your remote job allows you to travel with them for every show. 

Sarah makes sure you know all of her parts, making you her backup in case something happens and she needs to miss a show. You’re confident that won’t happen, and then one night, it does. 

It’s August 2022, night 5 at Madison Square Garden in New York City. Sarah comes down with what seems to be a nasty bout of food poisoning, and you’re asked to perform for her. You sit backstage before show time, an absolute mess of nerves. But then Mitch comes and sits with you, quietly hyping you up. The two of you sit and talk about playing music together when you were kids, and soon enough your nerves switch to excitement. 

Harry asks that you stop by his dressing room before going on stage. When you stop in he wraps you in his arms, telling you how happy he is that you’ll be out there with them. Having him be so confident in you and your skills boosts your energy even more, and you can’t wait to get out there.

The show goes perfectly, and Harry gives you a special shout out during the band intros, thanking you for filling in. Hundreds, possibly thousands of cameras film the interaction, which is why it’s no surprise that people are making theories about your relationship with Harry by the next day. You’d managed to keep the fact that you’re dating a secret for two years now, but the look he gives you on stage is undeniable. The truth that Harry is dating his guitarist/best friend’s sister is out, and honestly, you’re relieved. Especially since people seem to be happy about it, and have apparently some fans even shipped the two of you together before. 

With the success of that show, Harry asks you to fill in for Sarah on the entire Australia and Asia leg of tour. She and Mitch are taking a break, focusing on other projects and giving their now two year old a break from traveling for a bit. 

Now that people know you and Harry are dating, you’re nervous that they might think you got this gig because of that. Luckily it seems most people are just saying that Harry is lucky to have found the Rowlands, since they seem to be a very talented family. And well, that’s the best compliment you could have ever hoped for. 

You now better understand the post-concert adrenaline Harry always has, and truthfully, your sex life has only benefited from this development. 

There’s a part of you that’s sad that you won’t be on stage with Harry for the last leg of tour, but that feeling fades away the second he comes out on stage in Denmark and you get to watch in amazement once again. You’re especially glad to be in the audience for Slane Castle, and Wembley, and most importantly, Italy. 

The pride you feel watching him up there is overwhelming. The years that you’ve been together have been the happiest of your life, and you feel so much love for him. 

Which is why, two days later, when he gets down on one knee and asks you to marry him, there’s no question. You immediately say yes.

While the last two years have been all about tour, the next few years are all about building your lives together. You get married in a small ceremony, just family and close friends. Watching Mitch and Sarah’s son interact with Gemma’s baby girl practically kick starts your biological clock. 

You and Harry make sure to enjoy the honeymoon phase for a while, but the desire to become parents grows more and more every day. When you decide to start trying it doesn’t happen right away, but after a few months, you excitedly call him into your room.

He finds you sitting on the edge of the bed, smiling and holding what is clearly a pregnancy test.

“Is it? Are you?” he asks.

“I’m pregnant,” you confirm and immediately he begins to cry and smile all at once, wrapping you in his arms and holding you tight.

“I love you so much,” he says before sliding to kneel on the floor. He places his hands on your hips and looks at your belly before saying, “And I love you too, little one.” It’s when he places a kiss on your stomach that you finally start to cry happy tears as well. 

Neither of you can wait to tell your families, who are ecstatic by the news as well. The biggest surprise is when you tell Mitch and Sarah, who share that Sarah is pregnant as well. Knowing that your child will grow up with cousins so close in age sends you into another bit of hormone induced happy tears.

The surprises continue when you go to your first OB appointment, and you learn that you’re having twins. And when you learn a couple months later that they’re both girls, Harry quickly settles in his role as a girl dad.

As expected, he is the best partner through all of this. He gets any craving you may have, does the hard work around the house, does anything and everything he can to help you be as comfortable as possible. He never stops telling you how beautiful you are, even when you’re six months along with two babies and feeling like a beached whale. 

You talk to Gemma and Sarah nearly every day, getting advice and reassurance from them, especially as you get closer to actually giving birth. Sarah has her baby just as you get to seven months and holding your new nephew in your arms is like a reality check that you’ll have two of these little ones in just a few weeks.

Harry continues to support you however he can, but as the weeks go by you start to admit that you’re just going to live in this discomfort until the babies are here. You just remind yourself that each day of heartburn and back pain is another day your babies get to cook inside you. 

When you do go into labor at 36 weeks, Harry remains calm and steady. His presence is grounding, and he gives you the strength to give birth to two beautiful and healthy baby girls. 

A few weeks later your house is full, both yours and Harry’s families there to visit. Some people might find it overwhelming, but in this moment, you’re simply filled with joy. You watch as Harry holds his niece, Gemma and Sarah each have one of your babies, and your parents entertain Mitch and Sarah’s sons. It’s crazy, and chaotic, and it’s like a dream you never knew you had has now come true. 

Mitch sits next to you, not saying anything, but putting an arm around your shoulders for a moment. He doesn’t need any words for you to know he’s taking it all in too. You’re grateful to have him by your side. Your big brother, your protector, and most importantly, your best friend. 

Harry hands his niece off to his mother and sits on your other side. Mitch smiles, gives you one last squeeze and goes to play with his toddler. Harry presses a kiss to your head and you sink into his side. You can’t help but feel like the luckiest person in the world to experience all this love.

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AN: Thank you so much for reading! I really loved writing this one. Side note, chose that picture because I love smiley Harry, but also, love smiley Mitch in the background.

[grenadehearts]

surprising geto or hawks w pretty flowers for the valentines requests mayhaps 🫣

SWEET BOY hawks x f!reader

authors note: so much fluff like seriously.. anyways happy valentines day my lovelies!! kisses 4 all of uuu annnd thank u sm for requesting this anon its the cutest idea ever..extra kisses 4 uu mwah <33 m.list

You had scoured through every single floral shop in town for a specific type of flower.

But none of them had it. None. Zero.

You had originally planned to go to you and your boyfriend’s favorite flower shop, but it was still closed—the owner, a kind old lady, had taken a few days off to tend to her husband in the hospital.

You still remember the first time you went there.

The little bouquet shop, the warm scent of fresh florals, and the elderly woman at the front counter who practically had your name memorized—because your boyfriend loved to spoil you with flowers.

One year, he sold her entire shop out. She even had to import a whole truckload of special flowers, driving straight through the city of Fukuoka, Japan.

You hadn't even known about this until you walked into the shop one day, needing flowers for a friend's birthday. The moment you gave your name for the order, the shop owner practically tackled you to the floor. Apparently, your boyfriend had gushed about you endlessly—like a teenage girl with her first crush. He had described your appearance so vividly that the woman had no trouble recognizing you the second you walked in.

She went on and on about how much he loved you, pinching your cheeks and cooing, "You're such a beaut!" before spending twenty minutes rambling about how much of a hunk Pro Hero Hawks was.

Oh yeah. Did I not mention? You're dating Pro Hero Hawks.

The infamous red-winged hero who soars through the skies, sending swarms of teenage girls to their knees, squealing over him.

Which is why you’re especially pissed off, stomping through the streets of Japan, because today is Valentine’s Day, and it’s nearly impossible to get your boyfriend anything. Simply because he desires nothing.

As much as you love him, it seriously irks you. You want so badly to spoil him, but he never shows interest in anything—except for you. Well, you and food. Specifically, chicken skewers. And, much to your disgust, chicken liver. Yuck.

But you can’t just take him out to dinner constantly. That’s not a real gift. Especially when he’s always doting on you—showering you with flowers, buying your favorite trinkets, paying for your salon trips (which racks up a lot since you constantly change your hair).

And if he ever catches you trying to pay for anything yourself—even something as small as coffee—he’ll insist on paying. He'll even go so far as to let you think you paid, just to console your pouty bottom lip and incessant need for independence. Then, when you're not looking, he'll go to the cashier and swap the cards.

Which is exactly why you’re so dead set on surprising him this time.

Yes, you could just buy chocolates or any random bouquet.

But this is different. This needs to be special—meaningful. Something that comes straight from the heart.

You want him to see right inside you—to your beating heart that only beats for him.

And today marks your one-year anniversary.

You still remember the day you met him. You were stuck in that shitty café job, your manager constantly harassing you and treating you like a scapegoat. You were itching to quit.

And then he walked in.

Glorious. Breathtaking. He made your entire body freeze, your breath hitch, your cheeks flush red.

He looked like no one you had ever seen before.

The sun had just risen, bathing him in molten gold. His messy blond strands fell over his face, his strong arms flexed under a tight compression shirt, and his glorious, large red wings shifted at his back.

He looked like an angel.

Then, he walked right up to you and ordered the most insanely sweet coffee. You actually giggled.

He cocked his head to the side, golden strands falling back to reveal more of his chiseled face. And then, he flashed you the most boyish grin.

And you fell to your knees.

Well—let me rephrase.

You fell because your incompetent manager had spilled a drink and never bothered to clean it up.

It was supposed to be humiliating—a cruel twist of fate, embarrassing you in front of the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

You wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

But then—he hopped over the counter.

And proceeded to fall flat on his face.

Whether it was deliberate or he was actually a klutz, it didn’t matter. Your heart pounded all the same.

Then, he laughed—airy, full of life, so refreshing.

And then, he spoke the words that sealed your fate.

"See? I fell too. Guess we’re both klutzes, huh?"

You were sure your heart was about to beat right out of your chest.

Positive your face was a deep shade of rouge.

But you couldn’t seem to care.

Because then—he stood up, extending his hand. It was rough, jagged, yet inexplicably soft against your own.

And when he pulled you to your feet—

The sunlight caught him once more, pouring through the café windows. A golden shimmer of orange and yellow, illuminating his sandy blond hair, casting a soft glow against his tanned skin.

He looked like—

"tiger lilies!"

The word bursts from your lips, snapping you back to the present. Passersbys give you weary glances as you let out a meek, "Sorry."

You blink, reality settling back in as your gaze falls upon a display of fiery orange lilies. And that’s when you realize—

You’re only a block away from your shared apartment.

Keigo had insisted you move in with him after last year's holiday—when he had given you an entire truckload of flowers.

“Kei, there’s no way I can fit all this in my place,” you had sputtered, overwhelmed and on the verge of tears.

But he had just grinned, cupped your face, wiped your tears away, and cooed, "Shhh, it’s okay, baby. Just come live with me."

And before you knew it, you were sharing an apartment with the No. 2 Pro Hero, Hawks.

Your gaze returns to the flowers—realizing they’re right in front of your favorite floral shop.

The little old lady is outside, flipping her sign to Open.

You bolt.

Nearly tackling her in a hug, you babble incoherently. She barely makes out the words "boyfriend" and "flowers" before smiling and ushering you inside.

Which leads to now.

Opening the apartment door, flowers in hand—

And being met with a completely exhausted Keigo.

His entire body visibly relaxes at the sight of you, but the scuffs, loose feathers, and ripped shirt tell you everything you need to know.

Still—despite his rough day—he rushes toward you like an overexcited puppy, melting into your arms.

Then, you pull the flowers from behind your back, grinning.

“Kei, my sweet boy. Look.”

His ears perk up at the name, golden eyes locking onto the bouquet of fiery hues.

“These for me, babe?”

He’s ecstatic. Exhaustion completely forgotten, he effortlessly picks you up, smothering you in messy kisses. Your giggles fill the air.

Then, you nudge him slightly, a pout forming on your lips—only for him to kiss it away.

“Sorry, had to. Now, continue,” he murmurs, amused.

You sigh, relieved, before teasing, “Don’t you wanna know why I got them for you?”

Keigo tilts his head, clueless.

“Because it’s Valentine’s Day?” he guesses. “Which, don’t forget, I have plenty more surprises in store for you—”

You cut him off, pressing a finger to his lips.

“Shh.”

He immediately sits—obedient, waiting.

As you explain the meaning behind the flowers, recalling the first time you met him—how the morning light made him look exactly like a tiger lily, wild and beautiful—

His golden eyes soften.

And then—

He kisses you.

Deep, fervent, breathtaking. A kiss that tells you everything you need to know.

A slick trail of saliva connects you when he finally pulls away, his breath uneven, his golden eyes glossy and intense.

And you know.

He loved his Valentine’s gift more than you ever expected.

p.s commissions are open as always! alsooo trying to find a good ending for this was so hard bc i did not want to drag it on.. but this is my valentines gift for all of uu mwahhh xo

[baestruly]

Spencer reid, who is crazy nervous around the reader who is like this cold,quiet, and scary person and Spencer like wants to ask them out but he keeps messing up like stuttering everytime he interacts with reader or accidentally ruining something of hers and reader knows his crush on her and agrees to go out with him. It could lead to smut if you'd like. Hope this is acceptable.

for the poetry books ━━ spencer reid

( 𝗌𝗒𝗇𝗈𝗉𝗌𝗂𝗌 )  spencer reid x fem!reader

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 spencer has had a crush on you for a while, making it painfully obvious to the rest of the team. finally, one day, spencer's usual clumsiness around you sparks new informed feelings warnings - fluff, reader is usually grumpy, spencer is giving s1 spencer, morgan is their biggest shipper, (my poetry skills um) wc: 1.5k

It was fair to say you’ve always been distant and closed off.

If anyone were to peek a glance at you from across the room, they might say you’re angry, mean and bossy.

But Spencer never saw that.

He saw your strength and courage. The way you’d scrunch your nose when catching onto something in a case, or the way your hands would slightly unclench when talking to the people you cared for most. 

Because you were comfortable. 

He saw things he thought you didn’t even notice.

It was fair to say, he was a profiler after all. 

But so were you and it wasn’t impossible to see these continuous and not-so-subtle glances Reid threw at you every day from across the BAU.

“Oh look, pretty boy’s at it again.” Morgan chuckled, shaking his head. 

The comment had you looking up from the files scattered across the desk, the ones you’d carefully been scanning for any clue on how to find this UNSUB. So far, it’s been a day without any luck and Hotch had told the team to stay low until the UNSUB left a blue on to who his next victim or whereabouts would be.

“What now, Morgan?” You spat, frustrated. “You’ve been talking nonsense for 10 minutes now.”

He laughed again, his famous teasing smirk toying his lips. “Well, I'm sorry for trying to put my head in another place rather than the amount of things we’ve seen today, Little Miss Sunshine.” 

You only scoffed, shaking your head, but rather still amused with his playfulness. Only the team could secretly cheer you up after a long and stressful day.

“Looks like you got the real sun beaming at you from over there though, that why you’ve been so gloomy until now?”

Finally, you looked up from your papers, shooting him a warning glare before scanning your eyes to find who he was so obviously talking about.

Dr. Spencer Reid.

Morgan had been teasing the two of you for weeks, mentioning Spencer's glances he made when you weren’t paying attention━━head elsewhere, or how he’d be a stuttering mess whenever having a conversation one-on-one. 

Unlike Reid, none of the team can say they’ve ever seen you crack. Emily had disturbingly called you the female version of Hotch━━also younger.

“Leave him alone, Derek, you think I haven’t noticed? I practically feel his stare.” You defended your friend. Although you and Reid had very different personalities, you got along well. While Reid was always looking for opportunities to spit out his knowledge or jump to inform anyone on his interests and theories of the deep pits of his genius brain, you were calm and collected, rather than keeping your interests and thoughts to yourself━━except on certain cases of course.

You were strict and determined while Reid was more reserved and quiet. But it didn’t make you think of him any less. 

“C'mon (Y/N), I see the way you soften that cold exterior you got over there around him, what are you waiting for?”

The truth was, you were scared. And when you were scared, you always pushed it aside and went with what had to be done.

But when it came to Spencer, you were scared.

It wasn’t something you’d ever admit, especially to the little snitch Morgan over there, but your friendship with Reid was strong and it’s something you would never intend to break.

“I don’t have time to be talking about this.” 

Morgan held his hands out in surrender. “Alright, alright. But c’mon, it pains the team to deal with the tension between you two lovers every day.” His voice mocked what could be a dramatic romantic monologue.

“Goodbye, Morgan.” You yelled back, watching him turn his back with a laugh as he walked to his desk.

After about an hour, you decided it was time you headed home to get some sleep—if you even could. Cases left like these always keep you awake, prying at all the things in your brain looking for something to give you a clue to crack the case.

When you opened the door to go outside, the soft brush of the summer breeze comfortingly grazed your face. 

Unfortunately, Spencer’s appearance at your side couldn’t have come across any softer.

Just like that, all the files in your hand go flying from your grasp when Spencer quickly tries to get to the door to catch up to you. This had to be the third time this week he’s accidentally knocked something out of your hands or off your desk. 

“Oh, crap━━I am so sorry, here I'll just━━” He quickly started picking up the files on the ground in a hurry, his anxious demeanour practically radiating off of him. It was starting to make you even more anxious than you’d like to admit.

This couldn’t refrain you from giggling at him, bending down to meet his level as you started to help him with the files he’d dropped. 

He looked embarrassed, a faint redness tinting his soft, beautiful features. “Sorry again, I━━”

“Spence,” your eyes softened among your last few chuckles, “it’s okay I got it.”

He still picked up a few before placing the remaining papers in your hands as he gave you an anxious smile, the wind blowing his hair softly.

You stood up, shifting your head from downwards to upwards as he now stood in front of you and scrunched his nose. 

“I was just trying to catch you before you left, I, um━━need to ask you something.” Spencer declared, looking down and then into your eyes. You noted the extra pitch to the end of his hesitant words and how anything he said sounded what was very faint of a question.

“You do, huh? Is it worth ruining all my papers for?” You teased, looking up into his eyes with a small smile. He’d only chuckled quietly as if he were trying to stay calm. You weren’t supposed to profile each other, but to anyone, this could’ve been obvious. 

Unexpectedly, he reached into the brown bag he had strapped over his shoulder and pulled out a book. 

A book?

“I just wanted to give this to you. You mentioned the other day about how you were starting to get into poetry. I thought you might like this.” 

You gently grabbed the book from his hands, your eyes sparkling as you studied the beautiful artwork on the cover. “Wow━━Spencer, yes I have been, thank you so much for this, this means a lot.” 

No one had ever given you gifts. Not ones on days like these. You’d never gotten gifts on your birthday let alone the one gift you needed from your parents most.

Love.

What was it like? Was it the racing of your heart whenever that one person looked at you with such admiration you wanted to melt━━because if that was true, you’d be a mess right about now.

You hoped the heat rising on your cheeks couldn’t be seen, the cool breeze giving relief to the heat in your face. 

“I guess I'll see you tomorrow then.” He smiled with a little wave before he turned on his heel to the parking lot.

You couldn’t help but admire the book, gliding your finger over the front cover and opening the front page━━to the dedication.

To your surprise, there was a note written there━━not from the author, but with a gel pen.

seeing this book made me think of you, but truth be told, my mind is a cloud, floating elsewhere, taking me away from all the bad when I see your face.  my heart starts to race before every case. but it’s not from fear, it’s from your presence.  the presence of your eyes, your soft hair you always put in a bun, your mind.  it’s all so beautiful.  so, that’s why i’m giving you this.  because not only are the words etched from ink beautiful but so are the pair of eyes reading.

You feel unglued from the pavement before you hurriedly race after Spencer━━the man who you so badly wanted to hug, kiss, and tell him how much he meant to you at this very moment.

Because he felt the same.

Somehow you knew he had for a while now, but this was real. The note was real.

Everything in this moment was so real.

“Spencer, wait!” You shouted after him, Spencer turning around with his eyebrows pinched together. 

You stopped before him, heart racing a million miles per minute. 

His eyes beamed with hope and admiration in the moonlight and you reached up to brush his hair out of his eye. 

He looked down nervously, but looked into your eyes again, slightly shocked from your bold gesture.

“I like you too.”

“You━━you do?” He asks, eyes softening even more.

“Yes.”

The moments of longing and emptiness were filled from the touch of you and Spencer’s lips. That tension through many months of stares across the bullpen and smiles on the jets were made up until this very moment, where it’s just you and the man you liked so much.

You finally could say it. It was real.

You pulled away softly, eyes being hooked to his as your face moved away. Giving him a smile and an aggressive hair ruffle, you walk in front of him, leaving a still-dumbfounded Spencer in the parking lot.

“Guess it’s a date then, pretty boy.”

masterlist | spencer reid masterlist

[hoe4hotchner]

Epilogue

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x figure skater (fem)!Reader

Summary: The story follows you a figure skater training for nationals and Aaron Hotchner as your lives intertwine during an investigation into the abductions of young athletic women, including the your close friend, Leah. As the BAU delves deeper into the case, you find yourself captivated by Hotch’s quiet strength and protective presence. When Leah’s body is tragically discovered at the rink, the tension escalates, surrounding you in an atmosphere of fear and uncertainty.

Word count: 7.8k

Warnings: Lot of law and court case stuff, 18+, Smut, oral, heated kissing, P in V, mention of injury.

A/N: This is the end…… Please bear with me on this one, when I went to edit the chater I realized that I had swapped the genders of the prosecutor and the defense attorney from what I had writte 2 chapters ago 😭😭😭 I hope I caught all places where I swapped them.

Masterlist

It had been months since everything had come to light—since Collins had been arrested. Since you’d started to rebuild your life, your trust in people, in yourself.

But today, you had to face him again.

You flexed your fingers absentmindedly, feeling the slight resistance as your wrist protested the movement. The cast had been removed weeks ago, but the stiffness remained. You still wore a brace for support, still had exercises from your physiotherapist to regain full mobility. It wasn’t painful, not exactly, but it was a reminder—one you couldn’t ignore, one that despite surviving Collins, your mind had not been in the right place which had caused you injury.

It was a reminder of everything you’d lost. And everything you’d fought to reclaim.

The air felt heavier than usual as you stood in front of your mirror, trying to steady your breathing. You smoothed your hand—your good hand—down the front of your blouse, not because it was wrinkled, but because it gave your fingers something to do.

No amount of preparation could stop the nerves from creeping up your spine, sending shivers through your body. This was new territory. A courtroom wasn’t an ice rink, and there was no routine to guide you through it, nothing that would've ever prepared you for it.

A sharp knock at the door startled you from your thoughts. You exhaled slowly, pressing your hands to your thighs before moving to answer it.

Hotch.

He stood there in his usual suit, his expression calm and composed—but his eyes told a different story. There was something searching in his gaze, in the way he looked at you, like he already knew exactly how you were feeling.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice gentle yet firm.

You nodded out of habit, but he wasn’t fooled. His gaze flickered to your hand, twisting at the hem of your shirt. Before you could tuck it away at your sides, Hotch reached out, his fingers brushing against yours before wrapping fully around your good hand.

The gesture wasn’t unfamiliar anymore. In the months since your injury, since everything had changed, your relationship with Hotch had shifted too.

It wasn’t sudden, not a single moment that flipped a switch, but something steady, something that grew naturally between shared late-night conversations and moments that neither of you wanted to end. You spent nearly all your free time together now—movie nights on his couch, long walks where he let you talk about everything and nothing, stolen hours where he made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t even realized you needed.

Somewhere along the way, he had become more than just the man who had protected you. More than the person who had been by your side when everything had fallen apart.

He had become someone you didn’t want to imagine your life without.

And now, standing in front of him, his hand wrapped around yours like it belonged there, you felt that warmth settle deep in your chest.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” he murmured.

Your throat tightened, the weight of the situation pressing against your chest. You forced yourself to meet his eyes, searching for something—you didn't know what, strength maybe? Reassurance? Anything to help you breathe through the suffocating anxiety curling in your lungs.

“I just…” The words stuck, and you hesitated, swallowing against the growing lump in your throat. Your fingers curled slightly against Hotch’s hand. “I don’t know if I’m ready to see him again.”

Hotch’s grip on your hand tightened just slightly—not enough to hurt, never that, but enough to ground you, to remind you that he was there. The warmth of his touch seeped into your skin, it felt like a promise without words, a promise that he would do all he could to keep you safe.

“I know,” he said, his voice was calm. “I'm not going to lie and tell you that it’ll be easy, because it won't. Collin's defense attorney will likely try to grill you on the stand.”

Your chest ached at his words. He usually always knew exactly what to say—not in a way that dismissed your feelings or brushed past them, but in a way that acknowledged them. This time was not one of them.

You inhaled, slow and shaky, trying to find your balance amidst the storm inside you. “What if—”

He didn’t let you spiral.

“He can’t hurt you anymore.” His voice was firm. “You’re safe. And I’ll be with you the entire time.”

Your breath hitched, and you blinked rapidly, willing the burn behind your eyes to fade. You hadn’t even realized how much you needed to hear that.

How much you needed to believe it.

Hotch watched you for a long moment. He wasn’t pushing, wasn’t demanding anything from you—just waiting, letting you take what you needed from him. Then, after another beat of silence, he gave your hand one final squeeze before gently letting go.

“Come on,” he said, his voice softer now. “Let’s go.”

You nodded, even as your stomach churned, even as uncertainty clawed at the edges of your sanity. You forced your feet to move, to take that first step out of your home, out of your safe space, toward whatever was waiting for you in that courtroom.

The courthouse was colder than you expected, the chill settling deep in your bones despite the cardigan you’d thrown over your blouse. The air smelled like polished wood and old paper, it felt like a strange mix, but in reality, wasn't. The faint hum of voices echoed down the long hallway where you stood with Hotch and the rest of the team. The space was too bright, the fluorescent lights overhead casting a harsh glow on the marble pillars and cream-colored walls. Everything about this place felt rigid.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt once more, it was a nervous habit from your early skating days that you had never quite managed to shake, even with all the time that had passed. You knew you had no reason to be afraid—Collins was locked away, shackled, and awaiting judgment, police officers would surround him at all times—but the knowledge didn’t stop the pulse of anxiety running through you.

Emily stood beside you, her arms crossed as she leaned in slightly. “You okay?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to nod. “Yeah. Just—” You hesitated, exhaling through your nose. “Just nervous.”

Emily’s lips pressed together in understanding. “That’s normal. Even if you know the outcome, it’s still a lot.”

You appreciated that she didn’t try to brush it off or tell you there was nothing to worry about. She knew better than anyone that facing the past, even when it couldn’t touch you anymore, was never easy.

From your other side, Morgan tilted his head toward you. “You know we’ve got your back, right?” His voice was calm and steady, filled with the same confidence that you had come to admire about him.

“Yeah.” You offered him a small, appreciative smile. “I know.”

But even as you said it, you could feel the weight in your chest growing heavier with every passing second.

Without thinking, your gaze drifted toward Hotch. He hadn’t said much since you’d arrived, but he didn’t need to. He was watching you, his eyes looked calm, taking in every shift in your posture, every flicker of emotion that crossed your face. He always saw more than you wanted to show, but for once, you didn’t mind. Today it was important that he knew.

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he just moved a little closer, his hand brushing lightly against your lower back. The touch was brief, barely even there, but it was enough to ground you.

Before you could say anything, the heavy wooden doors at the end of the hallway creaked open, and a bailiff stepped into the corridor. “We’re ready to begin,” he announced, his voice firm but not unkind. “You can take your seats.”

Your stomach clenched.

This was it. The moment you had spent months anticipating, dreading.

Your feet felt heavier than they should have as you moved toward the open doorway, but Hotch stayed at your side, matching your pace with quiet patience. He didn’t rush you, didn’t push—just walked with you.

The courtroom was just as cold as the hallway, the wooden benches polished to a shine, the air thick whispers. The moment settled in your chest as you stepped forward, your pulse drumming in your ears.

You could do this.

The judge’s gavel echoed sharply through the courtroom, signaling the start of the trial. Your heart hammered in your chest as you settled into your seat beside Hotch, feeling the tension of the room press in from all sides.

“Court is now in session,” the judge, a stern woman with glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, declared. Her voice was commanding, and as she took her seat at the bench, the room followed suit.

Hotch’s presence beside you was comforting, his hand resting just close enough that you could feel the warmth of it without needing to feel his touch. He didn’t say anything—didn’t need to. His proximity, his silence was enough.

The defense attorney was the first to speak, her voice smooth and confident, her movements deliberate as she stood up. A short woman in her mid-forties with graying temples, her tailored suit fit her well, a clear sign of the money backing her. She adjusted her tie, then turned to address the judge.

“Your Honor,” she began, her tone respectful but laced with a subtle arrogance, you already hated her “I request that we begin the trial by reviewing the charges against my client, Mr. Eric Collins. While the allegations are certainly serious, we intend to prove that the evidence against him is not as conclusive as the prosecution would like the court to believe.”

The defense attorney paused, eyes briefly scanning the room. She met your gaze for a moment, and though you didn’t flinch, your stomach dropped. She didn’t look at you like a person—she looked at you as a tool to be used, to be twisted into something to help his case. You swallowed hard, forcing your attention back to the judge.

The judge nodded, her gaze sharp. “We will proceed with the opening statements. Mr. Williams, you may begin.” She gestured toward the prosecution, and you exhaled, the sound barely audible beneath the murmurs of the court.

The prosecutor stood, a man in his thirties with short and neatly combed, blonde hair and a no-nonsense demeanor. He was dressed in a simple black suit, his posture straight and commanding as he turned to face the jury.

“Thank you, Your Honor,” he said, his voice firm but calm. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the case we present today is about the pursuit of justice for a victim of an atrocious crime. The defendant, Mr. Collins, is accused of a series of actions that have left an indelible mark on the life of the victim. We will present evidence that shows not only his guilt but his complete disregard for the consequences of his actions.”

Your throat went dry as he spoke, the words piercing you like shards of glass. It was all coming out—everything you had worked so hard to bury. And as the prosecutor continued, you could feel the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest.

The prosecutor turned slightly toward you, acknowledging you without actually speaking your name. You swallowed hard, your fingers twitching slightly in the brace.

“Witnesses will testify, documents will be presented, and video footage will be shown,” the prosecutor continued. “By the end of this trial, the only conclusion you will be able to draw is that Mr. Collins committed the acts of which he is accused, and that he must be held accountable.”

He sat down, giving the jury a moment to digest his words. You could feel the weight of their eyes, their gaze locked on either you or Collins as they tried to assess the truth of what had been laid before them.

“Ms. Avery,” the judge said, turning to the defense. “You may present your opening statement.”

The defense attorney stood again, her hands steepled in front of her as she addressed the jury, her tone more calculated than Mr. Williams'.

“Ladies and gentlemen, what the prosecution would have you believe is a clear-cut case is not as simple as they make it appear. Yes, my client has been accused, but that does not mean he is guilty. The prosecution will present a case based on circumstantial evidence, on theories and assumptions that are far from conclusive.” Her voice was smooth and persuasive, weaving through the air like silk. It wasn't for nothing that Hotch had warned you about her, you thought, swallowing the lump stuck in your throat.

She paused, allowing the jury to absorb her words. “What they will not tell you is that there is no direct evidence linking my client to several of the crimes he's accused of. No confession. No forensic evidence that definitively ties him to these allegations. Instead, they will attempt to sway you with emotion, to exploit the trauma of the victim and push you toward a verdict based on sympathy rather than facts.”

Your chest tightened. The words hit harder than you expected, and for a moment, you couldn’t help but feel a little light-headed. You weren’t just a victim in the eyes of the defense—you were a symbol to be used, manipulated for their case, hoping you would mess up. You felt your hand tighten in your brace, the pain that came from the pressure was enough to keep your thoughts away from your mind.

Ms. Avery wasn’t finished yet. She paced in front of the jury, each step deliberate, as if marking the space she claimed as her own. “We will show that the prosecution’s case is built on conjecture. We will show that the victim’s testimony, while certainly painful, is not enough to prove guilt beyond a reasonable doubt.”

She shot a quick glance toward you, her eyes calculating, trying to figure out your train of thought, before continuing, “We will show that the truth is not so simple.”

The words settled over you like a blanket of ice, and you had to force yourself to breathe, to crack free. You could feel Hotch’s hand move slightly closer to yours, his fingers brushing against yours for just a second.

The judge cleared her throat. “Thank you, Ms. Avery. We will now proceed with the presentation of evidence.”

The room grew quieter, and more focused as the trial moved into the next phase. A team of forensic experts, investigators, and even a few of your former teammates would take the stand. Each piece of evidence, each testimony, would build the case against Collins, piece by piece.

The process was long, but it was necessary. And as you listened, as you tried to hold yourself together, you found strength in the presence of those who stood with you—Hotch, the BAU, everyone who believed you.

This trial wasn’t just about a man who had wronged you, how he had wronged and murdered others. It was about putting together the pieces of your own story, confronting the damage he had done, and finally taking control of the narrative, hoping that you could flip the page and begin a new chapter.

The courtroom buzzed with a tense energy. The prosecution had laid their case, outlining the terrifying events of Collins' rampage, while the defense had attempted to argue his mental state, trying to paint him as a victim of his circumstances. But now, the stage was set for the witnesses—people who had been right in the thick of it, people who had lived through the investigation.

Hotch sat in the gallery, his posture rigid as always. The back of his neck tingled with the weight of the moment—the weight of the entire investigation, the lives that had been touched, and the trauma that lingered in the air.

"Agent Hotchner, please take the stand," the judge's voice echoed through the room.

You watched as Hotch stood, his broad shoulders filling the space as he made his way to the witness box. His face remained unreadable, but you knew him well enough by now to see the subtle tension in his jaw, the quiet focus in his eyes. He didn’t flinch when the room fell into a silence, all eyes on him.

After swearing him in, the prosecutor began his questioning.

"Agent Hotchner," the prosecutor said, adjusting his glasses, "You were the lead investigator in this case. Can you explain to the court how the BAU approached the investigation?"

Hotch’s voice was steady as he began, each word measured and precise. “We began by securing the crime scene and identifying the potential connections between the victims. The first priority was to gather as much evidence as possible to understand the unsub’s motives, patterns, and any links to prior incidents. Once we had a profile of the suspect, we worked to narrow down potential suspects in the area and focused our efforts on tracking down Collins once we had identified him as our main suspect.”

His eyes flickered over the room briefly, but his attention remained fixed on the prosecutor. You couldn’t help but feel respect for him. His methodical approach, his composure—it was all so deliberate, so composed. Even in this moment, standing before a courtroom full of people, he was the same Hotch you knew from the investigation. How he did it you did not know.

"And how did you handle the situation when you discovered that Collins might be a danger to those closest to him?" the prosecutor pressed, his voice a little sharper.

Hotch’s expression remained unreadable. "We immediately began working with local law enforcement to put measures in place. The situation was time-sensitive, and we knew that if we didn’t act quickly, there was a real risk that Collins could harm more people—especially those connected to the investigation."

He paused for a moment, taking a breath, his eyes now narrowing slightly as he added, “It’s our job to not only stop the unsub but to protect the innocent. At all costs.”

The weight of his words hit hard, the room quiet except for the sound of a pen scratching paper. It wasn’t just a statement about his job. It was about everything—the responsibility that came with being part of a team like the BAU, the lives they were meant to protect, the people who trusted them with their safety.

The prosecutor leaned in slightly, then spoke again. “And can you speak to the specifics of the threat Collins posed? How close did the situation come to escalation?"

Hotch's voice grew even firmer as he replied, "We knew that Collins was unpredictable, and his erratic behavior indicated that he was capable of extreme violence. We had no way of knowing when or where he would strike next, so our strategy was to close in on him as quickly as possible to neutralize the threat before anyone else was hurt by being present at major events regarding the athletes he was targeting."

The prosecutor nodded, clearly satisfied with the answer. The court seemed to hold its collective breath as he continued with his questioning, but Hotch stood strong.

As the questioning shifted to the specifics of the arrest and the team’s coordination, you couldn’t help but think back to everything that had led up to this moment—the fear, the adrenaline, and the quiet relief when Collins had finally been taken down. It felt like a lifetime ago, but the emotions were still as raw as the day it had happened.

And through it all, Hotch had remained the anchor—steadfast, always holding everyone together.

The defense attorney cleared his throat, standing and adjusting her suit before turning her attention to Hotch. She had spent the trial circling the BAU's methods, scrutinizing every step of their investigation, but now it seemed she was going for something more personal.

"Agent Hotchner," the Ms. Avery began, her voice smooth and probing. "I’d like to turn to a different subject. I believe you and Ms. [L/N] have developed a relationship over the course of this investigation. Is that correct?"

Hotch’s expression didn’t shift, his demeanor as professional as ever. He met the defense attorney’s gaze without hesitation. “That’s correct,” he replied evenly.

The attorney raised an eyebrow, leaning slightly forward as she pressed on. "And this relationship has become romantic, yes?"

Hotch didn’t flinch, his voice was controlled. “We did not become romantically involved until after the investigation was concluded. Before that, Ms. [L/N] and I were not involved in any personal way. We were working together to apprehend the suspect.”

The attorney’s lips curled slightly, clearly not satisfied with the answer, and she continued. "So you’re saying that your personal relationship with Ms. [L/N] has no bearing on how the investigation was conducted? You can assure the court that it didn’t cloud your judgment or affect the outcome of the case?"

“Absolutely,” Hotch responded firmly. “Our personal relationship developed after the case was over. During the investigation, I was fully focused on the task at hand—solving the case. My team and I conducted ourselves with professionalism, and that includes the way we handled every aspect of the investigation.”

There was no hesitation in his response. Hotch was calm, his posture unyielding, as if he had already anticipated the line of questioning.

The defense attorney took a slow step back, but her gaze remained sharp. “So, despite the nature of your personal connection with Ms. [L/N], you assert that the integrity of the investigation was never compromised?”

“My professional responsibility to the case, my team, and the victims, took precedence over everything else. The relationship didn’t come into play during the investigation. I assure you, and this court, that the focus was solely on gathering evidence and apprehending the suspect.”

There was a moment of silence as the Ms. Avery tried to gauge whether she should press on, but Hotch’s professionalism seemed to have deterred him. The attorney finally shifted her focus back to the case details, seemingly realizing that no further personal questions would shake the unit chief's resolve.

Hotch held his ground, his voice and demeanor a clear representation of the principles that guided his actions. The personal connection between he and you was secondary to the pursuit of justice. That was the truth, and nothing in this courtroom could change that.

As the defense moved on, Hotch let out a quiet breath. The questioning had been intense, but the focus was where it needed to be. His mind stayed centered on what mattered—justice for the victims, and closure for everyone involved. He didn’t need to explain anything further about his feelings for you; what mattered was what had been done during the investigation.

The air in the courtroom shifted as the bailiff called your name, a silence falling over the room. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you had to fight the urge to let your hands shake as you stood, walking toward the witness stand with unsteady legs. You tried not to look at Collins, but you could feel his cold gaze on you, piercing through the room. Every step you took felt heavier, as though the weight of the entire courtroom was bearing down on you.

You took your seat and swore to tell the truth, but even as the words left your lips, you couldn’t shake the knot in your stomach. You weren’t sure how much longer you could keep it together.

Ms. Avery was already rising, her voice smooth as she approached, an air of confidence that set your teeth on edge. Her tone was practiced, almost patronizing as she began.

“Ms. [L/N], you were once a student of Mr. Collins when you were just a child, correct?” She asked, her eyes cold and calculating as they locked onto you.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “Yes.”

"And at that time, he was your coach, your mentor. You looked up to him, didn't you?" the attorney pressed, stepping closer.

You nodded stiffly. “Yes, he was my coach.”

The attorney’s eyes narrowed, and you could tell she was starting to lay the groundwork for something far more sinister. “And throughout that time, you trusted him, didn't you? He helped shape your career. He’s the reason you’re here today, isn’t that right?”

The question felt like a weight crashing down on you, but you nodded again, trying to keep your composure. “He helped me, yes. He taught me.”

The attorney paced in front of you, her voice still smooth. “But now, many years later, you’re accusing him of sexual and verbal assault. Isn’t that interesting? You’ve had years to think about this, to come to terms with your feelings, and yet, after all that time, you choose now to speak up. What do you think that says about you, Ms. [L/N]?”

The words stung, her insinuations digging deep. “You’re suggesting, then, that what happened all those years ago, as a child, didn’t really matter? That maybe you’ve distorted the facts, or perhaps even created them in your mind?” She continued, her tone growing more biting.

You felt a surge of frustration building in your chest. How dare she? How dare she try to invalidate everything you had endured, everything you had carried with you all these years? Everything you had fought to get back the memories of?

You took a deep breath, your voice shaky but resolute. “What he did to me was real,” you said, your words coming out with a force you didn’t expect. “It doesn’t matter how much time has passed. It was real, and I’m not going to let anyone, especially you, make it seem like it wasn’t.”

The defense didn’t back down, instead pushing harder. “But you were just a child. How can you truly claim that what happened was assault? You’re telling the court that everything Mr. Collins did to you, everything you experienced, was something you couldn’t handle, that you couldn’t have misunderstood?”

The question felt like a slap in the face, but you didn’t flinch. You stared at her, the anger rising within you, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. “No,” you said firmly, your voice trembling with emotion. “I’m telling the court that I was a child, and he took advantage of me. And I’m not here to let you twist that, no matter how hard you try.”

There was a brief, tense silence in the room as the attorney stared at you, probably realizing that her words weren’t going to break you. Her mouth tightened, but you didn’t care. You had already said what needed to be said.

The judge’s voice rang out then, sharp and commanding. “This is a courtroom, not a place for personal attacks. Proceed with the questions, but remember your professional conduct.”

You nodded quickly, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. The defense attorney seemed to think better of pushing further for now, shifting the line of questioning. But the damage had been done.

You knew now more than ever that you could face whatever came next. Because the truth had already been spoken, and nothing they said could take that away.

The prosecutor stood up next, and the shift in energy was noticeable. The defense attorney had tried to discredit you, but now it was the prosecution’s turn to make sure your truth was heard. The prosecutor’s presence felt like a breath of fresh air after the tense exchange with the defense.

He approached the stand with grace. You hadn’t realized how much you needed someone to stand in your corner, but now, with the prosecutor’s calm, confident demeanor, you felt a small sense of relief.

“Ms. [L/N], I know this has been incredibly difficult, but I need to ask you to recount what happened at the Regionals, the events that led up to Mr. Collins’s arrest. Could you please walk us through what occurred that day?”

You nodded slowly, trying to steady your racing heart. You thought back to the competition, to everything that had led to that moment. It felt like it had happened so fast, like it had all been a blur.

“At Regionals... it was supposed to be the culmination of everything I’d worked for,” you began, the words coming out slowly at first. “I was focused, I had to be. But there was something about that day—something felt off.”

“The competition started, and I tried to push it all aside, tried to focus on what I was doing on the ice. And then he showed himself.”

Your breath hitched, but you kept going. You had to.

“He threatened me, tried to shoot. And I ran. Or rather skated off, trying to stay out of line not to get hurt.”

The room was silent, every eye focused on you. You took another breath, trying to steady yourself, but it wasn’t easy. The memories, the rawness of them, felt too fresh, too painful.

“And that’s when Mr. Hotchner and the BAU stepped in and took him down” the prosecutor continued, nodding toward Hotch, who sat at the back of the courtroom.  “Can you tell us how they were involved?”

You turned slightly, your eyes meeting Hotch’s for a moment. He was watching you, his expression soft but resolute. It gave you strength, knowing he was there.

“Yes,” you said, a slight tremor in your voice as you began again. “When I left the ice, I... I didn’t know where to go. I was terrified. But I knew I couldn’t go back. Once everything was safe again, Agent Hotchner came to find me to make sure I hadn't gotten hurt.”

“Hotch and the team... they made sure I was safe. They took my statements, and they didn’t waste any time. They found out everything they needed to, all the evidence, all the details.”

You swallowed, your throat tight, but you pressed on. “I didn’t have to fight this alone. The BAU made sure of that.”

The prosecutor nodded, his voice reassuring as they continued. “And when Mr. Collins was arrested, how did that feel?”

You took a deep breath, the question pressing against you. “It felt like... like a weight had been lifted. Like I could finally breathe again. But it wasn’t just about the arrest—it was about what it meant. That someone believed me.”

The prosecutor smiled at you, though it was small. “Thank you, Ms. [L/N]. No further questions.”

As he stepped back, you felt a weight lift off your chest. You had spoken your truth, and you knew, deep down, that it had been the right thing to do. You had done your part.

And now, it was time to let justice take its course.

The courtroom fell into an expectant hush as the jury returned. Eric Collins sat in his chair, his expression unreadable, his hands clasped tightly in front of him, while you sat in your seat, your heart pounding in your chest, your hands clenched tightly in your lap.

The judge looked over at the jury foreman, who stood, a piece of paper in hand. The judge’s voice rang out clear and steady as he asked, “Has the jury reached a verdict?”

The foreman nodded, his expression earnest. “We have, Your Honor.”

You held your breath as the foreman read aloud, “We, the jury, find the defendant, Eric Collins, guilty on all charges.”

The words echoed in the courtroom, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. The weight of the verdict settled into your chest. It was over. The man who had tried to destroy your life was now held accountable for his actions. The realization, though it didn’t erase the pain, brought a sense of closure that you never thought you would feel.

Collins didn’t react—he didn’t even flinch. But you noticed a small shift in his posture, a slight tension in his shoulders, as if the reality of the verdict was finally sinking in or if he was considering appealing the judgement. Regardless, he would pay for what he had done.

Hotch, who had been sitting next to you the entire trial, reached out and placed a reassuring hand on your thigh. You hadn’t even realized how tense you had become until you felt his touch. It was steadying, comforting, and you leaned into it, giving a small nod of acknowledgment.

The judge addressed the room again, his voice firm. “The court will reconvene for sentencing at a later date. In the meantime, the defendant is remanded into custody.”

Collins was escorted from the courtroom, his face stoic. You didn’t watch him leave. Instead, you focused on the moment—the moment when the system had listened, and when justice had finally been served.

As the courtroom began to clear, you remained seated, the full weight of everything still settling over you. Hotch remained by your side, never once moving away.

"You did it," he said quietly, his words almost a whisper.

You managed a small smile, though the exhaustion was written all over your face. “We did it,” you corrected him softly, your voice hoarse from everything you had been through.

Hotch nodded, and for a moment, neither of you said anything more. You just sat there, a shared understanding passing between the two of you. It wasn’t over—not completely—but it was a step forward. And that, for now, was enough.

The kitchen was quiet, the only sounds coming from the hum of the fridge and the faint tapping of raindrops against the windows. The room was dimly lit, the warm light from the overhead lamp casting a gentle glow on the counter, where two mugs of coffee sat, cooling. You and Hotch had just returned to your apartment after the trial, everything still felt heavy, but there was a relief in the air now—something you couldn’t quite put into words.

You stood by the counter, wrapping your hand around your mug. Hotch was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you with a quiet intensity. You could feel the pull between you, the unspoken understanding of everything that had passed between the two of you for the past couple of months.

“Do you ever think about how everything changed?” you asked, breaking the silence, your voice soft, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the delicate peace in the room.

Hotch’s gaze softened as he stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “Every day,” he said quietly. “But I think it was for the better. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

You swallowed, his words settling in your chest. “I don’t feel strong,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I feel like everything’s been... out of my control.”

He reached out, his hand gently brushing against yours. “You’ve handled more than anyone should ever have to. But you’ve come through it.”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you just nodded, taking a sip of your coffee to steady yourself. You weren’t sure when it happened, but somehow, Hotch had become someone you relied on—someone who made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

He stepped closer, his fingers brushing against the side of your arm. His touch was gentle, but there was a warmth to it that sent a shiver down your spine. The space between you was shrinking, and you could feel his presence filling the room. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze flickering to your lips, then back up to your eyes.

You couldn’t ignore it anymore—the way your heart was racing, the way your body seemed to respond to him without thought. You took a slow breath, feeling a wave of vulnerability rush through you.

“Hotch…” Your voice stuttered, but you didn’t want to pull away. You didn’t want him to leave—not now, not after everything.

He closed the space between you, his hand resting on your shoulder, his thumb brushing over the fabric of your shirt. His voice was low, almost a whisper. “It’s okay.”

Before you could respond, he was kissing you—gentle at first, his lips brushing against yours in a tentative exploration. Your breath hitched, and instinctively, you reached up, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, and the warmth between you intensified, the slow, gentle rhythm of it turning into something more urgent, more heated.

Hotch’s hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer as if there were no space left between you that needed to be filled. You could feel the tension in his body, the same tension you had felt all throughout the trial—only now, it was different. Now, it was alive in the way his hands slid under your shirt, the heat of his touch burning through your skin.

You responded, your own hands finding their way to his neck, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging him closer, desperate to feel more of him. The kiss became more passionate, the need for connection undeniable. He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with desire.

“You’re sure?” he asked, his voice a low growl, his breath coming uneven.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yes. I’m sure.”

And with that, Hotch’s lips crashed back to yours, and the world around you disappeared. It was just the two of you in that moment—no trials, no past, no uncertainty. Just him, just you, and the feeling that, for once, everything was finally falling into place.

The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as you pulled him back to you, your body pressing into his, responding to the intensity of the moment. His hands roamed down to your hips, pulling you against him, your body flushing with heat. You could feel the thrum of his heartbeat against yours, each beat matching the rhythm of your own.

It was impossible to think of anything else—nothing else mattered except the feeling of his lips on yours, the warmth of his touch, and the connection that seemed to surge between you, stronger than anything either of you had ever known.

As the heat between you and Hotch continued to build, your kisses growing more passionate and urgent by the second, you suddenly found yourself swept up in his strong arms. With a mischievous glint in his eye, Hotch murmured against your lips, "Jump."

Trusting completely in him, you leaped into his embrace, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist. He caught you effortlessly, his hands cupping your ass as he carried you out of the kitchen and down the hall to your bedroom.

Kicking open the door, he carried you inside, his lips never leaving yours as he lowered you gently onto the bed. You moaned softly as you felt the soft duvet beneath your back, the fabric a contrast to the heat radiating off Hotch's body.

He gazed down at you, his eyes taken in every inch of your curves. Slowly, teasingly, he trailed a finger down your neck, between your breasts, and over your stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. "You're so beautiful," he breathed, his voice low and husky. "I want to worship every inch of you."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body aching for his touch. Impatiently, you reached up to tug at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours. He obliged with a wicked grin, pulling the garment over his head and tossing it aside. And soon your own clothes followed

You gasped softly as you took in the sight of his chest and the outline of his biceps, your fingers itching to explore every dip and curve. But before you could touch him, Hotch was on you again, his lips trailing hot kisses down your neck and chest.

He took his time lavishing attention on your breasts, his tongue swirling around each nipple before he drew them into his mouth to suck and nibble. You arched beneath him, tangling your fingers in his hair and holding him close.

Hotch's hands roamed lower, skimming over your hips and thighs. His fingers teased along the edge of your panties, dipping beneath the fabric to caress your already damp folds.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned against your skin, his voice strained with desire. "You're so wet for me already. I can't wait to be inside you."

His words only served to fuel your arousal, your hips bucking up against his hand in a desperate search for more. Hotch seemed to sense your need, quickly divesting you of your remaining clothes until you lay bare before him.

He took a moment to drink in the sight of you, his eyes roaming over your naked form with a look of pure hunger. "God, I want to taste you," he rasped, settling between your thighs. "I want to feel you come apart on my tongue."

Before you could respond, he dipped his head, his tongue delving into your already dripping folds. You cried out at the first touch, your head falling back against the pillows as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

Hotch lapped at you greedily, his tongue exploring every crevice and fold with precision. He circled your clit with the tip of his tongue, flicking over the sensitive bud again and again until you were writhing beneath him.

As your moans grew louder and more urgent, Hotch slid two fingers inside you, curling them just right to hit that spot, the one that made stars burst behind your eyelids. "That's it, baby," he purred, his breath ghosting over your skin. "Let me hear how good I make you feel."

Your hands flew to his hair, holding him in place as he worked you over. Your thighs trembled on either side of his head, your hips rocking against his mouth in a desperate search for more.

"Don't stop," you keened, your voice hoarse with pleasure. "Please, Hotch. I'm so close."

He doubled his efforts, sucking hard on your clit as his fingers pumped in and out of you. The pleasure was almost too much to bear, building and building until it finally crested over you in a tidal wave of ecstasy.

You screamed his name as you came, your body convulsing beneath him. He worked you through it, prolonging your orgasm until you were boneless and spent, collapsing back against the mattress.

But Hotch was far from done with you. Crawling up your body, he captured your lips in a searing kiss that tasted of your own arousal. You could feel his erection pressing against you.

Breaking the kiss, he reached down to undo his pants, shoving them down just far enough to free his cock. You bit your lip at the sight, your arousal spiking even higher than before.

"I need to be inside you," he groaned, positioning himself at your entrance. "I need to feel you wrapped around me."

You nodded breathlessly, wrapping your legs around his waist. He surged forward, burying himself deep inside you with one smooth thrust. You both groaned at the sensation, your bodies fitting together like they were made for each other.

Hotch set a slow, sensual pace, his hips rocking against yours in a steady rhythm. He leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth in time with his thrusts.

Your hands roamed over his back, feeling the play of muscles beneath his skin as he moved above you. You could feel every inch of him inside you, stretching you in the most delicious way.

As the pleasure built higher and higher, you could feel yourself tensing, coiling tighter and tighter with each pass of his cock. "Aaron," you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders. "I'm so close. Don't stop."

He answered with a growl, his thrusts becoming harder and faster. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your moans and cries of pleasure. You could feel him pulsing inside you, growing thicker and harder with each passing second.

"Come for me, baby," he groaned, his voice strained with effort. "Come all over my cock. I want to feel you squeezing me."

His words were all it took to send you hurtling over the edge once more. You came with a silent scream, your body shuddering and convulsing beneath him as wave after wave of bliss crashed over you. Hotch followed a second later, burying himself deep inside you.

He collapsed on top of you, both of you gasping for breath as you rode out the aftershocks of your orgasms. He pressed soft kisses to your face and neck, murmuring words of love and devotion against your skin.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "I love you so fucking much."

"I love you too," you whispered back, tangling your fingers in his hair. "More than anything."

He smiled against your skin, rolling onto his side and pulling you close. You nestled into his arms, your body still tingling with pleasure.

Hotch had his arm around you, his hand resting on your waist. You melted into his touch, your body fitting perfectly against his, the weight of the day and everything that had come before fading into the background. In his arms, you felt safe, as if you were exactly where you were meant to be.

You didn’t need to say anything. There were no words that could capture the quiet perfection of the moment, the way everything seemed to have fallen into place without either of you trying. The chaos of the trial, the fears, the insecurities—all of it seemed so far away now, replaced with the simple comfort of his presence.

His fingers gently traced circles on your hip. You could feel his chest rise and fall beneath you, the rhythm of his heartbeat steady and grounding. Your own breath was slow as your eyelids grew heavy, the exhaustion of the past weeks, months even, finally catching up with you.

You shifted slightly, finding the perfect spot to nestle into him, his body surrounding you like a cocoon. His lips brushed the top of your head in a tender kiss, and you let out a soft sigh, a smile tugging at your lips. Everything felt effortless now, as if the world had fallen into place with a single, perfect kiss.

“Goodnight,” Hotch murmured, his voice low and steady, his hand resting on your back, pulling you even closer.

You couldn’t help but smile as you closed your eyes. “Goodnight, Hotch.”

And just like that, with his heartbeat thumping steadily in your ear, you fell asleep. Wrapped up in each other, you both drifted off, finding peace in the simplicity of being together, knowing that everything was perfect.

Tag list: @love4lando @therealbaberuthless @crazyunsexycool @pear-1206 @bookworm124 @itsmytimetoodream @c-losur3 @lumestar @evvy96 @booknerd2004 @werebearcocoon @hotchnersgirlxx @jazzimac1967 @gamingfeline @soyobi-wankenobi @meg-black @maxinehufflepuffprincess @multifandombliss

[soo0hee]

Just One Chance

This is part of the Lonely Hearts Cafe Collab by @camandemstudios

Pairing — Boo SeungkwanxReader

Summary — while for some valentines day was a day spend filled with love, compassion and roses, for you it was a total disaster. Alone and dissapointed you return home after what was suppossed to be the saving grace for your relationship where you were met with your best friend and roommate Boo Seungkwan. Maybe your night wouldn't end with total catastrophe...

Genre — fluff, maybe a lil hurt/comfort if you will

AU/Trope Info — Non!IdolAU

Wordcount — 3.1k

Warnings — ex-boyfriends being idiots, Kwannie being a jealous and rambling cutie

Rating — PG-13

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©soo0hee on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!

“And you are sure you want to give him another chance?” Seungkwan asked with his eyebrow raised almost into his hairline and his arms crossed in front of his chest. He was leaning against the wooden frame of your door, eyes not straying away for even a second and more than a little displeased about the fact that you had yet again, chosen to give that asshat you called your boyfriend a chance to make up for all the dates he had missed over the last few months.

Yes, months. How you were still able to simply look past all this dicks faults when he had already told you he would change for the, what felt like millionth time, and every single time it left you more disappointed than the last time. And every single time it was Seungkwan, who had picked up the pieces after he was met with teary eyes, hunched over shoulder and the expression of a kicked puppy that had his heart skip a beat upon you entering your shared apartment after another failed night with Nick.

Oh, how Seungkwan learned to hate that name. Just the mention of it made him feel livid enough to want to punch a hole into his rooms wall and yet he would wait for you to come home time and time again with your favorite fuzzy blanket, your favorite cup; a bag of your favorite tea already waiting to be poured over with boiling water, a tub of ice cream equipped with two gigantic spoons and open arms for you to fall into when you needed him to just listen to your angry huffs that, in his humble opinion made you look more like an angry teddy bear then a real threat to society.

Not once had he send you away when you were faced with yet another disappointing night in which your boyfriend had either failed to give you more attention than his phone, flirted with anything that wasn´t sitting in a tree at the count of three while you were sitting right beside him and not bother showing up at all. And even when he hated how the result always seemed to be the same, Seungkwan would rather burn in hell then stop being the person you came to after your failed nights with Nick.

Even if it ripped his heart to shreds to witness you running back to a man that was so clearly not interested in what you had to offer. A man that didn´t see the love, the care, the kindness and so many more things you were willing to give in a relationship. A man, who was evidently not him.

Even then he would wait for you.

“Just this last time Boo. It´s Valentine ’s Day after all and I want to see if at least tonight, Nick can follow through with his promises. If he does, then fine I’m willing to give him another chance but if not, he can finally go to hell.” You sighed and applied one last layer of lip-gloss before smacking your lips together with a pop.

Seungkwan pursed his lips, already having a feeling that this night was not going to be different to all the other times.

“How do I look?” Turning around to face your friend and roommate you tilted your head to the side with a questioning look on your face.

Many words were burning on the tip of his tongue to be said.

Beautiful, ravishing, gorgeous, stunning, angelic and so many more clouded his mind and yet he only settled for a simple, “Good.”

You rolled your eyes at his blunt answer but you also knew that Seungkwan meant it when he said so. He was no liar, at least he had never lied to you about anything and you trusted your judgment and gut maybe a little more then you should. After all, your gut had also once told you what a great guy Nick was.

Seungkwan watched you get up and grab your purse from your desk.

“Do you know when you´ll be home again?”

His question was met with a shrug. “Depends on how the night will go really. I could be back in an hour, late at night or tomorrow morning. Honestly at this point can´t say I expect much.”

‘Then don´t go!’ was what he wanted to say but stayed silent. It was no use. He knew how stubborn you could be and that if you put your mind to something the chance of him getting you to change your mind was slim to nonexistent. And so he sends you out the door with a wave.

His own plans were rather simple. Without a date and no real desire to leave the coziness of your shared home, Seungkwan preferred the quietness of a night in. His companion for the night? Left over Jajangmyeon that was still in the fridge, Netflix and maybe, if he was lucky enough he would find the Soju you had hidden somewhere in the apartment.

The plans were quite sad if you remembered that today was Valentine’s Day but that was nothing that really bothered him. Sure, his friends had teased him mercilessly for not asking out the girl that served him his coffee every morning before he went to work with an extra sweet bat of her eyes but Seungkwan could not remember a day on which he had even once indulged her flirtations. So yes, his plans were boring and Seungkwan was absolutely fine with that.

One movie turned into two and just when he thought his night would be spent alone, he could hear the beeping sound of the entrance code be punched into the lock system before the door opened and you entered the apartment on soft soles. How you managed to do that in the heels you were wearing Seungkwan had no clue.

The man turned his head to catch your eyes and the slightly amused smile was immediately whipped from his face; the “I told you so.” That had been waiting to be said suddenly stuck in his throat.

Fresh tear tracks were glistening on the apple of your cheeks, make up smudged and your eyes still watery like you had stopped crying just a few moments ago.

You dropped your purse carelessly on the floor, kicked the heels away and trudged over to where your roommate was waiting with his arm held out so you could take his hand; pulling you down and into his side where you buried your face into the soft material of his shirt.

Seungkwan didn´t mind the mascara which would no doubt stain the fabric. He´d just wash the shirt the next day when he did his laundry either way.

“Don´t you want to tell me that you told me so and that I’m dumb for thinking tonight could be any different?” your words were muffled by the fabric but could be heard well enough and while the words had undoubtedly something he was going to say, he also felt quite bad that he even had the chance to say them. He had hoped that for once you didn´t come home downtrodden and that for once Nick had gotten his shit together.

“No, I’m just sorry that it happened again. What was it this time? You were out for quite some time?” Seungkwan comforted gently, fingers tracing over the back of your neck where your hair exposed the skin.

“It was fine. Nick was punctual, nice and paid attention and I thought, wow! He really surprised me there. And then when we were about the order dessert suddenly this girl stood at our table. Causing a scene and yelling about what an ass he was and if I’m the bitch he replaced her with as if, and I quote, “He hadn´t spend the last 6 months fucking her every weekend!” Kwan he didn´t cheat on me. I was the he cheated with! It was so humiliating.”

Two things were on his mind hearing this. One, the urge to drive over to Nicks place and punch the lights out of him. And two, tell him what an utter fool he was for treating you like a toy that could be put on the shelf until he wanted to play again.

“I feel so dumb. How did I not see this? How did I honestly thing he was worth giving him so many chance when all Nick did was treat me like dirt?” you twisted your head a bit to glance up at Seungkwan`s face through your lashes.

Pushing back the urge to bend down and press his mouth to the slight pout of your lips, Seungkwan shook his head.

“Don´t say that, you´re not dumb! You were just… in love…” he choked out his last words like they were poison in his mouth.

Somehow his words shook something inside you.

Were you really in love with Nick? Was that really what it was? Or was it you holding onto someone because you didn´t want to be alone anymore?

“Maybe…” you sighed just to turn your head back into your roommate, arms thrown around his mid section.

The TV filled the silence between you with mindless banter which went in over your head.

“You know what? We won´t let tonight end like this! Go to your room, wipe those tears away and wear something comfortable.” He nudged you a bit, words met with a grumble on your side.

“What why?” you questioned and refused to move.

Seungkwan nudged you again, this time harder and you let go to sit up and stare at him as he freed himself from the blanket thrown over his legs and lap to get up. Your arms fell a bit, hands reaching for your own to pull you up from the couch.

“You´ll see. Meet you here in 10.”

Confused but following his instruction you stumbled to your room. You got rid of the slightly too tight dress and opted for sweat pants and a hoodie you had stolen from Seungkwan some time ago. Well, stolen might not be the right word for this. Seungkwan knew very well where it was, he had seen you wearing it often enough and even put it on your bed again after having done his washing multiple times. Ignoring that half of your closet at this point consisted of his clothes.

“Are you ready?” Seungkwan called from the hallway and stuck his head through the door.

You nodded and slipped into your sneakers; Seungkwan handing you your jacket he had picked up from the living room floor.

“Then come on.”

The cold of a February night hit you in the face and you hooked your arm into the man`s by your side.

“Are you going to tell me where we are going?” you asked, still not sure what he was up to.

“Just walk with me. You´ll see.” He hummed and pulled you along with him. You realized that Seungkwan was not planning on telling you where you were going and so you decided to simply enjoy his company.

The night was cold and you were glad you had your jacket on because you were sure you wouldn´t have survived this walk if not.

You took in the neighborhood, walking past stores and restaurants you usually hurried past without paying them much mind when you either went to work or returned from it and only wanted to bury yourself in your bed. They looked cozy, like something you would love to check out sometime soon. Maybe Seungkwan could join you for that and only as you walked further did you realize where you went.

The sight of the water of the Han River rippling as wind brushed over it, on some place close to the shore even frozen from the drop in temperature opened itself and the lights of the city reflecting beautifully on the surface as you made your way to the park close to where you were.

Visiting this place was definitely something you should do more often. The sight was amazing and in midst of the buzzing city, it was a welcoming place of quietness that had something magically to offer. The light of the street posts lighting up the way, bathing it in a soft glow and giving Seungkwan a little halo over his dark brown hair with his muffs on his ears.

You watched his side profile as you walked together, and something inside your stomach stirred.

It wasn´t that you didn´t know Seungkwan was handsome, no you weren´t blind after all, you could see why he was constantly fawned over by your girlfriends or why when he was out men and women were turning their heads to look after him when passing by them. But never had it made you feel like you were a fool for not realizing just how beautiful he was when you looked closer like you did now.

His soft, slightly ruffled hair fell in gentle waves, strands framing his face like the frame of a portray, enhanced its impact. The puffy coat he was wearing almost swallowed him, making him appear much smaller then he actually was and like a giant teddy bear you wanted to hug as much as he would let you.

“You should just take a picture if you plan staring at me all night. It holds longer and you can take it anywhere you go, that way I’d always be with you.” He teased and winked at you.

You felt heat flush your cheeks at being caught in your staring.

“Sorry!” you squealed higher then you had intended and looked to the ground in shame. Seungkwan chuckled in amusement.

“It´s fine. I know I look amazing.”

You scoffed in mock offence and punched his shoulder with the hand not hooked around his arm. He dramatically pulled a face.

“You´re so mean! Punching me when all I’m trying to do is being a good friend!”

“You´re a little shit, is what you are!”

Seungkwan grabbed his heart, acting like he had just been shot in the chest. His theatrics made you laugh freely. It was the first time since you had left the restaurant a few hours ago in which you felt like you were where you were supposed to be.

“This? That smile you have right now? This suits you so much better than the tears from earlier.”

You let out a soft sigh, smile still painted onto your face. Seungkwan lifted his arm, brushing a lose lash away from your cheek as it clung to it. The warmth of his skin seeping into your bones, even if only for one tiny moment. Your heart sunk at the missing feeling just the smallest bit.

“I´m glad, I-” you began yet stopped when your eyes caught his. The lumps in your throat making it almost impossible to speak without sounding like you were going to cry again. Not because of Nick, no. All you were able to think about was Seungkwan.

Seungkwan who made you laugh every moment spend together. Seungkwan who cared more for his friends then for himself oftentimes. Seungkwan who had a soft spot for his baby bookkeu. Seungkwan who breathed smiles and energy and Seungkwan who managed to make your knees weak with the simplest of actions.

Waiting for you to continue Seungkwan looked at you with his hand tilted to the side.

“Thank you, for being here. For having my back…”

His eyes softened at this.

“You never need to thank me for that, y/n. You can always trust me to have your back when you need me. I´ll be there.”

His breath fanned over your cold skin, eyes flickering down to your mouth as nibbled on your lower lip.

“Boo I-“you whispered into the night when you felt his lips on your own. Gently moving against them like he was afraid you´d run away any second before pulling away. The touch was only fleeting. Barely a few seconds and yet you weren´t able to shake it from your mind!

Abrupt Seungkwan pulled back, taking two steps back and away from you. His wide panicked eyes looking anywhere but you and your heart dropped at his violent reaction.

“I´m sorry, I´m so sorry! I shouldn’t have- this shouldn´t have happened and I wasn´t supposed to-“

Quickly you reached out to hold his flailing hands still in yours.

“Seungkwan stop!” you called out hoping to break through his panic but it was unsuccessful. Avoiding looking at you and trying to get his hands out of your soft grip, he tucked them back with little to no force.

“Stop!” you yelled once more and the man froze.

“Stop.”

“But you-“

“I´m not mad.”

“Why not? You should be. I shouldn´t have kissed you, it was a mistake! A mistake that shouldn´t have happened because I CAN`T lose you!” he rambled more to himself than he was talking to you.

Giving him your best –Don´t bullshit me- face you stared at him. “Who, in the ever loving fuck told you that you could ever lose me?”

Seungkwan shook his head, devastation written all over his face.

“You don´t know that. Because if you knew you would run.”

“Try me.”

Staring at you like you had grown a second head Seungkwan stood there not knowing what to do with himself.

“Try me and see what will happen Boo. I bet you´d be surprised.”

He sighed loudly and looked to the ground. Not brave enough to see how your face would inevitably change to one of disgust and rejection.

“I love you y/n. I´ve done so for ages and those last few months have slowly been killing me inside! I- i hate Nick for treating you like you weren´t something to be cherished every second of the day and I hate that you went back to him so many times even if you knew, you knew that he wouldn´t change. Nick was an asshole who is blind to how amazing you truly are. Who never knew how to treat you…”

It was amazing to witness the usually smooth talking Seungkwan fumbling for words. Stuttering like he didn´t know what to say and a scared in a way you rarely ever got see.

“…and if you could give me just one chance to proof that I can treat like you deserve, I would…”

Rushing to cut him off you roughly took a hold of his face to press another short yet sweet kiss to his lips before raising an eyebrow with a teasing smile dancing on your lips.

“One chance.”

[sassypleia]

Like my Blog, I’m curious by choice. It’s a natural instinct to want to know more. By nature I like to look at the whole puzzle and then do my research before entering my two cents to the conversation. Half theories and droplets of information is fine and dandy…. However it leaves way too much room for interpretation. Now you may say that’s hog wash and that anything we receive is gold.

But again… ever heard of fool’s gold?

“Fool's Gold can be one of three minerals. The most common mineral mistaken for gold is pyrite. Chalcopyrite may also appear gold-like, and weathered mica can mimic gold as well. Compared to actual gold, these minerals will flake, powder, or crumble when poked with a metal point, whereas gold will gouge or indent like soft lead. In addition, actual gold will leave a golden yellow streak when scraped on a piece of unglazed porcelain. Pyrite and chalcopyrite will leave a dark green to black streak and the common micas will leave a white streak (https://www.usgs.gov/faqs/what-fools-gold).

We are given information purely based on what is chosen to be released. The way I interpret an event, statement or picture could be different than how everyone else does. I see a kinship with Nic and Luke while others may not see this. Does not mean that I will go and lecture them on why they are wrong while I am correct. (Also does not stop the TROLLS from stating their own opinions).

What we saw on the WT and with all interviews published, they hold a strong bond and respect for one another. In the past we were spoiled with the WT so we saw them together all the time. Now that we do not see them interacting or together publicly does not mean BTS they are not. They have other projects and Bridgerton (Nic did confirm they popped in and out while filming). I think silence and the fact we don’t see what we had seen before speaks volumes. Especially since the WT was supposed to be PR (“supposed to” being the word to focus on) to get the word out about S3 dropping.

When we see behaviors changing between two people, we stop and think. Or we should, some of us went to the theory that they are beefing (insert eye roll 🙄 ). Because we saw their beautiful performance in S3, we knew that they had great chemistry. Always claimed that they had a great friendship. The interviews these two gave. Ofta. Put ideas in our heads. But realistically, it’s known to happen. Friendship like theirs could grow into love.

“The truth is that if the person you have strong romantic feelings for is already your friend, it’s a good thing! How and why? It’s because a close friendship lays a solid foundation for a romantic relationship!

Think about it: you already know them quite well. You know that they have great qualities (which is possibly why you caught feelings, to begin with), and you know and accept the flaws too. Hopefully, your friend also knows and accepts you as a whole.

So, there won’t be this need to be the best versions of yourselves in that initial phase of infatuation and attraction in the relationship (https://www.marriage.com/advice/love/signs-a-friendship-is-turning-into-love/)!

⬆️ A really good article! See the ⬇️ signs

17 signs that your friendship is blossoming into love:

1. The communication frequency suddenly increases

2. You start experiencing jealousy

3. The body language between you two evolves

4. You’re both single

5. You two start flirting with each other

6. Your friend’s behavior turns hot and cold toward you

7. You start having long conversations with each other

8. When something happens, you need them to know first

9. You both try to find ways to be alone with each other

10. The pet names for each other change

11. You tend to mention your friend very frequently

12. You both feel an air of awkwardness and nervousness

13. Your friend is being more vulnerable than usual around you

14. Your common friends know what’s happening

15. They ask you out

16. There’s more physical touch

17. Prolonged eye contact

Does any of these sound familiar? Don’t make me bring up that bracelet Luke received with the engraving from a “fan” (Sure Jan 😉)

Again, your honor, I rest my case.

Xx 🩵

[impulseheaven]

His Slytherin - James Potter

cw: fem reader , slytherin reader , brief mention of reader fearing the dark wc: 2.6k synopsis: Everyone always thought James Potter would end up with Lily Evans, to everyones shock James falls for her Slytherin friend.

Everyone thought that eventually Lily Evans would give into Potter's endless flirting, but by his sixth year he slowly gave up on the dream of dating the ginger. He realized as time passed he was more interested in the idea of her than actually being with her.

Though the two remained friends as their friend groups hung out with one another frequently.

James was aware that Lily had a friend in Slytherin, he didn’t know much about you besides your name. One day the two groups were taking up a whole corner of the courtyard, and he didn’t even realize you had walked up until you spoke to Marlene.

“Hey marl’s do you still have that potions book I lended to you?” Immediately his head perked up, looking over to where you were standing. Immediately he was amazed by this seemingly unknown girl, and he missed the knowing glances Remus, Sirius and Lily all shared with one another.

After that day James noticed you more in the corridors, in one of the classes he had with some Slytherin’s, or in the great hall.

One day James and Remus were sitting in the common room waiting for the rest of the group to pile in after classes, James spoke up “do you know if __ has a boyfriend?” Remus smirked as he kept his eyes on the fire in front of him, “no, I don't think she does.” James hummed in acknowledgment and eventually the rest of the group appeared.

Every time the girls group would join in with the boy’s his eyes would constantly be on you, but this didn't go unnoticed by you of course. You could always feel his eyes on you, in the great hall, whenever you walked past each other in the corridors, even whenever your two groups joined together.

Today was no exception. It seems, you were seated in the library whenever you picked up on the sound of footsteps coming towards you. Sighing as you look up at the right moment to see all your friends rounding the corner, Marlene spoke first “you’re always so studious __.”

You immediately knew you weren’t going to get any studying done for the rest of the day, closing your astronomy book. “I enjoy studying Marlene” she playfully rolled her eyes as Sirius walked over to you. “Well no more of that, time to come hang out with your marvelous friends.”

You smiled as you packed up your things, and just as you were about to pick up your bag a tan hand swooped in and picked it up before you could. Looking up you locked eyes with James, who now had your bag perched on his shoulder. “I can carry it myself y'know” James shrugged, “let me be a gentleman.” You hummed and a knowing smirk tugged on your lips.

Your large group of friends exited the library, rather loudly. Making way towards the Gryffindor common room. You didn’t usually go into their common room, not enjoying the cautious looks from first and second years but today you would make an exception.

As the portrait swung open you all piled into the room, your big group taking up all the couches and armchairs near the fire.

Remus and Sirius sat next to one another on one couch with Peter on the other side of Sirius. Lily, Dorcas, and Mary sat on one couch. Marlene sat sideways in one of the arm chairs, you and James coincidently got left with one arm chair left.

You sighed, “you can have the chair.” He immediately shook his head, “no need i’ll sit on the floor.” Before you could protest James sat on the floor with his back leaning against the front left side of the arm chair. You huffed as you sat down, your left leg briefly brushing against his right shoulder.

Soon everyone fell into conversation, it shifted from gossip to pranks, back to gossip than to storytimes from different people in the group.

Though the whole time you were horribly aware of how close you and James were, your eyes flickering to him every now and then. His curly hair was a bit wild, you decided it was probably from the long day he’s had as this morning you remember his hair being seemingly perfect.

Just like you James was aware of the closeness between the two of you, feeling your left leg brush against his shoulder every time you barely moved. He selfishly didn’t move away, letting himself have the small touches that probably meant nothing to you.

As you listened to a story Docas was telling your eyes drifted back to James' hair, your Slytherin nature practically taking over as you inched your hand closer to his hand. Keeping your hand on the cushion so no one noticed as your finger hooked around a loose curl in the back of his head.

You noticed how James went stiff, you twirled the curl in between your fingers playfully tugging on it. James forced himself to relax, slightly leaning his head back into the touch. As you glanced back up at the group your eyes locked with Remus’ who had a knowing smirk on his face. A similar smirk was on your face as you playfully shrugged at him, joining in on the conversation you zoned out of earlier.

The rest of the night James was practically silent, only speaking whenever something was dedicated towards him. Soon the night came to a close and Lily offered to walk you back to your common room, knowing of your silly fear of the dark. You said your goodbyes to the group, your eyes locking with James’ a bit longer than necessary before you and Lily left the common room.

You both were silent for a moment before she spoke up, “James likes you.” You hummed in acknowledgement “I know.” You saw her head turn to you in your peripheral but you kept your gaze straight ahead. “Do you like him back?” After that question you both fell into silence again, you thinking over the question.

James was handsome, you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t. He had all the characteristics of a boy you’d like, he was tall, extroverted which balanced out your introverted nature, he was funny. You turned to Lily, “I think I do.”

She smiled at you and knocked your shoulder with her own “you two would be cute together.” A shy smile tugged onto your face, “you think?” She nodded her head, intertwining your arms together “you two would be the perfect couple.” You laughed at her antics, shrugging “maybe we would.”

The next day you were walking out of your potions class, as you exited you saw James leaning against the wall apparently waiting for someone. Though as students piled out of the classroom his head lifted and he scanned all the faces, finally his eyes landed on you. Who was already walking past him and on your way to your next class of the day.

He quickly caught up to you, walking next to you. “Hi __.” You jumped at the sudden appearance, turning to him “merlin you scared me, you can’t just walk up on someone like that!” You huffed as he laughed a bit, a small smile appearing on your face.

His laughter died down and he nervously bit his lip, “do you want to go to hogsmeade with me this weekend?” Your eyes widened for a moment before a smirk appeared on your face, “I was beginning to think i’d have to ask.” He smiled down at you as you both stopped, already at your next class.

“I’ll see you this weekend Potter.” You sent him a playful wink as you entered your classroom, as soon as the door shut behind you he pumped a fist in the air and yelled a rather loud “YES!” Unaware that you could hear him, laughing to yourself as you walked to your desk.

It was finally the weekend, since James had asked you out to hogsmeade you haven’t seen him since you’ve been busy with studying. It was Saturday and you were getting ready in your dorm room.

Since it was still a bit chilly you settled on black tube top and a black leather jacket, a blue denim skirt with a pair of thermals underneath. Paired with some black boots you rarely wore, using this as an excuse to wear them.

You grabbed a black tote bag and put some money, chapstick and lip gloss, your wallet, and your perfume. You did a quick look at yourself in the mirror before heading out the dungeons. Once you thought about it you wondered if you overdid your outfit, it was only a trip to hogsmeade after all. As you exited the castle you saw James standing near the cobblestone wall. He was wearing a white shirt, with a cashmere sweater over it, paired with light wash jeans that were obviously worn a lot, and his signature red beat up converse.

As soon as his eyes landed on you a wide smile was on his face, the both of you walking towards one another. He stopped a few steps in front of you as he put his right arm behind his back, sticking out his left hand to you and he dramatically bent over “are you ready madam?”

A small giggle escaped your mouth as you slipped your hand into his, “yes I am kind sir.” He stood up with a smile, lacing your fingers together. “You look gorgeous __” you felt your face heat up from his compliment, “you look rather nice yourself.” He smiled, “Are you ready to go?” You gave a small nod, and you both began to make the trip to hogsmeade. As you walked his thumb would brush against the back of your hand, and the walk to hogsmeade was silent. A comfortable silence that you enjoyed.

As soon as you stepped in hogsmeade he spoke up, “could we stop by honeydukes?” You nodded “yea sure, I need to restock up on my chocolate frogs anyways.” He smiled as he gently pulled you towards the shop, holding the door open for you. Once you two entered the shop his hand fell from your as he reached for some jellybeans, once you reached the chocolate frogs you grabbed a few. Though James grabbed almost all the stock they had on the shelves, and he gave you a sheepish smile and muttered a small “me and the boys like ‘em.” You hummed, nodding your head and scoffed in disbelief at the amount of chocolate he actually grabbed.

On the way to the desk you grabbed a few more candies, Ambrosius Flume the owner was at the desk. As the both of you piled on all your candies he flashed James a polite smile, “how’s it going Potter?” Before you could fish out any galleons to pay he quickly handed the man enough for the both of you. “I'm doing well sir, how ‘bout yourself?” Your eyes shifted in between the two as your candy got bagged, James carrying both for you as you exited the store. Him holding the door open for you despite one hand having two honeyduke bags.

“Let’s head over to The Three Broomsticks, yea?” You nodded along, “yes i'm quite hungry.” James hummed in agreement. “Do you go to honeydukes often?” James nodded his head, “yea me and the boys frequent there pretty often. Remus has a massive craving for chocolate.” You smiled, that would explain why you would sometimes see him snacking on chocolate often at certain times.

“If you don’t mind me asking, when’d you get over Lily?” James felt his heart drop for a moment at the question, clicking his tongue. “Honestly during the last few months of fifth year, though I don’t think I ever liked Lily as much as I thought I did.” You turned to him with a raised eyebrow, persuading him to continue. He glanced over at you for a moment before looking away, “I think I liked the idea of her more, than well Lily herself. As harsh as that sounds..” you were silent for a moment as you thought about it. “I suppose I see what you mean.”

He nodded his head, “yea, but how long have you two been friends?” You tilted your head to the side as you thought it over, “towards the end of fourth year.” James raised his eyebrows and looked over at you “really?” You nodded as you turned to him “mhm, why?” James huffed, that flirtatious smirk slipping onto his face. “I wished I saw such a pretty girl sooner.”

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head at his antics. Finally The Three Broomsticks came into view, him once again holding the door open for you as you flashed him a polite smile.

You two found a small booth in the corner, you sliding your bag off your shoulder and placing it down next to you. You crossed one leg over another under the table, your foot now pressed against his leg. You decided to not move away from the touch, only playfully dragging your foot up a little higher.

Soon the both of you ordered, you and him both ordering butterbeer with fish and chips. The food quickly arrived, as you took a bite of a chip he spoke. “Can I ask a question?” You hummed, not wanting to speak with food in your mouth. “What’s your family like?” You swallowed down your food, already knowing why he would ask such a question.

“You don’t have to worry about them, but my mother was Slytherin, and my father was a Ravenclaw. Neither of them care about blood status or anything of that sort.” He let out a sigh of relief, clearly teasing. “Thank merlin, I feared I’d have to leave my one true love due to her cruel parents.” He smiled as you laughed, one of loudest he’s heard come from you.

He quickly realized he would want to hear it more, promising to himself he would tell much more jokes around you. As you popped another chip into your mouth you covered your mouth with your hand as you spoke, “what’re your parents like?” You already knew James’ parents were kind people but you just wanted to hear him speak.

He hummed as a small smile took over his face, “well they’re a bit older than most parents, not to brag but I think they’re the best parents in the world.” You smiled, encouraging him to continue. “Actually now both of them are retired, but i'm sure you’ve heard of the potion my father created.” You nodded, “yes I have, ‘m pretty sure my father used it once actually.” He smiled.

You two spent the next forty minutes eating and chatting, and sharing random childhood stories. James telling stories about the pranks he and the marauders have pulled just to hear you laugh again.

Eventually you both had to head back to Hogwarts, already pushing it close to curfew. He once again paid and carried the bags full of sweets, you had to force him to even let you hold your own tote bag. On the walk back you held hands again, “I had fun today.” He smiled as he turned to you, “me as well, we should do this again soon.” A smirk was on your face as you turned to him, causing his stomach to do flips. “Are you asking me out on yet another date, James Potter?” He huffed, rolling his eyes at your teasing. “Yes I am, only if you’ll accept of course.”

Your smirk shifted into a smile, pushing up on your tippy toes to plant an innocent kiss to his cheek. Giggling slightly at the blush that coated his face, him placing a kiss to the top of your head.

nav.

[rekino2114]

Genderbent Rin Itoshi with a male reader who was cheated on by Sae Itoshi

Fem!rin itoshi with a reader who was cheated on by fem!sae

A/n:this request was so good and I got into this so much, so thanks for requesting

You were always friends with the itoshi sisters, you spent the majority of your evenings playing football with them and getting ice cream together. You practically lived in their house and always used any moment you could to spend time with them, They were your best friends but little did you know that both of them had started to develop more feelings than just friendship for you.

In the meantime, you started thinking about the same thing. Did you have feelings for the two sisters? you loved their presence, and they were both undoubtedly beautiful, not to mention that just being near them made your heart flutter in a way it never had before. You quickly realized you did indeed have a crush but the problem was that you also realized that you had said crush on both rin and sae.

You had no idea what to do so to try and not ruin your great friendship and maybe even their sisterly bond you tried your best to repress your feelings for both of them.

That was until on one Valentine's Day in high school sae confessed to you, in that moment you felt it again, that love that made your heart flutter and immediately accepted the pink haired girl's confession. Your acceptance was met with a wide smile and a hug from sae. Your relationship was a happy but short one

Because a few months later she left for Spain to go play for re-al, leaving you and rin to keep your dream of becoming the best trio of strikers in the world alive. You still remember when she kissed you before leaving, saying that she would be going to become the best striker in the world, that moment feels like an impossible dream now.

During sae's leave you and rin became way closer, playing together and basically only passing to each other during games, you both told yourselves that you needed to become better for sae that when she would come back you would need to be near her level, just playing with you made rin feel something, that love she had worked so long to suppress, she couldn't do it, you were sae's boyfriend and no matter how much her heart yearned for you she loved her sister too much to do something so horrible like stealing you from her, so she just did what she was already used to and buried her love for you even deeper in her heart.

But everything changed when sae came back from Spain. She called you and said she had an important thing she needed to discuss with you so you waited for her at your house and when you opened the door you saw her but you immediately knew something was different.

Her gaze was almost colder than the snow outside, and her face wasn't even trying to make the faintest of smiles. you offered her a chair, but she refused, telling you that what she was going to be quick

"Our relationship is over, I met another man in Spain and I've been dating him for a while, goodbye"

Before you had the time to process what she said, she just left, the same coldness on her face. You just started crying and thinking about everything. What did you do wrong? Why did sae seem so cold? What happened to her? Or was she just sick of you?

You had nothing else to do so you decided to call the person that had never abandoned you and that you always felt something for: rin.

Rin was not ready to deal with anything after what sae said to her in the football field, but she had promised to herself that she'd do anything for you and hearing your crying voice on the phone broke her heart, she quickly rushed to your house with her heart in her throat, she knew her sister had something to do with this.

Seeing you so sad and miserable with tears flowing down your eyes awoke something in rin, she wanted to destroy whoever did this to you and when she heard the word sae spill from your mouth at her question a really small part of her was happy only because she had even more of a reason to destroy her.

When you fully explained what happened you could have sworn you saw her eyes turn black and her pupils becoming buzzsaw like, but your thoughts were interrupted by the younger itoshi hugging you incredibly tightly and letting you cry on her chest while she talked

"Listen y/n you did nothing wrong, it's sae who's........she's not my sister anymore, I don't know what happened to her but I don't care, she was horrible to me too but what she did to you was just unforgivable, she throwed away the best boyfriend she could have had like it's nothing, you're amazing y/n please just know that there is someone who loves you and will never leave you"

Before you could figure out who she was talking about, rin instinctively crashed her lips into yours, her kiss felt amazing. It was like she reanimated the heart sae had stepped on, right in that moment all of the love you ever felt for rin resurfaced and you saw her as what she actually was, the true love of your life, someone who would never abandon you and would always love you

You two continued kissing for a while and then started cuddling, your head still on her chest and your body wrapped in her arms, sweet whispers that promised to keep you safe and to love you forever filled your ears as you closed your eyes, promises that rin was 100% sure she was going to maintain.

Looking at your adorable sleeping face made rin even more angry, not only did that bitch reject their dream and stepped on it like it was nothing she also did the same with you, with the most perfect and adorable guy in the world, she was going to show her how wrong she was. That dream was no longer sae's now just like you were longer hers, rin and you were going to become the best strikers in the world and reject her like she did to the both of you, walking hand in hand in front of her defeat.

The next day, you two talked it over, and your relationship with rin officially started, a much longer and happier one. You couldn't be happier when the letter to join blue lock arrived, that was the place you were going to hone your skills in to defeat sae.

You always stayed together in the facility. During lunch, sleep, training, and especially matches, it looked like you two were the only ones on the field with your perfect chemistry and skills. All of your teammates joked about how rin's coldness melted instantly whenever she talked to you, but they were quickly shut up by a glare from the turquoise eyed girl, as if she was going to treat you coldly after what you went through.

When the u-20 match was announced, the fire in your souls burned even brighter. That was the occasion in which you were going to destroy sae. You had to stop each other from training yourselves to death on multiple occasions, but you both knew that the reason was worth the effort, you needed to show sae how wrong she was.

The night before the match, you couldn't sleep, and your girlfriend who, as always, had her arms wrapped around you comforted you like only the girl of your dreams could.

"Y/n......I understand why you're nervous, but don't be, we will win tomorrow, we'll show that shitty excuse for a sister who the strongests really are, we're going to destroy her and become the best strikers in the world......together, like we always do everything, I'll personally kiss you in front of her to show her what she missed on, you're perfect my love, don't let that bitch get to you, I'm here now.....and always"

She kissed you one more time and tightened her hold around you, starting to play with your hair and lull you to sleep with her sweet words, just like she did on the day you became a couple, on the day you both started your true life, a life together that sae was never going to ruin, rin loved you too much to let that happen, she was going to protect you from everything, especially from that girl who dared tell you she lived you once

"I love you y/n.......good night, and tomorrow, we're going to get our revenge"

As she said those words rin started to fall asleep too, looking at your beautiful face one last time and smiling, because she had you, she had healed your heart and she was never going to let anyone hurt it again.

[oh-no-its-bird]

More early Konoha thoughts, specifically in culture sharing between the clans

Most clans have specific foods and types of products they use— they have their usual trades, usual hunting grounds, usual crafts and methods to make things, that sort of thing.

So when Konoha is created, there's this sudden influx in just the variety of things that are now easily accessible to them. Let's use alcohol as an example:

Most clans would have a specific way of brewing their own alcohol, not to mention what local ingredients they'd use, or they'd have a usual merchant they'd go to for their specific usual brands. For some clans, their situations, locations, and budget might mean they have less or more alcohol available to them

Then they come to Konoha and suddenly they have this big variety of all sorts of different drinks.

Suddenly, when before you would have to jump through several hoops and travel a stupid amount of miles to get yourself some Senju brewed beer, it's just. Right there. You can now ask your neighbor to pretty please share some with you

There's so much variety!!! So much to choose from!! I think it'd be overwhelming for some people, especially those from smaller clans who were used to having 3 options of food, drink and amusement to choose from for their entire life.

There's suddenly so much for them to explore

Especially having fun thinking about all these specific 'clan delicacies' in such close proximity ,,, I want to see some foodie losing their goddamn mind and legit crying as they realize their quest to taste the specific foods of every clan in the land of fire is suddenly so much more realistic than they thought before

This same thought process goes for pretty much everything crafts or culture related ^^

There's suddenly so many different games and rules and clothing styles and jewelry and courting traditions, all dumped into one big pot together

Some people are trying to play a simple card game together then realizing that their clans call the cards different things (named after different clan gods)

Someone lends their friend one of their shirts, and the friend finds that the shirt's weaving pattern is completley different from any of the clothes they're used to

Two farmers from different clans begin a heated debate over the "right" way to tend and harvest their crops, and what type of soil and watering schedule is best for what plants

By the time modern Konoha comes around, all of these things have found a new normal.

The mixing pot finished most of its stirring, and while there is still plenty of cultural separation between clans (particularly the larger ones, who stubbornly held on to their own identity throughout the years) there's also an overall 'Konoha culture.'

Konoha has its own signature crafts, adapted from several clan styles.

They have their own drinks, made from Konoha crops, with recipies argued over by several drink makers decades ago.

They have their own styles of card games, the rules adapted from multiple different clan rule-sets, into something most could agree on. (Bearing the most similarity to the Shiranui clan's rule-set, which became quite a popular middleground for most people to play— not that many remember that now)

Konoha found it's own identity, made up of all the clans who donated their own to it.