#to be long-lasting. she wants him to become a whole person whose bar for loving someone is not that they accept him and that's it.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Father of Mine – 2/2

Character: Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Summary: With the tragic passing of her mother, Y/N learns to the truth of who her father is.

Word Count: 4,100+

Warnings: absent father, subtle violence, mention of family death

A/N: The reader is described as tall in this fic. Bruce Wayne is 6′2 and I’m tall, so I’m indulging myself with no apologies. Read it or don’t.

Part 1

Bruce was working in the cave when Alfred interrupted him.

“Master Wayne, a guest has arrived unexpectedly.”

Bruce gave him a strange look. Hardly anyone showed up to the manor unannounced.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” Alfred added.

“Right,” Bruce sighed.

“She’s waiting for you in your office.”

Bruce found Y/N pacing in the room, refusing to take the seat that he was sure Alfred offered her.

“Y/N,” he greeted, remembering how she disliked the formalities last night.

She whipped around at his greeting. “Am I your charity case now?”

He feigned confusion. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

She looked offended by his lie. “Don’t insult my intelligence. You paid all of my outstanding expenses that my mother left me.”

Bruce opened his mouth.

“Don’t try to lie to me,” she warned.

Bruce closed his mouth.

“Look, I don’t need your help,” Y/N sighed in obvious irritation. “Did you or did you not pay them?”

He took in a shallow breath, “I did.”

Y/N clenched her jaw as Bruce finally admitted his deed.

“I was only trying to help.”

“You can’t just throw money at me and expect it to make up for being a no-show.”

Bruce tensed. 

Did that mean…Did she know?

“You read the letter?” He asked.

“No,” she clarified. “But I figured it out.”

“I had no idea,” he tried to tell her.

“I don’t care,” she almost snorted.

“You have ever right to be angry with me…”

“I’m not angry. I’m annoyed.”

She took a defiant step toward him and crossed her arms.

The heeled boots she had on caused her already tall height to make her be eye to eye with Bruce. 

How many people had faced off with Batman and cowered with fear? 

But she didn’t submit or show any signs of intimidation.

“Do you think I cried myself to sleep every night as a child, wondering where my dad was or why he didn’t want me?” Y/N hissed.

Bruce didn’t respond.

“You think I give a fuck about the father-daughter dances? Or whatever the hell people think dads are only capable of doing?” She narrowed her eyes. “The thing is…I didn’t need you. I didn’t need you then and I don’t need you now.”

Bruce felt sick as he listened to her.

“I have the sneaking suspicion that you wouldn’t have been there for those anyway,” she added roughly. “My mom loved me more than enough. I didn’t need anyone else. And she made damn sure of that.”

“So I’m not your charity case to make yourself feel better after my mom made it clear she thought it was better to keep me from you, than to ever tell you that I existed. Says a lot about what kind of person she thought you are, huh?”

When Y/N finally stopped, she was taking deep breaths.

Bruce wondered how long she had that all bottled up. He didn’t think anything she said was a lie. Y/N didn’t need him. That had become clear.

She had grown up to be a successful, intelligent, and independent young woman.

And she got that way without a father figure of any sort.

After a few moments, Bruce finally bowed his head and cleared his throat. “I never intended on making you feel like a charity case.”

Bruce saw as Y/N took in a deep breath and the guilt slowly took over her expression.  

“Look,” Y/N sighed, “we finally know the truth. Let’s just…let’s just move on with our lives. OK?”  

Bruce couldn’t deny that the suggestion hurt.

After processing the news over the past week or so, he realized he wanted to get to know her. This wasn’t the first time a child of his had been dropped on him far too late. He had failed Damian in so many ways because of it. 

But Y/N was a young woman, fully developed and independent now. And Bruce couldn’t help but wonder that him being absent from her childhood had only benefitted her.

“If that’s what you want,” he finally told her.

Y/N didn’t know him well enough to hear the underlying pain in his words.

So she simply nodded and walked past him, having nothing more to say.

——————

Bruce adjusted his tie. He wanted nothing more than to rip it off his neck.

But he was on his best behavior tonight.

This year, the Gotham Gazette was given the honor of hosting the Pulitzer Prizes. And since Bruce and Wayne Enterprises donated quite a large sum of money to the Gotham Gazette, they felt inclined to invite him.

Bruce had every intention of skipping, until he found out that Lois Lane was receiving an award and Clark would also be attending.

He figured the least he could do was congratulate her and say hi to both of them.

That’s why he was trying to find them as soon as possible so he could and get the hell out of there.

Bruce finally spotted Clark talking to a woman whose back was to him. All he saw of her was the black dress and y/h/c hair. 

He made his way over.

Clark noticed him when he was a few feet away.

“I see you’ve finally left your cave,” he teased with a lift of his brow. “I honestly didn’t expect you to show.”

But when the woman Clark was speaking to turned to look at him, Bruce swore he felt his heart stop.  

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, clearly just as surprised at seeing Bruce.

None of this went missed by Clark. “Oh, do you two know each other?”

Bruce didn’t know how to respond. What would Y/N want? 

So he hesitated.

“I shot him for a cover once,” Y/N answered quickly.

She was a shockingly smooth liar.

Maybe she got that from Bruce, too.

But she didn’t realize that Clark could hear her heart rate quicken, catching the fib.

“And how exactly do you two know each other?” Bruce asked, recovering quickly.

“Y/N works with Lois a lot,” Clark answered. “She basically refuses to work with any other photographer.”

Y/N managed to force a smile.

“I should actually go find her and say my congrats,” she answered. 

“And I need to hunt down a drink,” she mumbled. 

Both men caught it.

Clark was rather taken aback by how she fled.

The Y/N he knew was always charming and kind, usually life of the party. He’d never seen her dodge a conversation in such a way before.

As soon as she was out of hearing range, Clark gave a intimidating glare to Bruce.

“Want to tell me what that was about?” He asked Bruce.

But Bruce only clenched his jaw.

“Past fling?” Clark asked with a somewhat disappointed tilt of his head.

“No. Nothing like that,” Bruce quickly corrected.

Not only did the idea make him feel sick. But if rumors started of the two of them being romantically linked, Bruce knew it would only make Y/N hate him more than she clearly already did. 

Thankfully, Clark took his denial seriously.

“She’s not my biggest fan,” Bruce added darkly.

“Y/N is a good friend,” Clark told him – almost in warning. “Lois and her have become rather close over the years.”

Then Clark smirked. “She does know how to hold a grudge though. And she’ll make your life hell...if you deserve it.” 

Bruce’s brain hurt as he realized how easily Y/N and his path’s could’ve crossed. She had been friends with Clark and Lois this whole time?

“I’m happy for her,” Clark added.

“Happy for her?”

Clark looked at Bruce as if it was obvious. “She’s being awarded tonight, too.”

How could Bruce not have realized? Why didn’t he think of looking at the list of people being awarded tonight? He’d been dreading attending so much that he didn’t even consider it.

“Bruce?” Clark asked with concern.

“Hmm?” He was not one to hum or mumble.

“You alright?”

Bruce didn’t have a lot of friends.

But Clark Kent was one of them. And him and Diana had noticed how Bruce was acting off for weeks now. Bruce was notorious for remaining stoic and giving nothing for people to try and guess what he was thinking or feeling. But they both knew it was something different. 

Someone over Bruce’s shoulder suddenly waved Clark over.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Clark told Bruce politely.

Bruce’s first instinct was to leave now that he knew Y/N was also in attendance.

But he knew he couldn’t act so cowardly.

Was he really that scared of his own daughter?

His eyes glanced around the room looking for her.

He spotted Y/N at one of the bars.

Either her conversation with Lois had been quick, or she simply used that as an excuse to get away from Bruce.

Bruce walked up beside Y/N at the bar.

He knew she felt his arrival by the way her body tensed.

“Had I known you would be here I would not have attended,” he told her while looking straight ahead.

Y/N ignored his apology. “How do you know Clark?”

“He’s a friend,” Bruce answered casually.

Then he allowed himself to take a sideways glance at her.

Her jaw was clenched.

He wondered what thoughts she was holding back.

Y/N really did remind him of her mother.

When they were together, Bruce was convinced she was the prettiest girl in the world. He wondered if Y/N had found someone in her life who told her the same.

“Congratulations on being honored tonight,” Bruce offered sincerely.

“Thank you,” she answered shortly.

A beat passed between them.

Bruce was about to give up and leave her be.

“Does Clark think I’m one of your one-night stands now?”

Y/N might not know Bruce well, but everyone was familiar with his romantic history. He wasn’t one to keep the same woman around for long. 

“No,” he quickly answered. “I made sure to prevent such a rumor from starting.”

Y/N finally slowly turned to him, her annoyance clear. “And you’re convinced that he really believed you?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, Clark has always been rather good at detecting a lie.” His tone was so confident that it left little room for argument.

But Bruce knew a losing battle when he saw one.

He dipped his head. “Enjoy the rest of your night. Congratulations again.”

But Bruce lingered, debating if he wanted to say what was on my mind.

“You look very beautiful. Just like your mother.”

There was nothing creepy or contrived about it.

Y/N blinked at the compliment, completely taken aback.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Bruce dipped his head and finally surrendered, leaving the party.

Y/N felt a presence behind her shoulder as he watched him leave.

“Was Bruce Wayne just hitting on you?” Lois asked with amusement.

“No. Not at all,” her tone was dazed and confused.

“He’s a good guy,” Lois told her lightly.

“Doubt it.”

“I mean it,” Lois insisted. “The media has given him a bad image. But I think he likes it that way,” she shrugged. “It’s not easy for him to open up. He’s not quick to trust.”

Lois thought she was building up a possible suitor for Y/N, having not a clue that she was describing Y/N’s father to her.

But Y/N was too busy thinking about how much Bruce sounded like her.

—————

A few weeks had gone by since Bruce and Y/N had run into each other at the ceremony.

It got Bruce to thinking: would he and Y/N had run into each other at some point in life – even without her mother’s posthumously confession?

Y/N knew Lois and Clark, lived in Gotham, seemed to know the same people through her work that Bruce was forced to interact with to keep up his persona.

Would he have sensed a connection had that been the case?

The possibilities kept Bruce up at night…along with the guilt that had already been eating away at him since he first read the later. And he’d read it 100 times more since.

Of all the boys, Dick was the only one that knew of Y/N’s existence. And if he hadn’t been at the right place at the right time, Bruce never would’ve told him. He had just been in shock after reading the letter that he blurted out the realization while Dick was in the same room.

Since then, Bruce didn’t linger in a room alone with him, knowing Dick would finally let all of his questions loose. And Bruce wasn’t ready to answer them.

While Tim was the one to connect them, he never followed through with what the situation was. He already had too much to deal with on a daily basis. Tim simply thought he was doing a nice favor for a beautiful woman. 

But if Bruce had told him, Tim would immediately do every possible background check on Y/N. He would be suspicious of the timing and underlying motives. He would probably assume that Y/N’s end goal was to get money or fame – or both. Bruce knew eventually Tim would come to the conclusion that Y/N wanted neither of those things. But it would still get an unnecessary rise out of the boy.

Bruce didn’t even want to think about how Damian would handle it. He knew his son felt a certain level of pride from being the only blood-son of his. Knowing he had a sibling – and an older sister at that – would most likely enrage him. And that wouldn’t make anything better. 

Jason…Well, Jason would get a kick out of Bruce letting down yet another child. And it would just be worse that she was blood related. He’d be curious about Y/N. Hell, he’d probably be tickled by the no-bullshit attitude Y/N had towards Bruce and her harsh efforts to keep him out of her life completely.

Now, Bruce sat at a Justice League meeting.

They were only a few minutes into a council session when his communicator started going off.

The boys knew not to contact him unless it was an emergency. So, he quickly excused himself and stood to leave the room.

“What is it?” Bruce answered, his Batman voice in full form.

“There’s been an attack at city hall,” Dick reported back hurriedly.

Bruce frowned. The boys had handled much worse things on their own before. There had to be more to it than that.

“Scarecrow,” Dick confirmed. “He released a fear toxin. It’s bad Bruce. The mayor has been infected, along with half of their staff. I think it’s a new string. Our antidote doesn’t seem to doing anything. Even if it did, we don’t have nearly enough for the amount of victims.”

“The others?” Bruce asked quickly – meaning Damian, Jason, and Tim.

“They’re fine. Jason’s trying to get everyone out before they inhale too much. Tim and Damian went after Scarecrow. GPD is in a panic.”

Bruce turned to see Clark had raced to his side. Clearly he had been eavesdropping on the conversation. But the expression in his face prevented Bruce from getting into an argument about it.

“What?” Bruce asked him, knowing something was wrong.

“Lois and Y/N were at that council meeting,” Clark breathed out.

“We’ll be there soon,” Bruce told Dick before hanging up.

—

Bruce thought he knew fear from the few times his boys had been in trouble. But it was nothing compared to the fear he had knowing it was Y/N this time. She wasn’t a trained vigilante; she was just an innocent civilian. Bruce had not insured that she was trained and could take care of herself.

As soon as Clark dropped them on the ground, they were in the midst of the chaos.

“Lois!” Clark yelled.

People were too distracted to notice Superman and Batman had arrived.

Bruce looked over to see Lois rushing to Clark. He could tell it took all of Clark’s willpower not to embrace Lois from his relief.

“Are you OK?” Clark asked as he dipped his head and his eyes raced across his wife’s body.

“I-I’m fine. I got lucky. Somehow I was out of range of the gas explosion.”

“Y/N?” Bruce interrupted. “Did you see Y/N?”

“She was helping these kids get out and I was getting shoved out of the building. I tried to get to her but it was impossible with everyone’s panic. I think she’s still in there.”

Before Bruce could turn to Clark to come up with a plan, Clark flew into the building. A few people finally noticed the presence of superheroes and started murmuring.

“Nightwing, Red Hood – I’m at the front entrance of City Hall.”

Clark flew back to them not even 30 seconds later.

Y/N was unconscious in his arms.

“Oh my god,” Lois muttered at Y/N’s condition.

“She’s gone into shock. We need to get her to the medics,” Clark informed them. “She was exposed to the toxin more than the others.”

But Bruce was already shaking his head. “They won’t be able to help her.”

Clark gently handed Y/N to Bruce as he explained, “There are others in there.”

Just then Nightwing and Red Hood dropped in front of them.

Nightwing immediately recognized Y/N and his eyes shot up to Bruce with worry.

“Nightwing, I need you to take her back to the cave,” he tried to sound as controlled as possible.

Bruce was confused why Dick hesitated to take Y/N out of his arms.

“Do you have the batmobile? I brought my motorcycle,” Dick sounded apologetic when he explained.

Jason stepped forward before Bruce could answer. “I got her.”

As if she were the most fragile being ever, Jason carefully took Y/N’s unconscious body from Bruce’s grip. He could see in Bruce’s gaze that she was someone special. How and why, Jason would figure out later. 

Jason had seen Y/N trying to help as many people before she was completely poisoned from the toxin. She’d risked her life to help. 

Watching Jason cradle her into his body caught Clark off guard, always seeing the brute strength and almost animalistic energy from Red Hood whenever they so happened to fight beside each other.

“Meet us at the cave,” Bruce clarified. “Alfred will know what to do. We have to help out here more.”

Jason nodded before he hurried away with her and rushed to his hidden car.  

——————

Y/N’s eyes snapped open and she shot up, sitting in a cot.

“Hey, hey, hey,” a voice she didn’t recognize said beside her. “You gotta relax.”

She turned to see a mammoth of a man sitting beside her, wearing vigilante gear with at least two guns being displayed at his sides. But it was the red helmet completely hiding his face and true voice that made Y/N feel uncomfortable.

“What the fuck,” she groaned at the sight of him.

Just a few seconds later, two men rushed into the room.

Bruce walked in still in his Batman uniform, but without his cowl – to Jason’s shock.

Clark was beside him, making Jason confused as to why he was still here. Surely he would want to be with Lois. 

Y/N took in the sight before her.

“You were poisoned with a new strand of Scarecrow’s toxin,” Superman explained.

Y/N had seen plenty of pictures and shaky video of him. But now that the man stood before her, she immediately recognized him.

“Clark?” She gasped.

He didn’t say anything. But his expression didn’t fight her realization, just silently waited for the truth to settle.

“Does Lois know?” Was her next question.

Clark smirked at that. “Of course.”

Y/N gave a slight nod.

But now her attention switched to Bruce. 

The Batman symbol was large across his chest, and his cape was still intact.

She looked around her surroundings and then up at the ceiling.

They were in a cave.

“You’re…you’re…” she couldn’t finish her sentence.

“Batman,” Bruce finally offered.

Y/N’s eyes were wide with panic.

How was this possible?

Now that the others had exposed their identity, Jason felt inclined to take off his helmet. Clearly, it was making her uncomfortable.

The hiss of his helmet being removed caused Y/N to finally look away from her father and to Jason, who still wore a domino mask. But it was far less frightening than the helmet.

“We’ll give you two a moment alone,” Clark spoke for both him and Jason.

Jason nodded and stood up from the seat beside Y/N, and walked out. 

Clark lingered in the doorway. “I’ll be right outside if you need me,” he told her.

He might’ve revealed his Superman identity to her, but she was still his friend.

Y/N managed to nod in thanks, but was clearly still shook by all this news.

Bruce very slowly made his way to the chair that Jason had just been sitting in.

“How are you feeling?”

She shook her head. “Body’s sore. Migraine is killing me. What happened?”

“You were more exposed to the toxin more than the other victims. Jason brought you here. We had to make a new anecdote, and quickly.”

Bruce wanted to add that she could’ve died. But he didn’t see the use in scaring her.

“Oh,” was all she managed to mumble.

An awkward silence settled between them.

“Very few people know the truth about me,” Bruce explained.

Y/N’s gaze flickered up from her lap to look at him.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I figured I couldn’t ask you to allow me into your world if I didn’t allow you into mine.”

She was silent.

“Y/N…” Bruce cleared his throat. The time had come. “The reason I left your mother was because I was starting this life. I pushed her away to protect her. I knew I couldn’t be the man she deserved while also being Batman. Had I known the truth…”

His words died out. It was starting to become harder to control his emotions.

He leaned forward in his chair, just getting slightly closer to her.

“Had I known about you, I would’ve…” He cleared his throat to try and hold back his tears. “I never would’ve abandoned you or your mother.”

He leaned back then. “But I know those are just words. And to you, they probably sound like empty promises for the past.”

“She never knew?” Y/N whispered.

In the few moments she was allowed to process this information, her mind immediately wondered if her mom had known about Bruce’s double life all along. And that’s why she kept him away from her.

Bruce shook his head.

“Thank you…for trusting me enough to tell me your secret,” Y/N finally told him. “I promise I’ll never tell anyone,” she quickly added, feeling like she just needed to clarify that to him.

He gave her a small small, “I know.”

Y/N winced as she thought about how terrible she’d been to him all this time. Now that she knew the truth – the whole truth – she was looking at everything with a new perspective. Even what she knew about Bruce Wayne, the spoiled socialite... it was clearly all wrong. 

He used it as a cover. It was all a cover.

“I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you,” she whispered shakily.

But Bruce shook his head before she could even get the apology out.

“Do you think it’s too late for us?” She breathed. 

Could they ever find any fragment of a father-daughter relationship?

Y/N was an adult – she had been for years now. And she made it clear she didn’t need nor want a father.

“Believe it or not, this isn’t the first time this has happened to me,” Bruce sighed.

Her brow furrowed. “This meaning…?”

“My son, Damian. His mother kept him a secret from me. She didn’t reveal his existence until he was nine. And she only did it in an attempt to disrupt my life.”

“This seems to be a rather strange pattern in your life,” Y/N couldn’t help but point out.

Bruce glared at her, causing her to chuckle.

“My point is,” he continued, “I don’t think it’s ever too late.” And he cleared his throat quickly. “That is, if you want to try.”

“I think I do,” she answered with a shy smile.

It was the first time she’d done so in his presence.

“I don’t know anything about raising a daughter,” Bruce rubbed his face as he attempted to make the joke. But she could tell there was sincerity there, too.

“Well, I’ve already been raised,” Y/N laughed.

There.

That laugh.

It brought Bruce back to his teenage years. It sounded so much like her mother. Her face lit up just like her’s had.

“You remind me so much of your mother,” he gasped.

Her face dropped at his confession.

“Really?”

He nodded. “She said you were just like me. But there’s more of her in you than I think she ever realized.”

Bruce saw his much his words effected her.

Y/N’s eyes were shiny with tears, but she managed to hold them back.

“So what now?” She quickly asked, obviously trying to distract herself so she wouldn’t have a complete emotional breakdown.

“Well, Alfred should have dinner ready soon. Would you stay?”

She gave him a tear-filled smile. “I’d like that.”

“You can meet the rest of them,” Bruce told her casually as he stood.

“The rest of them?”

He nodded. “Well, you only have to meet Damian now. You already met Jason, Dick, and Tim in passing.”

“And here I thought you had no idea how to be a father…” Y/N muttered with amusement.

Bruce helped her get out of bed, making sure she was alright to stand and walk on her own.

“Well, depending on which of them you ask, they might tell you that you’re right.”

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

Thank you to everyone who read the first part. Let me know what you think <3

BONUS: This Game of Ours

[psychewritesbs]

Chapter 160: How much of Yuji’s life has been orchestrated? + Megumi the stage-five clinger

Happy JJK-Sunday!

If I had to describe chapter 160 with as few words as possible, I would say: Oh f*ck...

My favorite moment was, of course, Megumi acting like a stage-five clinger. His interaction with Yuji in this chapter is especially ominous in light of Yuji being adamant of protecting Megumi from Sukuna.

A second favorite was Sasaki showing up in this chapter because of the implications moving forward.

Let’s jump right in. 

How much of Yuji’s life has been orchestrated by Kenjaku?

We start the chapter with Kenjaku talking to none other than Sasaki, one of the members of the Occult Club at the high school in Sendai that Yuji used to attend.

Of course, the bomb that Gege dropped on us in this chapter is when Kenjaku thanks Sasaki “for getting along with my son”. 

Like... excuse you?

Not only does this 100% confirm that Kenjaku used Yuji’s mother’s body to give birth to him, but this specific moment + some foreshadowing from previous chapters also opens an interesting can of worms about Yuji’s life: just how much of Yuji’s life has Kenjaku orchestrated?

For me, the implication is that Sasaki had an assigned role to play in Yuji’s life that would inevitably lead to him eating Sukuna’s finger. 

I am assuming this because although we don’t see Kenjaku’s interactions with the other people in Sendai, we get to see that, in addition for thanking her for getting along with Yuji, Kenjaku is incredibly kind to Sasaki. We also learn that she’s the only one who has received a special message from him (thanking her).

Ready to make this whole interaction more ominous? Someone pointed out that the kanji in Sasaki’s name means assistant. 

All of this brings us right back to Yuji’s free will--or lack thereof?

We already know that Kenjaku claims he made Yuji “ingest” Sukuna’s finger and that Megumi is rightfully concerned with this idea because he witnessed Yuji eat Sukuna’s finger “of his own free will.”

It’s also becoming increasingly obvious that Yuji was "created” solely for the purpose of becoming Sukuna’s vessel. 

What this new reveal about Sasaki does is that it makes everything feel like certain events have been part of Kenjaku’s master plan all along. While this still feels a little farfetched, it will come down to how Gege works this idea into the story moving forward.

Come to think of it, even Yuji’s grandfather’s dying words to Yuji take on a new meaning since we know Wasuke knew something was definitively up with Yuji’s mother.

Another possible bit of foreshadowing all the way in chapter 1: While the intersection in the second panel below could be ANY intersection in Japan, it sure looks like the Shibuya crossing:

A quick note on the importance of kanji meanings in JJK before moving onto the next section: knowing the meaning of Sasaki’s name tells us that names are important in JJK. If you haven’t, I recommend you read my break down on the meaning of Megumi’s FULL NAME. His first name is important, but so is his last name.

The plans moving forward

Going off to Tokyo Colony #2 are Panda and Hakari. 

As the strongest, Hakari feels like he should take on Hajime. As for Panda, it looks like his focus will be on hunting down Angel.

Side note: I love that Hakari is still calling Megumi names. Guess Senpai can’t help himself.

I must admit I was disappointed to find that Kirara will stay behind to report, but it is what it is. I am assuming Gege could see no use for Kirara and decided to leave the character out of the action for the time being. 

As for Megumi and Yuji, they’ll be heading to Tokyo Colony #1 to target Higuruma, everybody’s new favorite Law & Order boss. 

This brings us to Megumi’s current state of mind...

Megumi the stage-five clinger

I had a hard time coming up with the title for this section because what I see happening is that Megumi is starting to feel the pressure of the looming deadline for Tsumiki joining the Culling Game. What his behavior shows, however, is that he needs Yuji with him and is clinging onto him but won’t come out and say it--opting instead for aggression towards Yuji, the very same person he needs most. 

His behavior reminded me of how Megumi could be mean to Tsumiki even though he clearly adores her. Apparently that’s the meaning of being tsundere. I’ve read about the term tsundere before but it never “clicked” until this moment and I just love Gege’s interpretation of the trope through Megumi’s character. 

It goes without saying that it was REALLY interesting to me to see Megumi’s dynamic and interaction with Yuji in this chapter because it looks like Gege is letting us know Megumi’s state of mind continues to be one of desperation--remember that dogeza bow from chapter 157?

The thing about Megumi is that he looks stoic on the outside, but he’s actually an incredibly emotional person who doesn’t often show how he’s feeling. 

I hadn’t caught on, but in chatting with @justafrenchlondoner​ about the chapter, they pointed out Megumi’s behavior in his dynamic with Yuji appears nervous and aggressive.

Upon a second look I have to agree that Megumi is acting out of character and aggressive with Yuji when all that Yuji really wants is to protect Megumi from Sukuna.

And yes, let me go ahead and sound like a broken record as I remind you of Yuji’s rather ominous words from chapter 143 yet again:

And this is the part of the chapter that knocked the air out of me: Megumi telling Yuji to stfu about Sukuna but Yuji thinking to himself “as long as I’m around you will suffer” back in ch143 is so damn ominous.

Oh f*ck...

But this is what REALLY gets me about this whole interaction and why I’m calling Megumi a stage-five clinger...

Even though Megumi is calling Yuji selfish, in reality, the one being selfish is Megumi.

This is, of course, my own interpretation of the situation, but to me it feels as though Megumi is clinging onto Yuji’s strength for dear life. 

It’s almost like Megumi needs not just Yuji’s physical strength, but also his unwavering conviction or mental strength.

If you think about it, Megumi has only recently started fighting to win. Remember how unsure he was of himself when fighting Sukuna for the first time? It wasn’t until he went up against the Cursed Spirit from the Yasohachi bridge that he let go of his inhibitions.

Megumi’s battles during Shibuya were the pinnacle of his growth as a character in that moment. If I remember correctly, according to the timeline of events, the Shibuya incident happened around two weeks prior to the current chapter. You could say that although he is more comfortable in his strength than before, Megumi is still growing into his strength at this point.

The thing about Megumi is that everybody and their Divine Dog believes in him and sees his potential except for him. As Gojo tells him “you undervalue yourself.”

Looking back, the way Megumi asks begs Yuji for help in chapter 143 is very enlightening of how Megumi needs Yuji’s strength: 

I initially had read this to mean Megumi needed Yuji’s physical strength. Upon second look, however, Megumi has always seemed to have admiration for Yuji’s conviction.

With the looming deadline for Tsumiki’s vow to join the Culling Game, as Megumi starts to feel the pressure to make his plan work, who better to keep around than the person who will always go for the home run and whose strength he admires?

In other words, like hell he’s going to let Yuji leave his side. Which, again, only makes it more heartbreaking to think Sukuna is up to no good regarding Megumi and Yuji wants to protect him from that.

Oh f*ck.......

The panel below feels like a bit of a lighthearted and comical moment, but it’s also interesting to note that this is the second time they “fight”.

The first “fight” having taken place during the Cursed Womb Arc.

If you will remember, Gege used the Cursed Womb Arc and the Origin of Obedience Arc to show us how much our favorite trio had grown. 

Not sure Gege is going to parallel something here again, but just interesting to note.

Oh f*ck...

Ya, please excuse the French.

Despite the many words I’ve shared here, this chapter left me mostly speechless. 

I feel like I’ve been trapped in Gojo’s limitless domain expansion and all I can think is “oh f*ck” or “halloween” (if you catch my drift).

Chapter 160 was incredible because it looks like Gege has finally finished putting all his pieces into place and is ready to go for the kill by: 

Starting to unravel the story bit by bit, giving us all of the twists we both saw and did not see coming, and

Ramping up the stakes. Taking into consideration the estimates that JJK is somewhere around 60-70% done at this point, It’s not a matter of whether some of our beloved characters will die, but about who, when and how they will die

One last detail

I love the last four panels of the chapter showing Panda, Hakari, Yuji and Megumi all wearing their uniforms (barring Panda) and getting ready to become official participants of the Culling Game by entering their respective barriers.

Knowing that Gege is a very talented artist capable of showing and expressing emotions through his art, I feel like these panels tell us a lot about what the characters might be thinking and I thought I’d expand on that. 

Bear in mind this is my personal interpretation as an artist:

Panda looks excited and ready to fight, perhaps even confident. Panda is saying “bring it!” with his body language

There’s a hint of something I can’t describe in Hakari’s face. It’s almost like he’s coming face to face against how big of a challenge this is going to be and yet he’s resolved to walk straight into “the depths of hell itself”

Yuji looks focused, determined to go in and give it his best no matter what comes his way--that’s just who he is

And then there’s Megumi. I’ve been drawing Megumi recently, and one thing I noticed is that he has very specific micro-expressions. In his panel, he’s warming up his wrists as though he’s getting ready to fight, he has a focused look on his face, but the shadows around his eyes say he might be feeling like he is carrying the heavy burden of the uncertainty surrounding the situation he’s going through

With all that being said... the Culling Game is officially starting and we’re in for a one-way ride straight to hell.

Thank you for reading and happy JJK-Sunday!

What about you? What did you enjoy most about chapter 160?

[steps-to-parnassus]

dead men tell no tales reimagined as horror-action

thinking again about how dead men tell no tales had so much wasted potential to be a fantastic horror-action film. instead of focusing on j*hnny d*pp and his stale, washed-out-drunk “comedy” or trying to shoehorn in yet another love story to replace will and elizabeth, the writers/producers/directors should have taken a look at the absolutely phenomenal make-up, costuming, digital effects, and actors’ performances that they had on their hands for the crew of the Silent Mary, and at how the original script written by Ted and Terry heavily played up the horror element.

a horror-focused film would have been a breath of fresh air for the series and could have even made several other elements of the film (lieutenant scarfield, shansa, etc) work better. it would have made the idea of a “final adventure” ring much more true, and most of all, it would have harkened back to the horror elements prevalent in curse of the black pearl and ESPECIALLY dead man’s chest, which worked very strongly in those films’ favour.

just think about the possibilities (quite long, so i’ll put it under a cut):

ghostly hands coming out of the walls of the Monarch like in the trailer, but the viewer never sees what happens next. all we get are flashes of the massacre and Henry’s perspective, trapped in the brig with no light as he struggles to see and hears screams of terror and demonic shrieks of glee.

we don’t see the ghosts coming into the brig due to the darkness; all we see are golden pinpricks in the dark, noises of shuffling and agonized breaths and the sense that something is terribly wrong. they only appear to the audience as one of them brings a torch down into the brig for Henry’s benefit, and suddenly the Mary’s crew is revealed in all their terrifying glory to both Henry and us.

they stare and leer at him, and crewmembers in the background have red blood around their mouths. the audience gets the sense that they very much don’t want to let Henry go.

when we next see Henry in Saint Martin, he’s raving. he still meets Carina, still speaks with her, still agrees to help her, but he is terrified by what he has seen. he tells her about the corpses and the pools of blood he had to walk through to get to the Monarch’s longboat. he tells her how the demons watched him go with hungry eyes. he tells her that he can still hear the screams.

Scarfield does not seek to kill Henry just because he is a traitor - Scarfield sees him with Carina, whom he lusts after. Henry might help her off the island, might protect her. Scarfield wants him out of the way so that he might possess. he has heard plenty of the ghostly crew and cares not that they are attacking british ships - every officer not himself that dies is a greater chance Scarfield will be promoted in the seniority-obsessed ranking system.

Jack is doing well when we first see him, the cunning fast-talker we’ve always known him to be. it is only after the rumours of a ghostly crew with a captain calling himself Salazar spread like wildfire around Saint Martin that he starts trying to drown himself in liquor to assuage the bone-deep terror. 

when Salazar and his crew are freed, they don’t have a mild little cheer. no, they tear their hair and howl like madmen. they have been storing all their pain and hate against pirates and empires for decades - they are going to bathe the oceans in blood.

when we first see Shansa, she is hooded and cloaked, somehow able to track the movements of the dead. she takes her robe off and we see why: she is covered in scars from blades and fingernails and teeth, wounds left her when she was the “one man left alive” from a voyage into the Triangle many years ago, back when the Mary’s crew could not control their bloodlust as well as they can now. and that is terrifying to us - what they did on the Monarch was their version of being restrained.

we see the news of the dead crew spreading as they attack pirates and british ships alike. churches are overflowing with terrified citizens; people bar their doors and hold fast their rosaries and guns at night.

Jack’s crew were loyal to him up until they heard of the dead - now they must be paid off by Henry to rescue Jack, because every pirate in the Caribbean knows who Salazar is; and now that he is the undead, they daren’t let him find them. the rumours are coming back from men left alive that the crew of the Mary sing and laugh as they butcher without remorse, that the evil curse they lay under forces them to feast on human flesh just to keep going, just to feel anything. Jack’s crew do not mutiny later because he suggests it - they mutiny out of sheer terror.

the scene with Salazar and Barbossa’s first encounter is one of the few in the film where the horror element is quite prominent (the other being Salazar’s intro, and it isn’t a coincidence that these are two of the film’s strongest and most compelling scenes). very little about this would need to be changed to work, save for one thing: Salazar does not tap his sword five times at the end. instead he simply says, “you can take what’s left of them,” and nods to his lieutenant and his men, who all begin to smile as they turn to the crew. when we see them next, Barbossa’s crew are down to less than half. we never find out what happens to them.

when Salazar tells his story and we see the past, we are stunned. here is the crew of the Mary, working together, smiling, laughing at their victory. we see and hear them talking about how finally civilians will be safe; about how they can retire, go back to their wives and children and parents and siblings. we see them as normal men with a noble goal. 

we see them awake and scream in pain and terror, and it is on their agonized screaming at the start of their decades-long imprisonment that we cut back to the present. now we can understand, at least a little, how once-good men became monsters.

Carina, Henry, and Jack would have far more dramatic reactions to the Mary’s crew on the beach. for Henry, these are the demons that slaughtered an entire crew as he sat in the brig, trapped and helpless and terrified that his horrific end was imminent. for Jack, these are men whom he’s seen before as humans, and whose hatred and bloodlust is directed at him. for Carina, who has never seen ghosts before, she is struck dumb. these men have horrific injuries, and they are looking at her with detached curiosity and bloodlust that seems a thousand times more horrifying than the looks Scarfield gave her. she can almost see what they would have done to her had they caught her.

there is no ridiculous wedding scene on at hangman’s bay. instead, the locals saw the giant ghost ship sailing into their waters. they know who it is the demons want, but are not aware that the Mary’s crew cannot set foot on land. they intend to give Jack up to the ghosts in exchange for their own lives.

Salazar still executes Barbossa’s men in the name of the king. he is completely mad, but some part of him still thinks himself a righteous naval officer.

Scarfield wants the trident, but more than that, he wants to use it and Shansa’s knowledge to control these dead men. he remembers the reign of terror Beckett wrought with the Dutchman. he would see it repeated for his own personal gain.

in the ship-to-ship battle, Henry initially tries to defend Carina until he realizes that the ghosts aren’t attacking her. they want her to lead them to the trident so that they can seize it for themselves. our heroes do not yet know that they want to end their curse. in fact, the crew of the Mary don’t really know that themselves - they’d much rather have the pirates surrounding them dead to rights, and then free themselves.

every time one of the Mary’s crew is dissipated due to contact with land, the others react. they scream and howl and gnash their teeth and their eyes flare gold. the viewer can feel how much they would like to crush the heroes’ bones into pulp.

when Henry is captured, the officers of the Mary cannot take their eyes off of him. he is terrified for his life, shaking the whole time. when Lesaro mentions that they have tried possession before, the other officers mourn their comrades who became trapped in human bodies and slowly died of thirst, still unable to leave the Triangle, all because they wanted to see the sun again. the viewer is conflicted - are we supposed to pity these monsters? there are flashes beneath the madness that suggests that deep down, they just want to be human again.

when the crew’s curse is broken, we see more of it. we see limbs regrow, bodies knit together again. we see the bloodthirsty monsters we have come to fear laughing and weeping with joy, embracing each other. we hear their terrified screams for help as Salazar finally demonstrates that his own bloodlust was decidedly not the byproduct of a curse as was the case for his crew and pursues Jack.

Barbossa climbs down the chain to kill Salazar, but the former spanish officer deals a mortal blow. just as he is about to kill Barbossa, Jack himself decides to muster up his courage and sacrifice to save those dear to him, which throughout the films, he has always done. he falls from the anchor, and together with his rival-turned-best-friend, he plummets to his death with one last jaunty sweep of his tricorne hat.

there are many dead from the battle. Barbossa’s pirate empire is in ruins, and british power in the caribbean has taken a massive hit. people everywhere are terrified. Henry, however, finds that his terror has stopped and resolves to be a braver man after witnessing what Barbossa and Jack have done. Carina pledges to honour her father and never again to disbelieve in ghost stories. she decides to become a pirate.

in this bittersweet ending, a glimmer of hope: the Dutchman surfaces, with two new crewmembers. Will hangs up his hat to Jack, with Barbossa as his first mate, and Jack is finally reunited with Bill, who has made amends with Barbossa. the old captain-versus-captain dynamic is back - and destined to play out forever. with uncharacteristic solemnity, Jack vows to ferry Salazar’s crew to the other side so that they can finally rest.

Will climbs aboard the Black Pearl, where the crew has elected Carina Barbossa captain. he asks if she might sail him to Singapore - his wife is the pirate king and lord of the south china sea, and that is where she holds court. Henry and Carina, true pirates, share a kiss as the sun rises and our heroes head off to find new adventure. the nightmare is finally over.

[manonblaqkbeak]

Motel Living

this idea would not leave me alone, despite me having like three other fics barely done. it is very random. i dont even know what to say lol.

2554 words

enjoy!

Today was officially the one month anniversary of Aelin moving into a three-star motel. She did not think she'd be here for long, a couple of weeks at most, but here she was a month later, and on a Friday night no less. She should have been out with her friends, but she opted to stay inside.

She had to tell herself that she shouldn't complain. That there were people that were worse off than her. Living in a motel was fine.

But it still didn't change the fact that Aelin wished she wasn't living in a motel room. Especially one that was popular with long haul truckers whose snores sounded like chain saws and blenders on the highest level. That right now, down in the restaurant/pub that was only six doors down, an important football game was playing and the patrons inside were cheering wildly.

Aelin missed the house that she had been renting the last three years. Last year she had decided to start saving so that she could purchase the house itself, since it was still on the market since the day she moved in. It was hard, but Aelin was a determined woman and she set her sights on purchasing the house—she felt like she practically owned it anyway—up until the day she received a call from the real estate agency telling her that the house had been purchased and she had to move out.

Aelin disliked crying, but the waterworks started the minute she hung up. She really did love that house. Had created a small vegetable and herb garden to make it feel more homely. Made it hers in the three years she had occupied it.

There was a tiny silver-lining, however, since the new owners were coming from the other side of the continent, she had plenty of time to pack and move out.

But that silver-lining quickly disappeared once she started her search for a new home in-between packing and work. Every apartment, every house, every unit she looked out at was taken by the time she handed in her application. Every inspection starting to become fruitless when she knew that she wouldn't be the one to live in it.

Aelin hadn't realised that the market had become so cut-throat. She knew she was the perfect applicant because in all her years renting she never missed a single day, never received a complaint. Even when the landlord dragged his ass to fix something, Aelin kept her temper in its leash and did not throttle him the way she wanted too.

And as her luck ran out and Aelin had started to truly worry about where she was going to live because while she had multiple people in her life, she quickly realised that she couldn't ask any of them if she could move in for multiple reasons:

Aedion and Lysandra were recently married, and Aelin hadn't wanted to burst their newlywed bubble.

Chaol and Yrene were brand new parents, their baby girl born the day Aelin moved out, and she knew the last thing they wanted was someone else in the way.

Nehemia was in the same position as her, but her parents had invited her back home while Nehemia looked for somewhere else. Aelin's parents were dead, and her childhood home had been destroyed in a wildfire a five years ago, and Aelin had used the insurance money to pay off her debts. She cursed herself now for doing that, but Aelin hated being in debt and she did what she had too.

Fenrys lived in a one bedroom unit and had the worlds most uncomfortable couch, so he was out. And while Fenrys was one of her best friends, she didn't really talk with Connall, his twin. Nor did she often talk with Vaughn.

Dorian and Manon were travelling all over Erilea and Dorian's younger brother Hollin was house-sitting. Aelin couldn't stand Hollin for more than a few minutes at a time and she would rather live in the motel for a year than live in with him.

And then there was Rowan. He had been a close friend for years, until five months ago they decided that they had liked each other too much to keep being friends and officially started dating (at Lysandra and Aedion's wedding, of all places). If they had been together for longer, she would have asked him—but she didn't want to rush anything, because Aelin could so clearly see a future with him and she didn't want to hurt that future by moving in far too early in their relationship.

So that left Elide, her lifelong friend that was more like a sister. Elide was purely on the bottom of the list since she knew her friend cherished living alone after living in a shit-hole with her even shittier uncle—but Aelin knew Elide and if Aelin needed a place to stay, then Elide's door would be wide open. The two had gone to lunch and Aelin had been just moments away from telling Elide everything and asking for a world changing favour.

Until Elide had excitedly announced that Lorcan was going to move in.

And Aelin's plan had deflated. Again, Aelin knew that if Elide was aware of how desperate she was, Elide would invite Aelin to stay, but since Lorcan and Aelin didn't particularly get along, Aelin kept her mouth shut and congratulated her friend for the new milestone in their relationship.

So, all her options completely exhausted, Aelin looked for vacant motels, found that this was the best out of all the options and became a long-standing tenant.

Aelin had managed to keep everyone away from her new apartment by claiming that it wasn't ready for visitors. Most knew that Aelin was house-proud, a trait that she had inherited from her late mother, so they knew that when Aelin was ready, she would invite them.

It was getting hard, however, to keep Rowan away. Each date night and hang out ended up at his apartment and Rowan was becoming curious as to how her new place was looking.

Rowan wasn't judgemental, and he wouldn't look down at her for living in a motel room, but Aelin was the problem; she was too proud to show him her new place. Even when she was at her lunch with Elide, she had to beat down her pride at just the mere thought of asking Elide if she could move in.

Tonight, however, Aelin knew in her bones that Rowan would ask to come over. He had a completely shitty day at work—one that ended up in the hospital because for the first time in his career as a carpenter, Rowan had somehow gotten his hand in the way of his nail gun and shot right through the middle of his palm and was off work until it healed, which Rowan hated the most out of the whole ordeal, since Rowan was the type of person that always had to be doing something.

So when his face finally popped up on her phone screen, Aelin muffled a groan into her pillow (because there was no way in hell she was using the standard sheets the motel provided, she needed her bedding or she wouldn't get any sleep), took a deep breath and plastered a smile onto her face.

“How's the hand?” she asked by way of greeting.

“It'd be a lot better if there wasn't a hole in it,” was his groggy reply. “I just woke up from the longest nap and thought of you.”

“That's sweet of you to say,” Aelin said, “do you want me to come over? I could cook you my world famous grilled cheese.” Please say yes, she thought, please.

“As much as I love the sound of that, I just need to get out of my house,” Rowan said, “I know that you're house-proud and if you don't want me to see it, I understand, I'll even wear a blind fold if that'll make you happy, but I just...” he trailed off and Aelin could see his pained expression even though they were miles apart.

“Seeing all your work tools is making you miserable,” she supplied. Rowan grunted in confirmation. Taking a deep breath, Aelin said, “You can come over, I don't mind. I'd be happy to see you.” And she would be. She'd just have to kick her pride in the corner. “There's a pub right around the corner from mine and the cheeseburgers they have are really fucking good, and I mean that sincerely. Do you want me to get you one? Because I only have snacks and canned food at the moment.”

“A burger sounds good, with extra tomato, please.”

Aelin smiled. “Of course, I'll text you the address, and I'll see you soon.”

After ordering their dinner, Aelin tidied up (even though the space was immaculate) and waited, and waited. When a gentle knock sounded at her door, Aelin took the food from the restaurant worker and was just about to go back in when Rowan's truck pulled up.

Even ten car spots away, Aelin could see his puzzled expression from where she stood. Placing the food on the small, round dining table, Aelin waited by the door and gave Rowan her best smile when he stood in front of her.

His puzzled expression melted away momentarily when she kissed him hello, but it was back in full force when they pulled away.

“Fireheart,” was all he said, and it said everything that he didn't say.

“I know.”

“You're living in a motel room.” There was no judgement in his voice, like she knew there wouldn't be, but it was clear that he was confused about the whole thing. She should have just told him. She loved her late mother, but really hated the fact that she had passed her pride to Aelin. She hated the fact that, deep down, she was embarrassed, even if Aelin told herself that she had no reason to. The housing market was insane, there was no where else for her to go, and that she hated herself for not saving more money to buy her home of three years.

“I am,” Aelin said, “but it's not so bad. It's affordable and clean.” Aelin invited him inside and sat him down the small dining table.

From his spot, he took in the space. Saw the bar fridge that could barely hold a bags worth of cold food, her toaster oven and the dual butane stove she had to purchase because she didn't want to have to use the toaster oven all the time. The tiny closet that held a decent amount of clothes, but didn't make a dent in her considerable mountain of clothes that she had put away in the storage unit she was renting.

None of her candles were in sight and no books either. Aelin was taking full advantage of her library apps, but it wasn't the same. Aelin loved the feeling of a book in her hands, but there was no space and it would have been silly to bring in her bookcases.

“Where's all your stuff?”

“In a storage unit. I considered living in there, but it doesn't have an air-conditioner and this place does.”

Before Rowan could say anything, Aelin turned on the TV, put on whatever movie sounded dumb enough and ate her dinner.

Aelin could see the question burning in his eyes as she stuffed her mouth to avoid answering that very question.

Why didn't Aelin ask if she could stay with him?

Aelin wanted to tell him, she really did, but was afraid that if she showed how serious she was, Rowan might admit that he wasn't as serious as her.

But Aelin knew herself, knew that she was going to tell him at one point or another. She could tell Rowan anything and he wouldn't flinch. It was her own doubt stopping her.

“That really is the best burger I've ever had,” Rowan said when he was finished.

“It really is,” was all Aelin could think of to say. Gods, she felt so damned awkward. The question was still in Rowan's eyes, even as he laughed at the movie and its stupidity. So to avoid it for a bit longer, Aelin took the take-away boxes into the dumpster outback and immediately went for a shower afterwards.

When she came out, Rowan was lounging on her bed, his injured hand laying across his chest, the other arm fiddling with her comforter. Aelin dressed in a shirt that she may have borrowed without asking from Rowan and a pair of sleep shorts.

Borrowing underneath her comforter, Aelin rested her head on Rowan's chest and the awkwardness she felt deflated a bit as he pressed a kiss on her head.

Aelin told him how she ended up here. Including her embarrassment and annoyance at herself. Rowan listened attentively, as he always did. That was one of the biggest things she loved about him, that he listened. And Aelin was in love with him, she knew without a doubt. She was certain she fell in love with him when he danced with her at Aedion and Lysandra's wedding.

When the credits started to roll, Aelin took a deep breath and decided to plunge into uncharted territories. She kept her eyes glued onto the screen.

Aelin decided to bite the bullet. If it all went to hell, she would beat herself up later.

“I don't want to fuck things up with you.” Well, that wasn't how she wanted to start this conversation, but she supposed it was the best way to start off. “I wanted to ask you if I could move in, but our relationship is just so new, and I didn't want to ruin our future, because I can see a future with you, Rowan.” Moving so that she could look Rowan in the eye, Aelin took the deepest plunge imaginable and told him, “I love you, Rowan. I'm in love with you.”

The smile he gave her was the most beautiful she'd ever seen. “I love you, too, Aelin.” Reaching down to kiss her, all of Aelin's doubts melted away. When he pulled back, Rowan said softly, “If you wish to ask, I'll say yes. Because I see a future with you too. You're the one for me.”

“Rowan, can I move in with you?”

He kissed her again. “Yes, you can.”

Aelin's cheeks were started to become sore from all her smiling. Maybe it was a good thing after all that she ended up living here.

Hours later, after another bad movie and celebrating the new milestone in their relationship (which was mainly Aelin laughing as she rode Rowan because he kept forgetting about his injured hand), Aelin and Rowan got ready for bed, and as Aelin rested her head on his chest again, she said, “Just to let you know, I'm going to replace your mattress for mine, because yours is hard as stone.”

“That's exactly why I'm letting you move in, I'm in the market for a new mattress.”

Aelin playfully whacked his chest and muttered what a buzzard he was, but soon fell asleep with a smile on her face, ready for her future with Rowan.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

you’re someone i just want around: I

“And I can't wait another minute

I can't take the look she's giving

Your body rocking, keep me up all night

One in a million, my lucky strike.”

— Lucky Strike, Maroon 5

A/N: this idea started as just random concept drabbling between leyla @sunflowervolvimp3​ and i and we never really thought it would amount to anything tbh!! but as we started putting more and more into the plot and characters, we made the spontaneous decision to make it a full on, multi-chaptered collab fic! we have so many ideas planned and so much to elaborate on and we’re just so mfing excited to share it with you guys :’) any and all feedback is greatly appreciated 💌 we hope you enjoy the first part and that you fall in love with this stupid emotionally unavailable moron the way we did! happy reading!!

andrea’s askbox : leyla’s askbox : ysijwa masterlist : andrea’s masterlist : leyla’s masterlist : 

word count: 17.2k

content/warnings: vampire!harry being a lowkey asshole while downing straight tequila like a psycho, getting to know The Crew, Mitch being the iconic legend he is, mentions of smut, and Harry working his immortal charm on an unsuspecting human girl with a peculiar scent and intriguing personality

///

Harry hates clubs. 

In his two hundred years of life, through many trials and tribulations, through tricky scenarios and annoying encounters, through thousands of unappealing circumstances and patience-testing events, he doesn’t think anything quite compares to the crowded, nerve-wracking experience that is a Los Angeles club on a Friday night during peak hours. 

According to his wise, humble opinion, it’s absolutely fucking petrifiying. He’d rather swallow a stake than have to spend hours in a dimly lit room with synthetic smoke choking his lungs, half-conscious humans stumbling around into him, and the stench of sweaty bodies mixed with liquor fumes, alongside the faint yet unmistakable waft of vomit. 

Yeah, Harry would definitely rather eat a red oak spear than have to shoulder that.

Despite his intense hatred for this Californian city during its after-hours, he can’t deny that he fits right into the scene perfectly. Decades of grooming and practice have made him a prime candidate for the fast-paced characteristics that come with the party nightlife. 

Fitting into these aspects aren’t something he had learned willingly; he didn’t really have a choice on the matter, considering his entire existence depends on mortals immature tendencies to get properly shit-faced and make stupid decisions in tightly-packed glorified bars. Harry never understood that— how a fog machine, strobe lights, and an undergrad amateur DJ could ever seem more appealing than the quiet, stable ambiance of a semi-formal bar. How deranged do people have to be to actually enjoy strangers spilling alcohol on them while attempting to shag someone else two feet away on the dance floor? 

Whenever he dwells too much on that thought, he gets a spiking migraine. After this long, Harry’s just come to terms with the fact that humans are regressing as a species. His conclusion is a bit cynical, perhaps, but hardly difficult to accept. One look at a news outlet provides enough proof to launch an Ivy League research project on the matter. 

He really shouldn’t be complaining, however, because the combination of overflowed close quarters and dampened inhibitions makes it the ideal hunting ground. Picking up a living blood bag at a club is basically as easy as walking through a vineyard and plucking grapes right off the stems. It’s practical, it’s fool-proof, and if he plays his cards right, he gets to feed and gets his more intimate needs tailored (a combo that he and his friends refer to as Laid and Drained).  

So regardless of his distaste towards clubs and their eager inhabitants, Harry had learned to mold his persona to fit the bill, making himself as approachable and desirable as possible. His life literally hangs in the balance; he’d put up with throngs of drunk sorority girls and their affinity for shitty perfumed drinks if it means avoiding desiccation. 

It’s not like it’s hard. All Harry has to do is make himself look more appealing than the other hundred men milling around the establishment, which— if he’s being brutally honest— isn’t that challenging. The moral, physical, and ethical standards of men have dropped frighteningly low since his time. Most of the ones that creep around clubs are overconfident, overzealous, boundary-lacking douchebags who think they’re entitled to a woman’s attention, and therefore make complete, utter fools of themselves in the process of trying to court one into their pants. Buying a girl one Sex On The Beach and dry-humping to Daft Punk isn’t the way to convince her to come home with you. 

Harry has developed his own guidelines and tactics for securing a nightly bedroom companion, and his ideas have been working wonders for him for decades now. 

The first and foremost rule is to clean up nicely. Personal appearance is everything. Humans are visual creatures; they build first impressions solely based on outward attraction. That trait is enhanced the higher their blood alcohol content rises. The drunker someone gets, the shallower they become, and it’s Harry’s job to work that to his advantage. And at the risk of sounding shallow himself, he thinks he does pretty alright in that department. 

Especially tonight, present in all the elements of his physique. He’s clad in a pair of high-waisted tan trousers that have been ironed to a crisp, his fitted graphic tee tucked neatly along his waistband beneath his black leather belt. His t-shirt is probably his favorite part of the entire look. It’s a baby blue sturdy cotton number with pastel yellow detailing along the cuffs and collar and a giant cartoon puppy in a striped bowtie taking up its center, smiling cheekily at the onlooker. Arranged around the doodle in faded Times New Roman bubble letters are the words WE’RE IN THE SHIT. 

Harry loves the irony of the article— the innocence of the drawing juxtaposed by the crude message. The piece is a conversation-starter— people almost always comment on it— and that’s exactly what he needs. Something to draw attention to himself and shadow all the other men. Something that shows he has a personality; that he has taste and a good sense of humor and isn’t just another walking genital. Plus, what person doesn’t enjoy a funny little contradiction, especially when it’s this cute?

On top of his graphic top, he’s wearing a tartan cropped blazer (open, of course) with a creme background and royal blue lines. The hem ends at the bottom of his ribs, exactly where his pants begin, and the jacket's hand-sewn buttons and strap detailings show that it's an expensive garment. It shows that he puts money and effort into how he looks, which is something anyone would appreciate when scoping for a possible hookup.

Harry’s shoes are the most casual factor of his fit. They’re a pair of light yellow Vans that match the collar of his tee. They’re plain, but he keeps them clean and they tie the whole look together without a hitch.

Accessories are everything, as well. Aside from the pearls arranged around his prominent collarbones, the gold-dipped cross hanging from a delicate chain around his neck, and the matching dangling cross earring on his right earlobe (again, he adores irony), he’s sporting a plethora of chunky rings on his hands, each unique and effortlessly complimenting his appearance. On his left hand, his index finger dots a ruby jewel embedded into a thick rusted band, another large metal one with dancing bears on his middle, and two clunky golden letters on his last two digits— his initials, HS. On his opposite hand, he has a medium-width plated ring on his middle finger with peace engraved along its rounded edge, an elegant lionhead number with an amethyst stone snug in its mouth, and along his pinky is a decently-sized opal set into a delicate polished frame. 

His two last rings are the most important of all. The lionhead is his daylight ring, which he hasn’t taken off since he transitioned. It keeps him from bursting into flames everytime the sun hits his skin. The opal was his mother’s, and it was her favorite. 

Harry’s attire is something he’s immensely proud of, even though a good amount of people deem him eccentric in the eyes of modern masculinity. He couldn’t give less of a shit. With his lightly tanned skin, alluring cologne and lacquered nails, his shirt stretching across the defined muscles of his chest and stomach, his broad shoulders and tapering waist, his thick thighs, sharp jaw, jade eyes, loosely tousled chestnut curls, and the vast array of dark ink littering his arms...

He looks good and he knows it. And all the people whose gazes glue to him as he passes by know it, too. Especially a random group of young women in line, who ogle at him shamelessly as he casually strolls past. He treats them to a sly wink, an irresistible dimpled smile, and a soft, cheeky greeting of, “Ladies.”

He gets off on the way they swoon at his refined English accent, giggling and waving. 

The only other component Harry has for succeeding in the club environment is simple, but it’s important: Don’t seduce, romanticize. 

Anyone— even inebriated idiots— can try and seduce a woman. And if she’s had enough tequila shots to cloud her thoughts, they just might succeed. But only a real man can romanticize a girl, and it yields way better results. 

Females are an emotional sect (Harry says that with zero misogyny; it’s just a scientific fact and he actually praises it), which means that if you entertain their interests and fluff their egos, they are bound to fall right into the palm of your hand. It changes the game completely because then they don’t feel that they have to pleasure you, they want to. They pursue the guy who flirts without being too vulgar, who appreciates and acknowledges their efforts, and who can go head-to-head with their wit by carrying unforced banter. They chase after him because he’s showing genuine kindness rather than just sexual interests and if he’s that attentive on the getting-to-know-you front, one can only imagine how skilled he could be in other bases. Chatting up a girl the right way, with patience and courtesy, builds credibility and prowess. And as a thank you, they’re usually more than willing to pay special attention to your needs, as well. 

Thus, romanticizing is always the expert move. So, yes, Harry detests clubs and the disaster that is adult recreation. But he’s fucking amazing at playing it to his favor. He’s great at calculating everything down to the smallest detail and he’s going to piggy-back on those skills for the rest of eternity. He’s so good at what he hates that his closest friends have anointed him the title of Walking Paradox. He’s more than happy to keep it. 

All of these thoughts are circulating around his skull, hyping him up for the game ahead as Harry and his friend group walk up to the bouncer at the entrance of the club they had chosen for the night, faint stars twinkling in the dark sky as the sounds and lights of the city fall away into background static. 

They cruise by the long line of people, hearing sounds of disagreement and grumbling coming from the other patrons waiting to get in. Harry casually tucks his large hands into the pockets of his light brown slacks as he pulls up in front of the burly bald man, who is wearing a black shirt with the club’s name printed in neon letters. The security guard is at least five inches taller than him, overswollen biceps and pectoral muscles rippling under the flimsy material of his work outfit as he crosses his arms over his barreled chest, cocking a single thick eyebrow at the seemingly young vampire. 

Harry delivers a good-natured smile up at the employee, despite the man’s obvious begrudging disbelief at what he is about to try and do. His friends chat quietly behind him, uninterested in what is happening; after years of being acquainted, they know that Harry is going to get exactly what he wants. He always does. 

He’s the best of them, that much is obvious. Not only when it comes to his experience with persuading sexual partners and getting himself a decent dinner, but he’s the best at convincing just about anyone to do anything, neutral of gender. He’s the second oldest of the crew, yet he seems to have the most knowledge and practice under his belt; his easygoing charisma, undeniable good looks, and dazzling smile could sway even the most stubborn of souls. Frankly, he’s so successful in getting his way that no one cares to try and argue for the leader position. Not when they can just sit back and let Harry do all the work. 

“Good evening.” Harry’s deep voice chimes giddily in the direction of the bouncer, his accent particularly heavy for no real reason. “How you doing tonight, mate?”

The guard— whose name tag reads Brock and Harry has to actively stop himself from snorting at how fitting the name is for such a brick of a human— looks down at him with a stony expression, voice flat. “I’m good.”

“Well, that’s great to hear!” The curly-haired boy’s simper widens, dimples popping into place as he skates into his next question with dramatic friendliness. “Haven’t had anyone cause you any trouble tonight, have you?”

Brock blinks once, attitude remaining coldly indifferent even in the face of Harry’s cheeriness. His words, however, are snipped and pointed. “Not yet.”

“I’m guessing you’d like to keep it that way.” The young man comments sympathetically, nodding his head along with the worker. “Totally understandable.” 

“Good.” The employee remarks in the same detached tone, shifting on his feet, obviously growing uncomfortable and irritated with the conversation. “So I’m guessing that means you know you have to get in line.” 

Harry glances over his shoulder at the lengthy expanse of people gathered along the side of the building, a light wind filtering through his freshly-shampooed ringlets as he studies the way the bright sign on top of the club casts alternating rainbow colors across the crowd. 

He makes a disapproving sound by sucking at his teeth, lulling his sight back onto the guard. “I don’t know, man. At this rate, I feel like by the time we get to the front of the line, it’ll be last call.”

“Maybe.” Brock shrugs offhandedly. “It is what it is, right? Fair’s fair.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Harry returns his gesture, but his posture shows no intention of moving, the corners of his rose lip set in a knowing smirk. “But since you’ve been having a good night, do you think you could find it in yourself to just let us through? We’d greatly appreciate it.” 

The bouncer’s face hardens, any shred of professional amiability washing out of his defined features. “I don’t think so.” 

The vampire’s shoulders sag in exaggerated disappointment. “Are you sure? It’s just five of us. Don’t think we’ll do much damage. Right, guys?”

Harry glimpses over his back to his friends, who let their conversation falter for a moment to throw out a chorus of half-assed agreements, trying to keep themselves from snickering. 

“We promise we won’t cause any problems.” Xander speaks up, jutting his chin encouragingly at the man as his lips twitch slyly. He lifts one of his hands, the smallest finger sticking out stiffly and wiggling around. “Pinky swear.” 

The rest of the group bursts into a round of light laughter, causing Harry to release a few airy giggles of his own.  

Xander looks over at Niall, raising his eyebrows and quipping in an innocent manner. “Right, Ni? No funny business tonight. That means no climbing onto the bar again and stripping down to your socks.” 

“That happened one time!” Niall exclaims incredulously, socking the taller boy in the shoulder as the others laugh harder than before, his blue eyes narrowed and face pinched. “Once! And it was only ‘cause Harry challenged me to a tequila shot contest.”

The Irish vampire’s accented voice drops darkly as he reminisces. “Fuckin’ hate tequila. Makes me act like a moron.” 

“As if you’re not one already.” Mitch pipes up in his usual soft dialect, chuckling as he ducks away from Niall’s vengeful fist. 

Harry cranes back to face Brock, thumb playing with his daylight ring as his hands stay relaxed inside his trousers. He shrugs one shoulder easily for emphasis. “See? You can let us through. We pinky swore.” 

The entire charade seems to have only infuriated the security guard more than before, his brows now fully furrowed and a deep, unamused frown etched across his previously pursed lips. His voice is on edge with barely controlled anger. “I’m not putting up with any shit. If you want in, go to the back of the line. If not, leave.”

Harry sighs grandly in defeat, head shaking slightly. “Guess I’ll just have to go the other route, then.”

The creature takes a step forward towards the employee, close enough that their chests almost press together. The bulky man stands his ground, though there’s a flicker of surprise in his eyes at seeing the smaller boy make such a bold move. 

“What the f—?”

Harry locks gazes with Brock, pupils dilating to twice their size, the usual emerald shade of his irises flickering a haunting red and looking sinister in the buttery light of the street lamps. Horror breaks across the worker’s face, the ability to form coherent sentences disappearing from his demeanor. Harry’s heightened senses can hear the way his heartbeat spikes, blood instinctively rushing into his chest as a response to the adrenaline materializing in his veins. The activation of human’s fight-or-flight modes is always so oddly pleasurable. Just feeling how they react so drastically makes Harry’s fangs tingle with longing. Fear is a good condiment, he’s learned; it gives blood’s usual metallic flavor a certain twang.

But at the moment, a beverage from this specific tap isn’t the one Harry has in mind. He has his interests set on something much tangier and full-bodied; maybe Casamigos golden tequila, or Don Julio's Blanco. Preferably mixed with a young office secretary or a Bath and Body Works employee instead of lemon and salt. 

All in all, Brock is just collateral for a much bigger prize, which lies behind the roped off area he holds dominion over. It’s Harry’s job to break that dam. 

Before the large man can fully react, the vampire begins working his compulsion strategy, tone coming out level and soothing, thick with persuasion and teetering along a sleepy undercurrent. “You’re going to let us through, and you’re going to forget we ever met.”

The guard’s pupils enlarge to match Harry’s, the look of utter terror on his face melting right off. His features go slack as the monster’s magical influence works its way through his brain, coating every neuron and bending him to the deliverer’s will. The man reaches over and removes the velvet rope blocking the group’s path, stepping off to the side obediently with an empty expression present across his appearance. 

The leader of the group smiles just as brightly as he had the second he’d walked up to the door. He passes by the worker, giving him a hard pat on the shoulder and feeling the muscular man strain under his supernatural strength. “Thank you very much. You have a nice night, Brock.” 

Harry’s friends follow behind him, echoing his parting message and sharing a collective chortle.  

The second the group dives past the frame of the club entrance, the whole ambiance of the atmosphere changes. Harry walks across the top ledge of the establishment, coming to a halt at the railing that overlooks the main level of the club, his inhumanly sharp eyes bouncing around all the corners of the building to construct some type of familiar layout in his head. Amidst the blinking lights, thick artificial smoke, and swaying bodies, his keen instincts sketch a mental image for tonight’s hunting ground. 

The bar is at the far left corner of the club, squared off and taking up a large chunk of the colorful tiled dance floor. The music station extends across the entire wall at the opposite end of the tavern, stocked with massive speakers and a professional turntable. Harry’s brows jump in mild surprise— it’s not every day that a club puts so much effort into their mixer. 

The animated dancing area is packed with people, the crowd all jumping and grinding to the beat of the bass, moving as one large mass while the rotating strobe lights hang from the cavernous ceiling, bathing their moving silhouettes in neon reds, drunken blues, groggy purples, and electric yellows. The dim surroundings and heavy fog make all the hues more intense, giving the endless party that timeless quality which people tend to enjoy about nightlife. It’s the night to remember effect that movies and shows always hyperbolize; he thinks this way because he’s well aware that not even a third of these people are sober enough to know what the fuck they’re doing, let alone recall it the following day. It’s comically ironic, really. 

But Harry profits off that liquor amnesia, so he brushes away his sardonic skepticism for the time being, settling his lean forearms onto the metal railing that lines the second story of the venue, which is meant to keep shit-faced customers from creating a messy lawsuit. He carefully absorbs the grandeur of it all, leaning his weight forward with a detached sigh, already flickering through the mental menu of his favorite drinks that he has expertly memorized. 

He’s in the process of choosing between a Manhattan— it isn’t a very complicated drink, which is exactly what he’s looking for; something simple and strong— or just straight tequila in a glass when he suddenly feels a familiar presence arrange itself beside him, bumping his shoulder playfully with their own.

Harry snaps out of his recipe retrieval, eyes casting to the side to land on his best friend of almost a century. He cocks an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for the thin, bearded man to make the first move towards conversation.

“You’re a real dick, y’know that?” 

The green-eyed vampire sputters into spontaneous laughter, the edges of his eyes crinkling as the small pits in his cheeks jolt awake. His tone is humorous and full of fake insult for the hell of the joke. “Wow, alright. So I get us into the club that you chose and that makes me a prick? Good to know. You can handle the muscle next time, then, if you’re gonna talk shit.”

Mitch cracks a gentle jesting grin, which is very on brand for him. He doesn’t seem like much, with his skinny, lanky frame, delicate features, shoulder-length hair, and somewhat scraggly stubble. He’s quiet, reserved, and hardly engages with anyone outside of their immediate group. He’s always been that way for as long as Harry could remember. 

When they had met back in 1924 at a speakeasy in New York, Mitch had given off a mysterious vibe that Harry had found amusing and intriguing. His slightly sickly appearance and distant persona made the younger vampire want to get to know him better; it was just so peculiar that this seemingly impassive man was working at an illegal bar as a live musician. One would think that a performer would have to display an engaging character to keep a loyal audience, but Mitch had been all the talk of the underground despite his unemotional coolness. It was startlingly unorthodox and Harry just had to know more. 

Therefore, with a bit of help from his convincing supernatural abilities, he’d secured a spot as the black market club’s leading vocalist. He wasn’t anything worth a Grammy, but he could keep his singing in tune and follow Mitch’s guitar rhythms easily enough, all thanks to his limited experience with piano. He fit right in. 

From the first show they had put on together, it was like they had known one another in a different lifetime. They clicked so flawlessly it was almost fictional. 

Harry was lively and charming on stage, working the crowd to his favor as easily as he could knock back a shot, wrapping every single patron around his jeweled pinky without breaking a sweat. His witty temperament countered Mitch’s timid disposition perfectly and that uncommon dynamic had been the foundation to their friendship. Their humorous shenanigans on stage (which included Harry pinching at Mitch’s ass and making vague vulgar motions at each other while harmonizing) was a hit within the drunken community, and it bled into their personal lives. They went from only interacting on stage to sharing drinks together afterwards, to hanging out outside of work, to deep late night conversations about the world and their experiences.

Soon enough, they were closer than either had expected to become. And once they found out each other’s true identities (Mitch had transitioned during the American Revolution, when a vampire in his battalion had given him blood to heal from a wound, unaware that the next day, Mitch would suffer a fatal gunshot to the stomach that would trigger his transformation) they grew inseparable. They had remained that way ever since. 

Despite his friend’s withdrawn tendencies, the older vampire never hesitates to make his opinions heard, obvious in how he’d just full-bodied Harry with that snarky comment. Even when it’s at his expense, Harry appreciates and respects the rawness of it. He loves the way Mitch is honest and straight-forward with everything that crosses his path— it’s one of his favorite traits about him and definitely one of the characteristics that had led Harry to deem him his best friend. He’s probably the most fulfilling person Harry has ever met and their friendship brings him a type of comfort that he doesn’t receive from anyone else.

Vampires can be so detached and cold not only towards humans, but towards one another, and it gets old at times. It’s unsettling not having someone to truly confide in, and Harry is grateful that Mitch had been so willing to fill that position.   

Due to this, Harry rarely takes genuine offense in Mitch’s digs. They’re normally expressed as a joke and they’ve both been alive for so long that thick skin is a default.

“How was I dick?” Harry inquires, slinking his head to the side with entertained curiosity. “If anything, he was the one being an asshole. I asked him to let us in nicely and he practically spit in my face!”

Mitch snorts in amusement, shaking his head lightly as his eyes streak across the humongous room in the same cunning manner Harry’s had. “You and Xander didn’t have to mock him that way.” 

That’s another thing that makes Mitch the better half of their power duo— he still has a decent shred of humanity in his unbeating heart. Pessimistic conclusions aside, Harry does have a bit, as well...but his is more like a paper-thin pencil shaving than a shred. Barely there, but there, at least. 

The young man returns his companion’s snort, rolling his eyes up to the hanging lights over their heads. “Was just some harmless teasing. Nothing bad came of it.”

Mitch scowls scoldingly. “It was unnecessary and mean.”

Harry mimics his expression with his nose scrunched sarcastically. “We were just taking the piss, and it’s not like he’s gonna remember it anyways. Stop being such a kill-joy.” 

“Stop being such an arrogant little shit.” 

“Or what?” Harry tilts his chin up challengingly, the amber specks around his pupils glinting tauntingly, faint black veins momentarily webbing across the whites of his eyes. He sweetens his voice into a honeyed drawl. “Are you gonna spank me, daddy? Have I been a bad boy?” 

Mitch belts out a feathery chuckle, shoving his friend with enough strength to send a regular human flying across the deck. But since the taller vampire matches his force, he hardly moves an inch. “Fuck off.” 

“I’m being serious!” Harry cackles, turning his hips and sticking out his ass towards his visibly disgusted acquaintance. “Go fucking in, if you want.”

He lowers his voice into a sultry hum, wagging his backside jestingly. “I like it rough, baby. Why don’t you bend me over this railing and show me who’s boss?”

It’s Mitch’s turn to roll his eyes to the ceiling, voice deadpan. “I think I’ll pass.” 

Harry juts his lower lip into a theatrical pout, sniffling faux tears. “You’re rejecting me that quick? Who’s the asshole now, huh?”

His best friend doesn’t even blink. “Still you.”

“I can live with that. And it’s probably a good call on your end to give up all this,” he signals vaguely up and down his tight torso with a ringed hand, grinning as he watches the veteran vampire pretend to gag, “because I don’t think Sarah wouldn’t be too happy about it.” 

Mitch’s humorous face immediately drops, eyes narrowing at the change in topic. “Very funny.” 

“I know, right? I’m a proper comedian.” Harry quips proudly, batting his lashes mockingly. “Where is Sarah, anyways? Have you heard from her lately?” 

Sarah and Mitch...They’re a complex couple, if they can even be called a couple. The two are more like occasional friends with benefits, “occasional” meaning “once every couple of months, if Sarah happens to be passing by.” 

Their relationship is open and very loose, mostly due to the fact that Sarah is fairly new to the world of blood-driven immortality and has decided to take full advantage of it. She’s been using compulsion to travel the world for the last three years since she changed, which had been the result of an unfortunate car accident. 

Mitch had been seeing her casually beforehand, keeping her around for the purpose of having a conventional feeding arrangement. Every time vampires feed, they heal the wounds they inflict with a bit of their blood, proceeding to then wipe the person’s memory with compulsion in order to eradicate any chances of getting caught. The caveat is that if a human dies with vampire blood in their system, they become one. 

Sarah’s death happened the day after she’d spent a night with Mitch, and one can imagine how distressed she had been when she'd awoken atop a metal table in a morgue within the basement of a hospital. Mitch had been there from the very first second she’d opened her eyes to her new life. Or rather, her dead life. He had helped her get accustomed to the next stage (meaning having to cut family ties in order to avoid a catastrophe— the less people that know the truth about the supernatural, the better) coaxing her through transition and teaching her the way to go about the rest of eternity without putting herself and others in danger. 

Vampires rarely have any compassion for life (usually out of spite, which stems from how their own lives were taken from them), so it’s not uncommon that bodies are found drained of blood in back alleys, abandoned warehouses, and washed up on banks of oceans and rivers. It could be either of two reasons, or even both: the monster doesn’t care about the consequences of their actions, or they never learned to control their urges. 

Harry’s crew isn't that careless. Through Mitch, they had learned restraint, taking up his practice of feeding enough to satisfy themselves without killing the host, healing them, and then erasing the occurrence from their memories. Mitch had come up with the tactic to cling to his humanity— to be as kind and nondestructive as possible— but if Harry’s being honest, most of their friends only play along because it’s convenient. No bodies means no police involvement, and no police involvement means being able to settle down in one place for an extended period, not having to stress about the annoying process of bouncing around the world for the rest of their lives to avoid detection. 

Keeping low was for the best, and when things get rough— whether it be a mistake on their part or a disastrous bender caused by another vampire passing through— they resort to drinking from blood bags until things tide over. Mitch has a contact at the nearest hospital, which is how he gets access to the stock, as well as how he managed to clean up Sarah’s passing so quickly. 

All in all, Harry had only mentioned Sarah to tease his friend, knowing the slight sensitivity that comes with the subject. Vampires rarely form emotional bonds, typically because it can get really messy, really fast, whether that connection be to a mortal or to another creature of their species. All of them have baggage of some sort— you can’t die, resurrect, be forced to abandon your family, and be a slave to drinking blood for the rest of eternity and just...be normal. That type of extreme emotional turmoil is corrosive towards love. It’s always better to just avoid it all together. 

That’s why this is so habitual to joke about; it’s a way to deflect. 

Mitch sighs grandly, Harry’s question echoing in his skull. “I don’t know where she is, to be honest. Last we talked was, like, four weeks ago, I think. She was in Japan, said she was drumming for a new upcoming band. Haven’t heard from her since.”

Harry nods his head once in understanding, itching to steer the theme of their conversation elsewhere now that he knows the topic is in a more sensitive state than he’d imagined. He doesn’t want to push Mitch into a depressive episode when they’re supposed to be having a good time. Spending the night consoling his sulky friend in the bathroom of a club is the last thing he wants right now. 

“I guess that makes Sarah the asshole, then.” He pokes jokingly, bumping the older vampire’s hip with his own. “She’s ghosting you. Get it? It’s funny ‘cause she’s actually dead.” 

Mitch’s sad expression shatters like glass, replaced by one of unamused secondhand embarrassment at the shitty pun. “I fucking hate you.”

“All the people who were ahead of their time were hated.” Harry sing-songs, turning up his nose haughtily. “Copernicus, Socrates, Einstein— all of them were hated for being geniuses. I’m willing to carry that same burden.” 

Mitch blinks at him three times. “No one hated Einstein.”

The curly-haired boy’s lips twitch darkly. “I’m pretty sure Japan did.” 

“You’re going to hell.” 

“I’m already there, mate.” 

Mitch shakes his head, but even through the black lights, Harry can see him trying to ward off a laugh. After a moment’s pause, he speaks up again softly. “It’s not that hard to refrain from humiliating innocent people who are just doing their job, H.” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you’re still on that?” The broad monster groans in exasperation, palms slapping down on the metal rungs below him. “We were just having some fun! But fine. If it helps you fake sleep at night, I’ll try and keep my condescending flare to a minimum.”

“That’s all I’m asking.” Mitch responds peacefully, tapping his nimble fingers casually along the railing, his action much less violent than his companion’s. “S’not too difficult.” 

“Whatever.” Harry scoffs, returning his intent gaze to the dance floor, scoping out the scene once again in hopes of finding a proper meal for the night. 

He zones in on a group of young women gathered along one side of the bar, their messy giggling and lack of balance giving away that they’re obviously sloshed off their faces. Seems promising enough. 

When he talks once more, his tone holds an attitude that plays on a grumble, but it’s somewhat distracted. “The least you could do is let me have some fun, considering I didn’t even want to come.” 

Mitch huffs, making an entertained noise in the back of his throat. “You say that every single time we go out, and yet you always end up taking someone home. Don’t know why you’re complaining.” 

Harry side-eyes him from his peripheral vision, the corners of his pretty cherry mouth dipping down grudgingly, mood defensive. “You drag me to these things so I’m not going to apologize for making the best of it. I put a lot of effort into my pick-ups! I deserve to get my dick wet.” 

“God, please don’t say that again.” His best mate physically makes a vomiting sound. “You’re acting like a spoiled fraternity douche.” 

Harry’s gaze ignites into flames, his back straightening out as he fully turns to face the shorter man. He’s never been insulted so low before. “Take that back!” 

“Take that back!” Mitch mocks in an exaggerated, high-pitched British accent, attempting to stifle giggles. 

“Take it back! You know how much I hate Gen Z.”

“Okay, boomer.” 

“You’re older than I am!” 

“I know. Your lack of maturity is a constant reminder.”

Harry opens his mouth, prepared to make a sharp comeback about how Mitch should have left the shaggy-haired stoner aesthetic back in the eighties, but then a heavy Irish accent interrupts his rebuttal. 

“What’s all this about getting your dick wet?” 

Both of the vampires turn towards Niall, finding Xander and Adam accompanying him in a loose semi-circle. 

Xander isn’t paying any attention, too busy tapping away at the screen of his smartphone, apparently engaged in a very riveting conversation with whoever is on the other side. Adam has his hands tucked into the pockets of his plum purple wind-breaker, looking over Harry’s shoulder, seeming to be adamantly searching for someone in particular amidst the mob on the level beneath them. Niall is the only one interested in their dying conversation, probably only because he heard something crude being mentioned. 

“It’s nothing.” Harry dismisses, but he can’t help but stick Mitch with a glare. “What’s the plan for tonight, then?”

Adam speaks up for the first time. “Charlotte and Ny texted saying they got here about ten minutes ago. Mentioned they were dancing near the DJ station, so I think I’ll go find them.”

“Sounds good.” Harry bobs his head in accordance. “We’ll see you out there, yeah?” 

Adam returns his action, turning on his heel and heading for the stairs that lead to the bottom floor. The leader of the group watches him trot onto the large spiral staircase, disappearing into the thick throng of people scattered across its wide steps. 

Harry shifts his attention to Xander, snapping his fingers a few times in his direction and giving a two-toned whistle. “What about you? What’s got your head?”

“Not what, who.” Niall teases, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and making kissy faces at their friend. 

Xander ignores him, glancing up at the green-eyed brunette to let him know he’ll be with him in a second, returning his focus back to his iPhone. After a few more elongated moments of typing, the older man finally locks his device. 

“I have a date.” He throws out casually, almost as if it should be obvious. 

“A date?” Harry reiterates slowly, not quite buying it. Xander doesn’t date. He couch-surfs just as much as Harry does. 

“Mmhm.” Xander glimpses behind his fellow vampire, eyes carrying intention. “It’s just a random dude from Tinder. I thought it’d be easier to set something up beforehand, just so I don’t have to spend the whole night trying to figure out if a guy is making eyes at me or trying to keep his whiskey down.” 

“Smart.” Harry shrugs his sculpted brows, impressed. A cocky grin toys with the corners of his mouth. “But we both know no one will ever compare to me.” 

“Right.” Xander scoffs in a deadpan manner, gifting him a tight, aggravated smile. “If only you weren’t such an emotionally unavailable prick.” 

“Oh, like you’re mentally stable enough for a relationship?” Harry bites back, but it holds no true malice, just some petty rivalry. “Piss off.”

“Happily!” The other vampire exclaims, clasping his hands together for dramatics. “Have fun finding someone out there. I’m just gonna grab a to-go box for my already prepped meal.” 

Harry doesn’t bother watching him leave. Instead, he turns to Niall, pointing at him to symbolize it's his turn to share his plans for the night. “What have you got, Lucky Charms?” 

His friend breaks into a jolly cackle at the nickname, arms falling crossed over his chest, hands absentmindedly squeezing his elbows in thought. “Well, I dunno, Tea and Crumpets. What’s your game plan?” 

Before Harry can answer, Mitch butts in, feeling left out of the banter and somewhat hurt that no one had assigned him an alter ego. “What’s my country-derived nickname?” 

Niall gives the American a slow once-over, shifting in his dark brown Clarks boots, fitted navy slack riding up his thighs and allowing his rainbow polka-dot socks to peek out. He hums lowly in the back of his throat, a grin spreading across his rosy cheeks. “Biscuits and Gravy.” 

Harry chimes in, his own arms casually folding over his strong chest, index finger tapping on his bottom lip as if mulling something over. “I quite like We The People, actually.”

The Irish lad snaps his fingers as if having a sudden epiphany. “Uncle Sam!”

Harry’s emerald eyes twinkle with glee at seeing the way Mitch’s go half-lidded, no longer entertained. “Four Score And Seven Years Ago.” 

“Okay, I think that’s enou—”

Niall wags a finger at Harry, lifting one shoulder in question, seeking approval on his next idea. “Star Spangled Banner?”

Harry copies the boy’s motion from before, snapping his fingers and making jazz hands. “I Pledge Allegiance.”  

“Ok, I get it!” Mitch whines with annoyed finality, pushing off the metal railing with a curt grimace on his scraggly face. 

“You asked!” Niall rationalizes between hiccups of evilly delighted joy, cupping his stomach as if to keep it from splitting open. 

“Won’t make that mistake again.” The older creature grumbles, leaning his back against the rungs and looking off towards the distance, communicating that he’s done being a part of the conversation. 

Once Harry manages to reign in his giggles, he rubs at his nose with the side of his finger, releasing a wistful sigh. He refers to the question Niall had stated before their little bullying fest. “I think I’m just gonna do what I always do— sway a nice, pretty girl into doing some not-so-nice but very pretty things.” 

“Solid.” The Irish bloke remarks, toying with the plastic buttons on his silk beige top. “Not much to do other than that, to be fair. Adam’s usually my wingman, but I guess he abandoned me for a girl’s night.” 

“Mitch is mine, and he knows better than to dip on me.” Harry roughly nudges his best friend with his elbow, dodging to the side when Mitch tries to hit him in return. 

Niall hums softly in amusement. “Maybe I should make Adam sign whatever contract you drafted for that poor bugger.” 

The curly brunette snorts. “Good luck. Adam’s as stubborn as they come. But, hey, if you can’t find anyone, just come to me.” Harry’s irises flit crimson for a millisecond, an ominous smirk buckling his features. “You know I’m always happy to share.” 

“Thanks,” his friend exhales flatly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“If you’re taking tips,” Mitch pipes up, vaguely signaling at Niall’s shirt with his chin, “maybe don’t wear that stupid shirt next time. The elephant doodles look ridiculous.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not taking fashion tips from anyone who actually enjoyed living in Ohio, then.” Niall snaps in an exaggerated American accent, middle finger jutting towards the other man. “The only thing you know how to dress is a cornfield scarecrow. Must be why you look like one.” 

Harry forces down more laughter, clearing his throat softly. “You’ll be fine. Just don’t get hammered— girls hate that.” 

“Note taken.” The pale boy runs his fingers through his hair, fixing it up and adding texture to appear more laid-back and rugged. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Later.” The younger vampire recites, giving a big thumbs-up. 

“Good luck out there. You, too, Boston Tea Party.” 

With that, Niall saunters away, leaving a fully laughing Harry and a grouchy Mitch in his wake. 

The two acquaintances decide to follow in everyone else’s example, descending down the looped staircase and chatting about Mitch’s latest gig at a new bar downtown. 

Harry praises Mitch's talent with his guitar, specifically the fact that he found a hobby which he enjoys so much that he’s willing to keep it as a permanent part of his life. It’s easy to get bored of things when you have hundreds of years ahead of you; everything can seem pointless, in the end. But Harry doesn’t think Mitch has ever let himself fall into those types of dark headspaces and he finds that extremely admirable. 

Harry wishes he could say the same. He’s no musical prodigy, that much is obvious, but he is an expert at playing a few specific French songs on the piano by memory. He rarely does it, though; only when he’s in a low state of mind, which— given the origin of how he learned said classical pieces— isn’t something he’s proud of. They’re tied to a very gruesome part of his past that he’d rather bury deep inside, but he can only push back his troubles for so long before they begin to leak out, staining the clean sheet of recovery he had sewn into place. Those arrangements just bring him a warped sense of comfort he can’t explain.

Even though he’s aware of the destructive aspects of the songs, he finds himself humming one now out of instinct as he elbows through squished bodies and flailing limbs. The second he notices he’s doing it, he cuts it off, focusing all his intention on making it to the other side of the room to the bar. It’s a hard trip when it feels like the walls of the building are closing in on him. 

When Harry finally breaks free from the Human Centipede re-enactment that is the club dance floor, he practically collapses onto the sleek glass counter. Death was less painful than that walk. 

He cranes his neck to the side wildly, suddenly remembering that his much smaller, much skinnier, much more crushable friend had been in tow behind him. To his utter shock, he watches as Mitch calmly weeds around grinding drunk couples with the poise and grace of a swan, filling the empty spot besides him without a single ailment in the world. 

Harry blinks at him blankly in silence, almost as if he’d grown an extra set of fangs. 

Mitch flags the bartender from all the way down the counter, not bothering to meet the green eyes peering at him in disbelief. “You’re so fucking dramatic, H.”

“How did you not die? Again?” Harry sputters, sight jutting all around the older vampire’s body, looking for any battle wounds or missing appendages. “I almost lost an arm in there!”

“It’s a good thing it wasn’t your favorite one, right?” Mitch smirks at his own lewd joke, the simper molding into one of genuine kindness when the mixologist slides up in front of them. “Hi, how are you? I’m good, as well, thank you for asking! Yeah, I’ve got something in mind. Don’t worry, I’m not one of the ‘just make me something sweet’ type of assholes.”

Harry zones out the rest of the friendly chat Mitch entertains with the employee, letting his gaze wander around the large auditorium-like room. He dances his vision over the DJ remixing music on top of the stage, head beginning to bop along to the beat that is currently shaking the seven foot tall speakers. He’s pleasantly surprised at how good this specific producer is. 

He continues scoping out the rest of the venue, taking notes of the different clusters of people that seem to hold promise for the plans he has in store later tonight. A small group of hippie friends here, a two-party duo of tipsy stoners there, and a clump of college students at the edge of the ruckus, stumbling around loudly. Things are looking somewhat decent, in his opinion. The hippies seem to be catching his attention more than the others— specifically, the one that looks similar to Stevie Nicks. That’s a fantasy that’s been waiting to be fulfill for decades now. 

Harry lulls his head forward again when he feels Mitch give a squeeze at his elbow, telling him that the bartender is waiting to take his order. He decides to go for the gold tequila, asking for it straight in a highball glass without any garnishes. The worker’s eyebrows jump up slightly at the unorthodox request, but he drops a polite, “Coming right up.” either way.

“You truly have no flavor.” Mitch tuts once their waiter has stepped away to prepare their drinks. “No taste buds whatsoever.” 

“Yeah? Well, you can suck my flavorless dick.” Harry chimes brightly, eyes crinkling shut as a result of a theatrical smile. 

The younger vampire goes to turn back around, legitimately interested in the girl he’d seen that looked like one of his seventies celebrity crushes, already running through scenarios in his head on how he’d get her into his bed for tonight. Weed and ABBA are probably good conversation starters for that, if Harry’s undisputed people skills have anything to say about it. 

As he’s rotating his torso, a blurred image catches his eyes. He does a double-take, honing in on a group of girls that look faintly familiar. He scans them carefully as they huddle around the corner of the bar area, laughing and toasting along to the multiple conversations they all have going at once. They look like the typical posse that would be a backdrop clique in a mainstream movie. 

He knows where he recognizes them from— it had been the same girls he’d spotted earlier up on the second deck.

Harry expertly surveillances each woman, picking out potential candidates as easily as he’d pinch petals off a flower. The one in the center of the group is obviously the leader, present in how she’s the prettiest and is somehow managing to juggle all of these interactions at once. It means she’s used to being the center of attention— probably strives under it. He throws her out as a potential; the last thing he needs is someone who everyone knows and seeks out. He wouldn’t be able to sneak away with her quietly. 

The rest of the girl crew all seem to be the same status-wise, appearing as supporting characters to the main one in the middle. He could choose any one of them blindly and it wouldn’t make a difference. They all seem so tight-knit, they probably share personalities, at this point. It’s like dipping his hand into a jar of jelly beans and they’re all the same flavor. That notion makes him laugh to himself a bit; maybe Mitch was right about his lack of taste. 

Then, Harry spots her, and all the other women immediately go up in smoke. 

It’s hard not to spot her. She sticks out like a sore thumb, but not in a good way. 

The prospective contender is off to the side, sitting atop a barstool with her feet tucked along the footrest, tapping them against the metal rung awkwardly. She’s talking to one of the other people in the group, but the interaction seems forced and not very satisfying, obvious in both of their faces. She’s tracing her middle finger around the edge of her glass cup distractedly, the contents inside barely touched, the ice in her drink long-melted. She seems disinterested in the chaos her friends are causing, her expression bored and borderline regretful, as if she doesn’t want to be here. 

The further he sizes the girl up, the more appropriate she looks for the role he needs filled. Since barely anyone is paying attention to her, that means he can lead her astray without too much resistance from her acquaintances, if any at all. She appears somewhat unimportant to the narrative— merely a background extra— and it makes him wonder what she’s doing with this clique of women that can’t seem to be bothered by her presence. It’s sad, really. Sad, but beneficial, because that means he can succeed in making her the supporting protagonist of his narrative, at least for tonight. 

The girl is attractive, but not anything astronomical. She’s unconventionally pretty in a way that makes her relevant, but not particularly distinct in the eyes of regular men with presumptuous standards. She’s easy to pass up, and if Harry hadn’t been actively pursuing someone of her bashful persona to card into his plans, he wouldn’t have noticed her. At the risk of once again sounding shallow, Harry’s aware that— physically speaking— he’s very much out of her league. His above-average appearance gives off the vibe that he’d fit better with the leader of the group instead of with her, but he doesn’t want someone that would raise suspicions as a result of their absence. This girl, sitting along the edge of the party with barely any purpose and no one to really question her whereabouts, is exactly what he’s looking for. She’s perfectly imperfect for the cause. 

Harry continues to examine her meticulously, analyzing other traits that can give him a better feel for her character. She’s clad in a pair of high-waisted pastel pink silk pants that stop right at her ankles, accompanied by a flouncy creme lace blouse tucked into her waist. Tan wedges, no accessories, delicate rosey nail polish, and minimalist makeup. The boldest thing about her is the brick red shade of her lipstick, which is easily shadowed by the sparkly sequin dresses, five inch heels, and layered tops her friends are wearing. 

Harry likes her outfit, though. It’s concise and safe, which he can appreciate. Yes, perhaps she looks like she belongs in a dentist’s office rather than a Los Angeles nightclub, but he thinks there’s beauty in simplicity. She looks cute, and that’s good enough for him. 

“She seems interesting.” Mitch’s soft voice snaps him out of his detail-hungry haze, drawing him back into the reality that is the black lighting of the club and the deep booming of the music’s bass. 

His friend slides his tall drink across the glass counter, the amber liquid inside warping his reflection. 

“I suppose so.” Harry answers passively, shrugging one shoulder in indifference while accepting the cup, ringed fingers clinking against the crystalline surface. 

He takes a leisurely sip from the straight tequila, its tangy kick sending a warm surge up through his ears and down his throat, spreading into his chest and along the trench of his tummy. Alcohol really is the cure to everything. 

Mitch gives him a deadpan look, the strobe lights alternating across the glossy surface of his hazel irises, highlighting smugness. “You’ve been gawking for five minutes. Put your pride back in your pants and go talk to her.” 

The curly-haired vampire flashes him a light smirk over the rim of his drink, absentmindedly tapping his two initial rings along the bottom of the highball cup. “Ever so blunt, aren’t you?”

Mitch scuffs, taking a swig from his trusty beer bottle. Out of everything, that’s the one aspect Harry despises about his best mate— that he goes to a club and orders the same drink every time. Where was the fun in that? Where was the excitement of trying something new? When you have an eternity, the least you could do is utilize it to your advantage. Cycling through every cocktail in human history is a prime example of making the best out of immortality.  

But Mitch is a creature of habit— as are most of their kind— and Harry knows he won’t shake easily. Not when it comes to surrendering his preferred beverage, and definitely not when it comes to sticking his nose in Harry’s intimate business. Meddling and being irritating are what best friends are for. 

“What can I say? Pep talks are my forte.” The older monster remarks sarcastically, bumping his bottle against Harry’s glass in encouragement, using the spout of his container to point in the general direction of the mysterious girl. “Now go make dinner.”

“But, darlinggggg,” Harry whines playfully, a smirk still tugging at the corners of his slightly liquor-swollen lips. “I made dinner last night. Isn’t it your turn?”

Mitch rolls his eyes and shoves Harry’s shoulder harshly, with just enough force that it actually has some type of impact this time around. “Just go, before she gets creeped out by your staring.” 

Harry’s own irises copy his friend’s actions as he pushes himself up from the bar, rubbing at the new sore spot on his shoulder with an exaggerated pout present. “Ow.”

Mitch blinks at him flatly, fighting off a grin. “You’ve had worse. Go.”

Harry swivels on his heel, once again facing the group of tipsy girls at the other end of the counter. It appears that most of them have dispersed into the dance floor, having found partners to entertain them for the time being, moving to the music as if there are no other people in the room. They had left behind three of their companions, one of which is Harry’s aspiring hookup; he gets the feeling that the two girls had stayed behind out of the kindness of their hearts, feeling too guilty to leave the runt of the litter all on her own. He hopes that’s the case because if so, the second Harry inserts himself into the situation, they’ll take that chance and split, leaving him to tend his meal in peace.

He tucks one large hand into the front pocket of his trousers, the grip on his glass tightening a smidge, rings biting into his skin as the condensation of the chilled tequila cools the small spike of pain. He spins his lionhead ring around his finger within his slacks, gradually drifting closer as he goes through a checklist of prized pick-up lines he could use to garner her attention. He ducks and dodges inebriated club-goers with ease now that he’s had something to take the edge off, finally reaching the end of the bar, slowly coming to a halt right behind his target for the night. 

Harry nearly passes out as soon as her scent hits him. 

It’s faint and tender and nothing quite like anything he’s encountered before, a mixture of honey and lavender that permeates through her normal perfume. He feels like his head’s been put through a wringer, his whole body clenching for a moment as raging sparks erupt across the pit of his belly. He indulges a deep breath, willing the blazing current away in order to keep his cool, but all he can see flashing before his eyes are images of her leaving traces of that smell smeared all over his face as he bobs his head between her quivering thighs.

He takes another penetrating inhale, centering his mind back into the present. He needs to behave.

Her friends spot him immediately, their side of the conversation faltering to ash. They give Harry a wide-eyed once-over, mouths parting in slight shock as they drink up his attractive appearance, gazes lingering along his thick chest as it strains the baby blue material of his tee. Their sights drag across his broad shoulders, dainty collarbones, and strong neck, faces gawking without remorse, blinking emptily at the slope of his sharp jaw and the peaks of his prominent cheekbones. They seem to be at a loss for words the second his dimples indent into place, his brows shrugging in a half-assed greeting before he cocks his head to side a tad, voice velvet as it directs towards the girl they had forgotten existed.  

“I’m guessing you’re the designated driver?”

Y/N jumps slightly in response at the new addition to the painfully dying conversation, not recognizing the heavy English accent and deep baritone that booms behind her. She had been wondering why Melissa and Isabel had stopped talking so abruptly, and she now has her answer. 

Y/N slowly goes to cast a curious glance over her shoulder and Harry can hear the pulse flaring in her neck from the sudden intrusion to her surroundings. His fangs prick along the inside of his bottom lip due to carnal instincts; he has to will them back into receding. 

 When her eyes land on the owner of the random words, her finger immediately halts its swirling motions along the hem of her glass.

‘Fuck.’ is the only thought that registers through her short-circuiting mind. 

The lanky, curly-haired brunette that stands before her gives a gentle yet confident smile, the gesture dazzling even in the low lighting of the atmosphere. He’s absolutely gorgeous, with deep pits carving into his cheeks, perfect teeth complimenting full cherry red lips, eyes the color of a rainforest canopy, and a broad frame that is somehow not overwhelming. He’s sporting neatly ironed tan slacks, a fitted cotton shirt with a cute yet crude graphic at its center, a fancy plaid coat, and crisp yellow Vans without a single smudge in sight.

Y/N can’t help but take notice of all the little details of his fit, especially the accessories. A beautiful pearl necklace laid along his delicate clavicle, a cross resting between his defined pectorals, and a matching earring dangling from his earlobe. Not to mention the array of clunky rings arranged along nimble fingers, hugging a tall glass carrying caramel liquor and somehow managing to dwarf the cup’s size. The extra decoration is sensual in such an unexpectedly delicious manner. 

The hand he has tucked in his pants ducks out to comb through his dark auburn ringlets and Y/N can feel her mouth water at the new round of elegant rings. The action activates the cologne Harry had thoughtfully spritz in specific pressure points along his body, the scent of tobacco and vanilla traveling through the fog-heavy air and causing Y/N’s stomach to summersault. 

The young man is as close to flawless as anyone could ever come. 

Y/N feels an unmistakable sharp pain shoot through her ankle, and she comes to the realization that it had been the tip of one of her friend’s heels. The reality check jars her out of the embarrassing daze he’d spelled onto her, open mouth snapping shut and her lashes fluttering over her previously unblinking eyes. 

“Oh! Uhm—uh—” She clumsily twists sideways to fully face him, swallowing thickly and tasting the remnants of the alcohol she’d barely been nursing. “N-No. I’m not— well, I don’t think…? We Ubered here so that wouldn’t make any sense ‘cause I have no car to drive...so...” 

The boy chuckles softly at her choppy monologue, his laughter warm and inviting, similar to the look reflecting off his shiney irises, the golden flecks around his pupils seeming to swell and shrink from the rainbow lights cascading across them. Despite being caught off guard and utterly embarrassed, she can’t seem to break eye contact with him. The longer she gazes into his eyes, the more relaxed she begins to feel, a fuzzy heat stemming from the center of her belly and spreading up her neck and ears. 

Y/N gulps heavily like before, willing her tongue to produce a less embarrassing comment. “Sorry. Let me...Let me start over…Hi.”

“Hello.” He quips back playfully, lopsided grin widening in fond amusement. He lifts his drink up a bit in greeting. “M’Harry.”

“Y/N.” The girl squeaks out, copying his gesture because it’s easier than forcing her disoriented brain to try and come up with its own. 

Harry flirts his intent up and down Y/N’s body slowly, checking her out without any subtlety. He wants her to know he’s interested. 

When his sight locks with hers again, he bats his lashes sultrily and pours as much passion as he can into his tone, accent weighing in just right. “S’nice to meet you, Y/N.”

Her entire face prickles at how her name sounds dripping from those faultless raspberry lips. She’d pay anything to hear him say it again. “You, too.” 

This is not what Y/N intended. This is most definitely not what she’d intended to happen when she’d reluctantly agreed to go out with some coworkers on a Friday night, giving in simply because she had promised herself she’d be more social within her new job. 

She had moved to California roughly two months ago, wanting to get away from her old life in the small, boring town she hated to call home. Buying the flight had been a drastic decision made when she had been under the influence of something she’d rather not admit, but the following day— after she had sobered up from a wicked hangover— she found herself not wanting to cancel the trip. Found herself craving the excitement and adventure of beginning anew somewhere far away from everything she had ever known. 

All of Y/N’s friends back home had supported her without hesitation, egging her preposterous idea and congratulating her on “getting the fuck out of here.” Her family had been a little less supportive, but after a few heartfelt chats about following your ambitions and a budgeting lesson from her cousin, they had gingerly gotten on board. They understood that keeping her trapped in that lame town where nothing really happened wasn’t the way to ensure her success in life. Therefore, the people closest to her had swallowed their opinions and respected her choice to dive off the deep end, in search of something better beyond the borders of their tiny city. 

Within a week, Y/N had secured a decent job at a semi-popular cafe, courtesy of a connection from a family friend. Within two weeks, after many sleepless nights full of Rocky Road ice cream and the bright white pages of ApartmentFinder.com, she had managed to book a nice flat close to her place of work. It was a miracle, if she’d ever seen one. Especially within the crowded, expensive community that is Los Angeles. Within three weeks, she had been walking out of the giant glass building that was LAX with only two suitcases in tow, boarding an Uber to her new life. 

Things had never seemed more picturesque, she’d thought. Everything was falling into place in a way that seemed almost blessed by the universe.

Then, the culture shock hit. 

California was different. It’s was so fucking different than anything she’d ever faced and she wasn’t prepared for the social difficulties she’d have to hurdle. All her life, Y/N had grown up with the same people around her, spending every school year with them up until graduation, expanding her friend group as time passed. Even after high school, she’d remained closely connected with most of her graduating class. The region she lived in was tiny, tight-knit and friendly; it was hard not to. She couldn’t even go to the store for groceries without bumping into at least three people from her Algebra II class. 

Point being, it had been ages since Y/N had been put in a situation where she actively had to try and make friends. She’d been through that challenge way back in kindergarten and had never been hit with it again. 

Until it smacked her across the head here in LA.

Y/N didn’t mesh well with Californians, she quickly found out. They were all about crazy parties and club-hopping, whereas Y/N had been raised on community cookouts and mass sleepovers. They enjoyed getting cross-faded and streaking down the beach at two in the morning, meanwhile Y/N liked stripping down to her undies and spending the night binging Queer Eye while stuffing her face with Cheeze-Its and Snickers bars. They freely boasted about their sex adventures while bussing down tables at the restaurant, while Y/N’s intimate life had been nonexistent since the move. 

It was just...startling, to put it lightly. It wasn’t what she had expected at all, and that’s mostly her fault for not doing the correct amount of research before jumping headfirst into a cliche LifeTime film. 

Therefore, Y/N had made a pact with herself one month in, swearing to let loose and allow her surroundings to sweep her into a new dynamic— into a new, social butterfly version of herself. She’d started accepting the invitations from her coworkers to go out at night, and she’d started putting more effort into being open to wild experiences, no matter how scary they might seem. Shutting down and refusing to mold to her environment would only result in her having to return home with her tail between her legs, and she’d rather jump naked off a pier than see her parents’ faces wracked with pity. 

And that’s exactly what she’d done a couple nights ago, at the encouragement of the group of girls she was at the club with now. It had, in turn, ended in her coming down with a mild cold, but at least now she’d be able to tell her friends back home a cool story about dropping inhibitions. 

Dropping inhibitions is also why Y/N’s here tonight, dressed in the most party-like outfit she could put together, prodding an overly-boozy drink into her system, attempting to release some of the tension that had been building in her head for the last couple of weeks since she’d left her old life behind. That’s why she’s here, with strands of her blow-dried hair catching on the dark red gloss Melissa has slathered on her mouth in a thick layer. That’s why she’s here, with synthetic smoke scratching at her lungs and drunken men and women bumping into her every two minutes, most of them too busy sticking their tongues down each other’s throats to realize they’d almost toppled her off her seat. That’s why she’s here, with a blasé expression plastered across her features as her coworkers talk over her head without a second thought, her mind far away from the walls of this overhyped horror house. 

Y/N had been thinking about how she’d just started her Disney+ membership, finding comfort in putting together a mental checklist of all the movies she’s going to plow through the second she sets foot past the doorframe of her apartment. Indulging on her childhood was an ideal form of escapism, in her opinion. She’s positive Walt Disney would agree. 

That’s what her brain had been lost in when Harry’s deep, melodic voice had interrupted her daydreams, sending her spiraling into an embarrassing performance of nerve-induced hysteria. 

Now here she is, blinking back at him dumbly, eyes the smallest bit damp from the smoke machine and neon flashes of light. And here he is, smirking at her over the rim of his glass, eyes raking down her wired up body suggestively as he takes a calm sip from what appears to be the straight tequila in his colossal, bejeweled hand. 

The English boy takes a gradual step closer to her, wanting to make sure he’s not crossing any boundaries that would make her uncomfortable. The scent of his cologne intensifies and she feels a fiery heat suddenly pour between her clasped thighs. It just hits her how long it’s truly been since she’s gotten laid and fuck, it’s sad.

Harry begrudgingly peels his attention away from Y/N for a second, aiming his words towards the girls standing behind her with their mouths still opened stupidly. Even from a respectful distance, his warm breath still washes across her jaw and cheek, causing electricity to zip down her spine. “You don’t mind if I steal her for a bit, do you?”

‘Yeah,’ Y/N thinks in the back of her muddled skull, ‘that’s definitely tequila.’

Isabel and Melissa slowly shake their heads in unison, glancing at each other as if to confirm he’d just spoken to them. 

The edges of Harry’s lips jolt into a kind, easygoing smile. “Thank you. Promise I’ll keep her safe.” 

Y/N feels her heart hiccup at his statement. If she’s not insanely mistaken, it appears to have carried an undertone of dirty intentions. God, she’s praying she’s not mistaken. 

The two girls clamber away on their tall pumps, rounding around Harry and pausing for a moment. They make moaning faces and vulgar motions behind him, encouraging Y/N to pursue the stranger. She then watches them disappear into the throng of crowded bodies, leaving her alone with the beautiful boy and her heart slamming against her ribs. 

Y/N focuses back onto Harry, licking her itching lips lightly, not knowing what to say next as he settles himself beside her. He rests his forearm on the counter along with his drink, tucking his other hand back into  his trouser pocket and fixing himself into a comfortable standing position, crossing his ankles nonchalantly. The friction between his jacket and the bar rides his sleeve up an inch or so, and Y/N gets a view of the anchor tattoo he has along his wrist, as well as the upside-down cross inked between his thumb and index finger. 

Harry catches her looking, mouth twitching with a smidge of arrogant self-assurance. He loves when girls drool over his tats. 

“I have more.” He remarks lightly, a pang of condescending pleasure shooting through his chest at the way she jerks and pins her gaze down to the floor. 

Blood rushes into her cheeks at the realization that she’s been caught and Harry’s teeth grind. It’s so hot watching her fidget for him. Maybe he finds her more attractive than he’d originally let on. “Would you like to see them?”

Y/N timidly coaxes herself into locking stares with him once again, looking up at him from beneath her lashes, barely nodding with a soft, “Sure.” 

She looks so pretty like that, he notices, staring up at him all doe-eyed and shy. It’d probably look even better if she were on her knees.

Yeah, he definitely likes her more than he’d thought. 

Harry proceeds to shift about, shrugging his coat off his strong shoulders, letting it slip down his lean arms and reveal the plethora of dark tattoos strewn across his left arm. Y/N watches avidly, drinking up every flex of his biceps under the black paint and every twitch of his pecs beneath his cotton shirt, the tendons along his throat going taut for just a moment. That moment is enough for her to etch the image into the back of her eyelids for the rest of her life. 

Harry tosses the article onto the table, extending his arm over its surface for her to get a better reading. She doesn’t miss the chance, her pupils tracing over every line and stroke of the pen, over every shaded area and meticulous detail. 

His voice comes out as a low, garbled murmur, his own irises studying her features with just as much intensity. “You can touch them, if you’d like. I don’t mind.”

After a moment of hesitation, the brim of her crystalline cup is replaced by the ridges of his smooth, tanned skin. She drags her digits over the naked mermaid, tracing the curve of her figure and the dip of her tail, then passing onto the stem of the large rose, ghosting over every thorn and prickle. Harry can feel her heartbeat through her fingertips and it’s making him throb. 

“They’re very pretty.” Y/N whispers, allowing her touch to fall away, palm finding refuge across the counter. “Did they hurt?” 

“A bit, yeah. But I’ve gotten so many done that I think I grew numb to the needle after a while.” Harry answers, shrugging one shoulder to show it’s no big deal. He grasps his glass once again and takes a drawn-out swig, extending the action just so she can see the way his Adam’s Apple bobs as he swallows. Once the cup is back in its place, his tongue peeks out and swipes any leftover liquid from his rosy lips, which then settle into a coy simper. “Plus, I kinda like the pain.” 

Y/N’s breathing stutters in her lungs and she swiftly swerves the topic onto something much less explicit. “So why’d you ask if I was the designated driver? That’s kind of an odd question. Very out of the blue.” 

Harry lulls his middle finger across the hem of his glass, exactly how she had been doing earlier, the motion weighed by an innuendo. She seems to understand it, present in how she bites into the inside of her cheek. “I just figured that a pretty girl like you would have easily found someone to dance with. So when I saw you sitting here looking all bored with your drink barely touched…I just assumed, I suppose.” 

And there it is again— the blood pouring into her face. Christ, if she keeps that up, he’s going to fucking lose it.

“Thank you, that’s— that’s really sweet. Proper gentleman.” 

Harry runs his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes snapping to her tinted mouth for a second, establishing some sexual tension that he’ll expand on as they go. “Who doesn’t like a guy who knows how to treat a girl, right?” 

Y/N clears her throat softly, obviously phased by his forward compliment, but she tries to play it off. “To answer your question, I— uhm...I’m not really one for the club scene, I guess. Don’t really like it, but I didn’t want to be rude and turn down the invitation.” 

‘Good girl,’ Harry thinks, silently cheering her on for having more brain cells than the typical human. 

“Well, that’s where we share some common ground, then.” He chimes brightly, a soft smile bringing his dimples to life. “I don’t care for clubs, either, but my friends have an affinity for them so here I am.”

He gestures vaguely towards the general direction where he’d left Mitch, continuing his rant. “The choking smoke, the annoying strobe lights, the crowded floor, the drunk morons—”

“Bumping into you without giving a shit.” Y/N finishes his sentence, her vulgarity drawing a boyish giggle from her companion and now she’s convinced she’d do anything to hear him laugh like that again. “And there’s always a faint smell of vomit coming from somewhere.”

Harry slaps his hand down against the glass table in passionate agreement, voice pitching up slightly as his brows jump in emotion. “Right?! It’s fucking disgusting. Don’t understand how anyone could genuinely enjoy it.” 

Y/N nods vehemently, sharing the same expression of utter distaste towards the subject. “It honestly doesn’t make any sense to me, either. Why come here when you can go to, like, a nice bar somewhere, y’know?”

Harry blinks at her in astonishment, her opinion mirroring his own with psychic-like accuracy. “My thoughts exactly.” 

“Great minds think alike.” Y/N responds playfully, taking a hearty gulp from her drink since the first time he’d spotted her from across the room. 

After a comfortable pause, Harry speaks up, also entertaining another sip from his own drink, which is now nearly empty. “Are you from around here?”

She can’t be. Rarely anyone born and raised here is willing to bash the status quo, and never so openly. 

She’s once again mesmerized by the attractiveness of his rings, but manages to get her composure in check. “Kinda. I moved here about two months ago.” 

Precisely his point.

Harry releases a curious hum over the cup between his lips. “Let me be the one to officially welcome you to Cali, then! Where people go to shitty clubs for fun and tan themselves into a strip of leather.”

Y/N sputters out a half-suppressed giggle and Harry’s brows almost furrow at the weird fluttering in his stomach. He rarely gets it.

Y/N takes another deep gulp of what he thinks is probably an Old Fashioned, silently praising the way she’d finished it off so quickly. She crunches an ice shard between her teeth and lets it melt across her tongue before engaging again. “I’m guessing you’re not from around here either though, are you?”

Now it’s Harry’s turn to chuckle a bit and she fights off an endeared smile. 

“What gave it away?” He asks, purposefully doing a thicker, fuller accent, his teasing nature making the grin she’d just stifled fully break through.

Y/N lifts a shoulder offhandedly. “Your accent seems a little too…posh for this area. Or even this hemisphere.”

Harry scoffs softly, the pinky around his glass sticking up jokingly as he kinks an eyebrow at her, a few rouge curls falling across his forehead. “Keen ears, mate.”

Y/N lifts her drink up a bit with a playfully knowing air, mimicking an English dialect. “Cheers.”

He places his empty cup down on the counter, his middle finger once more ghosting around the edge absentmindedly. She notices the pastel yellow polish covering his nails, tiny black smiley faces decorating the lacquer.

“I like your nails.” She admires, tipping her empty lowball towards his hand for significance. “Did you do them yourself?”

Harry glances at his fingers, stretching and wiggling them out, his features taking on a bit of pride. “Sure did.” 

“Don’t think I’ve ever met a guy at a club who could pull off nail polish so easily.” 

The left edge of his lips flicks upwards. “How do you mean?”

Y/N’s gaze bounces back to his and the tone twirling in his jade irises tells her everything she needs to know about keeping this conversation going: he enjoys being praised. 

She chooses her next words carefully, wanting to appeal to his interests. “I mean that it looks amazing on you. The color suits your skin nicely, makes your hands look good.” 

Harry breaks eye contact, glimpsing down at his shoes and she realizes he’s actually trying to hide a blush. The fact that she had managed to coax one out of him boosts her confidence while simultaneously making his own waver. He’s never like this— never so easily flustered. He needs to get it together.

Harry tilts his chin back up, lower lip strung between his two front teeth. His voice comes out as a flirty laugh.

“Known you for maybe,” he looks at the beautiful watch on his wrist symbolically, “ten minutes, and you’re already stroking my ego just the way I like it. I think that’s a record.” 

Y/N doesn’t know if it’s the liquor she’d just consumed too quickly, or if it’s Harry’s intoxicatingly alluring scent dulling the region of her brain that controls fear, but she’s suddenly filled with a strange surge of courage and her thoughts are spilling down her semi-numb tongue before she can stop them. “I’ve been told I’m pretty good at stroking, so an ego’s not too hard to handle.”

Harry cocks an eyebrow, surprised at her brazen reply. He might have misjudged her more than he assumed. However, he can’t say he doesn’t enjoy this girl more than the one he thought he was going to receive. There’s just something about how she can match his banter without a problem, and how they share a lot of the same thoughts and opinions, that just lights a fire in his stomach. 

“Is that so?” His voice lowers in pitch and he scoots a step closer, fingers just barely brushing against her arm as he repositions himself against the bar. His question comes out as a sultry murmur. “What else can you handle?”

Y/N knows that she’s starting to cross a line, and with every passing moment, the likelihood of returning to her friends is getting smaller and smaller. She’s not mad about it. Riding off of the wave of confidence that had inflated her ego earlier, she mumbles her response back with the same tone and texture. “How about you buy me another drink and then maybe you’ll find out?”

Harry gives her a boyish grin and the indents that pop into his cheeks nudge his appearance from an incredibly attractive man to an adorable cheeky boy. He motions to the bartender for another round of drinks, only letting his eyes flicker away from her for the moment it takes to do it. “How do you like LA so far?”

“It’s...alright.” It’s Y/N’s turn to move closer to him now, flicking her hair off her shoulder, hoping that the motion releases the perfume she’d dabbed on her neck while getting ready. Judging by the darkening of Harry's eyes, it does just that. “It’s definitely a change in pace from where I used to live, but I think I’m slowly gaining the reigns. I feel like once I get acquainted, I could grow to love it.”

“LA’s definitely a toggle. You could either vibe with it, or it’ll eat you alive and spit you back out.” 

She bats her lashes at him in stunned fright at his bluntness, his face deadly serious without any twitch or give. 

Harry then bursts into high-pitched laughter, eyes crinkling shut and nose scrunching. “I’m just fucking with you, love. Ease up, hm?”

“You asshole!” Y/N exhales grandly, half in relief and half in indignation, slugging him on the shoulder. All she feels is hard muscle beneath. 

He continues to cackle, sticking his tongue out at her. “Looked like you were about to cry.” 

“It definitely crossed my mind, yeah!”

The bartender arrives with their fresh drinks and Harry tells the man to but both of Y/N’s on his tab. She feels her cheeks glow, telling him he doesn’t have to, but he waves it off and says he’s more than happy to serve such a nice girl as herself. Especially if she “hates the same things I do. Think of it as your initiation gift into the Anti-Club Club.” 

A handful of heartbeats tick by, full of comfortable quietness as they both savor their new beverages. Harry pipes up first, regaining their topic from before.

“But, yeah, Cali’s for sure a special place. You meet some cool people if you hang around for a while. But sometimes,” he pauses for a second, eyes gleaming with something she can’t quite interpret. “But sometimes you can meet a really interesting person in just one night.” 

“I don’t doubt it.” Y/N clicks her nails against her Old Fashioned distractedly as Harry fixes her with that beautiful emerald gaze that makes her ears tingle. She cocks her head to the side knowingly, flashing him a soft smirk. “Sometimes, you just happen to meet that one in a million.”

“A lucky strike.” He adds, lifting his tequila an inch off the counter and tilting it towards her in what appears to be a toast, irises dancing with a certain type of suggestive mischief. “To meeting interesting people.”

The human girl clinks the rim of her lowball to the edge of his cup, shrugging her brows and reciting his comment back to him. “To meeting interesting people.” 

Y/N measures how the rest of their interaction goes by how quickly her drink shrinks. 

When she reaches down to the first ice cube stacked on top, Harry has managed to coax multiple rounds of laughter out of her, his humor startlingly similar to her’s in the most refreshing way imaginable. She quickly learns that despite his broad shoulders, lean torso, dark inking, and flawless features, he’s a complete and total dork. His personality consists mainly of voice impersonations and contorting his expression into an endless array of silly faces, which she takes to easily.

By the time Y/N’s amber drink has reached halfway down its container, the default touch barrier between the two has broken completely. There had been a few caresses prior, but now it’s more frequent, more noticeable, and each touch extends in time. She had been the one to initiate getting physical, which had sat so right in her stomach because that meant he was respectful and patient— definitely unlike most men in clubs. 

The mortal girl had gently shoved Harry’s chest when he’d made an nonchalant joke about how losing his swim trunks at a nude beach had been both the best and worst experience of his life, her cheeks boiling as she had felt nothing but more toned muscle beneath the cotton fabric of his top. She had gone back to tracing at his tattoos the further they got into sharing anecdotes and opinions, glancing up at him for permission in the middle of their exchange and smiling to herself when he’d nodded casually without a second thought. As the conversations continue, they both unintentionally get closer in distance to the point where the arm Harry had settled on the bar is now fully wrapped around the small of her back. She willingly leans into him, their knees and thighs brushing with every shift of their bodies and those minute moments begin to pile up their excitement.

By the time the alcohol in her possession bottoms out, she is nearly sitting in his lap, faces only a few inches apart. Y/N can’t recall half of what she had said, the subject having steered into so many different places that she couldn’t be bothered to keep track. Besides, she’s too focused on trying to keep a straight face as Harry plays footsie with her below the counter, his light yellow sneaker toying with her heeled velvet wedge. 

An important question on his behalf snaps Y/N out of her flirty stupor.

“So how do you like your new home?”

She blinks at him slowly, partially to try and give a seductive tinge to the interaction and partially because the liquor has started to truly settle in. It takes her a few heartbeats to process the inquiry. “I love it, actually. It’s a place of my own, for the first time ever. I couldn’t be happier.”

The corners of Harry’s swollen lips tick in genuine happiness on her behalf. “That sounds amazing. Congratulations on such a big step.” 

“Thank you! What about yourself? Renting anything neat?”

“Oh, I own a condo here.” He mentions casually, outlining the criss-cross pattern along the circumference of his highball glass. “I used to visit so often that I finally just decided to pull the trigger on one.”

“Look at you, investing in real estate.” She says in a teasing voice, her heel grazing around his calf slowly, cheeks sizzling as he parts his legs a bit to allow her the pleasure of traveling higher up.

“Mmhm.” Harry licks his red lips, free hand starting to trace over her own. The tips of his fingers are calloused and cold, the motion of them over her skin almost pulling a tremble out of her body. She does her best to restrain it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. “Is it nice?” 

“Hm?”

His lips twitch in endearment at how he’s managing to make her lose her train of thought. “Your apartment, darling.”

She rests the rim of her drink on the bottom of her lip as she speaks. “It’s nothing huge or fancy, but it’s a decent size and l can call it home. Can’t get much better than that.”

Y/N loves how Harry's eyes flit to her lips for what she thinks is the billionth time tonight, his vision sketching along the curve of her cupid’s bow and dotting every peak.

Another warm glow of confidence spikes through her veins and she’s talking before she can analyze her thoughts. “Well, at least I think it can’t get much better than that. Although, I could just be biased. Could probably use an outside opinion.” 

It takes Harry a moment to register what she’s suggesting, a light blush creeping up the base of his neck as he realizes how he’s stopped so abruptly. Humans usually never get him this unnerved and it’s one of many times she’s made it happen. “An outside opinion?”

Y/N lists her head to the side. It sounds like he’s accepting the vague invitation, but she’s so anxious to mess this up that she’s second guessing herself with every passing second. However, with every touch, she wants Harry more and more, and that’s enough to propel her towards a more direct approach. “Mmhm. Like yours, maybe. Would you like to come back and see it?”

Harry pauses for a few of her heartbeats, and then bobs his head in acceptance. She can breath again. 

He finishes off the last inch or so of his tequila, a wicked grin creeping its way across his pretty, flushed mouth, long fingers carding into his loosely arranged curls. “I’m more than happy to be of service.”

A smile works its way onto Y/N’s own face at his response, her foot dropping back down his leg slowly. “I’m glad to hear.”

“Mm.” Harry takes her hand completely now and she almost moans at how much bigger his are, his rings pinching a bit, skin rough in some areas, but silky smooth in others. And strangely icy, but she enjoys it. “Shall we say goodbye to your friends first? I wouldn’t want them to worry about you.”

He knows her “friends” couldn’t care less, but he wants to be as much of a gentleman as possible. Romanticize, romanticize, romanticize.

Y/N snorts, knowing full well that they’d probably purposefully embarrass her in front of him as a joke. 

She squeezes his grasp lightly, giving him a soft smile. “You’re sweet, but it’s fine. They were actually behind you earlier, encouraging this whole thing, so I’m pretty sure they won’t mind.” 

Harry hums deep in the back of his throat and the sound melts into a cute chuckle. “I’m glad they helped, then. Think you can deliver them my thanks some other time?”

The young woman chews on the inside of her cheek at his comment, realizing that it suggests he aims on keeping her occupied for the rest of the night and well into the morning. She has to will herself not to lurch forward and kiss at his annoyingly perfect lips right then and there. “I’ll make sure to pass the message along.” 

With one last cocky simper, Harry helps her down from the stool and pays off their tab, offering her his jacket since most of her outfit is made of flimsy fabrics. Y/N takes it appreciatively, lashes fluttering when his scent envelopes her like a blanket. It’s the unique smokiness from his cologne, mixed with a slightly sweeter smell that she assumes is his shampoo, and a bit of something that reminds her of a vanilla candle. The aromas are sewn into every thread of his coat and she can’t wait to have those scents glued all over her more deliberately later tonight.  

Harry turns and plunges them into the throng of partiers, weeding through bodies with a type of determination that makes her insides twist. His arm comes up in front of him as he plows people out of the way with absolutely no regret, leaving her to throw out a few half-assed apologies in his wake. The idea that he’s excited to be alone with her has Y/N’s insides churning. 

Once they escape all of the grinding limbs and tight spaces, stumbling into the cool air of the starry night, she takes a huge gulp of air. She prays it will tide over the jitters running along the inside of her tummy. She has just now realized how riled up he’d gotten her and it’s all coming to a raging boil. 

Harry paces past the bouncer, throwing up two fingers in parting. “Later, Brock.” 

The security guard gives the young vampire a confused look, not recognizing him at all and wondering how he knows his name. 

Y/N repeats Harry’s phrase for the hell of it, squeezing his hand jestingly and he glimpses over his shoulder, grinning at her with sheer amusement and something much deeper swirling around the specks of copper in his irises. If there was a bit more light, perhaps she would have noticed the way his irises had glinted blood red instead of olive green.

She ogles at the way his back muscles shift and flex below his pastel blue shirt, her mind vaguely taking note of the light yellow detailings along the cuffs and collar. The tee is intriguing and fun and she hopes he’ll let her sleep in it after they’re done. 

She also gets distracted by the baby curls decorating the nape of his neck. She’s itching to tug at them and see what his response would be. Would he shiver in her grasp and let out a soft moan, or would he smirk darkly and tell her to go harder?

Harry suddenly halts, snapping her out of her thoughts as he presents his car. Y/N’s jaw nearly falls off. “This is yours?!”

She gawks at the vintage jet black convertible before her, feeling like she isn’t worthy of its chic presence. It looks new, shining in the street lamps like a thousand diamonds, not a scratch or dent in sight. 

Harry unlocks the passenger’s door, opening it and guiding her inside with a gentle pull at their clasped hands, shrugging his brows playfully. “Hope it’s not too shabby for your liking.”  

“Are you kidding?” The human mumbles in awe as she ducks down into the patented leather seat, running her free hand over the elegant cover. She sighs softly at the way his smell is lingering inside the vehicle, just as much as it sticks to his clothes. “I feel like I should bow to it or something.”

He laughs fully now, leaning down to get a view of her sitting prim and proper in his favorite car, looking gorgeous in her flowy silk pants, lace creme blouse, and his own clothes. He gnaws at his bottom lip to withhold a needy groan. “I think you fit right in.” 

Y/N feels warmth erupt into her face and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to distract her fingers from shaking. “Looks like I’m not the only one that’s good at stroking egos.”

“S’hardly a task. You make it easy, doll.” 

It’s the second pet name he’s called her tonight— it’s strangely vintage, same as his car— and she can’t wait to hear what others he has in store. Preferably in the form of breathy pants and broken whines.

Y/N flicks her gaze up at him through heavy lashes, attempting to stifle a sheepish smile. “Quite the charmer.”

A moment of silence suspends in the air, a light breeze filtering through Harry’s curls, swaying the jewelry around his neck as well as the earring hanging from his lobe. Harry speaks up with a type of hushed desire she hadn’t heard from him yet. “Can I kiss you?”

She blinks up at him once in mild surprise and then releases a sigh of utter relief. “Fuck, I thought you’d never ask.” 

Her hand reaches upwards outside the confines of the car, knitting into the thick fabric of his shirt and yanking him down. The second their mouths meet, it sets off a dozen fireworks in the pit of her stomach. His is softer than she had imagined, wet and warm, and his tongue carries the sourness of the tequila he’d been swishing the whole night. 

Harry’s breath hitches in his throat, and then a quiet whimpery moan streams down his tongue onto her itchy skin. “Christ, that was hot.”

As much as she loves the taste of him— the tartness of the alcohol mixed with an inherent sweetness his lips carry— she forces herself to pull away, but keeps her sweaty forehead pressed to his. “Yeah. It was.”

With one hand still gripping the car door, Harry uses his other to cup her chin lightly, guiding her into another kiss. Now that they have both developed a feel for the other, this one is less tentative than the last. She tastes so fucking good on his tongue, like strawberry syrup—probably from her lipgloss— orange bitters, and bourbon. He just has to have more of it.

A helpless gasp escapes Y/N when Harry's teeth graze against her upper lip, only nipping enough that she craves more. More of anything he has to offer. 

He pulls away and the whine that plucks her vocal chords feeds his eternal soul like nothing else has in a while.  

The young man grins at her for a moment, half in smug satisfaction, half red-faced and desperate, before carefully closing the car door and making his way to the driver’s side. He slides in with ease, shuts his own door and buckles up with a click of the belt. The simple action has never looked so attractive before, but she’s certain that anything Harry does with his ring-covered hands would be attractive.  

He fishes his keys from his front pocket, asking her where she lives in order to try and orient himself. As it turns out, she’s not too far away from his own flat. He knows exactly which condominium she’s referring to without having to even search it up— a perk of living here for a few decades.

He also chuckles to himself a bit at the fact that she hadn’t mentioned he shouldn’t drive under the influence. Vampires have an extremely high tolerance due to their self-healing properties, so the drinks he’d had only gave him a soft, warm buzz. He just finds it comical— and slightly arousing— that she’s so eager to get at him that she’d let that detail slip her mind.

Harry starts the car, but doesnt pull out of the parking spot. Instead, he glances at Y/N as a crease appears in his beautifully sculpted brows. The idea of something displeasing him bothers her, and she’s about to ask what it is when he murmurs a quick, “Just a second, dove.” He reaches across to grab her seatbelt, pulling it over her body and securing it into place on her behalf, making sure it’s nice and proper before leaning back in his seat. He doesn’t know why he cared to do it, but he had. 

The simple action leaves another layer of heat on Y/N’s cheeks. Having him bent over her like that was just a teaser of what was going to unfold later and it already has her mind spinning. She can only imagine how much of a mess he’s going to leave her when there’s no clothes restraining them.

“Thanks.” She whispers, playing with the tips of her fingers.

“No need to thank me. Just wanna keep that pretty face in one piece.” 

He plops one hand on the steering wheel as he shifts into reverse, carefully backing out of his spot. His arm ducks behind her seat, head turning and veins chiseling into his neck. It takes all of Y/N’s willpower not to lean up and begin to darken his tanned skin with hickeys. 

Harry cruises up to the exit of the club parking lot, waiting impatiently for the turn signal, digits tapping away at the leather below them. Y/N can see him throwing pained little glances at her from her peripheral vision, obviously restless to feel her skin sliding against his. Each look causes the warmth between her thighs to swell. 

She’s talking before she can stop herself, voice bashful and soft as ever, yet full of boldness from the liquor she’d consumed. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to do something to you that’s gonna get us both killed.”

The tapping of his fingers halts and he cranes his head to face her fully, ignoring the flashing green arrow on the stoplight before them. 

Harry reaches over the center console, his nose dragging up the length of her cheekbone, causing her to squeak out a tiny whimper at the feathery sensation. It’s the first time tonight he’s touched her so intimately. 

The sentence he grits out next makes her entire body visibly shutter, his breath hot against her ear, damp lips smearing over her jaw as his oath burns into her flesh.

“And if you say something like that to me again, I promise you I’ll pull this car over and make you eat every fucking word.” 

[starfire-s]

here’s a list of the best, mediocre and worst kdramas i watched in 2020

no one asked for this but it’s happening because i have thoughts (also all opinions are my own if you disagree then get well soon i guess... no i’m kidding make your own posts about it don’t hate me please) ahsjsj anyways click to read a lengthy post and if you actually read the whole thing then thank you i hope you enjoy this wild ride! 

THE BEST KDRAMAS -

mystic pop up bar - this show had everything i ask from a kdrama literally i can name it all found family (to real family), well thought out characters, a mystery plot, special effects, soft romances that were well written, a happy ending! no show in 2020 even comes close to how good this one was! the writers literally guided you throughout the whole thing so you could come up with theories and didn’t do a ‘aha! gotcha’ thing where they want to prove the audience wrong but they wanted us to be right and satisfied! the worst part about the drama is that it’s still so underrated and people just brush it off as some random fantasy show but it’s so much more than that! 1000/10

flower of evil - who doesn’t want to see lee joon gi being the son of a serial killer, living with the name of a man who is in a coma, and hiding his real identity from his wife who is a detective? this show constantly had me at the edge of my seat on a weekly basis so the emotions i went through while watching this are unparalleled! the writers also did such a good job on writing a coherent story that made sense and tied up all the plot points in the end. just a really satisfying show to watch! 10/10

where your eyes linger - i literally bought a $8 viki pass to watch this show so it should tell you everything you need to know about how i feel ahsjsj the episodes were 10 minutes long but we got a good story with well written characters who got character development in a total of 80 minutes it’s insane! honestly it’s still hard to believe this show had rookie actors because they were just so emotive that you could feel all the happiness, sadness, yearning and pining! probably one of my fave kdramas this year because of the acting that i always constantly rewatch! would recommend 10/10

crash landing on you - okay so this drama was actually released on my birthday last year and it was a time in my life when i was going through a lot so maybe it’s the comfort this show provided me through that time this is why i have such a soft spot for it? like the romance was good, it was funny, there was found family, the nk soldiers were all softies, there were strong female leads, soft male leads!!! ahh!! no other show on this list made me think about the unification of south korea and north korea irl because i wanted se ri and jeong hyeok to be together 4ever! but the only issue i had with this show was the ending they gave seung jun if they didn’t do that i’d give this show a 10/10 but just for that they get a 9/10

psycho but it’s okay - this was one of those shows where you’re literally like ‘wow everyone here needs therapy’ but this show was amazing i loved the story telling and how each episode related to children’s book/fairytales! the writers also did a good job with how carefully they talked about mental health in depth without villainising their characters but actually tried to make the audience understand why they were this way which included all the side characters too who had a well thought out story in each episode! also the dynamic between moon young, kang tae and sang tae was everything to me the actors all did an amazing job portraying their characters, it truly was a healing drama. the only thing i didn’t like about this show was the whole plastic surgery plot with the mother like that was very far fetched but it provided drama so i’ll let it slide because the rest was amazing. this show is a solid 8.5/10

18 again - another underrated gem! who would’ve thought a remake of that zac efron movie could be this good!! lee do hyun stole this show for sure the way he portrayed his character and gave heart eyes to his kids (when he’s only 25 irl was the best thing i saw this year ahsjs) i loved the family dynamics in this show, i loved how it talked about what it’s like to be young parents and how society still think it’s taboo to be divorced! it’s a show that makes you laugh and cry at the same time and that’s why everyone should watch it! however, the biggest clown thing this show did to me though was that i got sls for the first time while watching a kdrama... hwang in yeop if u’re reading this i love u and u deserved better 🤡 that aside this show was a 8/10

itaewon class - i actually didn’t watch this drama as it was airing because i thought i wouldn’t enjoy the plot but when i watched it i binged the whole thing in 2 days and my biggest regret is i didn’t watch it sooner! everyone knows i have a soft spot for park seo joon since he’s my favourite actor i’ve literally watched all his dramas like he could star in the trashiest drama out there and i’d still watch it and be like wow (looking at she was pretty 👀) this show aside from the acting had one of the best revenge plots in a kdrama! just watching a character realistically hustle his way to reach the top while fighting the corrupt man whose son killed his father was so so satisfying to watch! however, the love triangle in this show was questionable idk what they were trying to do with that but it personally annoyed me! but still i’ll give this show a 7.5/10 because i enjoyed it a lot!

do you like brahms? - kim min jae and park eun bin.. that’s all you need to know about why this is a good kdrama! i’m usually not a big fan of melodramas and everyone knows i prefer rom coms but this show was just so perfectly melo that i loved all the angst and pain we got!! also just watching two introverted people awkwardly fall in love was amazing! the characters story arcs were also handled pretty well with song ah finally learning to speak up for herself and joon young learning to express how he truly feels! but... the love square? was probably the most annoying thing the rest in my opinion was nicely done! i know people had mixed feelings about the ending but i loved that after all the pain joon young and song ah went through they got a happy ending together! 7/10

find me in your memory - okay this show started off very slow and it was confusing at the start but as it progressed everything in the plot started to fall into place! i mean this show really took opposites attract to a new level where the male lead could remember every single detail from his life but the female lead had to forget some of her traumatic memories to help her cope with her life! they were also tied together through a mutual character who was a big part of their lives in a different way! just an interesting melodrama with interesting characters i liked it! and moon ga young... i love you queen!!! 7/10

THE MEDIOCRE KDRAMAS -

more than friends - was the storytelling in this show groundbreaking? no. was the acting decent? yes. also probably the main reason i stuck with this show until the end! i think we can all agree lee soo had the best character development on this show he started off as a bad boy who wore one ear stud to actually becoming a well liked character... who else did it like him? no one. also the chemistry between the mains was 🔥 but the second male lead was so annoying is there a opposite word for second lead syndrome because i had that for sure! i think the best part about this show was the people i watched it with on here... shoutout to the five of us ahsjsj also this show introduced me to a talented actor/singer like ong seong wu (y’all know my kpop knowledge is nonexistent so no i didn’t know he was in a band called wanna one) all in all a predictable show but i had fun watching it so 6.5/10

tale of the nine tailed - i didn’t actually watch this show i watched it through gifs and instagram posts ahsjsjs so am i qualified to talk about my opinion definitely no... will I talk about it anyways yes lmao. lee rang deserved better that’s all goodbye and take care. 5.5/10

start up - probably one of the most awaited opinions. y’all thought this would be in the worst kdramas section but i decided to give this show some rights. the show started off strong, lost it’s way after episode 6 and then the last episode gave me what i wanted so i have mixed feelings. the writing was not the best i think we can all agree, love triangle as a plot device? wow so groundbreaking 🤡 the characters on the other hand... i loved every single one of them i mean ship wars? i don’t know her. the show had a lot of potential that was wasted but we also got some cute moments between the characters so there was really no winning or losing with this show? but in all honesty you can’t put a talented cast together like this and then just decide to give the audience a mediocre plot but the writers did exactly that! i think i can redirect y’all to my ‘crimes this show committed’ post for a in-depth analysis. lastly nam do san was a GOOD and REFRESHING male lead and ji pyeong was also a GOOD and FUN second male lead!!! this show gave me the ugliest ship war ever that i was transported back to my high school tvd days so thank you for that!! but the cast was loveable and all had a lot of chemistry together so here’s a 5/10 maybe that's too generous but... i think the reason why i didn't enjoy watching this show as much was definitely because of the tag on here lmao

THE WORST KDRAMAS -

the king eternal monarch - i miss clowning this show so much. the amount of braincells i lost while trying to understand this plot... i should be compensated by the writers. however, woo do hwan was a treat to look at on a weekly basis... however the writers kept decreasing his screen time even though he had a dual role... make it make sense? and i cannot comment on the plot of this show because i still don’t understand anything? also in my opinion tae eul and lee gon were the most bland couple of 2020, there was no chemistry between them and there was just a random kiss in episode 5 and they randomly said i love you... where was the development? also lee gon was soooo boring and such a one dimensional male lead! literally all the side characters were so much more interesting and the cast was good... but this plot. 2/10

do do sol sol la la sol - i wanna fight the writer who decided that the plot twist on the show would be that jun is a minor? i had no expectations from this show but it looked cute and nonsensical but that plot twist made me run the other way so fast that i never looked back! just because jun is a boy they really thought this would be excused like lmao we all have critical thinking skills???? the clown behaviour. a solid 1/10

record of youth - i hate this show so much. imagine not utilising park so dam who just starred in the biggest oscar winning movie to her full potential. imagine just making her a love interest to park bo gum’s character in the year 2020. i watched it up until episode 6 and i kept waiting for her character to get development... but it never happened so i dropped this show. also this show featured the MOST useless love triangle i have ever seen in my life like what was the point? also park bo gum’s characters family was straight up annoying (minus the grandpa) but they got so much screen time like that should’ve been given to park so dam... also villainising a gay side character for no reason at all in the year 2020? this show was a waste of my time i want the 6 hours i spent watching this back. -100/10 

backstreet rookie - i watched one episode of this and literally wanted to rip my eyeballs out of my head. idk what ji chang wook was thinking when he signed this drama i think he lost his ability to read because that's the only reasonable explanation for why he chose to star in such a dumpster fire show! this show had a racist character... had a high schooler kiss an adult... sexist jokes... just the worst things you can think of in a drama... this show had it. i still can’t believe so many people watched this show to the point where it had better ratings than pbio... really made me question everyone’s taste? but sorry can’t relate my taste is excellent so here’s the rating this show actually deserves -1000/10

if you made it this far... thank you for reading. let’s continue to love some kdramas together and get clowned by others in 2021! looking forward to it 😅

[volturialice]

so i saw a post on tumblr a few days ago about how jasper would handle the loving a human situation so much worse than edward. because, you know, we are talking about jasper-vampirey-totally-traumatized-ex-war-machine-and-an-empath. and i've been thinking about the vampire jasper x human alice thing. considering that, for any reason, he doesn't want/won't kill her, how do you think it would proceed?

I’d be interested to read that post! I actually disagree that he would handle things "worse" than edward, although that's a low bar. I think there are a couple key factors at work with vampire jasper/human alice.

[longass meta under the cut]

1) jasper's terrible control

let's face it, this dude cannot stop snackin on human blood. there's no such thing as cute one-on-one meadow time with him—if you're a delicious blood-filled human and you go into the woods alone with jasper, you ain't coming out alive. and if you're his singer? forget it, you're dead the second you walk over the threshold and so is the rest of your biology class.

there was always some suspension of disbelief involved in buying into the idea that edward was able to get near enough to kiss bella etc in the first place. smeyer tried to have her cake and eat it too with the whole "I could snap and kill you at any second...but let's make out" stuff. she justifies it in-universe by first giving edward Super Control and then having him claim he's simply incapable of hurting bella now after the whole believing she's dead thing in NM, and therefore his Super Control is even better. but ngl, that second part always struck me as pretty lazy writing (“the Power of Love did it!”)

so when people write vamp jasper/human alice, that's something to take into consideration. I personally think the best way to solve jasper's control issues is to make human!alice's blood smell actively bad to him, either because of medication she's on or for some supernatural reason (a reverse-singer? why not.) I went with option A in Perihelion, because it's easy to put Crazy Asylum Girl™ on some good ol' fashioned Brain Drugs.

and even then, I think jasper would still struggle a lot with control. there would be close calls. there would be times he insisted on having conversations in public, or not getting too physical too fast. times he would irish goodbye mid-makeout in order to go drain fifteen deer. from a narrative standpoint, it's a very fun conflict with a lot of potential for drama and comedy.

(especially since alice has far less patience than bella and is constantly trying to speed things up and skip ahead in her relationships lmao)

2) jasper's attitude toward humans

like you said with the traumatized war machine thing, he's much further removed from human experience than edward, who is actively trying to reclaim his humanity at every turn. jasper doesn’t see being human as a morally superior or aspirational state. he was conditioned for 80 years to devalue any life, and to view humans as Food, Not Friends. we get a glimpse in MS of the way he still struggles with that. so to suddenly be in love with someone whose humanity you struggle to recognize would lead to some wild cognitive dissonance. he might end up taking the same She's Not Like Other Humans view as edward.

he’s also a far less...teenage-y character than edward (bella in book 1: “the two older guys looked like they could be teachers”) who is used to adult levels of responsibility and agency, so that’s another big obstacle to falling in love with a human high school kid.

I think the one respect in which jasper and edward react the same is their horror at falling in love with a human, albeit for different reasons (edward: oh god, I'm a monster stealing this pure angel's future and putting her in danger!) (jasper: oh god, I'm attracted to my food source! a puny adolescent mayfly! what is wrong with me?) a pre-alice jasper has zero romantic ideas about One True Loves or whatever (consider how his last relationship went), so it would take him longer to come around to the idea that it's even worth it to try dating a human.

what I take away from this whole thing is that alice would definitely have to be the pursuer, at least at the start of the relationship. jasper’s not gonna go out of his way to get to know her, which is usually step 1 of falling in love. sure, her gift might intrigue him, but she’s the one who would have to go the extra mile to communicate with him. he’s giving her nothing.

3) jasper’s attitude toward vampirism

this one is really the kicker for me, because, as I touched on above, jasper sees nothing special or remotely useful about being human. to him, being a vampire is everything—it makes you safe, it makes you powerful, it makes you live forever. souls? souls are a fake thing the Church came up with to frighten the sheeple into compliance. humans have nothing to lose and everything to gain from becoming vampires.

so accordingly, once he accepted that he was in love with human!alice, jasper would want that girl bitten asap. every second she stays human is a second she’s in danger. another thing jasper has in common with edward is paranoia and overprotectiveness, which in his case is even more justified due to his violent background. the difference is that jasper is extremely practical and solution-oriented, and the obvious solution is “turn alice into a vampire,” not “hide in her bedroom and kill every spider.”

this can lead to its own interesting conflicts, of course. maybe human!alice doesn’t want to be a vampire, or isn’t ready, or lives under the thumb of abusive parents. maybe she gets institutionalized and goes missing. she’s vain enough that maybe she refuses to be changed until her bad haircut grows out, or she gets the chance to be drunk in las vegas at least once, or she gets just a little taller (“pleeeease I know I’m totally gonna hit five feet if we just wait one more year!”) jasper usually respects her agency, but this is one situation in which I can see him way overstepping and going so far as to change her without her consent (though he would probably need to enlist help from someone other than carlisle.)

in conclusion

so is jasper “worse” at dating a human? maybe, but he also doesn’t let her stay human for long, which in my book means he’s already handling things waaaaayyyy better than edward. there are no weird marriage ultimatums or “let’s try to have sex while i’m still human” bargains with jasper. no ghosting for six months and leaving alice unprotected. no soul-related arguments whatsoever.

how I think things would proceed

I mean, it totally depends on all the other factors I listed! I know that feels like a cop-out answer, but there are sooo many ways to execute vampire!jasper/human!alice (or vice versa, though that’s a somewhat different ball game.) for a long time I avoided writing the dynamic myself because it felt like other people had done it better, but then I completely caved and ended up with Perihelion. that story is definitely on the back burner, but any time I’m inspired and think of some specific thing I think would happen with vamp!jasper/human!alice, that’s where I’m gonna put it!

[aubreyprc]

favourite crime

part six of my sour series 

for @florenceremingtonthethird who asked for hotchniss + favourite crime, hope you like it bestie💘💕💓💞 (also big shout out to @ssa-m-187 for editing this lol love u my bestie bff) 

-hotchniss affair, which is something me and lili (@eprcntiss ) spoke about for .. two months at 4am because we have mental problems, (love u king) but yes. this does have cheating in it so .. this is ur warning don't come for me i bite :)

ao3

It's bittersweet to think about the damage that we'd do

'Cause I was goin' down, but I was doin' it with you

Yeah, everything we broke and all the trouble that we made

But I say that I hate you with a smile on my face

Oh, look what we became

-

The first time it happens, she’s been on the team barely two months. A bad case in Missouri that lands the team in a tough spot with no good outcome, the loss of three young girls inevitable and it leaves them all drained, hurt, and in need of something that doesn’t leave them drenched in their guilt, in their failure.

They end up in the hotel bar, of course. Everywhere else feeling too far out, no one having the energy or the desire to travel somewhere that would take them further away from their beds for the night. The horrifically pitched screams of the mothers who had lost their children ringing in their ears, a sound that not even the soft but overly loud music playing in the surprisingly busy bar could drown out.

Reid leaves first, followed by Morgan, a soft hand on the younger man’s back as the two leave the bar; the genius taking the unfortunate deaths of the victims harder than the rest of them, him being the one to be in the room when the shots had gone off. Him, and Emily. Emily, who was staring at the drink in front of her, tracing her fingers around the rim of the glass as her mind replays the moment the bullets went off over and over again. Emily, who was unable to even look up to say goodnight to Reid and Morgan, not even realising they had left the table until Hotch gently nudges his knee into hers, sitting across from her and sending her a soft but, layered-with-questions smile, a little tilt of his head as she lifts her lips into a sad smile when she looks up for a moment before dropping her eyes back to her glass. Emily, not even hearing JJ announce she was calling it a night, a soft hand on the brunette's shoulder causing her to jump before turning, a quiet goodnight leaving her mouth as she smiles sadly and avoids eye contact, fearing the barrage of questions behind one look.

Rossi looks at Emily, then at Hotch, whose eyes haven’t left her since they sat down over an hour ago, and decides to make his leave as well, knowing full well that if anyone was going to get Emily to talk, it would be him. Although, looking at her, he can’t help but wonder if she even would talk, knowing first hand the damage that watching three young girls get shot can have on a person, especially a person like Emily. A person who holds so much in, but feels so intensely it could easily become her downfall. He taps Hotch on the shoulder, a whisper of talk to her leaving his lips, and closing the tab on his way to his room; he walks out, looking back one last time to find Emily looking at Hotch, watching as his lips move and Emily responding with a small smile.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks softly once Rossi is out of ear shot. Her eyes slowly lift to meet his, the pain behind them almost knocking the air out of his lungs.

“No,” she says in a voice he barely even recognises. “You really don’t want to hear it,” she tells him, shaking her head.

“I’ll have to read the report anyway…” he offers, tilting his head as she looks down again, before gently reaching out and grabbing her hand that rests on the table, stopping the nervous tap of her fingers. As their skin touches, her eyes snap up to his, a look in them he doesn’t think he’s seen before; but the burning in his hand as it rests in hers, and the way the feel of her hand in his has his breath catching in his throat, he assumes he’s probably looking at her the same way.

“Talk to me.” he says to her gently, trying to conceal the way these feelings are making it harder for him to catch his breath properly by speaking in an almost-whisper.

She stares at him for a long moment before she sighs, slowly pulling her hand out from his, but missing the way it felt rested on hers the moment it leaves his grasp. She clears her throat, leaning back into the chair as she tucks her hair behind her ear, looking down at her lap.

“I don’t have anything to say," she says quietly. “You know what happened.”

“I wasn’t in the room.” He tells her, watching as she tenses, starting to pick at her fingers while her hands rest together on her knee.

“No,” she tells him in a small yet stern voice, taking a deep breath before looking at him. "You don’t want to know, Hotch.” When they make eye contact, her eyes bore into his as though she could change his mind with just her gaze.

“I have to know," he says, pausing briefly. “It’s my job to know, Emily. We can talk about it now or, I can read it in the report later in the week. But either way… I’ll know. And I’d rather hear it directly from you.”

Emily looks at him, before sighing, grabbing the drink she hadn’t touched in over an hour and finishing it in one go.

“We’re going to need some more...” she starts, voice trailing off as she watches him grab the bottle of whiskey Rossi had bought for the team before they’d all taken off, and pours them both another drink. She takes it with shaky hands, downing the whole glass before even starting to speak. She then shares everything with him. She tells him how the young girls died, how they were so close to saving them before something even she can’t figure out went wrong, how shots rang out and all she could hear were the cries of the now-dead girls, and how those cries are a sound she'll likely never forget. She tells him how the sight of those three now-dead girls were the only things she could see, how the unsubs almost shot both her and Reid before they were shot by Morgan, how he then pulled them out of the room after saving their lives. She tells him how the rest is a blur, and how the last thing she remembers after leaving was him, standing in front of her asking if she was okay.

“You did everything you could.” He tells her, a unexpected pain blooming in his chest as he watches her wipe her tears with the sleeve of her shirt, unable to move past how small she looked sat there, working through her most recent trauma brought on by the job. He pours her another drink, pushing the glass towards her as she laughs sadly, grabbing the glass and looking at him. He takes her hand again, his eyes on hers and smiles.

“You did everything you could.” He tells her again, and after a few moments, she nods.

Even as they spend another hour draining what's left of the bottle, sharing laughs and sharing stories, the harrowing sound of the girls screams and the sound of the heavy silence that followed, coupled with the sound of mothers' anguish learning of their daughters' deaths is something that remains a constant, similar to a ringing in the ear that lingers even after the event. Sounds they both needed to replace.

It’s the need for the replacement sound that leads them into spending the night together (at least, that’s what they tell themselves the next day). Neither have an explanation of how exactly they ended up in his hotel room, his hands in her hair as she clawed at the buttons of his shirt, his lips on her jaw as he has her pinned on the door, teeth scraping her neck as she tilted her head. No idea how she ended up with her back meshed against the mattress as he pressed above her, entwining their hands at the side of her head as he kissed her, the sound of the cries and the silence and the screams of the mothers effectively drowned out by their soft whispers and sighs, the two hidden in the dark, not thinking of the consequences, the outcome, thinking of nothing but themselves.

It’s after, as the moonlight that pokes through the window catches his wedding ring, the silver band glistening in the room as his arm rests over her, and it grabs both their attention, the room all of a sudden engulfed in a different sort of silence. A silence that only lingers in the presence of two people who stumble over a line that can not be uncrossed, hanging them in the middle of something that feels almost like a crime.

She leaves a few hours later, dressing in the dark while she feels his eyes glancing over her.

“I’ll… see you tomorrow.” She says almost awkwardly. As she grabs her jacket from the middle of the floor, she hears him sit up and the sound causes her to tense.

“Emily—”He starts but she knows what he’s going to say and she doesn’t need to hear it.

“This was a mistake. It was a tough case, we— we had too much to drink and—”

“Em—”

“You’re married, Hotch.” She says, cutting him off, turning to face him. Even in the dark of the room she can see his face pale at the mention of it.

“I know.”

“Let’s just forget about it, okay? Pretend it never happened.”

“Okay," he affirms, and she nods before dipping out of the room, tiptoeing towards her own; and as soon as she’s behind close doors she closes her eyes, leans her head the wall, and curses herself for ending up in a position like this again.

He showers, trying to rub the evidence of her from his body, the hot water burning his skin. As he lays in bed that night his mind runs wild, thoughts of Emily racing through his mind before he’s reminded of his wife, his child, who are at home waiting for him. It's then that the guilt sets like a stone in his stomach, unable to truly understand just what it was about Emily that caused him to break the vows he said to Haley surrounded by their family and friends all those years ago.

Both Emily and Aaron try to move on from it, but something lingers between them.

She remembers the way his lips felt on her body, the way his hands spanned her entire abdomen when flattened against her, the way his fingers laced so gently into hers, the way his teeth left marks on her neck. She remembers how she had briefly registered that his hands might leave bruises but thinking nothing of it at the time, but now she's sat regretting that whisper of a thought because those bruises he left meant he was on her constantly, a stark reminder of what had gone down, branded on her pale skin for days afterwards. The fact that he’s her boss, her married boss no less, has her walking on pins, automatically tensing when he’s around her and actively avoiding being alone with him, overcome with the fear that what they did was unable to remain a one time thing.

He remembers how she sounds whispering (sighing, he tells himself sometimes, before shaking the mere memory of it from the forefront of his thoughts) his name. The way his given name slipped easily from her mouth, the way her body felt under his, the way her lips fit so perfectly against his he's now left with the fear that they might be part of the same puzzle. But more than anything, he remembers the way she looks when she’s at peace, when she’s staring at nothing and thinking about nothing, an easy smile splitting her face when he traced patterns across her arms and asked her pointless questions in the dark and he knows it's a sight he wants to see again. More than the wanting it itself, it's the knowing he shouldn’t want it that leads himself craving it. He wants to feel her lips on his, to feel her hands entwined in his own, to hear her say his first name in a way he doesn’t think anyone has ever said it before, so full of husk yet so soft and delicate, it’s a craving, it’s a crime and it’s one he wants (needs) to commit again, but it’s the knowing he shouldn’t want it that makes it all the more dangerous, and ultimately all the more appealing.

The two spend far too much time catching the other in a deep stare for either one of them to be able to act as though there isn’t a want, a need for a repeat, (for several, repeats) all while knowing the damage they’d do, how much betrayal would follow them around, knowing what they would destroy for just a few moments of whatever it was that they had created in that one hotel room that one time. So when he shows up at her door nine days later, the look in his eyes one she remembers all too well, she isn’t the least bit surprised, and she isn’t even hesitant as she lets him in, closing the door behind her with a bite to her bottom lip.

It’s three weeks later when their fun slowly turns into something neither expected, and it's then that the surprise shows up. It's then that he finds himself wanting to stay the night, to wrap her in his arms and feel the rise and fall of her chest slow as she falls into her slumber, to kiss her softly in the mornings when she’s groggy and content.

Then it's four weeks. When their secret nights in hotel rooms are no longer just sex but comfort, when it's resting in each others arms discussing cases, when it's acting as an emotional beacon for each other, gentle whispering and soft hands running through hair, delicate wipes of tears and tender kisses shared... it’s four weeks in when they finally realise that whatever this started as, it isn’t that anymore. It's four weeks in when they realise this goes far deeper than whatever they had originally been telling themselves it was.

Their affair truly begins four weeks and two days after that first night in Missouri, a betrayal of his vows to the woman who is raising their son alone as he travels for work and chooses to share a bed with another woman, another woman he now has feelings for. Any chance for good this "other woman" may have had, ruined; by choosing trouble, by choosing to catch feelings for her married boss, by choosing to let herself fall so far into something she knows she can never have. Again.

The two fall even deeper into their mess when the feelings expand into love; eight letters, three words neither would ever mutter aloud, keeping the confession unspoken, even if they were both painfully aware of it.

He’s a married man, he shouldn’t be involved with— he shouldn’t be falling for —another woman, let alone his subordinate. She, she’d told herself that when she got out of Interpol, out of the CIA, and into a normal life, that she would avoid trouble, avoid anything even under the umbrella of it, yet three months into being in the BAU, is sleeping and falling for her married boss. They share a bed almost every night in different hotel rooms across the country, and when they're not across the country he’s in her bed, he’s walking around her apartment; it almost looks domestic, almost normal, as long as they both ignore the shiny metal band sitting on his left hand, one that reminds them he isn’t hers, couldn’t be hers and they're brought right back into reality. They are having an affair, and even if they continue to tell themselves it won’t fall apart, that they’ll figure something out, their joint happiness is always shot down by his need to leave, to go home to his wife and pretend as though his heart isn't lingering in her hallway, pretend that he doesn’t crave to be in her bed, wrapped up with her in his arms as they whisper words of no importance. She watches him go and acts like he doesn’t take half of her heart with him, acts as though the thought of him and his wife together doesn’t make her feel slightly nauseous, as though how much she misses him has her wanting to smash every glass in her apartment, as though she isn't overwhelmed with just how deep he rested in her, and how quickly whatever this is had escalated from something that really, should never have happened to begin with.

She's standing in the middle of his hotel room, flattening her shirt and pants as she listens to him speak to JJ on the phone, humming in agreement with whatever the other agent was saying; Throwing her hair over her shoulder she catches him heading towards her, feeling his eyes rake down her exposed neck and cleavage, her stomach fluttering when she catches him smirking at her eyebrow raised in question, continuing on his venture towards her; as soon as he says goodbye to JJ and throws his phone onto the bed, he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her into his chest, catching her lips with his own as she places her hands on him softly. Smiling as he slowly pulls away, she starts running her hands up his chest to hook her arms around the back of his neck, clasping her hands together as they rest there, gently scratching at his hair as he wraps his other arm around her waist, pulling her closer, as if he could join them as one.

"We have to be at the station in ten," he whispers, looking down at her. "Will I see you tonight?"

"Hm," she teases, shrugging her shoulders as she holds back a smirk. "I suppose so."

Aaron laughs, kissing the smile on her face as she chuckles happily.

"Go," he says softly, reluctantly letting go of her. "I'll meet you guys down there."

She nods, grabbing her jacket from the chair; she's turning go to when he gently grabs her wrist, turning her around and kissing her quickly, before she chases his lips, connecting them yet again.

"I'll see you later," she says quietly, smiling as she turns, ducking out of his room and into hers across the hall, leaving a cleaning tip and ruffling the sheets before grabbing her go bag and walking out, bumping into Morgan on her way out the door. The two of them walking towards the elevator when her eyes catch Aaron's as he leaves his room as they pass his door, a small bite to her lip before she looks away.

It's a look that follows him all day, one that means he has to grab her half way through the day, hiding them in a file room while he kisses her like his life depends on it. He thinks, maybe it does.

The case finishes quicker than they expect and they're on the way home that night. He walks up behind her in the back of the jet, touching her elbow to turn her towards him while everyone is preoccupied.

"About tonight..." he starts regretfully, and even though her heart falls out of her chest, she paints on an understanding smile, she has to. He's not even hers.

"It's okay." she says through a sad smile, trying to keep her voice neutral, forcing it not to give away that it hurts, that she'll never come first for him. He looks at her with a sadness she isn't sure she's seen before and it makes her tilt her head slightly, and gently grab his hand as it falls from her elbow.

"Is everything okay?" she asks gently, lacing a few of her fingers through his, their eyes flashing towards the team for a split second before he entwines their hands together; sighing before he looks at her, he just nods softly.

"Everything's fine," he tells her, "I'll try and see you tomorrow?"

"Aaron," she says, forcing him to look at her, "Spend the weekend with your son, it's okay." She smiles at him softly, actively avoiding the word wife or the name Haley. Avoiding his left hand, the cold, harsh metal feeling like a flame on her skin, a reminder of what they are doing, what they were destroying. And even with that knowledge at the forefront of their minds, even though they know this can't end well, that they're hurting people, that if (when) it got out they would lose everything...he would lose his wife and son, his job, his friends... she, her new family, one she'd searched years for and finally found, knowing if (when) they found out about her and Aaron they'd never be able to forgive her for destroying said family, then she'd have no choice but to go back to the life she wanted out of, back into the grasps of undercover operations and fake friends... even understanding all of this is not enough for them to stop, too caught up in each other, too tangled in a web of feelings that border on love and obsession, too fond of nights spent wrapped in each others arms, basking in the afterglow in hotel rooms across the city, across the country, as they laugh and share jokes and stories no one else has heard.

He listens to her, and then spends the weekend with his family and hates that as he watches Haley smile with their son, he's wondering what Emily is doing, the other woman a constant thought, the craving to be around her a pull just a little too strong, and he's at her door Sunday night, a smile on his face as she opens the door, stepping aside to let him through and for twelve hours it's just them. Behind her closed door they can pretend that this is normal, that they are fine. They can pretend that what they have is real.

(She notices the lack of a wedding ring somewhere between late Sunday night and early Monday morning, when he cups her cheek gently with his left hand and her body doesn't tense under the feeling of a cold ring on her skin. She doesn't comment on it.)

Haley wound up joining him and the team at the bar, his invitation more of a formality at that point, a small, we’re just going for a few, something to take our minds off work for a few while, leading to him mentioning that she should come, thinking she’d never accept because she almost never has but then she does. She accepts gladly, a small smile on her face as she mentions something about how she should get to know his friends better, and kisses him quickly before leaving the room, leaving him standing there, his mind running in circles about how the hell he’s going to cope with Haley and Emily in the same room, the same table.

He gives Emily the heads up, tells her the day before that Haley will be joining them, and she just nods, her body a string of tension even as she smiles, a small okay leaving her lips.

Now here he stands, watching as Emily stands at the bar with Morgan, a loose smile on her lips as he talks to her, handing her a drink with a wink and a smirk, and it causes him to clench his fists and look away, back at his wife as she speaks to Garcia, but he has no idea what about as his attention was completely stolen by Emily once again when she and Morgan laugh, a laugh he has only ever heard when it’s just the two of them, a laugh he wishes he could bottle up and keep for himself. He hates the jealousy that flares up in his chest as he reminds himself that he’s sat with his wife, he isn’t supposed to be jealous, he has no right to be jealous. Because, after all, Emily is a free woman to do as she pleases, their ‘relationship’ merely a string of stolen moments, secrets and lies, and he knows she deserves better and that he should let her go. She'll find someone who can— who will love her openly and freely, who will be able to show her off to their friends and kiss her in the streets and take her on dates and share ideas about the future, a future he’s well aware does not and cannot exist for them. But he can’t do that, he can't let her go, because as much as he’s fought his feelings and as much as he bites his tongue and ignores the flutter in his heart when she smiles at him, he loves her. He loves her selfishly and so completely that he won’t let her go, he can’t.

“Aaron?” Haley questions, her tone obvious that it’s not the first time she’s tried to grab his attention. He’s pulled from his thoughts, turning to face her with a small smile. “What are you staring at?” she asks with a laugh, turning to follow his gaze, frowning when it lands on Emily.

“Nothing,” he retorts, bringing the bottle of beer back to his lips; she turns to him with a confused frown.

“Emily and Morgan?” she asks sharply. “Why are you staring at Emily and Morgan?”

He’s silent, racking his brain for any excuse as her eyes stare daggers into his.

“There’s a fraternisation rule, no two members of the same team are allowed to…” he starts, the last words dying on his tongue, “Just making sure they’re behaving,” he says with a slight smile, a hint of a joke in his tone and even as she smiles, nodding her head at his explanation, he knows she doesn’t believe him, knows she’s been questioning his schedule more these last few weeks, wondering about his phone calls and just where he disappears to after them.

“Emily and Morgan?” Penelope laughs, “Please. Emily wouldn’t touch Morgan if he was the last guy on earth, trust me. They’re just friends.”

“Good.” he says, clenching his jaw as he takes one last look at them, his eyes lingering on Emily for a moment too long, he realises, when Haley turns to look at her as well.

Haley brings it up later that night, after Jessica leaves, after she’s checked on Jack.

“Emily seems nice,” she says casually, walking into the bathroom. “Are the two of you friends?”

“Sort of,” he replies, heart hammering in his chest.

“Sort of?” she questions, leaning on the door frame.

“Yeah,” he pauses, looking at her, “She’s a member of my team, we spend time together as a team…”

“But you get along? You like her?”

“I suppose,” he lies, as images of her underneath him, on top of him, lay next to him, smiling, laughing, winking, kissing him, all flash through his mind. Like doesn't begin to cover it, he thinks to himself.

“You seemed very interested in her tonight.”

“What?” He looks up just to see Haley shaking her head, dropping the subject.

“Nothing,” She says, “Never mind. It was nice getting to know them all tonight… It’s a shame I never got the chance to speak to her.” She continues as she walks into the bathroom.

“Yeah…” he says, running a hand over his face, trying to figure out whether the tightness in his gut is because she almost found out about him and Emily, or if it’s because she didn’t.

The sound of the gunshot coming from inside the building causes him, JJ and Reid to freeze, and the silence that rings in his ear piece, has his stomach rolling, his heart beating rapidly against his ribs and terror coursing through his veins. The minute of silence feels like hours, and he’s almost running into the building himself when a gasp of breath echoes through their ear piece, followed by Morgan’s gasping of we're okay, and the terror that had threatened to overtake him turns to relief, turning around to compose himself, the realisation that he could have just lost her making him feel sick.

He turns just as he hears people leaving the building, the two unsubs being taken out by officers, Morgan and Emily following closely behind, her holding her head as she laughs at Morgan and he smiles back at her. He knows he should wait, that he shouldn't have this need to run to her, to make sure she is okay, but before he can even think about it, he's rushing towards her.

"What happened?" he asks as he forces himself not to reach for her as she meets his eyes.

"This idiot thought he could shoot his way out, ended up shooting me right in the middle of my vest." Morgan sighs, rubbing the centre of his chest as he mumbles.

"You should get checked out by the medic," Hotch tells him and he grumbles, sending a nod to the two of them before wondering towards the medics.

"Are you okay?" he asks her once they're out of ear shot.

"Yeah," she says, rolling her eyes at his eyebrow raise. "Honestly, I'm fine."

He grabs her chin gently, forcing her to look at him as he examines the cut on her head, her eyes widening as he cups her face.

"What are you doing?" she whispers frantically, her eyes moving quickly towards the rest of the team who, thankfully, were completely preoccupied, He drops his hands instantly at her question.

"You might need some stitches." he tells her, looking at the cut on her head and she rolls her eyes once again.

"I'll be fine." she replies, but his eyes drop down to hers, a plea in them. "Well, fine." She smiles, laughing when he smirks at her and they walk to the medics, her eyes on the floor as she bites her lip and he gently runs his fingers across hers before heading towards Reid and JJ.

(He goes to her hotel room that night, helps her put cream on the stitches as she leans against the sink, a smile on her lips as he mutters to her about being more careful, before kissing her forehead and walking out of the bathroom. The normalcy of it causing her heart to flutter in her chest.)

He can't help but stare at her, when the team end up at Dave's for dinner one Friday night, and so when she dips away into the bathroom while everyone is distracted, he waits a few moments, drinking the last of his wine before he follows suite, looking behind him to find everyone enthralled in their own conversations before turning to head up the stairs.

Just as he reaches the bathroom door, it opens. She smirks at him as he stands there, before laughing when he grabs her hips and walks them backwards into the bathroom, silencing her laugh with a kiss as he closes the door with his foot, her smile breaking their kiss as she wraps her arms around his waist.

"Hi," she says softly with a smile, one he can't help but kiss again as his own grows on his face.

"Hi. You look beautiful," he whispers against her lips, smiling again as a blush form on her cheeks as she looks down, biting her lip before lifting her head to look at him.

"You don't look too bad yourself." She jokes, laughing once again as he backs her into the sink.

He kisses her, pulls her in by her hips and she goes effortlessly, fitting against him perfectly, slotting together like it was something they were always meant to do.

"Lets go out for dinner," he says as he pulls away. She stares at him, shock written all over her face.

"We— we can't... what if someone—" He stops her with a quick peck.

"Let's. Go out. For dinner." He says again with a smile, and it's one she can't help but reciprocate.

"Okay. Okay," She agrees, smiling as he laces one of his hands through hers. "Where?"

"That's a surprise." he teases quietly before kissing her jaw, then her neck, before she cups his face and pulls it gently to hers.

"We are not having sex in Dave's bathroom." she tells him with a slight laugh, running her thumb across his cheek gently as he pouts.

"Why not?" he smirks, leaning over to catch her lips in his once again, before placing a few more scattered across her jaw and neck.

"Because..." she begins, pushing him backwards playfully before grabbing his face with both hands. "Everyone is downstairs... They'll notice we're both gone soon."

"Fine." He pouts, pressing another kiss to her lips before stepping back from her; a strand of hair falls over her cheek and he reaches out, tucking it behind her ear before holding his hand there, but as he does, he notices her tense under his touch and pull away slightly.

"Are you okay?" he asks her. She just nods.

"I'm fine. I should head back down."

"Emily," He says quickly, grabbing her wrist to stop her from leaving, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She says with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, and he follows her gaze as it quickly flits down, and then he realises.

His ring.

"Hey—" He says gently, but she just shakes her head.

"Its okay. I'll see you down stairs."

"Emily—" He repeats, but she's gone as soon as the door opens, and he can't help but curse at himself.

(The feel of his ring cold against her skin lingers all night, a harsh reminder that he isn't hers and it has the texture of his ring feeling like a weight, a burn that sticks to her cheek even hours later.)

He grabs her just before she leaves, the two of them the only ones stood in Dave's front lawn.

"Hey," He says to her and she turns to face him.

"Hey." She smiles, but it isn't her smile. "I was just leaving..."

"Emily." He says and she stops and finally looks at him.

"What?" She sighs, "I'm tired, Aaron. I'm going home."

"I'm sorry." He tells her and she laughs, shaking her head.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for." She tells him, "Everything is fine."

"Em—" He starts again but she grabs his hand, his right hand, he notes.

"We're fine." She smiles, "I just—"

"I know." He whispers.

"I'll see you on Monday." She tells him and he nods.

"I'll call you," he promises as she starts to walk off, before getting into the car. He watches it drive off before he turns around, choosing to ignore Dave's eyes on him in the doorway.

He takes her for dinner a week later, a feeling of complete normalcy falling over them as they sit at the table. It gives them a hint into what could be, had things been different. It takes them both by surprise how easy their conversation flows, how easy it was to forget just how complicated things truly were and for just one night they were able to pretend that it was just him and her and nothing else mattered. Emily is laughing at something he says while he laces their hands together on the table because he can. She smirks at him, lifting her glass to her lips.

They're both so caught up in each other that neither noticed Penelope entering the restaurant with a date of her own, didn't see the smile on her face drop the moment she spotted the two of them and didn't feel her sense of right and wrong shift completely as she watched her married boss and newfound close friend laugh together on the other side of the restaurant, with their hands clasped together and a look love in their eyes.

Neither Emily or Aaron see her as they leave the restaurant hand in hand, don't spot her as they share a kiss as they walk down the street, right past the table she was sat at and they don't feel her heart shatter, the two people she had come to understand as good, pure, innocent, in something that to her feels like a crime. Unable to understand how Hotch, the man she trusted with her life could be doing this while his wife stays at home and raises his son, she can't fathom how Emily, a woman who embodied good and protection, could be dating a man she knows is married, a man she knows has a son.

Emily and Aaron don't notice her.

Things would have been very, very different if they did.

It all falls apart one week later.

It's starts with an outburst of Penelope in the briefing room on a Monday morning.

"What did you get up to this weekend, princess?" Morgan asks Emily with a smirk, "It seems you still have that glow." He winks, which earn him a playful eye roll and a smile in return.

"Nothing." She smirks, "Why, are you jealous?" She teases.

"Is there something to be jealous of?" He jokes back, raising an eyebrow at her as they take their seats.

"No." She shrugs with a smile, watching as he squints at her.

"So you didn't do anything this weekend?" Garcia asks, and the room goes silent as Emily looks at her with confusion.

"I'm sorry?" She laughs, "I...?" She trails off, but her confusion has her stunned for words.

"Over the weekend? You had no plans? Didn't go anywhere?"

"What are you getting at?" Emily questions, as the normally overly sweet, nice, go-lucky tech analyst she's come to see as a friend interrogates her.

"Well, you're always asking other people what they do over the weekend yet whenever anybody asks you you seem to avoid the question... Is there a reason for that?"

"Pen?" Morgan mumbles to his best friend, raising an eyebrow, looking at her with the same confusion everyone else is.

"Does no one else find it strange that we seem to never get any information on what she does over the weekends... It's like she's sleeping with a— "

"Garcia." Hotch scolds as he stares at her intensely and the blonde woman goes silent.

"Of course you defend her." She mumbles under her breath just loud enough for him to catch and he stands.

"My office." He tells her, already walking out and Penelope freezes, regretting her outburst the minute she finds all eyes on her, and she walks out of the room.

"What the hell was that?" Morgan asks the rest of the team, who shake their heads with shock. Apart from Emily, of course, who feels a stone set in her gut as she watches her leave.

"Do you care to explain what that was about?" Hotch asks the moment they are sat down.

"How could you?" Penelope asks him sadly, looking at him.

"I'm sorry?" He asks her, a frown on his face.

"You... You have a wife at home, and a— a child. A family." She says, shaking her head.

"Garcia? What are you—"

"I saw you." She tells him, finally meeting his eyes and his heart drops to his stomach, "You and Emily, at the restaurant."

He remains silent, processing her words.

"I always saw you as... as good. You were a leader and you had the respect of everyone in the room and you always did the right thing and now? Now I don't know what you are." She pauses, shaking her head and looking down. "No— I— You're a man who cheats on his wife."

"Penelope—"

"I don't want to hear this. I'm not the one you owe an explanation to." She looks at him, "Either you tell Haley or I will. I refuse to be a part of this, to let you do this."

"There's more to it—"

"No," she sighs, "There isn't." She stands, "If that's all, sir."

"Garcia." Hotch says and the woman turns to face him, but no other words form.

"I'll give you a week to tell Haley." She says, and then she's out of his office, her ultimatum hanging in the air behind her.

He takes a breath, trying to calm down as his heart threatens to beat out of his chest and he stands, making his way back into the briefing room, avoiding eye contact with Garcia as she apologizes to everyone.

"Prentiss," he calls at the door, "A word, please." He says, already walking out of the room.

Emily stands, looking at Penelope as the woman refuses to look at her and she knows what's about to happen before she even leaves the room.

As she walks into his office, she finds him closing the blinds.

"She knows, right?" she asks and the defeated look on his face tells her before he does.

"Yes," he says, "She saw us at the restaurant."

Emily nods, taking a seat on his couch as a sick feeling washes over her.

"She said either I tell Haley or...or she will."

Emily remains silent, just nodding her head, taking everything in as best she can; Aaron takes a seat next to her, sighing as he sits down.

"You should tell her," Emily whispers, "It's better coming from you than from Penelope."

"I know," he whispers back, "I just—"

"I know," she says quietly, accepting his hand when he laces his fingers through hers.

"We'll talk about this tonight," he tells her, and Emily just smiles sadly before she stands, slowly pulling her hand from his.

She's stood in the middle of his office, neither sure what the next move is, neither sure what the next move should be.

"We should..."

"Is she going to tell the team?" Emily interrupts, the realisation that their...whatever this is...going public means people actually knowing about it hitting her a second time around.

"I don't know," He admits.

"Okay," she whispers, clearing her throat as she turns to leave. He grabs her hand, forcing her back to him before he kisses her, wrapping his hands in her hair as he kisses her like it will be the last chance he gets. (He realises it might be). She kisses back just as intensely, the potential finality of it overwhelming her as they pull away, his forehead resting on hers.

"We will talk. Tonight," He whispers into her mouth.

"Okay," she replies, before slowly backing away, before she turns and is out of the door.

The smell of her perfume lingers in his office, and he stands surrounded by it for a few more moments before there's a knock at his office door.

"No case," JJ tells him as she opens the door, "I'll let everyone know about last week's reports that need finishing."

He can only nod, shock still having him at a loss for words, and without any indication of there being something wrong, she smiles before leaving his office.

Hotch walks out an hour later, catching Emily's eyes as he heads for the elevator, his heart feeling like it could fall out of his chest as she just smiles sadly at him, already accepting that they were over, that they had to be.

Once he arrives home, he drops his brief case onto the floor and just looks at Haley with eyes of guilt and a hole being eaten into his stomach by nerves.

"I have to tell you something."

It takes four hours of screaming, crying, shouting, and one ultimatum before he leaves the house, a weight still on his shoulders as he drives to her apartment with a heavy heart, Haley's words ringing in his ears.

"You have to choose," she tells him, "Me or her. Her or your son."

"Haley—"

"Choose," she says, "Your family? Or Emily?"

He knocks, his heart feeling like a burden as it thumps in his chest, and as she answers the door, the simple question of his family or Emily doesn't seem so simple anymore.

She steps aside to let him in, closing the door behind her just like all those other times. Except, this time she isn't filled with excitement and happiness, rather with dread and heartache, knowing what he had come to say before even opening his mouth.

"I told you dinner was a bad idea," she jokes, he lets out a breathy laugh, wondering just how much longer he could have had with her had they just stayed in. "What happened?" she asks quietly, eyes trained at the ground next to his shoes.

"She was upset, angry. Rightfully so." He pauses before taking a deep breath and speaking quickly. "I have to choose," he says to her, his eyes landing on hers as they lift back up towards his face. "It—it has to be her," He admits sadly, "for Jack."

Emily nods, squashing down the pain with a deep inhale.

"I know," she tells him, "I get it."

"I wish—" He stops, shaking his head as he looks to the ground.

"Me too," she breathes.

"If things had been different... if—"

"But they're not," she tells him curtly, her voice thick with emotion and misplaced hurt. "You have to choose your family, Aaron. It's okay. I get it, honestly."

"None of this is okay," he says with the shake of his head. "This shouldn't be so hard."

She doesn't reply, just looks to the floor, heart breaking in her chest as she realises that this really is it for them, that whatever they had was over now and the aftermath of them had just begun. He takes the few steps to stand directly in front of her, their eyes locking as he stands inches from her and he takes her face in his hands.

"I don't regret this," he admits to her. "I should. I know I should. We caused so much damage and there are so many reasons as to why I should but I don't. I can't."

"Me neither," she whispers, leaning into him.

He catches her lips in his slowly, basking in the way she feels; the way her fingers clasp behind his neck, the way her hands press up against his chest, the way her body bends into his perfectly. As they part, she smiles.

"I hate you," she tells him, and he laughs, running his thumb over her cheek.

"I hate you too." He whispers back with a smile of his own, before kissing her one last time.

The irony of that one four letter word is not lost on either of them.

"I should go." He whispers after a few moments, before kissing her one last time. "I meant what I said. I don't regret this. Any of it."

"I don't regret it either," She assures him, lacing her fingers through his as they rest on his cheek before bringing their hands down, smiling sadly as she steps away from him. He clears his throat before he starts walking, holding down the door handle before he turns to face her.

"I— " He says.

"I know," she tells him, "Me too."

And just like that he turns away and walks out of her door for the last time, the sound of the click of the lock drowning out her sobs as she curls over, leaning against the couch as she tries to catch her breath, tears finally falling freely down her face.

Three hours later, she makes the phone call.

"I want back in," she says sternly. The man on the other line whistles.

"Five months..." Clyde says "I had you down for at least a year."

"Yeah, well.."

"Is everything okay?" he asks her.

"That depends, is that London job offer still open?"

"For you? Yes."

"Then everything is fine," she tells him.

"Emily—"

"I'll explain it all when I'm back. It doesn't matter right now."

"Can you get a flight out on Monday?"

"Yes."

"Then...welcome back, Agent Prentiss." Clyde smiles, and Emily closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, welcoming the feeling settling over her now. Some semblance of relief, maybe, from something that shouldn't be a solution to a problem that shouldn't have happened to begin with.

He lets his tears fall on the journey home, back to his family. He takes a few minutes in his car, sitting in front of his house, to compose himself before going inside.

He's rocking his son to sleep that night, his mind replaying his time with Emily as he stares out of the window when Haley comes up behind him, throwing her arm over his shoulder gently.

"We can work through this," she tells him, and he ignores the voice in the back of his head that makes him question if he really even wanted to. "There's a house in Boston just a few miles away from the major crimes unit, if you get the transfer we should look into it."

"Sounds good," he responds half heartedly, and she kisses his cheek before walking out of the room and he goes back to staring out the window, starting to actively wonder if choosing family was the right thing to do.

Emily hands in her resignation to Strauss four days later, words of apologies and a job offer in London that she couldn’t give up falling from her mouth as the older woman accepts it, wishing her the best of luck for the future and letting her know there will always be a job for her at the FBI should she choose to return one day.

She leaves a different letter on his desk, one that reaffirms that she doesn’t regret what they did or what they had, and that the last five months they spent together were the happiest she had ever been and that maybe, if things had been different they could have been something great. She tells him she understands his decision, and that she hopes he finds happiness with his family. She ends it with an I love you, something she’d debated for awhile before knowing that she had to tell him, that there couldn't be a single thing she regrets about their relationship. She heads out of his office, wondering whether she should say goodbye to the team she’d started to look at as family before deciding she couldn’t, not if they were going to be aware of her relationship with their boss; she'd rather live in denial, refusing herself proper goodbyes, than finding out how they may hate her after finding out about everything.

The team do find out, three days after learning about Emily’s sudden departure, their questions answered by Penelope when she explodes with the secret she wished she never found out. They never get the chance to confront either of them, Emily somewhere unknown and the announcement of Hotch’s transfer getting to them too late. The man already in a different building in a different state.

He finds the letter the day after she leaves, reads it more than three times over. His mind echoes with her final words, the I love you feeling like a stab to the chest, as snippets of a life that could have been if things were different flash before his eyes. It makes him furious. Furious that he fell in love with her and even more furious that he had to pick his wife. His son. His family. He transfers to Boston, he and Haley starting fresh in a new state, a new home and a new job.

But the ghost of Emily lingers. How could it not?

He and Haley divorce a year later, some things just unable to be fixed, and he thinks about calling her, telling her that he loves her too, even all these years later... but he doesn’t. He doesn’t because she could be happy in London, could have found someone who can love her the way he wishes he was able to from the start, and he won’t destroy that possibility for her.

She builds a life in London but she never fully moves on, a string of short term relationships left in his wake because no one was ever able to make her feel the way he did, and she doesn't think anyone ever will. She thinks about calling him, wonders if he and Haley were ever able to recover from his—their—betrayal, but a call from her could have repercussions, she knows that, and it stops her every time.

They never do find their way back to each other, and forever remain a bittersweet memory each can look back on with a smile, knowing that even after everything, they could never regret what they became, those five months of something better than never having anything at all.

  fin

[skyandseaofsurprises]

I Will Leave You Words- Kaz Brekker

Summary- A young boy and girl, met in the darkest valley, away from each other, to see the stars and moon. When they caught a glimpse of each other, they exchange and left some few words for each other.

gif is by @crowbrekker​ <3 so.... this is my first kaz brekker fanfic so pls be considerate lmao and my first post in tumblr, for that matter. idk i had this idea in my head so i decided to make a tumblr account in the middle of the night :) fanfic’s inspired by Je te laisserai des mots- patrick watson’s song and I LOVE IT SM AND I NEED ANGST. + i’m still half way of the books so this might be a lil ooc so sorry anyways here we go!! (i changed the age of kaz when they moved to ketterdam so instead he and jordie moved in ketterdam around the age of 5 and not 9)

   What such good lies it was what came out of your mouth. Love, the most unexpected thing for such Grisha like you. A Tidemaker, and a powerful one. Your parents had died when you were a kid, and you were taken to the Darkling’s services. Such good power like yours needs help. He’d told you. You, being a scared and naive girl at the moment, didn’t see the evilness in his grey eyes, and you let him train you. For years you were in his army, fighting.

   But you wouldn’t forget your life before your parents had died. You were all living in Ketterdam, and it may not be the best place to live when you are a runaway Grisha, but it was alright for you, it’d felt like home, or how you define home is.

   Your parents were runaway Grishas; Inferni and Heartrender. They did not want to be a part of the war, and so they run, ran with their powerful Tidemaker child, you because they knew Darkling would want you to be in his side if he ever finds you, and that will certainly not be happening as long as your parents breathe.

   While you were staying in Ketterdam, your family had lived in a small apartment, inside the shadows where no one can find you easily. You weren’t allowed to go out seeing as Ketterdam was dangerous, and your parents were the only ones to go out to get some money and food.

   You obliged their orders and stayed in your apartment. The apartment was small, but it was still neat for one to live in. Whilst your apartment was located on one of the darkest alleys of Ketterdam, your apartment was tall, yet small, enough that you could see the stars twinkling underneath the shining moonlight, You’d rest your little cheeks on your smalls window and stare at it, the longing, sad stars reflecting back on your kind and tired eyes.

   And then, all of the sudden, you had found a boy, lost and scared, on the alleys of your apartment. You were fast and logical enough to hide underneath your table; Remember, my child, Ketterdam and its people is not one you would trust. This man was a stranger and was probably just lost. So she hid.

  She stayed there until the boy seemingly climbs to the top of the others apartment roof; using its back stairs. There the boy sat quietly and comfortably, watching the stars. You blinked, why would a young boy, your age, climb up one rooftop just to watch the stars?

  You never knew why, but the boy’s name was Kaz Brekker, and his mother would sometimes take him on top of the highest grounds near their farm to watch the shooting stars. He seemingly turns around when you were peaking out the window, staring at him in awe.

   He’d stared back, and he had smiled at you. You froze and felt your cheeks hit up as you subconsciously. closed your windows and flopped on your small bed. 

   That was the start of the nights you’d see him. And you kept seeing him.

    Je te laisserai des mots     I’ll leave you words

   For over the years, he’d go to the alley of your apartment, to watch the stars. You guys were now 8, kids who met at 5, and you started to interact with each other for over 3 years. You’d been able to sneak out when your parents weren’t home, and lay a note on the ground of the rooftops, and wait until the unknown boy would be there, and he, too, would leave you a note of words and poems and dreams.

   “Do you like the stars, too?”   “Stars are wonderful, don’t you think?”   “Yes! I’m Y/N L/N!”    “Well, hello, I’m Kaz Rietvield.”

    Every wakening of the breezing nights, you kids would interact with each other by sending little notes to each other, every night in your 3 years of friendship. You, still yet not allowed to explore the world and was only ever inside your apartment, would send him waves and smiles that could light up the world in distance. He’d blushed, look back at the stars, and would read your letters. Your smile could light up the world, seeing as it lit up his life.

  Living in Ketterdam as orphans weren’t easy. Jordie Rietvield, his beloved brother he’d told you about in one of his letters, was going back and forth to jobs, just to keep them alive. Jordie had sent Kaz off to school as he works. Kaz, after schools, would go sit by the rooftop right opposite where Y/N’s window is and would leave her notes about his day.

   Everything was alright in their little world. Until it wasn’t.

   Y/N’s parents were dead. They caught the Queen’s Plague. It seems as though Kaz Rietvield and Jordie Rietvield had, too. The last time she’d seen them was when they were taking their bodies out on the ocean.

   You’d cried. He was dead. Her friend from the other sides of the stars and darkness was dead. 

   You snuck off a ship headed towards Ravka, and when you were sent off to Keramzin, you had been tested as a Grisha and was taken to Os Alta, where they trained you in combat and how to use your Tidemaker magic- or science- or whatever, you never really cared. As for Darkling, he’d become your mentor, like a father. He’d tell you stories he uses to know when he was a kid and will help you in your Tidemaker skills.

    En sous de ta porte     Underneath your door

   You were living a good life, but you never forgot the face of one dead person. Kaz Rietvield. You’d still send letters on Ketterdam, even if it was pointless to send letters to a dead man. You always addressed it to that apartment and made sure the letters were sent. You were being crazy; sending notes to someone who would never. . . no, who could never, again, read your letters, your stories, your dreams, and the stars.

   After the wars of Ravka, you travelled around the world, in disguise, still. You is still yet to trust everyone after what happened to the Darkling. After you went to different places of the world, your last destination was Ketterdam, the home of the lost, the home of the stars, and your home.

   En sous de la lune qui chante    Underneath the singing moon

   Whilst you were in the ship headed towards Ketterdam, you were looking at the sea, where your parents’ and a certain young boy’s body now lied within. You slowly bent down, the tip of your nails touching the seawater as you started to play with it, tears forming on your eyes. You were in the middle of the ocean, above was the moon, and you started singing for the lonely, peaceful moon.

   It wasn’t great to be back on the sea of the dead beloved ones.

   When you arrived at Ketterdam, the first thing you had noticed was it was darker, now as dark as the once alley of your apartment where you- Again, there it was again, thinking about the dead. Everything seems to remind you of him.

   And so, you went straight to that alley of where you lived, seeing it pitched black. Of course. You’d grinned. You looked up at the starry sky and see the twinkling eyes you once dreamed of seeing again in your Ravka days. It feels good to be back.

    Tout près de la place où tes pieds passent     Near the place where your feet pass by

   You stayed in the middle of that alley, not noticing a dark shadow watching you over your apartment’s roof. That shadow seemingly furrowed their eyebrows when you decided to walk to the stairs of your neighbors' house, where you dreamed of going to just to see a certain boy.

   Because of the dark, starry nights years ago, you never truly saw what he looked like, but you knew he had ebony hair, and a smile you will never once forget.

   When you arrived, you saw that your letter wasn’t there, and started to look everywhere, eventually climbing on the rooftop. There it was in front of you, the most beautiful shooting stars you’d ever seen. Wow, you thought. This was the best view of the stars in Ketterdam, no wonder he chose to pick this spot. You smiled to yourself, looking at your apartment’s window, seeing it empty. You smiled sadly, imagining your old self looking back at you, the orange light behind you making your whole body more noticeable. And then you realized, that boy knows how you looked like, but you don’t even know how he looks like.

   You eventually left that valley. You decided to go to the place where they delivered letters around the world until you passed a club, a dark but loud club.

   The Crow Club.

   The Crow Club. That’s a funny name, you’d thought. You went inside and heard people gambling, drinking, and just having fun. You smiled to yourself, even in that pain and suffering you felt and saw 2 years ago, in the war, you were still the girl you once were.

   You decided to go to the bar side of the club and ordered a drink. You tied your magical hair in a low ponytail as you waited for your drink until a Zemeni man had appeared beside you.

   “And what’s a pretty lady doing here, all alone?” The Zemeni tried to flirt with you, adjusting his coat and ordering a drink.

   You smiled kindly at him, taking your drink as you look at him, “Thanks for the flattery, Zemeni. Y/N.” she said.

   The boy smirked at you, “Jesper Fahey, at your service.”  he winked playfully again. You did not notice five sets of eyes looking directly at you and one boy whose eyes stayed on yours for the rest of the night.

   He remembers. He remembered all of it. Your letters. Your dreams. Your hair. Your smile. Your eyes. The stars. . . all of it. He didn’t need a reason, but when it comes to you, he had every reason why you were the most amazing and spectacular girl ever.

   His crows found your letters scattered on Kaz’s table when they were planning their Ice Court Heist, and he was forced to tell them who you were, (after some death glances and threatening threats.) He remembers it all like it was yesterday.

   Kaz Brekker also remembers that day, when he was alone in the sea, the body of his brother dead, as he thought of you to keep him calm, as he thought of you. . . as he made you his reason to live.

   When he was back ashore, Jordie had haunted him, and he couldn’t go back to you anymore, not knowing you had already left. And so, years later, when he’d finally become Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the Bastard of the Barrel, he came back to that dark alley, seeing all your letters from Ravka.

   Caché dans les trous de temps d’hiver    Hidden in the holes of wintertime

   He kept all of it. Hidden. Safe. It was his one memory of you, and if that letters got destroyed, you would only be living in Kaz’s head, full of memories of Jordie and revenge, and he couldn’t bear to make that happen.

   Kaz never replied. You were safe. Alive. And that is what he wants.

   Until he saw you in the bar, until his brown eyes looked into your Y/E/C’s. Until he saw you, truly, not the girl hiding behind her window. Until he saw you close. Until you were finally there.

   And yet, Kaz still felt like you were stars and oceans away from each other. Maybe it was always like that. Darkness and distance in between you and him. Maybe it was bound to happen, either way.

   But Kaz didn’t want to believe that, and he actually convinced himself that he was cursed, never to loved, and to be loved. The memories of Jordie came flooding in, the water drowning him again.

   Until you looked back at him with that smile of yours he used to remember. One that reminded him of the stars. One that reminded him of a boy that once loved the stars and one girl who also loved the stars.

   You furrowed your eyebrows at him, and Inej Ghafa, his wraith, who was sitting across from Nina Zenik, planning the heist, looked at the frozen man on the stairs.

   She smiled softly; she knew you. Kaz would always send her to get some important letters of his on a dark alley, where you were an hour ago, and she saw you.

   Kaz was still looking at you. And you were looking at him. Now, the water was gone, Jordie’s haunting eyes were gone, and it was just you. And your wonderful smile.

    Et quand tu es seule pendant un instant     And when you’re alone for a moment

   Unbeknownst to you, you didn’t know he was the infamous Kaz Brekker, named like a boy you once knew, Kaz Rietvield, but you didn’t need to know that. He didn’t need you to know that. Kaz Brekker would fall if you left him again, and so, he approached you after composing himself.

   He was Kaz Brekker and you were Y/N L/N. Not Kaz Rietvield and Y/N L/N. 

  Kaz promised to himself he would send you notes and letters, but he couldn’t find himself to do so. He didn’t want you seeing the boy who had once loved the starry sky, now a monster full of revenge. A greedy man of power and money.

   He wanted you to remember that boy you met years ago to be the same boy. Kaz Rietvield was dead, Brekker wasn’t.

   “Would you leave me words, too? ‘Cause I feel like I’m the only one contributing to this friendship.”   “I promise, then. I will leave you words as you do.”   “Hooray! Now, look at the stars! It’s a new one! The brightest!”

   I will leave you words. You and Rietvield promised each other, but not Brekker. Oh, no. This was another love story to tell in another lifetime.

   Embrasse moi    Quand tu voudras

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Fic: So Close Yet So Far Away

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Ship: Frankie Morales x Jay 'Lady' Ray

Warnings: Language, talk of sex, throwback to sex, Pope is a crude asshole. Yearnnniinnngggg.

Summary: Lady and Pope get into an argument and Frankie sorts her out. Cue some elite level yearning.

A/N: HAHAHA I wasn't even meant to write this today but I woke up with this on my mind and I just had to because they're my BABIES. This is an instalment in the Frankie x Lady series and takes place back when Lady was in Frankie's squad, before they were an item.

Jay should have known better than to ask about everyone’s weekend. She just wanted to make small talk while they got prepped for a field exercise. She wasn’t ready to hear about their night out on Saturday, how Santi, Frankie, and Benny all scored some willing chicks, Will only missing out because he had a girlfriend, not because he didn’t pull.

All the while Jay was stuck with her family, listening to her mother go on about how she was too good for the army, she should leave while she was still alive, get a normal job, marry, have kids… She could have been out with the guys, maybe get lucky herself and if not, at least have a fun night. Get drunk instead of sad.

And now she finds herself listening to Santi talk about his one night stand, not giving Benny a chance to talk about his, while Frankie, quite characteristically, clammed up about personal stuff.

“Nutted her so fucking hard and all she did was beg for more,” Santi brags, “best fuck I had in ages…”

Jay’s been in the military since she was 18. She knows how soldiers talk, she’s heard it all, she’s participated in the crude joking, she’s not put off by it. But on this Monday morning, while the squad is assembling their equipment, she doesn’t want to hear it.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Pope, do you fucking have to talk like that?” she barks, unable to hear one more word about his sexual conquests. The rest of them cease their activities in wait for Pope’s reply. Working so closely together, sometimes spending weeks cramped up on assignments builds close bonds but also breeds discord. It’s normal to be at each other’s throats from time to time but it’s rarely Jay who flies off the handle.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, My Lady,” Santi replies with a smirk, his voice at its most velvety. “I meant I made passionate love to her all night – “

“You are so fucking disgusting, you know that?” Jay hisses. “Just shut the fuck up about the whole thing, nobody wants to hear about it.”

“Clearly not you,” Pope drawls, quick to anger. In the corner of her eye, Jay notices Will shake his head at him. Don’t engage, bro, just drop it. But Santiago Garcia is someone who doesn’t let things slide when he’s in gear.

“When was the last time you got laid, Ray? You need to get those pipes cleared out. Get some d.”

When was the last time? Too long ago. She does have an itch but last time she scratched it, it just didn’t feel right. She had the same feeling of detachment as she experienced just now when she heard about last Saturday night, particularly the fact that Frankie got laid.

It’s not that she’s jealous. She’s just more comfortable with the idea that Frankie doesn’t sleep around with anyone.

“A dick isn’t going to solve my problems, Santi, unless it’s a big one up your sorry ass,” she snaps, a rude laugh from Benny telling her she scored a point. Staring hard at Pope, whose ridiculously handsome features show an obnoxious amount of amusement, she knows that he won’t budge until he’s drawn metaphorical blood.

“Just name the time and the place, Ray, I’ll be there. Will you?”

“Okay, knock it off.” It’s Frankie, of course. The voice of reason. “Redfly’s gonna be here any minute and I don’t want to do extra laps just because you two can’t play nice.”

Frankie always has that calming effect on her, even now when she’s inexplicably mad at him for having fooled around with some random girl he picked up at their usual dive. Is there a possibility of her being there again in the future? Jay doesn’t want to think about it. Right now, she focuses on the sense that Frankie’s words make. It’s not worth it. Santi’s not worth it.

“Just stay away from me, asshole,” she warns Santi before going back to her kit. The tension in the room eases and Benny, who’s closest to Jay, gives her a brief pat on the back and a nod that says Good call. She hears Frankie murmur something to Santi behind her back, then Santi’s mutter: “She on the rag or something?”

That does it. Jay throws down her backpack and spins around.

“You say that to my face, you piece of shit,” she growls, taking a step forward. Her body is quivering with pent up rage in need of an outlet and knocking Pope on his ass would serve as an adequate one.

“Jay, he’s not worth it,” Benny tries to placate her but she barely hears him. Her whole focus is directed at Pope and his shit-eating grin. He says one more thing…

“Got your panties in a twist?”

She lunges forward but doesn’t make it to Pope as several hands grab her and hold her back.

“Hey, hey, hey!”

“Calm the fuck down, Ray!”

“Crazy bitch – “

“You’re on really thin ice, too, Pope! Shut that motherfucking mouth of yours!”

Benny is physically restraining her as she practically vibrates with desire to beat the crap out of Santi, who’s held back by Frankie.

“Ray, he’s not worth it,” Benny tells her. “Take a walk. Smoke. Calm down. He’s an asshole.”

He’s right and Jay knows it. Mustering up all of her willpower, Jay rolls back onto her heels, straightens her back, and squares her shoulders. Without looking at anyone, she turns around and stomps out.

Frankie finds her by the vehicles, in the backseat of a Humvee. Her fore and middle fingers are rubbing against her thumb: she’s quit smoking but is clearly wishing she had a cigarette right now. Frankie climbs into the backseat from the other side and pulls up a pack from his pocket, offering it to her without words. Jay hesitates but eventually takes one and leans closer to him when he flicks open his lighter. Frankie can smell the anger on her, a sweaty tightness that radiates from her muscles. She sits back, inhaling deeply before exhaling in a frustrated puff of smoke.

“Fuck,” she mutters, “I don’t wanna die because of these.”

“I thought you quit?”

“I did.” She throws him a glance and a grimace before flicking the cigarette out through the open door. “I thought you quit as well?”

“I keep them around for emergencies like this,” he shrugs. Jay looks pointedly at him.

“Then you haven’t truly quit, have you?”

He loves it how she puts him on the spot like this, provokes him, forces him to reconsider, change his way of thinking. She always does it with such ease, sometimes with a teasing glint in her eye. She just makes him want to be a better person.

“I guess not.” He throws her a small smile that goes unreciprocated. She stares into the back of the seat in front of her, lips tight. Frankie would love to just sit here in silence and let her lead, let her open up in due time, but he knows that if they don’t join the others soon, Tom is going to make a scene.

“Pope’s an asshole,” he states. Jay scoffs but says nothing. “But what’s up with you? You usually don’t let shit like that get to you.”

Her nostrils flare and he sees the muscles of her throat flex. Eventually, she parts her lips to speak, her voice strained.

“I spent the weekend with my dear mother, my brother, and his family. And you know what mom’s like.”

Frankie nods. Yes, he’s heard about Jay’s mother and the dislike the woman has for her daughter’s career choice. The older brother is married with one kid and another on the way and he, of course, is a saint, a pinnacle of human achievement, his children the very essence of what makes a successful life, his wife the perfect picture of Woman.

Jay suddenly twitches, then kicks at the seat in front of her.

“Fuck!I hate this fucking shit!”

Frankie refrains from putting a hand on her shoulder, no matter how much he would like to. He might end up with a broken nose.

“I cut her off,” Jay says tonelessly. “Completely.”

“About fucking time, Jay.” He’s been waiting for this to happen and he wants to tell her that he’s proud of her but it’s not his prerogative, no matter how much he would like it to be.

“Yeah,” she agrees, still not looking at him. “I kept hoping that she’d get her shit together but…” Her voice trails off and she swallows hard. “Fuck. I miss my dad.”

“He’d be proud of you,” Frankie assures her, biting off the endearment that threatened to escape him. Mi amor. Querida. He wants to be able to call her that, wants to be the one she’d come to with her sadness. Wants to be the one to call her mother and tell her to go suck an egg.

“You should’ve called,” he tells her but she only shakes her head. Stubborn as a mule.

“You were out. I didn’t want to ruin your night.”

It had been ruined the moment Santi laid eyes on the company of three young women by the bar. He had zoned in on the curvy brunette and Benny had picked the fiery redhead, leaving Frankie with the blonde. He didn’t want her, didn’t want any of the others, but he had fallen for the peer pressure and for every drink, he figured it could be a good idea to get laid. The girl was pretty, funny, nice. She had a hot body and was clearly willing. They had gone to her place and he had treated her like he would treat every woman he slept with: he ate her out, giving her several orgasms with his tongue before even thinking about putting his dick in her.

She had insisted on riding him. Frankie didn’t mind but as she bounced on his cock, her round, heavy tits jiggling in front of him, he didn’t see her face anymore. No, it was Jay all along, Jay’s long, lean body on top of him, Jay sinking down on him, her slick, hot pussy swallowing his cock while he swallowed her moan. The fantasy had become so real that he had to wrangle the woman off of him and take her from behind instead.

He left in silence once she was asleep, crept out like an asshole, a coward. He usually asked a woman if she wanted him to stay, he had once upon a time enjoyed having breakfast the next morning, sharing kisses when he finally left. But now, it all felt like cheating.

“You wouldn’t have ruined the night,” he tells her quietly. “It wasn’t that good.”

“The night or the sex?”

“The latter.” His ears are burning and he refuses to look at her.

“Too much to drink?” There it is: that sweet, amiable little taunt she saves for him only – or at least he hopes she does. He’s never heard her speak like that to any of the other guys.

“Wrong girl.”

Jay turns her head and looks at him. The distance between them in the backseat seems to shrink and grow at the same time when he returns her gaze. The hairs at the nape of his neck rise when he loses himself in the fathomless ocean-blue of her eyes.

He has to kiss her. He mustn’t kiss her.

“Are you two done with your fucking therapy session?”

Both of them startle when Tom shows up by the open door on Frankie’s side.

“I have an exercise op to run and I don’t have time to wait for you to feel quite ready, Ray,” he adds before slapping his hand to the roof of the Humvee. “Get your asses in gear.”

He leaves without having noticed anything. Frankie wonders how it’s even possible. Didn’t Tom feel the air crackle with electricity? Didn’t he hear how hard his heart was beating?

Jay gets out of the vehicle and slams the door shut, and Frankie follows suit. As they walk back, keeping a distance of two feet between them, Jay murmurs a Thank you, Morales to him.

“Sure,” he replies easily, forcing himself to sound neutral. “I got you, Ray.”

[vidavalor]

Bucky flirting with Sam as part of the changing times theme in Ep 5...

This is on the long side. Contains brief mention of the show basically canonizing Bucky as a sexual assault survivor. It’s meta on Bucky and Sam’s identity themes and how the show is shifting into a theme of changing times with the latest episodes-- mostly about how Bucky’s journey is paralleling Sam’s, even while being a different kind of journey.

One of the more interesting subtle themes of Ep 5 is that while we have had a lot of emphasis in the earlier episodes on how much horror still exists in America-- and a very right, necessary emphasis-- as the show begins to pivot towards the part of Sam’s journey that involves him deciding to become Captain America, they are pivoting a bit to illustrate that as much as many things have, unfortunately, not changed the way they should have over time, a lot really has. (Also, the Sam-as-Captain-America thing isn’t meant to be a spoiler as I don’t really totally know if that’s the ending, it just seems um... really the only place this story is going...) They have been using Isaiah to illustrate this point for Sam quite a bit in Ep 5, especially. The core conflict comes from Isaiah believing that a self-respecting Black man wouldn’t want to fight for America after the horrors that have been done to Black people in its history, which is not something that Sam ultimately feels is true. He definitely feels the pain of Black history in America but he still believes *in* America and views it as his country and is accepting that everyone in it really has a role to play in making it live up to the ideals it espouses but has still yet to achieve. In deciding to appreciate Isaiah choosing to open up to him and share his story but respectfully disagree with him on what to do next-- and to have his ability to make this choice reinforced by Sarah supporting him by saying she knows he will choose to fight in the fights he believes in and she has his back-- Sam is choosing to become a symbol of something, even if he’s just a man, and he’s affirming to himself that it is okay for him to believe in this thing he believes in. It’s okay for him to believe in America and love America and what it stands for, even in all its extremely imperfect glory, because he can be the change he wants to see in the world. He knows there are many people who will support him in that and that it only happens if we make it happen and that America, in all its imperfection, has made a lot of positive change happen throughout its short history. 

You know who else is enjoying similar truths in the same episode? Bucky. 

Bucky arrives in Delacroix all “Hello, 21st Century! I’ve always wanted to flirt with a man in public! I will be over here, lifting heavy stuff and getting in the personal space of your next Captain America, Good People of Delacroix, Louisiana!” What’s so endearing about this is not even just that this is clearly the first time that Bucky has felt like he has some control over his own mind, after proving he can manage The Winter Soldier in him a bit in the last few episodes, but that he’s working towards this kind of peace in a time where he really no longer has to hide any part of himself. Long before The Winter Soldier, Bucky was so the guy with a girl on each arm and a guy in the dark of the back alley. He has never, in his entire century-plus of living, been able to really be who he is without fear. It’s not as if there is not any fear left for LGBTQIA people in the world because, sadly, of course there is but loving Sam would have gotten Bucky arrested twice over in the 1940s. Interracial marriage was illegal until the Loving Act of 1967-- and that was still just for heterosexual couples. Obviously, same-sex marriage wasn’t legalized in the U.S. until 2015. If Bucky had been caught with a man in his youth, let alone a Black man, they both would have been arrested. Even if they were let go (and Bucky would have been more likely to suffer less, on account of being white), their reputations and ability to work and serve in the military could have been impacted. 

The show toys with this with Bucky’s interest in exploring it, even through the haze of a lot of severe trauma, back in Episode 1. While he’s mainly eating at the sushi bar because he’s befriended Yori on account of his amends project, he is living in a very modern existence by regularly conversing with these two. Consider that the show chose to make both of them Japanese, basically to illustrate that Bucky, in a sense, was always progressive for his time period. Bucky *could* have been the kind of WW2 soldier who forever saw people of the countries the Allies fought against as an enemy-- your grandfathers and great-grandfathers who never stopped hating the Japanese. But he’s not. He actually comes off as someone whose inability to fit the mode of the heterosexual white American guy in his own time period lent him a lot of empathy towards others and I might be wrong about this because I can’t quite recall at the moment but wasn’t he drafted, as opposed to enlisted? It’s doubtful he even really wanted to fight, although he’s always up for a fight against a bully and clearly hated the Nazis (but wanting to fight fascism makes you far from intolerant.) My point is that Bucky, back in Ep 1, is already experimenting with how living in the 21st century could be a positive thing for him in a life he might want to make for himself, if he can get through his trauma enough to do so.

He eats lunch on the regular with a man who is, in all likelihood, descended somewhere from at least one person who fought on the enemy side to Bucky in WW2. He regularly chats with Leah, who is completely unlike anyone he would have been able to talk to in the 1940s and seems almost designed to be *exactly* that intentionally-- she is a woman with a job that wasn’t like a nurse or a teacher or Peggy Carter lol. She tends bar, a job that was virtually exclusively male in the ‘40s. She has open visible tattoos and is probably putting herself through college-- something that women were just being able to attend, usually in female-only settings. She makes her own money and lives as a single woman, likely without the express intention on getting married and having a family relatively soon. (There’s nothing wrong with any of that. It’s more just that it would have been the exception, rather than the norm, in Bucky’s youth.) Atop that, she is Asian and works in a Japanese restaurant-- the ultimate business that would have suffered during the ‘40s as America didn’t exactly do right by its Japanese-Americans during the war and if Bucky, a white soldier, had been seen with a Japanese girl, it would have been bad for him but worse for her. 

So the reason why Yori has noticed that Bucky always looks at Leah when they eat lunch is probably less about the attraction Yori assumed Bucky had for her and more that Leah is this personal fascination for Bucky-- a human being who is basically the total embodiment of everything that has changed in the world since Bucky was last freely a part of it. Yori assumes Bucky wants a date but Bucky really wants what he ultimately got out of it, which is more just to talk to her a bit. 

They also play Battleship, which is kind of darkly funny. The game originated after WW1 and used to be played on paper. It soared into popularity in the 1930s and has never stopped being popular ever since-- so, in essence, the game they play is the one part of this that, like Bucky, has been in existence the whole time. It has taken on different forms, though. It became a plastic board game in the ‘60s and has been modernized a few times but it’s still here. (It’s also funny that Bucky is kind of losing the game with her, symbolizing that he’s not entirely figured out this whole modern world yet, even if he’s very interested by it.)

But the big thing is that Bucky is beginning to edge away from just observing this new world and trying to decide how he wants to participate in it. He’s basically decided that he might like to and while his heart is completely with Sam, he’s also afraid of himself and his ability to potentially destroy that one really strong wish he has to be with him, so he’s pushing him away by not answering his texts. He’s likely also, atop insecurity in himself, literally terrified at the idea of hurting Sam not just physically-- through some nightmare or some untapped Winter Soldier potential or failing to protect him-- but through the fact that he’s a guy from the 1940s who has literally never openly dated a man, had Black friends during the war but that was decades ago and is not really sure how to do this. 

Forced into a date with Leah, he experiments with the modern world in a way because he’s here because sure, he likes her and all but he was more just interested in her world than her personally and he just didn’t want to disappoint either her or Yori, so he showed up. She seems fairly trustworthy (and he trusts no one but Sam and Yori, so that’s a start) but what he wants really is to say aloud to someone for the first time that he likes men. To see how that goes in this modern era. (Depending on how you take Bucky and Steve, he could have put this into words to Steve at one point, likely way back when, but it’s also possible that they both just knew and didn’t talk about it. Either way, you didn’t go around telling people you didn’t trust in the ‘40s and it’s doubtful that he’s ever just said it to anyone and for sure not on a regular basis.) 

He even knows that this wouldn’t be a deal breaker for a woman, necessarily, in the modern era, which is probably blowing his mind a bit because you would have been hard-pressed to find a woman who would admit to someone she didn’t implicitly trust that back in the ‘40s and it wouldn’t have been so open and accepted. What he really wants in Leah is a new friend and she seems to sense that-- she likes this weird guy with the circulation problem that is nice enough to lunch with the old man at her restaurant, he seems okay enough, if broody and sad, so why not talk to him for a bit? She totally thinks he’s just a closet case (she’s not wrong lol) and won’t really be crushed by him rushing out of the date beyond like “too bad, he was pretty hot” but for Bucky, this is the likely the first time he’s ever casually chatted with another human being about his attempt at finding a guy he likes. 

It’s actually really sweet in that he’s still sort of coding it a bit, if not that much. He’s still a bit nervous about this so he’s saying tiger pictures to reference men so he can say it without saying it. Leah gets it and just kind of rolls with it and probably has zero idea how big a deal it was for the century-old guy sitting at the bar. 

He might have been intentionally dramatic a bit about how it was all “a lot” but he was also telling her the truth-- he did a little exploring online. Found some men. It looked like a lot of work to stroke all these egos. Bucky’s for the modern world but he’s kind of into more old-fashioned guys. He’s got a warm-hearted soldier kink. Family man kind of guys with generous spirits. He’s considering online stuff because he’s also a guy who has been through an absurd amount of trauma-- some of which the show will just come out and say involves sexual assault, off that Selby scene-- and he’s probably considering trying to get beyond some of it by just having sex with somebody. It’s not at all an uncommon response for people who have been raped to try to get beyond it by just having sex again and you know this is yet another level of anxiety for him when it comes to the idea of having another chance at life. He’s nervous around himself at this point and doesn’t fully trust himself, so he’s not sure how he can trust other people and the one guy he *does* trust and *does* want? Bucky has that whole ‘don’t want to burden him with my own issues’ thing happening. (That’s not a bad thing when it’s a situation of expecting your partner to be your therapist, which shouldn’t happen but Bucky would and should have expectations that someone he’d have as a romantic partner can be someone he can trust to care about him and be sensitive to how his past plays into his present needs, in and out of bed.) He’d trust Sam with this but he also wants to be like... he basically feels like he met the potential love of his life while trying to kill him and just got his mind back and the timing is all wrong. It’s a lot of ‘too broken for Sam’ self-narrative. 

Whether or not Bucky actually went beyond scrolling and being astounded at the unattractive insecurity of tiger pictures or whether he hooked up a time or two, it’s clear he didn’t get what he needed out of it and he gave up on it, admitting to himself that he’s really basically a tired old romantic who wants love and trust and the whole dance of things and that kind of intimacy more than the back alley casualness of online dating. This is about as far as Bucky has gotten while trying to deal with his trauma while having a truly terrible therapist: he likes sushi now and would like to have his life’s first real chance at an open, mutual, loving, romantic relationship. He just didn’t know how to get himself there. 

John Walker and the shield issues actually, ironically, gave him scenarios where he could, through actions that suited him better than those his therapist had assigned. He needed to learn not to not hurt anyone but how to manage it when he did. He needed to learn how to be a soldier that protects people again, not the Winter Soldier, and that he can control that part of himself. He needed the opportunity to show Sam that he really does care, he’s just a grieving mess of a man working through being so out of time and secretly scared that he might like this time better, might have a chance at being who he is for the first time, and he doesn’t know quite what to do with that. He lets Sam in enough that they can show one another that they understand each other’s traumas. He tosses himself out of a plane for Sam in the first episode to prove he’ll follow him anywhere, that he’s strong and will survive and come back, knowing about Riley not being alive when he hit that ground. Sam responds by seeing Bucky essentially frozen in a PTSD moment of the train car on the side of that truck and grabs him out of danger. They snark and bicker but the actions speak louder than the words-- there’s caring there and want and a sense that they’re a bit gone on the other. 

Sam’s trust in Bucky-- even as Bucky is still learning how to trust himself with himself-- gives Bucky a confidence boost that he was missing when he pulled away from Sam out of fear of hurting him. The whole White Panther/White Wolf scene? Sam expected Bucky to grumble or blush, he was for sure flirting with him but didn’t expect quite that amount of flirt back. Without realizing it, he had hit on the exact part of Bucky’s identity that was giving him the biggest boost, that he understood the best at that time-- the White Wolf. The White Wolf is the freed Winter Soldier, a peaceful tender of goats, a wounded warrior beloved by a community who rescued him. He represents Bucky’s recent past into his present-- being able to work for the chance to shake loose the Winter Soldier and evolve into a different version of himself. He wanted to impress Sam with that-- he saw Sam’s flirting and parried back, which he didn’t always do, because he knew it would be impressive that the Wakandans had given him a (pretty sexy actually) nickname. He’s boosted by Sam still flirting, Sam still caring, still seeing something in him he’s working on seeing himself. He has some hope, even as they fight, because his attempts at getting closer to Sam are not being rejected wholesale and Sam keeps reaching out to him, often literally. After Madripoor and after Bucky going after and finding Zemo, he feels more ready. He’s more in control of himself. He thinks he has a path to getting beyond the worst of this stuff and he might not have worked out all the details yet or figured out what it looks like but he finally feels ready to try and since Sam hasn’t rejected him, he’s going to take Yori’s advice, just with the right person and stop waiting around, stop just looking and make a move. 

In a way, Sam is introduced to 1940s Bucky for the first time in Delacroix-- this is the guy he saw glimpses of but was pretty deeply buried. He’s not reverted back to the Bucky of old as how could he, after all he’s been through? But this is the flirt, the natural charmer and he’s been set free for real for the first time, without worry or fear that he can’t live a life he wants and be the person he truly is without fear of rejection of who he loves, his family and the community at large. He likes this place that is the exact opposite of everything he’s suffered-- it’s so warm, he’ll never feel frozen again, physically or emotionally. The people here don’t care about his arm or who he loves, Sam’s family has Sam’s big, warm heart and Sam? Well, Bucky’s enjoying making him a little flustered. You like that stealthy White Wolf, Sam? Well, he’s got his eyes on you. ;)

Maybe the best part of this being the parallel to Sam’s decisions about how he wants to identify when it comes to him deciding to take up the shield is that it relates to a sense of freedom that is at the core of both of Sam and Bucky’s stories and is the whole point of Captain America and how it is supposed to symbolize a fight against fascism. Bucky has been told twice in the series that he’s “free” and each were, in a sense, a bit true. Ayo tells him this when he’s free from mind control and that is a major move forward for him-- life-altering-- but he’s not free from the trauma of it. Dr. Raynor tells Bucky that he’s free now and can build whatever life he wants but we see on Bucky’s face how those statements for him, in those early episodes in New York, really are conflicting ones-- he is free from mind control but still imprisoned in his trauma and that is what is keeping him from making the life he wants. Over the course of TFATWS, alongside Sam’s journey to decide how he wants to feel about America as a Black man and what he feels he owes to the country and the country owes to him, is the story of Bucky having to build his own identity as well. The Falcon and The Winter Soldier is ultimately what these guys were-- the identities they still have at the beginning of the show. They’re going to end it Sam and Bucky, Captain America and the White Wolf. Bucky’s real sense of freedom only came when he realized he could trust himself to decide how he wanted to live, when he proved that to himself and took control over it. He’s still not completely fine-- no one really is, ever-- but he has a path now. Sam and Bucky have different identity conflicts but ultimately, at the core, their struggles with them and with what their country has asked of them and with how they want to live and what they want for themselves, is very similar and the core of a lot of why they understand one another well. 

It wouldn’t surprise me if we find out that Bucky stopped answering Sam’s texts when Sam suggested he come to Delacroix. Bucky knew about the boat when he got there, the same way that Sam knew about Bucky’s nightmares, so these two were talking a lot, they were friends on a verge of more but both knowing they each had too many struggles to overcome first and I think that Sam had to have been trying to reach out and accidentally went too far. It’s kind of like in the therapy session-- most of the time, Sam is amazing at dealing with people who have been through trauma but he sometimes falls off his game with Bucky. The whole “this is what you wanted, right?” in the therapy session is frustration, it’s pushing a little too hard, it’s snarking over feeling like Bucky rejected him romantically, even if Sam understands why and probably wasn’t convinced they were ready for it anyway. It’s possible that Sam thought inviting Bucky home with him would be good for him-- and the sun and the Wilsons would have been-- but, at the time, it just made Bucky panic, which is then also why Sam just rolls over the fact that Bucky hadn’t been returning his texts when they see one another again. Sam kept reaching out to check on him but accepted the non-response because he felt like he might have kind of pushed Bucky too fast. They both know they both have feelings for one another but are scared by how much the other has to get through to get to that point and feel ill-equipped to really help one another, often blunder in their attempts to (and other times, get it just right.) 

So, yeah. There’s still no shortage of conflicts to be dealt with but alongside Sam finding his path to living his truth in this modern world has been Bucky’s arc from daring to whisper about tiger photos to showing up to show off his prowess with heavy stuff and tools to win over his boyfriend in front of his family and hometown. It’s not subtext. It’s literally Bucky’s identity-themed character arc, existing in parallel to Sam’s. Just because they aren’t giving it a ton of labels does not mean that it isn’t the intent of the story. 

[midnightswithdearkatytspb]

Pairing: MusicProducer!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Rating/Warning(s): PG-13; Alcohol Consumption, Fluff

Word Count: 2,037

Synopsis: Reader gets asked what is the most romantic thing she could dream of Bucky doing for them, Bucky pulls out all the stops with the help of their friends.

Info: This goes out to @imerdwarf who inspired this little work. One of my all time favorite songs and videos growing up was Take On Me by a-ha. I knew this had to be written. Thank you @jacobs-pup for some help! The dividers are provided by @firefly-graphics. Sorry this was written on my phone, and posted from my phone I cannot add not read more. (Laptop is broken.) I hope you enjoy this!

*Моя Маленькая звезда — My Little Star (according to google translation)*

Y/H/C = Your Hair Color

Taylor Swift's voice blared through the flat as the final coat of Berry Naughty was drying on Y/N’s fingers. Looking down at them, she was oblivious to Darcy, Wanda and Natasha talking with their eyes and sitting down at the coffee table around her, staring at her. Y/N was the topic of their non-existent conversation and Natasha, clearly getting annoyed, rolled her eyes, got her phone out, setting it on the table and finally catching the other girl’s attention.

“Моя Маленькая звезда, now that we have your attention, we have a few questions for you.” Natasha smirked as she set down four shot glasses, starting to fill them with premium vodka. Y/N felt a chill run down her spine, both trying to recall anything she had done since the last girls night and whether she had anything to do tomorrow. When the vodka came out, the wills and ability to do anything the next day were impossible.

“Way to scare her. Is it not yours and Bucky’s four year anniversary on Friday?” Darcy made grabby hands for the first shot as she looked at Y/N, one eyebrow up with a smile on her face. Y/N laughed as she took her shot from Natasha, clinking with Wanda. She was worried for no reason. She quickly downed the shot and the burn was felt all the way down to her stomach.

“Yeah, four years, holy shit, can you guys believe it? It feels like just yesterday we were at the cafe, studying for finals, and he passed me that note asking me to be his girlfriend,” she sighed dreamily, leaning her head on the palm of her hand with a smile.

She had kept that very note in every wallet she’d owned so those days when things got hard, when they fought, or when she just needed a smile, it was there. That note was a reminder of Bucky’s love for her.

“He’s always been a sap, no?” Wanda started to pour more vodka into the shot glasses, lifting hers and clinking with Darcy as Natasha shook her no.

“My brother did not become a sap till he fell for Y/N, before that he was more of a laid and ditch 'em type.” Both Darcy and Y/N found their jaws dropping to the floor, before Natasha shrugged and motioned for them to take their shots. Y/N tapped her glass on the top of the table and leaned back, the burn hitting fast once again.

“Anyway. Y/N, what is something so romantic you wish would happen to you? Like, something that you’ve always dreamed about, but would never dare bring up to Bucky because you think he would laugh at you or just brush you off?” Wanda passed out mini cans of Ocean Spray cranberry juice along with candy bars, while maintaining eye contact with Y/H/C.

Biting her lip, a habit of her which she had been trying really hard to break, she sat there, thinking, trying to decide if she would admit her main desire or lie. Natasha could tell a lie from a mile away and Wanda had always been able to read her, so there was no use in lying.

“Okay, so you know I have a thing for 80’s music? Well I’ve always wanted to have Bucky pick up his acoustic guitar and sing Take On Me by a-ha, nothing could be more romantic than that. Extra points if he wears that leather jacket his mom got him for Christmas, because that just does things for me.” Y/N started to pour shots of vodka as blood rushed to her cheeks and her body heated up from all the attention on her. She was so focused on pouring shots she didn’t notice Natasha fiddling with her phone.

“Interesting, now do you think we should have something to eat? I’m thinking we should order a little bit of something from all our favorite places and have a smorgasbord.” Clinking her shot glass with Y/N’s, Natasha pulled it to her lips, knocking it back in one go. The girls didn’t ask her to elaborate, and it was like that girls night was back to being a girls night, gossiping, talking about TV shows and complaining about work.

*6 Day’s Later Bucky P.O.V.*

Bucky stepped back and looked around the living room, the stringed lights Darcy had provided from her and Steve’s wedding hung from the ceiling, providing mood lighting. Candles that Natasha had found were burning all throughout the apartment, reminding him of that day when he had asked Y/N out. Sitting on the back of the couch was the leather jacket his mother gave him for Christmas, waiting to be put on till last minute.

His palms were clammy from nerves. He needed things to go perfect, because the past four years he had with Y/N had been the best four years of his life. She loved him, supported his dreams of wanting to be a writer and music producer, encouraged him when times were hard, looked at him with adoration, and she never gave up on him. He loved Y/N so much, it ached the days they were apart when she was working in DC for Senator Potts as her personal assistant, but, when she came home, he felt whole. She made the days worth it, she made love worth it.

“Bucky, Darcy said she just dropped Y/N off.” Steve, Bucky’s best friend handed him his leather jacket, along with his acoustic guitar that Y/N had gifted him for this past birthday. She has gotten it signed by the music legend Bruce Springsteen, when he had done a charity show thrown by Senator Potts and her husband Tony. Needless to say he cherished this acoustic guitar greatly and showed it off to anyone who stopped by the apartment for the first time.

Steve took a seat at the piano that sat under the TV, leaving room for his best friend to sit beside him. Bucky strapped the acoustic to his body as he pulled the guitar pick from his jean pocket before he sat down, he let out a long breath. Never before was he so thankful for the elevator being broken in the apartment building than he was in that moment.

Bumping shoulders with his best friend, Steve pressed a few keys on the piano getting his attention. “You got this, don’t sweat it.” Bucky just nodded his head before moving his neck side to side, cracking it, making Natasha who stood in the corner of the room with her camera chuckle. Bucky out of reflex, showed his middle finger to his adopted sister, she stopped when they heard keys go into the lock of the door and the key chains rattle.

*Y/N’s P.O.V*

Y/N pulled her key out and threw it in her open purse as she grabbed her suitcase from the hallway, it had been a really long 3 days in D.C. helping Senator Potts with her speech, of the announcement for the run for president. Pushing the front door open, she called out to Bucky but soon noticed the lights were out, minus beautiful sets of string lights hanging from the ceiling. Immediately soft acoustic guitar was playing as she hung her purse up making her turn around in a rush, where she found Bucky sitting at the piano bench beside Steve, whose back was to her.

“Talking away. I don't know what I'm to say. I'll say it anyway. Today's another day to find you. Shyin' away. I'll be coming for your love, OK? And… Take on me. Take me on. I'll be gone. In a day or two.” Y/N gasped immediately as she realized what Bucky was doing as she walked her way into the middle of the room.

“So needless to say. I'm odds and ends. But that's me, I'm stumbling away. Slowly learning that life is OK, and. Say after me. It's no better to be safe than sorry.” As Bucky serenaded Y/N, tears slowly started to weld up in her eyes.

“And… Take on me. Take me on. I'll be gone. In a day or two.” As Steve took over playing his piano solo, Bucky stole a quick peck on the lips from Y/N before quickly sitting back down at the piano bench.

“And oh, things that you say. Is it life or just to play my worries away? You're all the things. I've got to remember. You're shyin' away. I'll be coming for you anyway. Take on me. Take me on. I'll be gone. In a day or two. I'll be gone. In a day or two. In a day or two.” Ending the song with a smile on his face, Bucky looked Y/N in the eyes, who was looking straight back at him with adoration and a matching smile. Taking his acoustic guitar off, Bucky placed it behind as Y/N walked into his arms placing a kiss in his neck, breathing thank you to him.

When they eventually pulled apart Bucky wiped her tears, smiling at her as he got down on one knee. Y/N eyes starting to grow big, her hands again going over her jaw as she kept saying no over and over again.

“Bucky, are you kidding? This isn’t funny.” His hands reached up to grab Y/N’s from her face a dopey smile on his face the same one he gave her every morning they woke up beside each other, the same one he gave her when she made him a fresh cup of coffee, the same smile he gave her when she said I love you to him.

“Darling, it’s been four of the best years of my life, and I would like to think not just mine but ours. You make getting out of the bed in the morning not a chore, eating vegetables, worth it because I’ll live longer just to spend more time with you. You support my love for music and my career when some of my family had their doubts. It’s been an honor to watch you grow into one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met. So courageous, hard working, loving and charitable. I would be one lucky guy to get to spend the rest of my time with you, so I guess what I’m trying to get to is.” Bucky leaned on his left knee as he reached into the right front pocket of his jeans to pull out a ring box opening it up to show a beautiful sterling silver garnet ring.

“Y/N Y/L/N would you do the honor of spending the rest of our lives at my side whether it’s here in Brooklyn or Georgetown, I can’t picture it without you.” Y/N pulled Bucky up by the collar of the leather jacket she loved so much and kissed him on the lips. Natasha and Steve whooped at the couple making Bucky chuckle as they continued to kiss, tears of joy streaming from Y/N’s eyes. Bucky slipped the ring onto her ring finger as they pulled apart smiles on their faces.

“I would be honored to become Y/N Barnes. Who told you?” Y/N looked down at her ring then back at Bucky who motioned hand to his sister who stood to the far corner of the room holding the camera filming the engagement for their families. Natasha waved as Y/N laughed recalling the Saturday night where the girls had questioned her.

“You are right, the voice memo app really does come in handy.” Y/N laughed when she realized that Natasha had recorded the questioning and must have sent it to her boyfriend, now fiancé, to help plan this. Thanking her soon to be sister-in-law, Y/N turned to Steve and hugged him and thanked him for making her romantic dreams come to life.

Bucky pulled her back towards him and hugged her close to his body kissing the side of her face, “I love you, and I can’t wait to spend forever with you.”

[the-modernmary]

my best habit || aaron hotchner x reader (ch. 7)

Chapter summary: Your best friend confronts you about your revived relationship with Aaron and how much things have changed from two years ago when you run into the BAU at a bar. 

A/N: This chapter is definitely not my finest work, but we get some background on Hotch and reader. The part that is italicized is a flashback.

masterlist || read on ao3

Don't you want to take time and get to love me? We could build a perfect world I got tricks I really want to show you I could be your perfect girl - Wolf Alice, “Your Love's Whore"

~~~~~~~

“Okay, I can’t deal with this anymore. I have to say something.”

You looked up from your textbook to see the disappointed stare of your best friend, Aly, from the other side of the bar. She worked as a bartender, so sometimes you would hang out with her while she was working, maybe do some homework, and she would give you drinks with the employee discount price.

The two of you had been best friends since you were in middle school. When your mom died and your dad went back to prison, you were originally supposed to be shipped off to live with an aunt in another state that you had never met before, but Aly’s parents decided to claim legal guardianship over you, allowing you to live with them. From then on, you and Aly had become inseparable, even following each other to college. 

You snorted softly and took a sip from your drink. “Oh boy, this should be interesting,” you said sarcastically, and Aly rolled her eyes as she tossed the bar towel over her shoulder.

“You are acting way too casual about the whole Aaron thing.” You groaned, but she didn’t give you a chance to speak up. “He just shows up out of the blue after two years, and you dive right back in, head first, and act like nothing changed? You’re not even going to ask him what happened?”

You sighed. You knew that this was going to be a conversation that Aly was going to have with you at some point, and you were actually a little surprised that it took her a full month before saying anything, but that didn’t mean you liked it. “Yeah, because the murder of his ex-wife and the attempted murder of his son makes great pillow talk. No, I haven’t talked to him about that.” You rolled your eyes as you finished the rest of your drink. “And I don’t need to. The only reason you’re making this a big deal is because you don’t like Aaron.”

She stared at you in disbelief. “Don’t like him? Babe, how can I have any opinion on him if I don’t know him? I didn’t even know that you were sleeping with him until you called me crying because you thought-”

“I really don’t want to have this conversation,” you cut her off, and you pushed your empty glass towards her, wordlessly asking for a refill. You didn’t want to go through those memories right now. Or ever, if you could help it. “I don’t need to know everything about his life. It’s not like we’re getting married.”

Aly raised an eyebrow at you as she started to make you another drink. “Maybe not, but do you want to? Do you want an actual relationship?”

“No!” you said, too quickly and too defensively, but it was true. You liked what you had with Aaron, all of the benefits and fun parts of dating somebody without any of the responsibilities. But you understood where Aly was coming from.

If there were such a thing as “Build-A-Boyfriend”, and if you were being completely honest with yourself, your ideal partner would probably be a lot like Aaron. More age appropriate perhaps, less baggage for sure, and most likely with a different job, one that didn’t slowly chip away at his soul until he became a shell of a man.

But somebody determined and focused like him. With a soft side like his, and the same dry sense of humor as him. A person you could talk to for hours, who sees you and pushes you towards greatness. Maybe even somebody who makes you feel special because they can only ever relax and be carefree around you. Somebody who just wants to do good in the world and who cares.

Somebody like that.

Aly opened her mouth to say something, but it quickly closed it as she looked at the entrance. “Damn, there’s a group coming in. Okay, I actually have to do my job now. But we will talk about this later.”

You started to tease her until you caught sight of the said group walking in. “Shit,” you hissed under your breath, turning your back towards the door and praying they didn’t see you. “We summoned them.”

Aly looked at you in confusion. “Y/N, what-”

“That’s Aaron and his team,” you whispered, although it didn’t matter much, “and will you please stop staring?”

A gasp left Aly’s mouth and, in true best friend fashion, she didn’t stop staring. Despite Penelope’s invitation a week earlier, you had been able to avoid going out with the BAU team. It wasn’t that you didn’t like them - you actually really liked being around them - but it would have made things way too complicated with Aaron. He compartmentalized even more than you. “Which one is he?” she asked excitedly, and you had to reach over the bar to get her to turn around.

“You’re going to draw so much attention to yourself,” you hissed, and the two of you started to frantically talk over each other.

“Because I want to know which one-”

“- Tell you later -”

“- have to at least take their order -”

“- Really don’t want to see them -”

“- Coming over here now -”

“Hey Y/N!”

You grimaced to yourself before turning around on the barstool, forcing a smile. Penelope was the one who greeted you, but the rest of the BAU had made their way to where you were sitting. The looks they were giving you unsettled you, like they all knew something you didn’t, but you decided to chalk it up to nervousness. Aaron, however, was standing in the back and looking about as mortified as you felt.

“Hey guys,” you said, stretching out each word. You weren’t drunk enough for this. “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world…”

“Casablanca,” Spencer noted out loud. 

Aly smirked and leaned against the bar. “Y/N, are you going to introduce me to all of your FBI friends?”

You had to fight the urge to glare at her, because you knew what she was doing. She wanted you to introduce her to Aaron, but she was just going to have to wait. “Aly, this is the BAU team. BAU team, this is Aly.”

Aly pouted at you but surprisingly said nothing else. You weren’t sure if you were grateful for that or if it just made you more nervous.

Emily looked at the open textbook that was long forgotten next to you. “Are you studying at a bar?” she asked, amusement evident in her voice. “I thought only Reid did that.”

You shrugged and closed the textbook. “I was studying, but I gave up on that about an hour ago,” you admitted. 

“Good!” Penelope said excitedly. “Because if you’re not studying, then you can join us!”

Your eyes flicked nervously to Aaron, whose face was completely unreadable. You wanted him to give you some sign of what he thought would be the best, but he just stared at you, stoic as ever. The conversation that you had with Aly was playing on repeat in your mind, making you feel sick. You didn’t care about Aaron’s past. You couldn’t care.

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude,” you settled on.

“It’s no intrusion at all,” Rossi piped up, and you and Aaron both stiffened. Rossi knew about you and Aaron, so the fact that he was encouraging you to mingle with the rest of the group was a bad sign. “And besides, drinks are on me tonight.”

Aly laughed from behind the bar. “If that’s the case, then she is definitely joining you guys so that she can stop mooching off my employee discount without even tipping me.”

So just like that, it was settled. You grumbled something about always tipping as you grabbed your drink and your textbook before following the group to a large corner booth. You didn’t miss the smirks each of the team members was throwing your way, and you definitely noticed that they left the only open seat next to Aaron. The two of your exchanged tight-lipped smiles as you slid into the empty space, careful not to touch Aaron. This was partly because you wanted to keep a calm and collected exterior, even if the team did know about you and Aaron - which you had started to suspect.

It was also partly because the idea of being Aaron’s dirty little secret right in front of his coworkers was too tempting, and you already had 2 long island iced teas, so you did not trust your self-control.

“So Y/N,” JJ started, breaking you out of your thoughts. You had hoped, maybe naively, that they would just ignore you and let you observe for the night. “Does Aly go to law school with you?”

You laughed despite yourself and you shook your head. “God, no. Although, she did take the LSAT with me so that even if I totally bombed it, I wouldn’t have the worst score.”

“What did you get on it?” Spencer asked, and you saw Aaron perk up slightly at the question.

“A 174,” you beamed.

“Look at you go! You’re like our own personal Elle Woods!” Penelope praised, and your heart swelled at the use of the word “our”, like you were already a part of the group.

“I wish,” you chuckled. “But that brilliant bitch got a 179.”

A simultaneous “Who?” came from both Spencer and Aaron.

“From Legally Blonde?” you prompted, but were met with more confused stares. “The greatest lawyer movie of all time?” They shook their heads again. “Okay, you both need to watch it, it’s a classic. Miss Woods was quite literally the only reason I was able to get through my first year.”

Well, that and fucking Aaron every chance you got, but they didn’t need to know that. 

You heard a gasp come from Penelope. “We should do another movie night! We haven’t had one of those in a while.”

Emily laughed and nudged Penelope softly. “Do you not remember the fiasco we had last time we did a movie night? We almost burnt down Rossi’s house.”

Laughter erupted from the table as multiple parties started to talk over each other, and you were happy to slide into the background, making little quips when the conversation called for it. The most surprising part of the whole night was how easily you got along with the BAU group, and how much they seemed to like you. Less surprising, however, was how acutely aware you were of Aaron’s thigh, which was now pressed against your own.

Aaron had stayed completely silent since the time the team walked up to you, and you could only imagine what was going on in his head. This whole situation was probably a living nightmare for him, and you couldn’t say you blamed him. Your choice to keep Aaron a secret from your friends was just that - a personal choice. You didn’t want them to fuss over you or put delusions in your head of a future with Aaron. You wanted to be able to enjoy your privacy.

But the implications for Aaron were much more severe, especially now that you were actually working at the FBI. People would start to question his judgment, whether or not he was fit for his job. They would question if he had taken advantage of you or manipulated you, and that would all be before they even found out that the two of you were sleeping together years ago. He could very possibly be seen as just a high ranking government official who was sneaking around with a girl almost 20 years his junior.

In other words, it would look really, really bad for him. You downed the rest of your drink in one go.

Aaron raised his eyebrows as he watched your actions, his gaze heavy. His eyes ran up and down your body, and you could feel yourself start to overheat. He felt much closer than he was. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you noticed that the rest of the team had scattered among the bar - some playing pool, some ordering more drinks, and some in the bathroom - which left you and Aaron alone in the booth. There was enough room that he didn’t need to have his leg pressed up against you, and he definitely didn’t need to bring his hand down to your knee, but he did. 

“So, a 174? Impressive.”

“Mhm,” you mused, keeping your voice casual. “Does that surprise you?”

“Not at all,” he responded, no hesitation in his voice. 

His response didn’t surprise you much, but you preened at the compliment all the same. You wanted people, especially Aaron, to think of you as effortlessly successful and to be impressed by you. So you didn’t show them the countless hours spent in the library, and the many all nighters you pulled. You were careful to only show people the parts of you that you could brag about, like your class rankings or debates on subjects you were an expert in, so that it looked like it came naturally to you. So you didn’t look like you were struggling.

Part of that came after your mom died. You didn’t want everybody fussing over you and treating you like you were breakable, so you quickly decided to show that you were independent. If you didn’t give people a reason to worry about you, they’d leave you alone. 

The other part of that came during law school. You knew yourself enough to realize that it was probably because of Aaron, and how much he rubbed off on you. You wanted to be engaging like him, to be able to completely command a room without even saying a word like him. You wanted success like him. Aaron noticed that early on and challenged you. He let you debate with him just so that you could practice going against somebody smarter and more experienced than you. And it paid off. 

~~~~~~~

You stared at the email on your phone, your cheeks sore from how much you were smiling. You had already told all of your friends, but their reaction wasn’t as satisfying as you wanted. They were ecstatic for you, but realistically, you only wanted the approval of one person. 

Your thumb hovered over Aaron’s contact in your phone, debating on whether or not to call him. This could probably be a text, but Aaron was so formal when texting, even when dirty texts were involved. Besides, you wanted to hear Aaron’s approval, and even more than that, you wanted his attention. Even if it was just for a minute or two, you wanted his attention in the middle of a weekday, something you never got. 

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you hit the call button and brought the phone up to your ear. 

“Aaron Hotchner,” came the greeting, formal as ever. 

“Aaron, hi,” you started, and you were happy that Aaron couldn’t see the way you were nervously tugging the hem of your shirt. 

There was a beat of silence. “Y/N,” he said, surprise evident in his voice. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything is great! I, uh…” You realized that you didn’t have a good explanation to give to Aaron as to why you were calling him while he was at work. “Is this a good time?”

You could hear light footsteps on the other side of the phone, followed by the soft click of a door closing. “That depends on the subject matter,” he mused, his voice lowering.

All the nervousness you felt melted away. “I made law review!” you blurted excitedly. “I just got the email and I didn’t have anybody else to tell. And God knows you’ve helped edit my papers enough, so I figured I’d share this with you.”

You wished that you could have seen Aaron’s face. You wanted to know if he was smiling, or if he looked proud. In hindsight, telling him in person probably would have been more rewarding. 

“I knew you’d get it,” he told you sincerely. “Automatic or write on?”

“Automatic,” you told him proudly.

“Congratulations, Y/N. That’s a big deal. I’m sure you’re going to celebrate tonight. It’s Bar Review night, right?”

You hummed to yourself, attempting to calm your nerves. You dropped your voice, adding a more seductive tone. “Actually… I was hoping that maybe I could be rewarded for all my hard work? Please?”

He hadn’t said no to you yet, and you doubted today would be any different. 

Aaron chuckled, low and dark. “Mhm, since you asked so nicely…” His voice trailed off, and you could practically hear him stiffen up. “But I can’t tonight.”

”Oh.” He didn't elaborate, and doesn’t have to. If it were for a case, he would have told you. When he didn’t say anything, that meant it was a Haley and Jack thing. Still, you couldn’t help but note the disappointment that bled into his words. 

“Are you busy this weekend?” he asked, his voice soft. “We could meet in Baltimore. Same hotel. I can make reservations now.”

For the second time that day, you smiled so wide that your cheeks hurt. Attention was what you wanted, and attention was what you got. “Baltimore sounds good. Send me the details.”

~~~~~~~

You mindlessly stirred the ice in your empty glass with the straw, listening to the soft clinking. “What about you? What did you get on your LSAT?”

Aaron thought about it for a second. “A 176. I think.”

A bitter chuckle left your lips and you turned in your seat just enough so that you could face Aaron. You were so close to him that, even in the dark lighting of the bar, you could make out every feature on his face. “Christ, and here I was thinking I could out-lawyer you,” you teased.

Aaron took a sip of his drink — double scotch neat. “I’ve seen the way you like to argue with me. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t want to go up against you in court,” he scoffed. 

“Hm, yeah but you like it when I argue with you,” you pointed out, leaning in closer to him. “Because then you get to shut me up.”

Aaron set his drink down on the table, his face never betraying any sort of emotion. “Come over tonight,” he told you, his voice lowering. The hand that was on your knee slowly trailed up your thigh, his fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake.

You smirked, deciding to mess with him a little. “Presumptuous of you to assume I don’t already have plans after this.” You didn’t, and Aaron knew that. He somehow always knew. 

In spite of that, he decided to indulge your teasing. “Cancel them.” It wasn’t a suggestion, and he punctuated his demand by squeezing your thigh. “I can help you study later.”

That was all the convincing you needed. You slipped out of the booth, ready to pull him straight out of the bar, but his face gave you pause. “Meet me at my car in two minutes,” he told you firmly, and you nodded obediently and sat back down.

You watched him start to walk out of the bar, only to be stopped by Emily and Derek. You watched as the three of them talked, Aaron's whole body tensing. There was a lull in the conversation before the three of them looked over at you, Emily and Derek trying to hide their drunken smiles.

They knew. They had to know. It’s not like you and Aaron were being subtle. In some part of your subconscious, you were sure that they knew long before tonight, and that this was just a confirmation. Still, you didn’t know how Aaron was going to react. You thought that Aaron was going to deny it, or even end things with you right there. Besides that one office-sex slip up, Aaron had been so careful about keeping you a secret from his professional life, even going as far as asking you to not call his office phone. In a shocking turn of events, he just smiled and gave you a small nod before making his way towards the door.

Figuring that you didn’t need to wait the two minutes anymore, you started to head towards the exit, blushing as you went. You could feel everybody’s eyes on you the whole time, but when you looked around, none of them seemed to be judging you. If anything, they seemed… happy? You were just about to reach the doors when Penelope cut you off.

“Does this mean you’ll start having lunch with me in the Batcave?” she said excitedly, not even needing to preface her question. They all knew.

“Whenever I get a chance,” you promised.

Penelope reached down to grab your hands, covering them both with hers. “Good! It can get lonely when they’re all off saving the world.”

“Hey Penelope,” you started, pursing your lips nervously. “Is this thing with Aaron and I… is it okay? I don’t want to make things weird for your team.”

Penelope gave you a sympathetic look and shook her head quickly, like even the very act of bringing it up made her sad. “Of course it’s okay! Hotch is happier than we’ve seen him in a long time, and that’s all we want for him. He’s a good guy who has just been through too much. But if he gives you any problems, you come straight to us. You’re one of us now.”

Then, without any warning, Penelope pulled you into the tightest hug you’ve ever gotten. You could smell her perfume, something floral and sweet. “Thank you,” you said as she let you go.

“Oh no, thank you,” she retorted, grinning. “Now you go have fun.”

You laughed and walked out of the bar, making your way to the parking lot. Part of you was still worried about Aaron’s reaction to knowing the secret was out.

But when you saw Aaron leaning against his car, and you saw his smile when he looked up to see you, all your fears were assuaged. “Who ambushed you?” he called from across the parking lot, his voice light.

“Penelope,” you admitted, and he nodded unsurprised as he opened the passenger side door for you.

You buckled your seatbelt and watched as Aaron made his way into the driver's seat and loosened his tie. “Are you okay with them knowing?” you asked nervously.

Aaron was quiet as he started the car, so quiet that you thought that maybe he didn’t even hear you. It wasn’t until the car pulled out of the parking lot that he spoke. “Yes,” he told you, and it truly seemed like he meant it. Then, as a joke, he added, “Although, I reserve the right to change my mind after seeing them at work tomorrow.” 

“What?” you teased. “You’re not going to spill all of the dirty details to your coworkers?”

Aaron laughed and fuck if that wasn’t the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. “I thought you needed to study.”

You shrugged and leaned over the center console just far enough to press a kiss to his jaw. “I do. So you better make it worth my time,” you purred into his ear, smirking as you watched his knuckles turn white from clenching the steering wheel. “Or you can get me off while I study?”

You thought back to what Aly had said about whether things changed between you and Aaron. On paper, everything had changed. There was no need for secrecy or sneaking around anymore. You wouldn’t need to travel an hour outside of the city just to be seen with each other in public. The unspoken rules were going to change, considering the two of you had broken pretty much all of them already. Aaron had changed, and so had you. It was impossible for it to be the same as it was two years ago.

But as you sat in the passenger’s seat of his car, Aaron grinning devilishly at you, you couldn’t help but think that at its core, nothing really changed. 

[gayhuckleberryinatrenchcoat]

You are my home💚💙

Happy Valentine’s Destiel Wedding Day everyone!

Part 2 of my Destiel wedding series.

Click here for the masterpost.

Thanks @bonchickabelle for your support

~2,8k words

“Are you nervous?” Sam teased Dean, who stood in front of the mirror, tugging his tie straight. He thought about it for a moment “Excited? Sure, can’t wait to see Cas again after you forced us to spend last night apart for some stupid tradition. Nervous? No. It’s Cas I’m marrying.” Sam smiled knowingly, already half out the door. “I’m very happy for you two!” Alone again, Dean’s eyes drifted back to the mirror and he placed his hand on his shoulder, right over Cas’ handprint. He meant what he had said to Sam. It had been the first night they had been apart since he got Cas back and he barely slept. He had just felt wrong without hearing Cas’ gentle breaths, without being able to wrap his arms around the former angel and without feeling the weight of Cas’ head on his chest. But was he nervous? Not at all. He was almost surprised at how calm he felt. He’d never been this sure about anything in his life. After today, he would never have to spend another night without Cas.

Everything was perfect. Everyone they knew had insisted on helping with the wedding in one way or another. Sam wanted to officiate them, he got his license as soon as he heard the happy news. Eileen had taken the grooms separately to shop for wedding suits, Jack had promised them a warm, sunny day and handmade the invitations with Claire. Jody and Donna had baked their wedding cake, Ellen and Jo contributed a dozen homemade pies, Bobby took care of the bar and the catering. Garth and Bess promised to capture the whole day on their cameras. Gabe offered to be their DJ and Ash took care of all the technical stuff. Rowena had promised them truly magical fireworks at night, while Crowley and Benny were in charge of the security, although that shouldn’t be necessary ever since Jack became god.

Charlie and Dorothy had not only offered their vast, beautiful property as their wedding venue, they had also taken care of the decorations. The ceremony was set to take place on the Southern side of their house. An aisle led through rows of white chairs up to a little lake in front of which they had placed a rectangular wooden arc, decorated with greenery and big white flowers that stood out brightly against the blue water in the background. The Western side of the house was already equipped with a big dance floor around which tables, a big buffet and a bar had been set up. To top it all off, Charly and Dorothy had hanged fairy lights in every single tree on their property, which would create a magical atmosphere at night.

Lost in thoughts, Dean adjusted the flower on his lapel and smiled at the mirror. He never thought that he – Dean fucking Winchester – would ever get married. And yet here he was. His phone buzzed and his smile became even wider as he saw who texted him.

[Cas 10:34] Dean?

[Dean 10:35] What’s up? Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now😉

[Cas 10:37] No, my feet are perfectly fine, why would they be cold?

Dean rolled his eyes, amused at his fiancé’s confusion.

[Dean 10:37] Not literally, that’s an expression for someone who has second thoughts on their wedding day. What’s going on?

[Cas 10:38] Oh. I see. I’m nervous that I might act weird because I don’t know all wedding customs. So I wanted to ask if you could maybe help me out when I’m about to make a fool out of myself.

[Dean 10:39] Sure thing, sunshine, but don’t worry about acting right, it’s your wedding day, all you have to do is enjoy it. And everybody here knows you’re a little weird😉

Without a knock, Charlie barged in. “What’s up bitch, you ready? Cause your fiancé is and he’s smokin’ hot.” She winked as she noticed Dean’s blushing cheeks. “Yeah, I’m ready. Where’s Bobby?” “Already waiting downstairs for you. I have to go, see you in a few”.  As quick as she had come, she disappeared again. Dean took another glance at the mirror to make sure everything was perfect before he left the room.

Downstairs Bobby and Ellen were laughing over a glass of scotch. When Bobby noticed Dean, he smiled and reached up to adjust his baseball cap, scoffing when he realized that he didn’t wear one today. “Lookin’ good” he grumbled. Ellen gave Bobby a quick peck on his cheek and winked at Dean as she went to take a seat. “I’m glad ya two idjits finally got the sticks out of your asses. Took ya long enough.” Dean chuckled nervously, his cheeks turning red again. “Thanks Bobby. Truth is I still don’t know how I got this lucky.” “Well, ya really deserve this, ya know? You’re a good man. He’s lucky to be with you. And I like him. Never seen you this happy.” After a pause he added “I’m very proud of you son.” Fumbling with the empty glass Ellen had left behind on the table in front of him, Dean replied “Bobby... Thank you. You’ve always been a father for me, unlike John, who... Anyways, thank you. For everything.” Dean swallowed, unable to put his love and gratitude for this man into words, but as he looked up at Bobby’s face, he caught him wiping over suspiciously wet eyes. “Idjit” he grunted, pulling Dean into a bone crushing hug. He nodded at the clock. “Ya ready? We gotta go.” “Ready” Dean replied, and he meant it. He was more than ready for this.

Or maybe he wasn’t. He was more than ready to marry Cas, but he wasn’t prepared for the sight of all his loved ones in one place, alive – thanks to Jack – gathered to celebrate with him. He always thought the only occasion where they’d all come together would be for his funeral, and he didn’t even expect that since most of them had been dead until a few months ago. Grateful and touched to see how many people where there because they loved him and Cas, Dean fought back some tears. While Garth’s kids waddled down the aisle, scattering white rose petals, Bobby squeezed Dean’s arm, as if he could sense all those thoughts whirling in his head. Dean nodded, linked their arms and let Bobby lead him down the aisle where Sammy already waited with a big grin and an even bigger stack of notes for his speech.

Back in the house, Charly gave Cas an encouraging smile and handed him a gorgeous bouquet of white and yellow flowers. “Thank you for leading me down the aisle, I was made aware that that would usually be the responsibility of one’s father...” “There’s nothing usual about this wedding..” Charly teased him. “Besides, you’ve been my bestie ever since we first met, of course I’m gonna walk you down the aisle!” She linked their arms. “Ready?” Cas nodded. “Ready...” Leaning in, he added with a proud smirk “...bestie”. The doors swung open and they stepped outside.

All heads turned around to see Cas, but he didn’t even notice. He was completely captivated by the sight of his fiancé, who let out a little gasp before breaking into a wide smile. His eyes made those cute crinkles that Cas loved so much and as he came closer, he could see a tear roll over Dean’s check. Usually, although Dean had become way more relaxed over the last months, Cas could always sense a lingering alertness in him. But now... he seemed completely at peace. Cas quickly blinked away some tears. He didn’t want anything to cloud his vision, he needed to preserve this image in his mind. His navy-blue suit combined with a simple black tie and a white flower on the lapel suited Dean incredibly well. He was beautiful and Cas’ heart skipped a beat at the thought that it was him who caused the pure adoration and happiness on Dean’s face.

Charlie led Cas towards him with excruciatingly slow steps. Dean could barely restrain himself from running towards them. Cas was indeed smoking hot in his black suit, the baby blue tie perfectly matching the color of his big, loving eyes. Their eyes locked and Cas smiled at him with his adorable alien head tilt. Dean took a deep breath in, smiling at his fiancé, whose eyes glistened suspiciously. Cas seemed completely awestruck, and Dean felt a little lightheaded like he always did when Cas looked at him like that... like he meant the world to him.

Charly placed Cas’ hand in Dean’s. “Hey handsome! Missed me last night?” Dean whispered with a wink. “Hello Dean. I missed you very much indeed”. Murmuring “Me too”, Dean softly leaned his forehead against Cas’. The grooms stood there for a moment with closed eyes and fond smiles on their faces, the longing for each other almost unbearable. Cas finally pulled away and stated softly: “You are incredibly beautiful”. He turned towards Sam. Dean blushed at the seriousness in Cas’ voice and slowly turned to face his brother as well, not without glancing at Cas’ concentrated face once more and shooting him a loving smile from the side. While Sam held his unsurprisingly deep and thoughtful speech, Cas slipped his hand into Dean’s, who squeezed it lightly in response.

When it was time to say their vows, Dean took Cas’ hands in his and started shakily: “So, uhm, I’d like to start if that’s okay. Cas – you’re my best friend. And you’re the love of my life. I never thought I’d ever say something like that, I didn’t exactly think love was in the cards for me. I never let anyone close. But you...” His furrowed brows softened, and he broke into a fond smile, adopting Cas’ little head tilt. “You immediately got to me – well, right after I stabbed you... Sorry for that, buddy.” He winked and Cas chuckled softly. Dean continued, his voice overflowing with love: “I love your weird, quirky personality. I love that you’re such an openhearted, adorable little dude and at the same time you’re brave, strong and one hell of a badass. You never stop surprising me. You have the most loving, pure and beautiful soul.” Dean’s voice started to crack. “You know me better than anyone, heck, you probably even know me better than I know myself. You looked into my soul and you love me for exactly who I am, which is the best gift you could have ever given me.” Firmly holding Cas’ gaze, he added seriously: “I promise to always love and support you unconditionally, in our human life together and beyond. I’ve been yours ever since you first laid a hand on me. And I swear I will be yours for all of eternity. I love you Cas, so damn much.”

Cas looked at him completely lovestruck, tears glistening in his eyes. In a low, gravelly voice he declared: “I never truly belonged anywhere. I never... functioned the way I was supposed to. And you made me realize that that’s okay. That freedom and free will were more preferable than being a brainwashed soldier of heaven. You gave me your friendship, you made me part of your family. You taught me to love.” He cupped Dean’s face, gently brushing his thumb over Dean’s freckled cheeks. Squinting his eyes in adoration at the miracle before him, he added: “You are the most perfect, selfless and loving human being I have ever known.” Tears started rolling down Dean’s cheeks, he still had a hard time accepting that someone – especially Cas – would think so highly of him. Receiving this praise in front of such a big audience made him blush. “Dean, you are my home. I love you. Forever.” He pressed a soft kiss on Dean’s forehead and wiped away his tears. Dean almost drowned in his loving eyes, completely overwhelmed with affection.

Claire and Jack came up to give them their rings. Claire handed Cas a ring and whispered: “Congrats Ca... Dad”. Cas froze up for a second, tilting his head, squinting his eyes, trying to understand if she really just meant that or if it had just slipped out on accident. When she gave him a shy confirming smile, he pulled her into a strong hug. Jack handed Dean a ring with a “Hello Dad” and a short hug, before tugging on Claire’s hand to pull her back to their seats. The almost married couple shared a confused look after what just happened, Dean opening his mouth to ask “Did they just call us..?” “I believe they did”, Cas replied happily.

Sam moved on with the ceremony and let them repeat some more promises to each other before posing the final question: “Do you, Castiel, take Dean Winchester as your lawfully wedded husband?” Cas answered earnestly “I do.” Sam turned to Dean to repeat his question: “Do you, Dean Winchester, take Castiel as your lawfully wedded husband?” Dean grinned widely, eyes crinkling around the edges: “Hell yeah, I do!” Sam asked them to exchange their rings to seal their bond and Cas took Dean’s hand gently in his. He slipped the ring on slowly, looking deeply into Dean’s beaming green eyes. Dean then slipped a ring onto Cas’ finger, his fingertips lingering longer than necessary. Sam finally pronounced them “...husband and husband. You may now kiss your groom!” Under the roaring cheers of their loved ones, Dean cupped Cas’ face while his husband pulled him close, arms wrapped around his waist. Their lips found each other easily, all of their adoration blooming into a chaste, soft kiss. Cas spontaneously bent Dean backwards, who gasped into his mouth in surprise, before letting himself fall into the strong embrace. Their kiss deepened, both too far gone to hear the excited cheers and whistles around them. It took them a while to gather the strength to break apart, foreheads resting against each other for one more moment before turning to the cheering crowd. Dean linked their hands and raised them up, as Sam exclaimed loudly: “I present to you Mr. and Mr. Winchester!”

The party afterwards was one for the books. Everyone had a blast and surprisingly enough, everyone got along perfectly, which wasn’t exactly a given on a party were hunters and supernatural beings came together. Donna’s and Jody’s wedding cake was mind-blowingly delicious. It was a white cake with three tiers and a figurine of the happy couple on top, wearing their trademark flannel and trenchcoat. When they cut the cake open, it revealed a colorful surprise. The top tier was colored like the bisexual pride flag. The second tier was chocolate-brown and the bottom tier looked like a rainbow flag. Dean insisted on feeding Cas with some cake and “accidentally” smeared frosting on Cas’ face. After he had kissed it away shamelessly, which earned them loud cheers and whistles from their guests, Dean pulled his husband onto the dance floor for their first dance.

They both didn’t exactly know how to dance, but it didn’t matter. They were just happy to feel the comforting warmth of their bodies against each other and melted into a tight embrace. As they were swaying gently, eyes closed and faces buried in each other’s necks, they didn’t realize that the first song had long blended into the next one. After a couple of songs, Dean opened his eyes for a moment, watching all the people he loved enjoy themselves. Jody and Donna slow-danced next to them and Eileen tried to teach Sam how to dance, hoping not to get her toes crushed. The brothers exchanged a big smile that said: “We’re so damn lucky”. Rowena stood at the DJ-table with Gabe, brushing a hand over his arm and whispering something in his ear. Crowley and Benny seemed to hit it off at the bar and Claire and Jack tried to teach Sonny some “tictoc-dance”, whatever that was, while Miracle excitedly jumped around their feet. Dean closed his eyes again and sank even deeper into the feeling of Cas’ arms wrapped around him.

The party carried on deep into the night, roaring rock classics long having replaced the quiet couple-dance music, everyone partying on the dance floor or sharing stories and laughs at the bar. As the newlyweds sat down to chat with Sam and Eileen over some drinks, Cas looked at his husband lovingly. He was overjoyed to see Dean beaming happily from being among all the people he loved, no danger in sight. As Dean caught Cas starring, he gave him a gentle peck and got up. He linked their hands as they strolled towards the lake, the party sounds fading into low background noises. They leaned up against each other, the reflections of stars and fairy lights glistening on the water as they held each other close in the cold night air. Dean nuzzled his nose into Cas’ hair and pressed a gentle kiss on his head. Cas turned to see Dean’s glowing eyes and pulled him into a long, achingly tender kiss. They were home.

[tundrainafrica]

Title: Lovebug (2/10)

Summary:  

“It might be a bug.”

“A bug?”

“Sometimes the developers of this application make mistakes. This is our first time meeting I’m sure so…Isn’t it a bit weird that we just met for the first time and it rings like this? And for two strangers to coincidentally ring each other’s alarms?“

Levi is the developer of the Love Alarm App and Hange is married to Zeke.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Other Chapters: 1 3 4 5

Notes: I was torn between publishing the next chapter of lovebug or outlier tonight so I opted to just go for lovebug. I'll post the next chapter of outlier mid next week. As always, feedback is very much appreciated.

“We’re gonna delay the release of our next fix…” Levi repeated, just a little slower that time. He didn’t trust himself then to speak in anything faster or with a tone any louder.

It was too early in the morning for a meeting, just a little past eight in the morning. He was called into Erwin’s office right after arriving into company grounds and Erwin, a natural early bird, was talking louder than what could have been considered bearable for Levi.

At eight in the morning though, not a lot of things were bearable, especially if they involved a huge change of plans and a glaring reminder that he had a long work day ahead of him.

More importantly, Erwin’s voice was grating in a way that most bosses’ voices were grating when laced with a little more urgency than necessary. “Yes Levi, we’re delaying our fixes indefinitely, not just for Love Alarm but all of our other apps as well.”

Levi raised his eyebrows. “Really? You know we’ve been announcing this big fix for months.”

“I’ve contacted the marketing team. We are pushing the fixes back a week. You think that will be enough for you to finish everything you need?”

Levi shook his head. “There’s no need to push back the release. I can work on this bug now and I can have the other developers and the support team work on getting the regression testing done and getting the release out.”

Erwin shook his head. “I do not want to give Mr. Jaeger the impression that we aren’t prioritizing his complaints. Levi, you have to understand. He’s an important client.”

“I understand that. And I will be on top of things. I’m testing this issue myself.” Most days, Levi left the testing option to the support team. Given the nature of the bug though and the severe urgency of getting it fixed, it had been an easy decision for Levi to take it upon himself.

Erwin hummed in approval. “Yes and I’m happy to hear that you're going to be investigating this bug. I would rather that we didn’t release anything while investigating this.”

“May I ask why? This bug doesn’t involve any of our other functionalities. I can test this myself.”

Erwin hummed. “Zeke Jaeger is an unpredictable man. I don’t think he would appreciate us improving our product while such a glaring bug still exists. He is a very vocal and he might give us some bad press.”

“Oh?” Levi heard the derision in his own tone then, a smooth yet venomous sound. Zeke Jaeger had been outwardly friendly yet for some reason Levi couldn’t explain just yet. He wasn’t at all drawn by the charisma that accompanied it. In fact, the blonde had just been annoying and the conversation only cemented Levi’s first impression of Zeke Jaeger as bad, maybe even terrible.

What the hell does Hange see in him? He added to himself then. How that had entered his own contemplations then, he didn’t know. He quickly brushed it away and mustered the most seemingly uninvested face he could make then.

Erwin had that special talent of seeming uninvested either. As he settled on the sofa in front of Levi, he mixed the coffee just a little too loudly. He had an aura about him that very much meant business. “Have you done some prior investigation?”

“I did,” Levi said. As he soon found out, that aura was contagious.

“Anything new?”

“I’m entertaining the idea that what if…. The application is working fine?”

“Can you explain why his partner had two hearts while he had none?”

Levi cleared his throat. “Assuming the application is working perfectly, we can draw two conclusions. One, someone in love with Hange Zoe had their application on and Two, Hange Zoe isn’t in love with Zeke Jaeger.” That last conclusion couldn’t have easily been true, but still such words left such a sweet aftertaste in Levi’s mouth that he had to make some considerable effort not to smile.

Erwin raised his eyebrows inquisitively. “Any leads on whose application could have been on?”

It had taken some strength, some self confidence and some self discipline on Levi’s side to pull his phone out then. “My love alarm was on yesterday, I forgot to turn it off after the demo…” He navigated to the ‘history’ tab and opened his history to the exact time to late afternoon yesterday.

One person nearby is in love with you. Levi read silently to himself. In that split second, he was contemplating display issues and front end bugs that maybe just maybe accidentally chalked Hange’s heart as ‘love.’ It was highly unlikely though so even before that idea had ripened into something worth an explanation and a support ticket, Levi brushed it aside.

“So your application was on the whole time.” Erwin murmured, looking intently at the phone in front of him.

Levi nodded. “But it’s a good step in the right direction. That means there’s a bug to investigate after all. I just have to isolate it to either Hange Zoe’s application build or mine,” he explained.

“That seems promising and do you need any help organizing a meeting with her.”

“She’s coming today for a little testing.”

“Just like my best engineer to think a few steps ahead.” Erwin asked, a smile curling up his lips. “And you think you can get it done within a week?”

“If all goes well… Even less than a week.”

***

It had turned out that that small meeting had worked well to organize Levi’s thoughts. He had a quick action plan from there and with an action plan, a new burst of motivation, or at least enough of it to carry him from Erwin’s room to his own small office space in a little less than five minutes.

A week to investigate. Levi thought to himself as he leaned back on his office chair. He looked back up at the ceiling for a good few seconds before writing his deadline down on the white board next to him.

He didn’t need that whiteboard, their workflow trackers and excel sheets worked well to always keep Levi in the right state of mind. Yet there was something organic about white boards, something natural about being able to write the numbers with his own hand, freely changing his fonts with just the slight of the hand, impulsively changing formats at just a quick motion.

So he kept it there next to him, a large annoying waste of space to most people. But Levi had taken great pains to make it look organized in his room, measuring each frame to the millimeter. It was a large clean slate right next to his desk in his very small office. And more importantly, it was something that was very much his to play around with like he wanted to.

Under the deadline, he put the new release date of their fix.

We’re delaying the release of the next fix by a week.

Such wise words from someone who didn’t know how the investigation process actually worked. But with an employee and boss relationship, emphasis on Levi being the employee, he had to make it work. That’s how it had always been in the office. Erwin wasn’t a developer. He was a manager. And Levi was being paid by him.

Levi though never liked the idea of delaying fix releases. Once the date was announced, he liked to make sure all of the quality assurance testing and the regression testing was done two weeks ahead. And with that habit becoming custom for the Love Alarm project, he was sure they would have managed to make the release next week. Staring at the workflow interface, he noted the bar was more than half full already, most bugs were tagged as fix. All test builds were submitted and passed and they could have easily moved on to the final regression testing before release.

And regression testing never actually failed. The Love Alarm app after all was a very functionally simple application.

With the weight of a wasted timely release and the powerlessness of corporate politics bare on his back, Levi let out a long sigh.

He opened up his slack channel and typed out a few words.

We’re delaying the next fix release.

But it wouldn’t just be the Love Alarm which would be affected, all the other applications would be affected as well. His notifications exploded within five seconds, all feedback from each time. Levi started to wonder, maybe he should have put everything in one message.

So he edited his old message.

We’re pushing it back a week.

Under that, he put a new date and time as a reminder to all other employees. There were many why’s, many protests and his application continued to shake with notifications.

He checked the time on his phone. Hange had agreed to meet at nine and she should be texting soon. With little to no brains pace to create a summary of his meeting with Erwin in less than ten minutes, Levi typed out two words.

Erwin’s orders. Without waiting for anymore protests, he closed his laptop, packed up his things and ready to move to the small conference room he had reserved for him and Hange.

It was a few floors below. A small room among others but Levi was familiar enough with the layout of their offices to know it was very much soundproof.

Any unwelcome alarms, unwelcome notifications and unwelcome conversations would stay in that room. Even before Levi had dropped off his things in the conference room, Hange had already texted.

Her car was by the gate already.

Meet in the lobby. Levi texted back as he quickened his pace, quickly turning back towards the elevator, laptop bag still in hand.

He could have been too slow. Or Hange could have just been too fast but by the time he had arrived in the lobby, she was already on one of the seats next to the reception, playing around with her phone.

She was wearing a light sweater, her brown hair was pulled up messily into a half ponytail. Levi though had to note that it still looked very much like it fell into place. For a second, he had given her a good onceover, admiring everything at once.

Only a split second later, he was cruelly reminded that he had made her wait, long enough for her to have to sit down in one of the lobby sofas. “How long were you waiting?” It wouldn’t have been the first greeting Levi would have liked to give then. His heart was racing though and soon he realized, maybe he had taken up the unnecessary challenge of jogging down those five flights of stairs while keeping his laptop safely in tow.

Hange looked up from her phone seeming surprised. “Are you busy? Was this a bad time to visit?” Hange asked. “We could reschedule... “

More and more, the first greeting then was seeming less and less ideal. “No, no. This is great. I don’t know what just came over me. Thank you for taking the time to test this bug with me.”

Hange shook her head. “No, no, I asked my partner to invest in this application for a reason. I see great potential and I’d be happy to tweak some of those bugs with you.” Her lips widened into a smile. “So what’s the game plan?”

Levi gestured towards the elevators. “We do some simple testing. I just need to isolate the cause of this bug.”

“Oh? How does application testing work?”

“We use the application,” Levi answered matter-of-factly. Was there any other way to test it? It didn’t seem like something he should be asking the very important partner of a very important person though so Levi kept that last question to himself, instead keeping his face then as something both subtle and questioning.

“That’s cool,” Hange said. “So how’s your job?”

“It’s fine,” Levi answered. “The investigation will keep me busy.” He stared at the numbers on the elevator, getting lower and lower and Levi could have sworn it couldn’t go any slower. He could have found some consolation if anybody else had joined them in the elevator then, to at least abate that awkward need to carry some conversation between them.

Any other employees though had chosen for themselves to wait in front of other elevators. Levi was almost considering doing the same thing.

After all, Hange was talkative. She was asking questions. When they entered the elevator together, the very slow elevator, there would be more than enough time to send two to three questions back and forth. And Levi was quick to realize, he was an incredibly boring person.

“So do you have any hobbies?”

“Programming.” What about you? Levi had readied himself to ask in that long split second of silence that followed.

Hange though was quick to respond even before he could take control of the conversation. “Well aside from your actual job.”

“I like to clean,” Levi answered. He started to wonder how dorky that hobby sounded like. He needed to rephrase. “I meant--- organize things…” He added a second later. “Like Marie Kondo.”

“Oh yes, I’ve heard about her,” Hange said. She had at least allowed for a split second silence then, long enough for Levi to take the reins of the conversation.

Hange though was a high profile person, her partner was one of the richest men in the country and Levi’s mind was racing with hypotheticals. Was it okay to ask her about her hobbies? Her interests? Or was that supposed to be an exclusively professional meeting?

Soon, with all the questions nagging at him at once, he unearthed a question at the back of his mind that he had been meaning to ask since he had met Hange down at the lobby.

So how’s your husband?

Where’s your husband? Do you hang out with him often? Do you usually do stuff alone? A question that couldn’t so easily be answered by a single google search on an incognito window, only that night, he had tried searching keywords just to be sure.

Hange Zoe Zeke Jaeger Relationship

And soon after searching that just once. He had made sure to clear his browser history just in case he didn’t do it in some incognito window. After all, night mode and incognito mode had almost the same interface.

He soon found out though after jumbling around keywords over a search engine that Google wasn’t omnipotent as it turned out. The only one who could have satisfied his curiosity at that moment was the brunette next to him then.

He couldn’t bring himself to ask it just then though. So he went for another question, a very vanilla one but it seemed like a safe bet. “What about you?”

“What about me? What do you mean about me?”

Levi was starting to doubt the flow of the conversation of a while ago. Did he remember it correctly?

The elevator dinged like it was announcing some coming of a messiah. That had been more than enough to break the awkwardness of that exchange and Levi quickly slammed the open elevator door, just a little more loudly than usual. He gestured for Hange to go ahead.

“Hobbies,” Levi said as he met her outside the elevator.

“I like research,” Hange answered.

“Is that your full time job?” Levi asked. He didn’t need to ask. He had read more than enough articles of Zeke Jaeger’s partner to have seen ‘neuropsychologist’ used as an epithet enough to be convinced that that was her full time job. The last thing he wanted to do though was actually accidentally imply in a conversation that he had googled a few keywords for answers before clearing his browser history.

Hange nodded. “Yes it is.”

“Well… Hobbies aside from your actual job?” Levi asked. He kept his own word usage and his own phrasing similar to what Hange had used with him. If Hange asked it that way, that should have been a socially acceptable way to ask.

“I like plants,” Hange said firmly. She wasn’t looking at him. Although Levi had wanted to see the face she was making then, he started to realize that craning his neck to get a good view of her face might just look a little too weird.

So he settled for her side profile. From his view he could see eyes were everywhere at once from the hallways to the doorways just a little further away from the area that opened up as soon as they exited the elevator. “Where are we going?”

“Over here,” Levi said, he was quick to pull her towards the other side though, before she found out that he had taken a good few steps already in the wrong direction. “The conference room is over here…”

“We have a meeting?” Hange asked, her voice suddenly very tense.

“No, it’s nothing like that. I just thought it would be better that I reserved a room, so we could do some testing where we wouldn’t bother anyone.”

She let out a sigh of relief. “That’s good. I thought I was supposed to be preparing something.”

In those few minutes, he had made her wait, made her navigate some awkward conversation and made her panic. Then and there as he led her to the room, he was guessing what kind of dashing review she’d be giving Zeke about their first meet up.

More importantly, was he giving a great second impression? It was nine in the morning, too early for him to be confident that he was a fully functioning human being. Or so, that was what he repeated to himself then. He could make up for it after lunch.

Hange settled on one of the chairs nearest to the door. “Do we sit together?” She asked. The meeting room was designed for a maximum of ten people and for a good few seconds, he wondered if he should have gotten something much smaller.

Even before he had figured it out for himself, he was looking between sitting right next to her or towards the other side of the room. They weren’t married. Could he sit beside someone who was married?

But if he sat too far, he might not be able to hear her. He went for a very safe in between. He dropped his laptop bag on the seat next to her with some flourish, as if to say, he was married to his job and he was happy with that arrangement before sitting on the seat right next to his bag.

There was a bag between them, they were a safe distance away and Levi pulled his laptop out and booted it up. “I’m suspecting that the issue with your application might be the build. Can you redownload it for me?” He asked. The laptop had been a reminder at least that they were there for business. And business meant that they had a topic of conversation and he had practiced that script enough times to know, he probably didn’t sound like an idiot.

“Are we testing now?” Hange pulled her phone from her bag.

“Yes we are. Just download the app from the app store. I need to confirm that this isn't just your build in particular being faulty,” Levi brought out his own phone, deleted the application from the folder before redownloading it into his phone.

The ‘downloading’ message next to the love alarm application served some form of inspiration for conversation topics at least. “So, how does your husband like the app?” Levi asked. That line was straight from the basic customer service manual and he was very much sure that was acceptable territory for a professional conversation topic.

“Ahh Zeke? He loves the application. He told me himself, he sees potential in it too.”

Did he tell you over dinner? Over car rides? Somehow, Levi was picturing them over a happy dinner in their European style dining room in their very expensive penthouse apartment down town. He knew how it looked. He had seen it in one of the lifestyle articles he had googled just the night before. “That’s good,” Levi said, he felt that comment catch at his throat. He cleared his throat. “The bug... How does he feel about it?”

Hange’s face fell at that. Subtly at least, but with Levi had been staring at her for the past few seconds, it was very much noticeable as a split second movement. “Yeah, about that…”

“Did he say anything about it?”

“We did research on the application last night… And we were theorizing… so the heart could have been from him… and from someone else right? Someone else had their application open then. And he was saying it was you.” Hange’s eyes were wide with disbelief. “But I remember you said, it could be a bug right? And I’m sure you turned off your phone before we tested it…”

“And we’re testing again,” Levi said as he opened the newly downloaded application on his phone. “Log into your account.” He ordered, looking pointedly at Hange’s phone.

The biometrics were already in his account, all he needed was to log his fingerprints again. Levi took a glance at Hange’s phone laid out on the table.

She had gone through the log in process quickly. He turned the love alarm on and rested his chin on his hands and waited. Hange only needed a few seconds. Soon she had turned it on.

And within a second, her phone buzzed then his phone buzzed. It did wonders to shake the whole table then, enough for Levi to have to grit his teeth as the table shook sending a bolt of shivers up to his chin.

He could have sworn he felt blood rush to his face then. He quickly turned off the alarm. “It might be a problem with our phones. I”ll bring down some test devices and we can try this again. He avoided Hange’s gaze only brushing his hands on her shoulders long enough to make his point known. “Just wait here.”

Hange mumbled something with a seemingly obedient tone. Levi didn’t bother to guess. He quickly made his way out of the room, up the stairs--- he was in no mood to run into anyone in the elevator.

It had taken him roughly ten minutes to go back up to the office and come back down with a bag full of gadgets. He dropped the bag on the meeting table, maybe a little too loud and a little too roughly. “These are the most common gadgets used for testing the love alarm. They’ve all been factory reset so just set any one of them up and we try the application again.”

Hange seemed frozen with surprise, at the least she had managed a nod.

Setting up the device was a simple process and Hange didn’t ask too much about it. She had at least kept quiet through the whole ordeal and although it was second nature for Levi to set up a device, he made sure to keep his head down, his eyes intent, feigning deep concentration.

Or maybe he needed to concentrate. His hands were shaking just a little bit, his heart was racing.

He was sure he only needed to try it one different device, one commonly used model for both of their phones to rule out any problems with build or model. It was a decisive move.

And the climax of such a process came once again when Hange had motioned to click the love alarm again before looking up at him. Before they even met eyes, Levi clicked the on button on his end.

It was at the moment when the alarms rang in unison again did Hange avert her gaze. Levi bit his lip as he stared back at his phone.

One person nearby is in love with you.

He glanced up, at Hange’s phone. Although he couldn’t make out the words on it, the characteristic heart near the center was enough. She was getting the same heart.

He grabbed the phone from her. “It might be related to the model,” Levi said, Years of experience working with applications and phones were telling him, it wasn’t related. One working phone was more than enough proof. Looking at the watch at the end of the meeting room, he saw it was far from lunch time, he had at least ten devices in the bag. “Let’s try it on other phones… Just to be sure.”

***

“Levi, what if…”

“What if…” Levi nodding his head at Hange slowly, a subtle gesture for her to continue speaking.

For lunch, they had settled for one of the diner just along the wide shopping streets only a few minutes walk from the building.

An eventful few minutes walk. Levi had turned on his love alarm, put an earbud to one ear and listened to the alarm ring on repeat as he followed Hange through the streets. There were a few other notifications that popped up and left as he listened. But the ringing coming from that one heart which he had already surmised long ago, was from Hange’s heart had settled into even the cadence of his steps. It became an ubiquitous part of the short walk to the shopping street.

When they had settled in the diner though, Hange was quick to drop her phone in front of him and show him the history of her application. On her phone, there was one heart that remained steadfast through the whole ten minute walk as well.

At that moment, Hange pointed at it, then glanced quickly at Levi’s own phone. “What if… You are attracted to me. And I’m attracted to you? Because this love alarm, it doesn’t just check love right? It checks attractiveness. So if a passer by thinks you’re attractive, your alarm rings,” Hange said.

Levi leaned back on the diner behind him, picking at his fries with a fork. He couldn’t bring himself to eat one, just the results of their testing that morning had him losing his appetite. Consequently, he had ordered the burger meal at the front of the menu, something he was in no mood to eat.

“So maybe…” Hange said.

“Hange, we just met. During all the tests. I have never made anyone’s love alarm ring. Besides, I don’t think I’d be the type of guy to get attracted to someone at first glance. I don’t believe in love at first sight.” And someone who’s married at that. If Levi had something in his mouth then as that thought ran through his mind, he was sure he would have choked. He was more grateful than ever that he hadn’t started eating.

“But, we saw it already… The application was giving the same reading and when we were walking too… It never stopped ringing…” Hange explained. Still she looked like she was still finding the right words.

Levi understood her clearly though. “Hange, are you in love with me?”

Hange turned a bright red. “What? No, I'm married. Also, we just met and I don’t believe in love at first sight either”

“So do you believe there’s a bug?”

Hange nodded. “Maybe? Or maybe the data you put into the application was flawed. Maybe there are things that need to be improved.”

“That is a good point. So what do you suggest then Hange?”

“I’ll help you research. I pitched this application to Zeke because I wanted to try rolling something out similar to hospitals, psychiatric units. And if he invests maybe we could improve the application, work to make it more accurate?”

“That’s the plan. But he said so himself, he’s not going to invest in the application until the bug is fixed.”

“But what if it is working as expected… What if it’s just a matter of fixing the data?” Hange looked out the window, seeming deep in thought. Levi wondered if that last question had been for him or for herself.

“I can do further testing on this. Just to make sure,” Levi said. “The problem is… How are you gonna convince Zeke to invest in this?”

Hange sighed. “I guess it's going to be a question of timing. I'll catch him when he's in a good mood and--”

“Hange, are you willing to admit to your husband that you might just be attracted to some stranger?”

That shouldn't have been such a difficult thing. He had heard before of married couples who window shopped so Levi amended that question in his mind.

Are you willing to admit to your seemingly unhinged husband that you might just be attracted to some stranger?

***

Sometimes, the only way to find the bug is to break the application.

Levi and Hange got caught in the lunch time rush. But Hange wasn’t a typical worker, Levi wasn’t a typical eight to five employee either.

So Levi saw opportunity for a little test. “Open your love alarm,” he whispered. He put one earbud to his ear, motioning for Hange to do the same. He turned on the application once again, letting the shill ring grace his ears one again.

It was annoying at first, but over time, he had started to see it as an old friend. He was far from the denial stage already and he was already threading the lines of acceptance.

He was a developer. He had fucked up the coding and a bug had appeared. And that issue, it was a bug for sure, a bug he needed to investigate.

And any opportunity for data and evidence, was an opportunity he couldn’t waste.

“We walk through the lunch crowd,” Levi said. “Usually when I walk through, I get two to three rings. Sometimes more. There have been issues before that getting too many at once, sometimes the application would conceal all the hearts and the only way to get it to work again is to reset the application.”

“So what do we do?” Hange asked.

“Turn on your application and we walk through the crowds,” Levi repeated matter-of-factly.

The crowds around him though were disconcerting and he could understand how Hange would have needed some guidance then.

What did she know about testing? When Levi asked himself that question, he started to pick out another question too. What did he know about testing?

He was an engineer and he had been working with applications for years. He had experienced a lot about testing. But he had never experienced testing with a customer married to one of the biggest opportunities of a company and being accused of being in love with her by his own brain child.

He was treading unfamiliar grounds.

The ringing of the alarm was always unsettling at first. By the fifth ring, it always found a rhythm. Or maybe it was his own brain that found rhythm in it.

And he walked to that rhythm, he pushed past the crowds to that rhythm and every two to three rings, he would take a glance to see Hange beside him, her face had settled to some rhythm too. Sometimes, she would look back at him, other times she would look behind her, as if she suspected someone had set her alarm off.

But he had become part of her rhythm too. From his peripherals, he could see she snuck glances at him. Very quick glances that Levi had been perceptible, invested enough to notice.

They could have been walking for five minutes, or maybe even ten. Soon, Levi realized, the love alarm had embedded itself into the background noise, an annoying ring amid faint voices, conversations, public announcements.

It had only seemed loud once again when the street had opened up to an open space at the center.

In front of them was an empty park, and it usually was empty when the lunch crowds had made their way back to their offices. Levi had worked there long enough to know.

The chaos of the alarm had subsided into one noise. He turned to Hange to see that she was looking up at the sky then, one hand over her forehead, shading the view from the bright afternoon sun.

The light from the sun had done wonders to make her cheeks look a bright pink and for a second or so, Levi just stared, long enough for Hange to have noticed. Or maybe it was her plan to look to him eventually.

“Did it stop?” Levi asked as soon as he became aware of those hazel eyes on him. He averted his gaze and looked around the empty park. Nobody should be ringing his alarm. Nobody should be ringing her alarm. But them.

It should have been a win-win situation. If that had worked to break the application, Levi could have clocked that as the bug and investigated that instead. If it worked as expected, if the two applications continued to ring, then maybe it was working.

His alarm was still ringing. He did a thorough 360 of the park. No one was near enough to even meet the ten meter radius. Just to be sure though he turned to Hange. “Anyone around our ten meter radius?”

The park was empty save for one old man on a bench a good distance away, definitely more than ten meters. He hoped it had sounded like a redundant question.

Hange shook her head. “Nobody. But the application is still ringing.”

“Did it stop at all? During the walk?”

Once again, Hange shook her head.

Levi took a deep breath and dropped his shoulders back. “Erwin gave me a week to figure this out. I’ll do some of my own personal investigation after this.”

“Hey, I’ll do what I can too. I really want you to get those funds.” Hange took her hands in his and Levi had half the mind to pull away. If her hands weren’t so soft and maybe a little too warm even for a cool spring day.

Levi had been almost disappointed when Hange dropped his hand and turned back to her phone. Just ‘almost’ though. They just met, he couldn’t be too invested in hands.

So he thought back once again to backend work to the numbers that made up the love alarm. And he thought of Hange’s little suggestion. “You said something about flawed data right?”

***

“My plan is I’m gonna see if I can convince Zeke to take up that love alarm,” Hange said.

“No need to hurry. I have a week to get it working,” Levi muttered. He wasn’t looking at Hange then. His laptop was propped on his lap and he was looking through open support tickets.

They had a support team and being a developer, answering customer queries wasn’t his job. At that rate though, he was looking for anything to keep him busy. Zeke would be coming to pick up Hange and the last thing he wanted to be was free enough to stare at them.

“I have some books on love, I could send them over,” Hange suggested

Levi looked up from his laptop. The support ticket on ‘how to download the app’ was not very interesting after all and he found reason once again to stare at Hange’s bright hazel eyes. “Why would I need books about love?”

“You seem… inexperienced with love?” Hange started. She seemed unsure with that answer.

“Inexperienced with love?” Levi narrowed his eyes at her.

“Allergic to love,” Hange repeated. “so I thought it might help if you read on them.”

“Why would you care if I read them?”

“If we’re gonna work together to improve the accuracy of your alarm, I think you should learn. I’ll do my part too. I’ll learn a bit of coding.”

Levi shrugged. “Send them over then. I’ll look through them if I have time. First things first, I need to get a little more testing done.”

“They might be useful for testing. Or maybe they’ll be able to help you pick out which sensations in particular point to love.”

“I loaded the data. I would know,” Levi said.

Hange raised one eyebrow at him in playful suspicion. It had done some magic in helping Levi recall that all he remembered were the numbers and some hints about sweating, palpitations and some quickening paces. But machines had a tendency of learning more about the users over time.

“Maybe I’ll read one or two before bed," he added a second later.

“Great. Then I’ll do my homework too. I’ll see what I can get from Zeke. Hopefully I can convince him to invest, even with the bug.”

“You have my number---” Just update me. Before Levi could let those words out, he had fallen back into that support ticket about that one person not knowing how to download the application.

It was still a boring and stupid support ticket. But when Zeke had padded into the lobby like he owned the place with a butler in tow, Levi decided that the idiot of a ticket was still a better view than Zeke at that moment.

“Thank you for picking me up,” Hange said in an almost melodic tone, a tone that made Levi’s ears bleed.

“My meeting ended early and I don’t think we had a good dinner since last week. What did you have for lunch?”

“Burgers and fries.”

“Burgers and fries? Hange, I gave you more than enough money for a good meal." Zeke sounded mortified.

Levi froze. He had suggested the diner for its strategic location. He found himself running his right hand slowly over his wallet in his front pocket. He was sure he had the money for anything more expensive.

“It was good.”

“Well, I’ll make sure we get something better tonight. There’s a new restaurant, just outside town, they sell the pink fatty tuna and Kobe beef imported straight from Japan, same day shipping apparently so it’s definitely the freshest we can get here. What do you think?”

“That sounds great,” Hange said.

She had said it in such a tone, a tone she had never used with Levi before. Like she was tasting the food as she spoke of it. Of course she wouldn’t use it on you. You just met her. Levi thought to himself. As he willed himself to get back to his senses, he realized the ticket was still untouched. Although he had been staring at it since a while ago, he hadn’t made any progress at all.

He looked up at Hange then at Zeke. “Apologies for only taking her to a diner. Next time, I’ll make sure to take her somewhere a little…” Rich, expensive, snazzy, exclusive, snobby?  Too many adjectives were running through his head then but Levi settled for something seemingly more professional, or as professional as he could go. “More your tastes.”

“That would be very much appreciated,” Zeke said. He took one of Levi’s hands in his, too suddenly and too forcefully that Levi had to smack his laptop to keep it balanced on his lap. “Thank you again for taking very good care of my Hange here.” He had slipped a hundred dollar bill in between Levi’s hands and maybe he had expected Levi to smile and say ‘thank you.’

And most days, Levi was polite enough to have mustered one but his ears were still ringing, not from hearing the love alarm non stop that day but from those last words Zeke had said.

My Hange.

Hange waved, motioning with her hands to ‘text soon,’ then she turned her back on him.

Levi couldn't’ even get a good view of Hange as she walked away. Soon enough, Zeke had wrapped one arm around her shoulders. From Levi's angle, he couldn’t tell whether Hange had pushed closer to him or Zeke was the one who pulled her closer.

For a second longer, he pondered it. Of course Zeke would pull her closer, that’s his Hange. Of course Hange would move closer to him, she’s his.

Levi looked back at the support ticket, he had opened again.

How to download application. Please help.

He closed his eyes and leaned back on the sofa. He closed all his open tabs before laying his eyes again on the empty draft.

Within seconds, he had closed that tab as well. There were larger issues then than a customer not being able to download an application.

***

Hange had sent books about love in a drive folder and she had emailed it to him. When Levi opened it, he was quick to figure out, they were all self help books

Scott Peck? He could have sworn he had heard that name somewhere and when he opened it, he found the book was hundreds of pages long. He didn’t have the attention span for that.

Maybe I’ll read one or two before bed. He had promised Hange that evening. But he didn’t actually have to read it right?

So instead, Levi googled the summary.

Genuine love is volitional rather than emotional. The person who truly loves does so because of a decision to love. This person has made a commitment to be loving whether or not the loving feeling is present. ...Conversely, it is not only possible but necessary for a loving person to avoid acting on feelings of love.

Levi was quick to close it after that. If that concept of love was real, that would defeat the whole purpose of the love alarm. The last thing he had wanted to do so late at night was invalidate his own brain child.

“Book one for the night. Done,” Levi whispered to himself as he opened the next book on file.

Before you love others, you must learn to love yourself.

“Cliche,” Levi said. But soon after reading it, he turned back to the application on his phone. He turned it on to see an empty blue screen void of hearts. There wouldn’t be hearts, he was alone in his apartment.

He thought back to Hange’s mention of flawed data. He thought back to the alarm that wouldn’t stop ringing. They had been testing it that whole day, there was nothing wrong with the application and the developer in Levi knew there weren't any glaring bugs.

But the testing would continue. He hadn’t completely tested all the scenarios after all. The alarm ringed with Hange but would it have alarmed with anybody else? His five years worth of experience testing the application told him 'no.'

Or maybe he just hadn’t been actively looking for the right people.

Even at night, the gears in his mind managed to turn and soon, he had a plan albeit a vague one. But the first few steps were clear at least. Levi navigated to his play store and typed a few words on the screen. A few minutes later, he was downloading an application with a familiar flame icon on the screen.

He took a deep breath. "This is part of the testing process," he muttered to himself. He was gonna be spending the whole night swiping.

[underlinediagnosis]

Weird Looking Dog - Chp. 1-3

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A Borrower Au.

Warnings - Themes of abuse, abductions, intentionally hurting minors, fear play, and people being treated like pets are present. 

Can be read on...

Deviantart- https://www.deviantart.com/batterysavermode/art/Weird-Looking-Dog-Chapter-1-872465523 

Archive of our own- https://archiveofourown.org/works/30746024/chapters/75884288

My first g/t writing so embrace the hiccups. 

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                                  Chapter 1 - Lung Aches

She could never run away from the cold air. She should never seek comfort from a hug from her mother. Never wear a smile when her father would tell a joke. She could never fulfill her dream of meeting a dog. No. She could never be happy again.

The cold and shiny metal caused goosebumps to form along her pale short legs. Thin and weak arms hugged her dull pink shirt. The shirt looked too big for the small girl. In reality she had grown too small for the shirt. The thin fabric hiding ribs that jutted against her skin like dull blades.

Her toes that laid flat against the metal were pink and felt numb. The sensation of constantly being cold was sadly becoming normal. The sight of tall silver bars surrounding her was becoming a normal sight as well. The bars were narrow but there were many circling around her. With gaps so small that she could only fit an arm through.

While the sight of bars never comforted her like the sight of her mother or father. The poor child had immediately decided that the sight of bars, the bone chilling frost of the air, the silence and despair of an empty room. Was better than interacting with any human. Whose body heat felt sick and the leather skin felt gross to touch.

Not that she would say any of that to the humans. A regular human was scary enough to bring tears to her eyes. The thought of an angry human sent a shiver down her spine. No matter how much fear, dread, and pain she felt from the humans. Those feelings were always there but grew when she was with a human. Yet there was a permanent weight in her chest. Always so potent. She missed her mother and her father so much. She missed her neighbor Mr. Klipspringer. She missed being able to listen safely in the walls whenever the humans would talk about dogs.

All of her loss made her chest hurt so much. Normally a child her age could fool themselves into thinking that they would be saved. Delaying the permanent weight of despair in their lungs until the last seconds. Yet with the experiences Rose Fox had been through. She knew that the sad feeling in her lungs would be there forever. Just as she knew she was destined to live her life in a cage.

Her innocent curiosity of the world was long since sucked away. Thinking about sad questions led to her blurting out. Which led to the humans hurting her for doing something bad. Yet she never really knew if it was bad for speaking out of turn. The way the humans taught her was way different than her parents.

Her parents taught her with love and passion. With a warmth that she wished for. The humans on the other hand were just plain scary. They did not bother to tell her why she had to do something. She just had to.

Not that she wanted to ask in the first place. Instinctively knowing that just following what ever they wanted would be best for her survivability. Maybe that is why she was always so tired. She may sleep on the uncomfortable metal but there was always a part of her that was awake. Listening for danger and so scared of any human.

That part of her was also confused but still, as always, on high alert. A couple days ago she had heard the human screaming. His loud voice had shook the house. Patches of blood still crusted around her ears. Even thought she had tried to cover her ears with her matted hair and small hands. Humans were just so loud.

Then, for the first time since she got here, the only sounds was the weather banging against the house. She did not know how long it had been since the house went quiet but she did know one thing.

She was very hungry. Normally when the human was away she had enough strength to buy the time. Rather it be self care or watching the wind play with the trees. Now looking at the only light in the room, which being the sunlight from the open window, caused a headache.

All of her emotions felt dull in her weakened state. Almost matching her weak body. All of her nails and toenails ripped clean off in an attempt to eat anything. She knew toenails and nails grew back, her mother had told her why but she forgot, but waiting for new ones was taking longer than she intentionally thought a couple days ago.

Her stomach grumbled but that sound was just as common as hearing the birds cry outside. Her tired brown eyes stared at the lock of the cage. A mechanism that looked as tall as her. The humans called it a lock but she just called it another human thing.

She knew she could never escape. How would she be able to reach the human thing? Her arms were too short. Also if she were to some how to open the door she had no way of getting down. She was suspended in air by a long metal chain that was attached to the bird cage.

She knew she was very high up. This is because the cage was eye level with the human. At least when the scary human was in the room. As much as she hated him she wished he would bring food.

Even though her young brain thought that she could survive off of her nail clippings. Seemed as true as the fact that humans were mean and scary.

The small girl somehow had the energy to flinch when the house creaked. She knew all too well that the sound was not caused by the wind. Not by a bird or by a massive tree. No, the sound was caused by a human. She did not know the layout of her new dungeon as well as her old house but she knew one thing. Humans had a door that led from the inside to the terrifying outside.

Dread coursed through her veins and she found it hard to breath. Her whole body felt numb at the thought of being under an intense gaze again. Being toyed with and being through so much fear that no person, let alone a child, should be through.

She felt tears shooting down her face. Hugging herself and fearfully trying to squeeze into the world's tiniest ball. Her breathing quicken and her lungs stung against the cold air. Her numb toes felt unmovable from fear. The notion that the human would bring her food could not even help her ground herself.

Her grip on her tattered pink shirt tightened. Leaving her pale hands to become as white as snow. Her dirty face was painted with a stroke of fear and concern. Memories of hands swooping down like when an owl catches its prey. She sniffed as she thought of her mother’s laugh. Her father’s award winning smile. Her heart beat fast but her body was frozen in place. Her natural instincts to stay as still as possible. Try to stay hidden and unnoticed.

She was jolted out of her panic when a voice rumbled through the house.

“Hello?”

This was a different human.

                                     Chapter 2 - Birdcage

“Hello?”

The hair on the back of his neck stood. The open entrance with light blue walls had a stagnant air. Even with the large open windows the house felt suffocating and still. Something was not right and John Watson was sure of it.

Hesitantly closing the front door behind him John Watson silently crept into the open family room. Large open windows lit up the room. The large grey couch stretching out before him. All thoughts of how much of a cock Sherlock has been forgotten. Easily replaced by the unstill air.

John sighed with tired eyes. Rushing down the hallway. Doors on either side opening to empty rooms. The last door looked out of place in the hallway. Marks and scratches visible against the oak wood. The handle did not budge at first as he moved to open the door.

The walls of the room seemed to hunch over as if they were crying. The terrible paint job looking like tears. A single strand of light came from the window. The rest was shadowed by the tree right outside the window. The carpet was as stiff as wood. Looking like the red carpeted seats found in movie theaters.

The man living in the house was not in the room. In fact the room looked as worn down as an abandoned building. The only signs of how wealthy the person living here was a single object. A bird cage beautifully hanging in the air by a strong metal chain. The birdcage hung in front of the window. The metal gleaming and it’s shadow stretched along the floor.

The bird cage was empty. As evident by the chilling quiet air. Which seemed almost too quiet. Like as if someone was trying to hide. The human’s brow furrowed in confusion as he stared at the birdcage lost in thought. He stood at the frame of the door. His shoes firmly planted in place.

He shook his head and smiled sadly to himself. All this interviewing and trying to catch up with Sherlock had not left a lot of time for sleep in his schedule. The side effects were clearly showing.

Then the phone in his pocket chimed. It’s loud chime causing his heart to skip a beat a little. He was on edge from the strange feeling that came from this room.

A small thud seemed to echo louder than the chime of his phone. When in reality it was hardly noticeable.

Something was in that birdcage.

Without really thinking he walked over to the cage. Wondering what color of feathers the bird would have.

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Her body did what the humans had tried to beat out of her. She quickly laid on her side, even though she knew humans did not like that. Her rib bones basically touching the cold metal surface. She scratched up into a ball. Her knee caps touching her forehead, she did this even when she knew that fingers will force her out of her panicked ball with ease.

She laid there with thoughts that no child of 7 years old should have to think. She shivered with prey instincts that would put a rabbit’s to shame. She was not afraid of being eaten, the poor girl was not even aware of such things.

This human was new but that did not make a difference. Mr. Klipspringer, her neighbor, had been so right.

“If a human finds you. They have the need to harm you. It comes as natural as the need for food and water,”

His quiet voice echoed in her head. As the booming footsteps from outside became louder and louder everything in her froze. Even the hairs on the back of her neck stopped rising. She gripped so hard on her pants that it started to hurt. She was about to loosen her grip but she did not dare move when the air swooshed.

A breeze that sent her matted hair flying. Her ears started to burn from the lack of her hairy blanket. She knew all too well what that sudden gust of wind meant.

The human had opened the door. An object that was the size of a mountain moved without thought by the human. She could not see the human. Her face was basically buried into her chest. Yet she could feel and hear his presence.

She could hear fabric shift with the rise and fall of his chest. Her brain and body tormented her with the phantom sensation of warm human breath surrounding her. Goosebumps covered her skin, both from the cold and the fear, every strand of hair on edge.

Tears dropped onto the cold metal surface. Her cheek screaming at her to move from the cold metal surface. She wanted to fight, squirm, find a way to escape his notice. She wished she had the strength of her father. Or the quick wit of her mother. Even in her fear her lungs felt heavy from sorrow.

She felt naked being in plain sight but that is what the humans wanted. They wanted to look at her. They thought that being out in plain sight made her happy. In reality it made her tired and on edge all the time.

Maybe that is why she gave into her instincts. The large part of her screaming at her to sit like a doll. To fake happiness out of fear of being hurt. After all the humans always smiled with large scary teeth whenever she had to play pretend.

She may be young but she knew cause and effect. If you stay quiet maybe you will be able to hear the humans talk about dogs. If you wait long enough your nails will grow back and then you can eat again. If you show fear the humans will forcefully correct you.

It had only been a year in captivity and the poor girl had no reason to smile for real.

Maybe that is why when a loud chime broke the silence, she flinched. Her body hurling herself like a fish out of water. The impact caused a thud from her body hitting against metal. She barely held in a gasp as she cringed from the sound she made.

She screamed human words in her head. She did not know what they meant, only knowing that if she said them it would result in her getting thrown. It seemed like she deserved being thrown from the amount of noise she had made.

Now she was going to end up trapped. Not trapped in a cage where she could shiver in the cold. No even worse. Trapped in hands that made her feel like she was touching a maggot infested rat carcass.

Her heart pounded so fast. Humans were so scary and confusing.

She knew she was being ‘bad’ for giving into her instincts. She did not know why curling into a ball was bad when it felt like the safest thing to do. As the human moved and the world shook. She understood that the heavy pain in her lungs whenever she thought about her mother or father was going to become an afterthought. The human might even break bones for her fearful misdeeds.

                       Chapter 3 - The Man Looking In

John Watson's face showed the two emotions that he had felt once his blue eyes gazed upon that small figure.

His brow furrowed in concern. His mouth gaped with surprise.

Well the surprise had hit him first.

He basically had his face press against the metal bars to take in all the details of the impossibly small girl. She had long matted brown hair that clung to her back. She kept her face hidden. She wore black baggy pants that stopped at her knees. Her legs were short and thin.

A large bruise on one of her legs was as clear as a spec of ink on a blank piece of paper. It was dark compared to her snow white skin. It was circular and seemed too large for her stick like legs.

Oh god.. Was the bruise a finger print?

His eyes anxiously checked the rest of her body. Looking for any visible signs of injuries. She wore a thin salmon pink shirt. It was tattered and clearly had seen better days. Her legs and arms were skin and bone. Seemly too thin even for such a small body type.

She looked to be two inches tall. Way smaller than any of John’s fingers. He finally blinked after his minute long stare. Guilt slowly crept into his heart. Slowly washing away the shock of meeting such a small kid.

A kid. A child.

Obviously scared and here he was staring at her like she was some sort of freak show. With a nervous swallow it did not take long to realize that he was the one scaring the kid.

He blinked away tears that were forming. His heart wanted him to just hug the kid. His mind whirling at what she had been through to end up in a cage. He let out a sigh. Stopping almost immediately when he saw the matted clump of hair flying.

This poor child was so scared.

Scared of him.

He reminded himself. He stood in silence for a moment longer. Forcing himself to become as still as a statue. Worried that the girl would have a heart attack if he moved. Even in his shock of seeing such a small figure he needed to remain calm.

It did not matter that he could barely see her fearful shivers. They were there. A child was all alone in facing a big scary monster. He needed to be the nightlight for the child. Right now he was only being the monster that hid underneath the bed.

“Are you okay?”

John Watson’s voice was hesitant and he thought he was being quiet. He barely held in a wince when the tiny body flinched. He blinked once more in confusion when he realized the little girl might not even understand what he was saying.

Time seemed to stop as he waited for an answer. He was almost afraid for the kid to answer. He felt dizzy at the thought that someone could be heartless enough to put a little kid in a cage. Well, a little little kid, but a person nonetheless.

He watched with horror as the child only curled further into a ball. Her spine showing itself against the flimsy pink shirt.

Way to go jackass.

He thought to himself.

If the little girl were to look at those large blue eyes. She would have seen the shift in his gaze. From fascination to utter concern.

He opened his mouth to speak. Hesitating at the last second just incase the little girl spoke. After a few more awkward seconds of waiting, standing there with his face pressed against the cage, he knew with a pang of sadness that the kid was too afraid to speak.

He knew he could just get the child out of there. He was in control of a small human being. A feeling in which he did not like one bit. Clearly the little girl seemed to agree.

He knew that if he were to just grab the child out of there. Many things would happen. The girl would panic. Things would be easier. He could get a closer examination and look for any broken bones. Easily take her back to his flat. He could, and would, try to help find her parents. Assuming she had parents.

Yet something stopped him from taking advantage. It just felt gross to do.

She did not know that all John wanted to do was help her. John’s heart skipped a beat when he imagined what she was thinking.

The shivering in her body only grew worse and worse. Oh god. Did she think she was going to be hurt?

Or worse?

It took everything in him to refrain from tearing apart her prison.

He knew that someone had hurt her. As evident by the large bruise on her thin leg. He cut off that line of thought before visible anger could show on his face. His anger at what someone else did would no doubt scare the girl to death.

He spoke again. Cutting off his internal pity party for the other person in the room. He stiffened once more. For the first time in his life feeling dangerously large and tall.

“My name is John Watson. I am a doctor which means I help people. I uh.. I am here to help,”

He whispered.