#um also his side profile..

[nostalgiaclown]

WAIT EMMRICH YOU'RE SO CUNT

[synonymroll648]

rip fitz you would’ve loved it if i actually colored your hair pink like intended (i’ll probably do a colored version of this later. zoom for details)

[coconut530]

Bump in the Night & Sleeptober Day 22: Rattling Chains & Winged

[deieryx]

Oh god. Oh god that’s not Kim who is that

[monkeydlesbian]

idk sanji’s kinda eating rn 🤭

[jlheon]

୨ৎ — duck (nrk)

pairing. idol bf! nishimura riki x fem! reader synopsis. you want a sonny angel hipper genre. est. relationship fluff wc. 1947 notes. ft. enhypen library.

ever since your friend showed you her sonny angel hipper on the back of her phone you knew you needed one.

it had been about a month ago when you had set your eyes and manifestations toward getting the duck baby for your phone.

specifically, because the duck reminded you of your boyfriend, riki.

riki being an idol, garnered him a representative animal. amongst a few others, the duck stood out the most.

you thought it was the most accurate and adorable animal they could have chosen for him. he looked exactly like a duck to you.

you had even told his members that he resembled a duck before being told it was his emoji.

he reluctantly told you all of his self-revised profile after a while of dating.

when you had first met riki you accidentally bumped into him while trying to get the sonny angel furthest from the front of the display. convinced that by some miracle a sonny angel would be hiding amongst the smiskis.

defeated you had stood up and accidentally bumped right into riki.

you stared up at the tall figure clad in a hat and mask apologizing. until your eyes landed on the small box in his hand. the only baby you had seen all day.

“where did you get that from?” you asked curiously, looking up at him.

“oh um i’m holding it for my friend,” he coughed. “it was the last one.” pointing towards another boy with a mask and sunglasses on in the corner.

“oh.” you frowned, looking back over at the shelf.

your older sister had texted you saying she was on her way back to pick you up from downtown and you were sad again leaving the store. as you came every week in hopes of getting another baby.

you had plenty of regular sonny angels but you hadn’t been able to find any marine series ones. you had been coming for a whole month straight but every time the store employees had apologized for being sold out.

he saw how sad you were and decided sunoo could always get another one. he had to buy it for you.

you had walked off to look around the store.

riki was scared you were about to leave so he quickly rushed to the cashier and bought the toy baby. he asked the employee for a pen. he quickly wrote his number on the receipt and ran after you.

nearly stepping out of the exit you were stopped by riki with a shopping bag.

“i got this for you!” he huffed, catching his breath. how did you walk so fast?

surprised and confused you took the bag from his hands and opened it.

riki watched your eyes widen and your lips break into a smile.

you opened the blind box and ended up getting the exact one you wanted, the penguin. you jumped up and down excitedly for a couple of seconds before remembering you were celebrating in front of a stranger. a cute stranger.

“oh my gosh thank you thank you thank you!!” you exclaimed. “this was the exact one i’ve been hoping for oh my gosh!!”

“it’s no problem really,” he chuckled. “you looked so sad and i didn’t want to see a cute girl leave empty-handed.”

you could feel your cheeks heat up but thank god for your full coverage foundation.

“thank you so much..?”

“riki. i’m riki nice to meet you.”

“i’m ____!”

then looking back at your new sonny angel and bringing him up to your eye level.

“i guess his name will also be riki since you got me the penguin i’ve been hoping for!” you said giggling, turning the baby around to show him your new toy named after him.

“how can i repay you?” you asked.

“it’s nothing! but my number is written on the receipt if you ever need someone to buy you another one.” he winked at you.

you swore you were dreaming.

you two stared at each other for a couple of seconds but then were interrupted by the honk of a car. which when turning around happened to be your sister parked on the side waiting for you.

“thank you so much again riki!”

“text me when you get home.”

then in the blink of an eye, you were driving away with your sister. not forgetting to wave at riki who watched from the doors of the store.

you let out a laugh when you saw his friend come up from behind him with an angry look on his face.

the rest is history.

it was around 11 am and you were now desperately trying to shake riki awake. you needed to buy a sonny angel hipper like your friend and needed him to come with you. it was not like you couldn’t go alone but you hated driving alone.

“ki wake up plz!!” you sighed, rolling over him a bunch of times like you were a human-sized lint roller.

which you were then stopped by a long arm locking around you, preventing you from moving.

“just go back to sleep baby,” he mumbled, moving you next to him and burying his face in your neck.

“but i need to buy a sonny angel hipper!” you exclaimed, squirming around.

“why don’t you just buy one online ____?”

“because!! i want the duck one and having you there ups my chances of getting the duck because you're a duck.” you complained.

“can we go later? i’m still sleepy..” he yawned, tightening his grip on you.

you shot up and went to the bathroom to get ready. you were going to get him to get up now no matter what.

“you know, i could always go with sunghoon! maybe i’ll get the penguin and name it after him!” you yelled from the bathroom.

the mere mention of his hyung’s name made him shoot out of bed and head straight to his closet to get dressed.

he heard you squeal in victory and laughed to himself.

in 20 minutes you were finishing your makeup while riki stood behind you doing your hair. he had already dried it for you and was now contemplating which hairclips he should add to match your outfit.

you applied some lip balm and then grabbed riki’s arm to put some on him since his lips were awfully dry and you both set out for the kitchen.

you were met with the smell of pancakes made by jay waiting for you at the table.

two plates next to each other, you however having waffles instead of pancakes since jay always remembered that you liked them better than pancakes.

“so where are you two off to?” asked jungwon, as he took a sip of his drink.

“i want to buy a new sonny angel!” you told the table. “it’s going to look just like riki!”

“so you’re getting the duck one?” said sunghoon, to which you nodded.

“oh can i come??” jake spoke.

“oh well it’s a date-”

“no.” the other 6 answered for you.

“worth a try..” jake sulked, taking a sad bite out of his chocolate chip pancake.

“make sure to cover up, are you taking the train?” jay advised.

“what no! i can drive remember!” you reminded them.

you had had your driver's license in the states for about 2 years now and now have your license here. when you first met riki you were visiting your sister for the summer as she decided to study abroad. you and riki did some long distance for about a year until you moved and followed in your sister's footsteps.

“riki’s your passenger princess.” jake quipped, causing the other members to laugh.

“none of you can drive anyways, what if someone were to try and chase your van but the driver wasn’t there to start the vehicle? you are all doomed.”

“it’s ok ____ you would save us!” said sunoo.

“no i’d save riki.” you replied, earning some joking eye rolls and a chorus of ‘boos’.

you and riki finished eating and brought your plates to the sink. riki made sure to grab 2 masks for the both of you and some sunglasses for himself. then you were off.

you parked the car in the closest parking spot you could find next to the store you and riki met at. he’d paid for parking before you could and then you both quickly crossed the street and walked inside.

making a beeline to the wall of blind boxes, you and riki got to searching. high and low in every section of the store to see if someone’s mom had said no and a kid was forced to put it back. but no luck. just like the first time you met, no luck.

you sighed and riki dragged you to the nearby café to buy you some cake to cheer you up.

on the drive home riki fed you spoonfuls of the cake since it was getting late and driving at night was not your favorite.

once you entered the doors you went straight to riki’s room to mope and rot in his bed. you really wanted the duck so you could have something on your phone to match the riki polaroid in it.

riki followed shortly after, after greeting his members and putting the leftovers you guys had brought home in the fridge.

you felt the bed dip next to you and you turned around to see riki. by nature you rolled on top of him, resting your head on his chest.

it wasn’t that late, but the sunsetting had made you feel the need for a nap.

riki ran his fingers through your hair, humming, and lulling you to sleep.

once he was sure you were asleep he reached to unplug his phone from his bedside table. he started to search the internet for the duck hipper you had been so determined to get.

he scrolled for 20 minutes trying to find the cheapest one on ebay and eventually settled on one going for 20 dollars.

he quickly paid and then he fell asleep.

a couple of days later it arrived and now it was riki’s turn to forcefully wake you up. you woke up but didn’t budge, resulting in riki having to carry you to the living room couch while he opened the box addressed to him.

once he had cut all the tape he placed the box on the coffee table, sitting down next to you and moving you to sit in his lap.

“____,” he called softly. “it’s for you.”

you rubbed your eyes and picked up the small box. pulling the top back to reveal the duck sonny angel you had been wanting.

your eyes shot open, feeling wide awake now. you threw your arms around riki’s neck and thanked him continuously, kissing both of his cheeks in the process.

running back to his room to retrieve your phone, he used that time to throw the box in the garbage.

you came back with the new duck hat baby-clad attached to the top of your phone. being way too hyper and running back to your boyfriend you bumped into heeseung.

“hee! look i finally got my riki sonny angel!” you said waving the figure around in his face.

“wow, looks just like him,” he said, patting your head and passing you to go to the fridge.

you went back to the couch to sit next to riki and grabbed his phone. you made him pose with your phone case and photocard in a point-five photo. which you then changed to your lock screen.

riki giggled at your phone being strictly him-themed and brought you into a quick kiss.

[unclewaynemunson]

Pt2 to this post

'Is something wrong?' Nancy asks, not long after the two of them have taken their familiar spots on the hood of Steve's car. They're basking in what might be the last warm sunlight of the year, looking out over the quarry, at a safe distance from the edge.

It's become a tradition the two of them share, ever since they reconnected back in March. It calms them both, to just sit here and take in the view, no one around but each other. Nancy is one of the few people Steve can share a comfortable silence with: sometimes they sit here quietly for what feels like hours, side by side, listening to music or to nothing but the birds singing around them. But they also have their best conversations here: it's the place where Nancy entrusted him she wanted to break up with Jonathan; it's the place where they talked about their shared past and decided they would always love each other as friends; it's the place where they finally talked about Barbara in a way they couldn't when they were younger. It's where Nancy talked about the ghosts still haunting her and Steve talked about how lonely he sometimes felt.

Steve huffs. 'How did you guess?'

'When you frown, you always do it with your whole face,' Nancy notes. 'So it's hard to miss, really.'

Steve glances at her side profile. There's a serenity to her features that's still relatively new. It means she's healing, slowly learning how to be happy again. It means she stopped waiting for the end of the world and started believing in a real future again. It makes Steve proud of how far they both have come.

'I had a fight with Eddie,' he confesses. 'And with Dustin, I guess.'

'What happened?'

He sighs. 'It's complicated.'

'Wanna tell me about it?'

The look in her eyes is kind and inviting. Steve hesitates. He wants to, but he doesn't know if he can. It's a risk. It's scary.

But he can't imagine Nancy Wheeler ever being careless with his secrets. He can't imagine her judging him, can't imagine her being as small-minded as most people in this town.

He was planning on telling her anyway, because things had been going so well with Eddie lately and – no, he shouldn't think about that right now. But maybe it would actually be nice to talk about it with Nancy.

'So, um...' His throat feels tight and his hands are sweaty. 'I recently discovered some things about myself. I-' The words get stuck somewhere on the way to his mouth, and he clears his throat.

Nancy doesn't push, but only gives him an encouraging nod, waiting for him to find his voice again.

'I found out I like boys,' he finally manages to confess. 'And I need you to know that – that that doesn't mean that what I felt for you wasn't real. It was. I loved you, and now I fell in love with a boy. And-'

'Steve.' Nancy's hand suddenly covers his, causing him to finally jerk his head away from the view over the quarry, to focus on her face again instead.

Her eyes are wide, and she squeezes his hand.

'You don't have to explain yourself to me,' she tells him. 'We're good. But thank you for telling me. For trusting me with this.'

Steve heaves out a relieved sigh, and Nancy smiles; it's that genuine kind of smile which reveals all kinds of dimples and soft lines across her face.

'We might be more similar than you thought,' she tells him, a faint blush spreading over her cheeks.

'Really?' Her words make his breath catch in his throat. He squints at her, trying to see her in this new light. 'Are you saying what I think you're saying?'

She shrugs. 'I don't know. I'm not sure yet,' she admits. 'Still figuring things out.'

'Take your time, there's no rush,' he tells her. 'But...' He bumps his shoulder against hers. 'When you're done figuring it out, talk to me, okay?'

She nods. 'Okay.'

For a while, it's quiet between the two of them. Some kind of raptor circles high above them in the sky. They both follow it with their eyes until it disappears among the tree tops west of the quarry.

'Is it Eddie?'

Steve blinks dumbly a couple of times.

'Wha- what?'

'The guy you were talking about. The one you fell in love with. It's Eddie, isn't it?'

'Jesus, Wheeler, what kind of sorceress are you?' Steve exclaims.

Nancy laughs again. 'You're not being as subtle as you think,' she tells him. 'The two of you have been hooking up for a while now, haven't you?'

Steve huffs dramatically. 'This is unfair. You know everything; I can't even tell you my own secrets anymore!'

'So what happened?' Nancy asks. 'You said you had a fight with him?'

'It's fucking stupid,' he sighs. 'Dustin was getting way too excited about the fact that I was gonna be hanging out with you, so I told him I was seeing someone. Next thing I knew, he was telling Eddie all about how I was seeing a girl.' He waves his hands around to make annoyed air quotations. 'I wanted to tell Eddie it was a misunderstanding, but Dustin was there, so I couldn't out us just like that, and he looked so betrayed and heartbroken... He didn't wanna listen to me.'

Steve sighs; he still can't manage to forget that look in Eddie's eyes when Dustin delivered the big news. 'I wish I would've talked about what I felt for him earlier. I should've been honest when I had the chance, y'know. But I was afraid he wouldn't wanna label what we had, that he wouldn't feel the same way – and now we're in this whole mess. God, he must hate me right now, Nance.'

To his surprise, Nancy gives him an unexpected slap against his arm.

'Ouch, what the hell was that for?!'

'What are you even doing here with me, Steve? You should've gone after him, tell him how you feel!'

'I tried, obviously, but he didn't wanna listen to me!'

'So make him listen! You're in love with him, he obviously feels the same way about you, and you let him leave to wallow in a broken heart he doesn't even need to have!' She rolls her eyes and slides off the car, adding something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like an exasperated 'Boys!' before she pulls Steve off the car as well. 'C'mon, time to get your ass over to the trailer park. Right. Now,' she says through gritted teeth. And, well, Steve knows better than to argue with a determined - and truthfully quite terrifying - Nancy Wheeler.

Read the last part here Taglist: @withacapitalp @ultimatedreamer104 @irregular-child @jcmadgirl @estrellami-1 @myguiltyartpleasure @hallucinatedjosten @jaybren @thew1ldblueyonder @melodymeddler @alycatavatar @zoeweee @lolawonsstuff @fairy-princette @saramelaniemoon @phirex22 @krazyperson @xxsky-shockxx (I only put people on this list who explicitly asked to be tagged. That's really no problem, I love to do that so dw about asking, but I got a lot of relatively vague reactions to the previous post that i'm not gonna dissect and interpret, bc I don't wanna clog anyone's notes unwanted. So just to be clear: i consider it a huge compliment if anyone asks for a tag but please do it clearly if you do!)

[railingsofsorrow]

I hate you, until I don't

[spencer reid x reader]

summary: three times you annoyed Spencer and three times Spencer annoyed you, proving the two of you cannot stand each other. . . until the one time that there was less annoyance and more sexual tension. 

pairing: s.reid x reader 

w.c: 3.6K

warnings/content: inaccurate medical procedures (don't come for me); language; flirting; enemies to lovers; case-related violence; suggestive content (no smut but I'm classifying this as +16).

navi

masterpost

cm masterlist

━━━━━━━━━ 

[The Coffee] 

Smoke should be coming out of his ears by now, from the way his neck is pink and you're sure he's also got his jaw clenched by how his furiously he's writing on the board, connecting the leads.  

You've been fifteen minutes out of the room and Spencer has figure out the whole case.  

“Why are you so angry?” 

“I'm not angry.” 

You do not need to be a profiler to know he had that answer on the tip of his tongue, ready to give the excuse to someone who asked the inevitable question. Right, you're not gonna fall for that.  

“Um. Okay.” 

Spencer clicks the pen twice before you settle beside him, perching your hip against the table. His tongue travels across his lips slowly, he's trying to focus but can't.  

You don't know the reason. It could be a thousand things given that the local police you were working with have not been exactly welcoming to the FBI butting in on their case. Some cops acted hostile towards the team, but it was nothing you couldn't handle.  

By handling it you meant switching your focus to something better: Reid. You both draw limits to be around each other. It's nothing personal (maybe?) but you just don't get along as you do with the rest of the team. That doesn't mean you don't work well together in the field, no. In 80% of field work, you have Spencer by your side exchanging ideas to come up with good conclusions. The other 20% is the time apart you require to breathe away from each other.  

You don't hate him. If anyone hates Spencer Reid, they just might have to do a CT scan, that man doesn't have a single bad bone in his skinny body.  

You, however, have a field day while annoying him. Though you're not particularly close, you throw harmless jabs at one another once in a while.  

You are bored and Spencer is here, therefore... 

“I'm not angry.” His tone is final as he lets his eyes fall on you to look back to the board. The crease between his brows deepens. You tilt your head curiously. You don't really care about what got him mad, though it is an interesting fact to see him actually pissed about something. It's a rare image. “Not angry at all.” 

You kick his converse playfully, standing up fully. “I said okay, honey. You don't need to jump on my neck for it.” 

Spencer rolls his eyes, clicking the pen three times this time. You watch his fingers clenching and unclenching around the pen.  

“Don't call me honey.”  

Blinking up at him innocently, you turn around and say, “sure, honey. I'm gonna go and grab some coffee.” You raise your index finger before leaving the room, interrupting him mid-speech. “For me only, of course.” 

His mug was empty, you had seen as you walked into the room. He had dawned three of those already so of course you said that because you care about his health. Obviously. His scoff as you leave is the icing on the cake. 

By the time he finishes the geographic profile, he finds his mug magically refilled with freshly brewed coffee. 

━━━━━━━━━ 

[The Ambulance] 

“If you had listened to me—” 

“Don't you even fucking start. I have a gash on my forehead. My arm is numb and my knee is throbbing. You really think is wise to come in here and tell me I told you so? Disappear from my sight, now.” 

Those words seem to go on deaf ears because he proceeds to crouch down to survey the damage on your face the paramedic is already assessing. His gaze barely falling on yours until it fixates on your head injury, amber eyes narrowing slightly as they usually did while he is concentrated and is about to sputter out some incredibly intelligent fact.  

He does exactly that.  

“She should have an X-ray of her neck. She's been flinching every time you're turning her head. And a CT scan, she was also hit in the head with a—” 

You groan, not sure if it is because of the stitches or just deep-rooted anger towards your coworker.  

“God— can you please...” You give a begging look to the paramedic, who seems to be having too much fun by the lifted corners of her mouth. 

“— blunt object. Actually, you should be kept for observation for the entire night. Two days if possible.” He glances up at you, who presses your eyes shut instead of glaring, uncomfortable with the way the paramedic touches the sensitive spot on your neck. When you open them again, he's offering her a look of victory. 

“Shut up, Reid.” 

“It's a good idea.” The woman says for your distaste. Of course it is. Of course you agree with him. 

“No, it isn't. I have a flight to catch to get back home and sleep on my comfortable bed, I do not need hospitals or needles or blood.” You intervene, mentally dreading to spend the night alone at a hospital in a city you have never visited. 

“Do you have space for one more?” He questions suddenly, eyeing the inside of the ambulance. Your eyes widen at the implications of his actions. Before you have the chance to smash his head against the floor, he has already climbed into the ambulance, sitting comfortably in a corner.  

You stare in disbelief. The paramedic isn't hiding her amusement anymore. she's outright laughing. 

“Him? Not coming,” you say with finality, aggressively climbing into the ambulance, limping, to lie down on the stretcher.  

However, he does come, rubbing in your face the whole way to the hospital about how right he was about the situation and that you shouldn't throw yourself in danger at any chance you get.  

Hypocrite, as if he didn't do the same thing. 

━━━━━━━━━ 

[The Book] 

“Did you just skip to the end?” Spencer's voice laces with disbelief as he stares holes into the book between your fingers as if you have committed a heinous crime.  

You glance up from him and back to the book briefly. “No?” 

“You're an FBI Agent, you should know by now not to answer a question with a question.” 

“You're an FBI Agent with three PhDs, you should know by now how rude it is to interrupt one's reading.” You send the jab as quick as he had thrown his, rolling your eyes. 

“That doesn't apply if you're skipping to the end of the book—” 

You sigh, tired. “I have to see if the process is worth it.” 

“What?” Spencer shrieks out, switching his gaze from the book to you repeatedly. You press your lips shut, trying to suppress a smile. “What is that supposed to mean? You're supposed to enjoy and get surprised, not know everything—” 

“I'll forget about the end if I start reading it.” Which is true, if you read one part of the story without the context from the previous pages, then your mind just wipes it out as you come back to where you were. You had a bad memory of story plots. 

Spencer proceeds to get more offended by each word that comes out of your mouth. 

“No.” 

You let yourself chuckle this time. “What do you mean—hey!” You hiss as he yanks the book out of your hands, shutting it and hiding it behind him as some kid that's trying to hide his favorite toy so others won't find it. “Give it back, Spencer!” 

“You have to promise me to not read the end.” 

“I don't have to promise you anything.” 

“You want this back?” He waves the book in his hands. Your book. He threatens you with your book. 

You gape at him, then huff petulantly, crossing your arms like a toddler. To anyone who was watching, the both of you looked a lot like children bickering in the park. “Fine.” He offers you a skeptical gaze, narrowing his eyes with a slight scrunch of his nose and you can't help your reaction, really. Your lips twitch in a smile and you bite your cheek so hard it draws blood so you stop being stupid.  

He gives you your book back and pointedly studies your figure as you read, making sure you do not, in fact, skip to the end of the book. 

Spencer Reid is absolutely infuriating. No matter how cute he is. 

━━━━━━━━━ 

[The Drunk Confession] 

“I would've gotten a divorce if you were my secret lover.” You tell Emily with a slurred speech caused by the seven shots and two margaritas — maybe three, you stopped counting at the fourth shot. The table erupts in laughter at your claim. “No doubt.” 

Emily smirks at you, leaning as close as she can across from you, Luke is watching the exchange as if on a tennis match. Garcia slaps his shoulder.  

“Every. Time.” JJ mumbles with a roll of her eyes, turning to Spencer who looks bored out of his mind. “Don't you get tired of seeing them flirting every time they get drunk? It's getting old.” 

Spencer shrugs, a scowl setting on his face as he glances at you and Emily. He looks away.  

“Just ask her out, for god's sake.”  

JJ almost spits her drink. “What?”  

Spencer rolls his eyes, “you. Emily. Date. Do it.” He doesn't really feel like repeating himself again. Spencer doesn't know why he's so annoyed all of a sudden. 

“Well, why don't you do it?” JJ snaps, narrowing her eyes at him, who blinks at her. “Yeah, ask her out instead of judging me like that.” 

“No offense, but I don't see Emily that way.” 

“Of course you don't and I'm not talking about Emily, Spencer,” JJ says pointedly. “You know I'm not.” 

It doesn't take long for all of you to call it a night. The sober ones, at least, because the rest could stay until the morning without complaining, driving themselves to an alcoholic coma. That would have been your case. Fortunately, it isn't.  

And now, Spencer is in charge of driving you home against his will because you live close by.  

Great.  

“I can put on my own seatbelt, thanks.” You frown as he lifts his hand to help you put the seatbelt on. He retracts it with a roll of eyes.  

“Be my guest.” 

“Yeah,” you mumble quietly, leaning your head back and closing your eyes as you feel the car being turned on. “Don't worry, m' not gonna puke in your car or whatever.” 

Spencer freezes on his way to changing gears. “Are you feeling sick?” 

“I just told you—” 

He rolls his eyes, “I just meant that driving may make it worse, so if you want, we can wait and then I'll take you home.”  

You open one eye to narrow him down suspiciously. It wasn't that bad. You just had drink a lot, and your body is having a completely normal reaction, though it was a bit annoying. But you don't think you're about to throw up.  

“Careful, you almost sound like you care about my well-being.” 

Spencer drove off the parking lot with a huff, “sure. If you do puke in my car I'll leave you alone in the middle of the avenue.” 

A hiccup came out at the same time as your laugh and it ended up turning into a snort, which was not that graceful and you quickly covered your mouth.  

He gave you a sideways glance and you told him to keep driving, ignoring the twitch on his lips you thought you saw. No, that was definitely not there. 

“You would never do that to me.” 

“Try me.” 

“I can't believe I had a thing for you.” 

“What?” 

He almost had the urge to hit on the brakes but controlled himself. You hummed, watching the trees move as the car drove past them in the avenue. You rolled your window down, leaning your face outside a little, scrunching your nose when droplets of rain poked your nose. 

"Oh, it's gonna rain." 

"It's already raining- what do you mean you had a thing for me? What does that mean?" 

"Are you nervous?" 

"What- No!" He shifted his attention between the road and you quickly. 

You nodded, pretending you believed him and folding your arms across your chest as you leaned back on the seat, closing the car window so you wouldn't get wet.  

“You're kinda my type, Spencer.” 

“I'm- I'm your type— what does that mean?” He insisted and you rolled your eyes with a groan, you wished you were drunker than this. 

“... pretty boy with pretty brown eyes ... smart as hell and has a questionable sense of style. C'mon. It's like you're begging me to fall in love with you." You cleared your throat. "I had a crush on you, as in the past sense." 

Spencer squinted. "You just spoke in the present tense-" 

"Yeah, I knew you were going to focus on that, leave me alone, I'm drunk." 

He pressed his lips together to avoid laughing at your expense.  

"Right." 

How come he never noticed it? He couldn't stop thinking about it.  

“Are you still thinking about it?” 

Spencer turned on your street, biting his cheek. “No.” 

“Why not?”  

He spun his neck to look at you and almost drove into the sidewalk, which made you huff out a laugh.  

“Careful, genius. You might crash us because you figure out somebody has a crush on you.” 

Spencer scoffed, turning the engine off to glance at you in disbelief. “Are you serious? You just spoke in the present tense again.” 

Shrugging, you leaned back on the seat, sideways to stare at him, a little smile playing on your lips because you were enjoying the banter too much.  

“Did I?” 

“Yes.” he frowned and his nose scrunched in the cutest way possible you just felt like biting it.  

“It started when I saw you in glasses.” You admitted, nails scratching against your jeans distractedly. “You were like a knock-off Peter Parker, just cuter and way more attractive.” 

He scowled at you but you were able to see the clear pink cheeks he had acquired upon being called attractive. You weren't lying. The biggest lie and cruelty of this world was that Spencer Reid wasn't looked at twice by girls or boys. You would've been fanning over him at high school. 

“You're mocking me,” he concluded. 

You denied with a hum from deep within your throat. “Nu-huh. I'm not.” 

His eyes analyse every micro expression of your face and you stare as he does so. His lips twitch before he speaks and your eyes fall on them. 

“We're here.” 

He chose to say instead, his brain on slow thinking mode as you stared at him like you were contemplating something in your head. 

“You want me to go?” 

Spencer blinks up at you, big brown eyes wide as a deer caught in headlights, the corner of your mouth lifts upwards slightly. 

“What do you mean? I gave you a ride.” He replied, confusedly. “Do you need help to go up to your apartment? Are you dizzy?” 

“Not dizzy.” You shifted, pulling your knees up to hold them. Shoes off ever since you entered his car. “It was just a question.” 

“Are you testing me?” 

You tilted your head, causing a few strands of your hair to be released from behind your ear as you rummaged through his glove box. A book — of course there was a book in there —, a lens cleaner spray — you wondered if he still used his glasses, just not on the field —, two hair ties — you lift a brow at that — and lastly, his license and vehicle registration — you smile at the picture. He snatched it out of your hand to pull it back on the glove box and close it.  

“Why would I be testing you?” 

“To make fun of me.” 

Your eyes narrowed in slits.  

“I don't like making fun of people, less alone you.” 

Spencer held your stare for a hot second before he leaned back on his seat with a sigh.  

You poked his hip, laughing when he jumped in surprise.  

“You're so cute.” 

“Stop that.” 

“Calling you cute or tickling you?” 

“Both!” He shrieked out, holding your hand as you attempted to tickle him again. You adjusted yourself on the seat, studying the way he seemed intrigued by your hand. Or the fact he hadn't let go of it. “I can help you up to your apartment, ” he said after a moment of silence, something stirring in his stomach at the way you were looking at him.  

"You want to help me up to my apartment?" Now you are just riling him up for the sake of it. You hold his hand before he can let go of yours, a smirk dancing around your lips. "Sorry, I'll stop." 

"You're so annoying,"  

"You think so?" Your voice is low, careful. You lean forward slightly. 

"Yes," he says with uncertainty. He lifts his other hand slowly, brushing your hair behind your ear because it kept falling on your cheek.  

Your throat feels dry all of a sudden, and you swallow hard, shivering as his fingers trail down your cheek. "Spencer." 

"Mhm?" He's not paying attention to what you're saying, too busy entranced by your lips to do anything else. You just wish he'd pull both of you out of your misery. Since he doesn't move, you take matters into your own hands and break the gap between the two of you. His breath halts and he takes one or two seconds to reciprocate the kiss, lips parting in surprise. You bask in the effect that you have on him before he pulls you in by the back of your neck and it's your turn to react surprised by his actions. Your back arches and a sound of contentment escapes your throat when his fingers press against your thigh.  

You're straddling his lap in no time, his hands all over your body. You lower your lips to his neck, nibbling at his skin, satisfied with the moan he lets out in response to your touch.  

Spencer says your name once. Twice. It's the third time that you actually hear him.  

"What?" 

"You're drunk," he breathes out, chest going up and down unsteadily. "We should- we should stop." 

"I'm not drunk." You tilt your head, tracing his swollen lower lip with your thumb.  

He chuckles nervously, grabbing your hands to pull it away from his neck and his neck so he could think straight for five minutes. "You are. You taste like tequila." 

"Mhm, is that so?" 

He groans, eyes dropping shut. "Don't do that." 

Your smile widens into a menacing grin.  

"Do what, genius?" 

"This. You. You know what you're doing." Spencer insists half-heartedly, eyes fluttering open to stare at you. He can't help but stare down at your lips again, letting out a sigh.  

Finally, your shoulders slump in dissatisfaction as you realize he wouldn't want to go forward as long as you have an ounce of alcohol in your blood.  

"Who's annoying now?" You mumble, burying your head on his shoulders. His fingers trail up and down your bare arms, his hands then settle on your hip, drawing invisible circles there. You feel his lips press against the crown of your head. "You're gonna be the death of me," you whine, wrapping both arms around his middle. Spencer shakes with a chuckle and you smile into his skin.  

There is no going back from this. You either screwed up your professional relationship or just initiated something really good.  

You don't know which one is worse. 

He goes up to your floor with you and you expect him to say goodbye as you step out of the elevator. He follows you to your door and finds the key in your purse that you had spent more than a minute trying to find it.  

"You want to stay over?" You eye him, trying to sound nonchalant but in reality, you are expecting a yes.  

It's not what you get. 

"No." You conclude you screwed up your whole dynamic. He holds your wrist before you walk in and leave him in the hallway, pulling you back and cupping your cheek to press his lips to yours in a rather gentle and less frantic kiss than the ones you had just shared in the car. "Ask me when you're not drunk," he mumbles into your lips and you frown when he withdraws himself from you.  

You understand his reasoning, but that doesn't mean you enjoy the thought of spending the night without him, finishing what you started.  

"Will you want to stay over then?" 

Spencer knows what you mean. You're asking if he will want to stay over after tonight, after the moment has passed and it's another day, or if he wants to forget and pretend it never happened.  

"Yes." He doesn't hesitate, kissing your forehead before he takes a step back, ready to leave but not wanting to with the image of you leaning against your doorway, face slightly flushed after your make-out session. "Goodnight." 

You munch on your lower lip, opening the door to go inside. He waits for you to close it but you walk out again, his eyes widening as you pull him into another kiss. Just as he's about to place his hands on your waist, you pull back, patting his chest.  

"You're still annoying." You say, stepping back to enter your apartment, leaving him completely unresponsive in the middle of your hallway for a few minutes.  

God, he hates you.  

━━━━━━━━━ 

taglist: @lilyviolets ; @whore-for-spencer-reid ; @yeonalie @ninkieminjaj ; @hoeshissworld ; @r-3dlips ; @pleasantwitchgarden 

[chimielie]

“I really like this place,” Yachi says brightly, “the owner is really nice, and he doesn’t mind when I take ten minutes to decide what I want. Once I took twenty minutes and he actually just brought me food, like, decided for me, and at first I thought that was so nice! Then I got worried that maybe I should be upset that he didn’t let me choose, but then I remembered that I could just come here again so I wasn’t missing out on anything. The food was really good, anyway.”

You hover between the cool interior of the restaurant and the summer daylight as she speaks, unwilling to walk away even though she’s holding the door open and probably letting all the cold air out. With a short yelp, she realizes how long the two of you have been standing there and crosses inside. You stand behind her in the line behind the counter, shuffling forward as you read the posted menu.

“I think I’m gonna get the salmon,” you decide. “Hey, so how are things with that girl you’ve been seeing?”

“They’ve been good!” You’re about three people away from the counter, but the first one is line is like, a really huge guy with a booming voice who has been talking forever. Maybe he knows the cashier? “She’s really pretty, and she doesn’t mind or get impatient when I’m anxious. She also gets anxious!”

“That’s great?” You pat her on the shoulder. “I’m really happy for you, Yachi.”

“Me too,” she beams at you. “What about you? Have you met anyone?”

“No,” you snort. “I’m on the apps. So dating is basically a cesspool.” The giant guy who was ordering seems to be done now, but he’s still talking, being slowly dragged away by the elbow by a guy in a cardigan and glasses. You slide your phone out of your pocket and open your dating profile. “See?”

At that moment, your phone pings with a new notification.

Atsumu liked you!

He’s not… bad looking. If you saw him in real life, you’d probably hide behind a bench or something and stalk him with your eyes just so you could look at him as long as you wanted, actually.

He’s your age, a pro volleyball player, his hair dark where it’s been shaved short on the sides but dyed blond up top. He has a kind of sardonic, dead-eyed expression in all of his photos that you think is really funny.

My love language is… arguing in missionary.

You smother a laugh.

“He’s kind of cute!” Yachi peers at your phone. “Kind of scary…”

“Please, I could beat him up,” you laugh. “I don’t know, he’s fine, I guess.”

You swipe left. He’s hot, but definitely a fuckboy. You’ve reached the counter, anyway, and a pro athlete on the apps is like, so many red flags.

You look up at the cashier.

You look down at your phone and click undo. The profile reappears.

You look up at the cashier.

“Fine, you guess?” Scowls Atsumu, 23, (volley)baller. Or maybe not, considering his Onigiri Miya apron. “Welcome to Onigiri Miya, what can I get for ya. Geez.”

He talks in Kansai dialect, you note, which you’ve always thought is melodic. Pretty.

In real life, Atsumu is very pretty. His eyes have midtones of honey and amber that don’t show up on photo and give him a sparkling dimension that sort of detracts from his aura of evil. Even though he’s scowling at you, you want to ruffle his hair and bite his cheek.

“Um, I’ll have the salmon ball,” you say. “And, yeah. I guess.”

He scribbles so hard he breaks the tip of his pencil. With a grunt of disgust, he tosses both notepad and pencil over his shoulder.

“What, pro athlete not good enough for ya?” He points at Yachi, who squeaks. “And for ya?”

“What?” She says, looking terrified. You put a bracing hand on her shoulder.

“Your order,” he drawls.

“Oh! I don’t know.”

“Two salmon balls!” He yells to the back. “‘S on the house.”

“What?” Yachi gasps. “We couldn’t possibly—”

“You’re clearly not a professional athlete,” you say. “You’re a cashier.”

“This is charity work!” He snaps. “My teammate is right over there if ya need proof. I’m Miya Atsumu—this is my brother’s shop. I help him out on my off days.” He emphasizes his family name, underlining it on his apron with a finger.

That’s really sweet. You swoon a little inside, then shake yourself.

“You’re off every time this time this week?”

“Yeah, about,” he turns and bends over to grab his hastily discarded notepad. You do not make a secret of checking out his ass and quirk your lips into a smile when he turns back around, one he matches with reckless abandon. He has nice teeth, not perfectly straight, that imply that maybe he didn’t need braces growing up.

“Let me repay you for the meal,” you put a hand on the counter and lean across it, biting your lip, stomach singing with nerves. “Eight, next week?”

“Nah,” he shrugs you off, gestures for you to move along so he can get to the next customer in line. Your stomach drops, and so must your face. “Too far away. I’ll see ya this Friday for dinner.”

[pedropascallme]

Deny Me

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x f!Reader

Summary: “'I’m fine,' you squared your shoulders, as if adjusting your posture was all it would take to convince the men around you that you were sturdy. 'I could understand a couple weeks—I could understand a month. But six weeks is—that’s appalling. It's not fair.'”

Warnings: Allusions to smut (masturbation) (minors DNI!!!!), canon typical violence, detailed descriptions of wounds, hospital imagery, allusions to PTSD, reader experiences panic attacks and a bout of depersonalization, smoking, implied age gap (ages not mentioned), enemies to frenemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, I know little to nothing about how the military works, if I missed anything please let me know!!

AN: So. Um. Never played COD. Barely understand the various plot lines it follows. But I DO understand that a man in a mask is inherently sexy. And that is my truth! Part two here <3

You hated Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley.

With every fiber of your being, you hated him.

You hated how he was so quick to pull rank; how swiftly his friends became his subordinates.

You hated the way he always spoke with such a cold, calculated indifference.

You hated the way he squared his shoulders to remind everybody of his stature; his status.

You hated his Britishisms, the way the pet names rolled off his tongue in your direction. And from anybody else, you might be fine with it, but when he called you sweetheart it made your stomach roll over itself.

You couldn’t tell why.

You hated how rookies acted as if he were some semi-legendary Adonis beneath his stupid fucking mask—which you’d also grown to hate.

You knew what he looked like under the balaclava; under the skull faceplate that made his eyes look so sunken and so attentive.

And who cares that his features matched so nicely? Who cares that his profile was just as carved as the rest of him? Who cares that the deep scars that crisscrossed over his left cheek looked almost silver under the fluorescent lighting of the barracks?

It didn’t matter that he was handsome. It didn’t matter that it was his face you thought about late at night, alone in your bed.

Certainly, he was no Adonis.

You hated the smirk in his voice, and the crease between his eyes, and the piercing edge of his gaze.

You hated that you knew, deep down, that your dislike of him was born out of convenience; that you loathed him for all the reasons that, in another life, you would’ve thrown yourself at him with open arms.

You hated that you knew you had become dead set on despising him because it was easier than the alternative.

He was an acquaintance, at best—a coworker you’d grab a beer with, under different circumstances. Mostly, though, he was a pain in the ass, and a detriment to your sanity.

You hated Ghost more by the second.

So why was it that, as you came to, bleeding out on the hard ground, he was the only thing you could think about.

You heard voices above you, a droning cacophony of accents and alarm that overlapped with each other, dissolving as they mingled with the ringing in your ears.

“Took a beating—”

“—fucking exploded before we—"

“—man down, but she’s—”

“—was beyond fucked.”

“She’s breathing,” you recognized Kyle’s voice above the panicked yelling. “Soap—she’s up.”

The first thing you noticed was how dry your mouth was, and a viscidness that clung to your side.

You tried to sit up, pushing back on your elbows against the dirt beneath you, and were met with a sharpness that ran up your lungs. You winced, coughing dry pain.

Your vision was blurry—almost watery, as if you were trapped beneath a sheet of ice and looking up through it. Still, you managed to track Gaz’s movements as he approached at a cautious speed to kneel beside you.

“Don’t move—” He held his hands out in front of him, trying to encourage you to lie still without having to touch you. “Where’s the worst of it?”

You stared at him blankly, only half registering his words.

“Everywhere,” you wheezed, and there was that same pain shooting up your lungs again, back with a vengeance. You squeezed your eyes shut, “Ribs. Left side.”

“Johnny!” Gaz’s voice carried in a way that made your skull vibrate, and you shuddered.

“C’mere, lass,” even in your sorry state, Soap’s accent was hard to miss. He gave Gaz a pat on the shoulder, encouraging him to stand and replacing him by your side. “Take yer kit off.”

“Buy me—me a fucking…” you heaved, “Drink…first…”

“Aye, she’s fine!” Johnny laughed, throwing a smile over his shoulder, though the wrinkles near his eyes weren’t deep enough for it to be sincere. “Yer bleedin’. Need t'let me dress the wound, Sergeant.”

You stared up at him, possibly concussed; definitely shell-shocked.

You swallowed the bile that rose in the back of your throat, trying to remember how you’d gotten here.

There had been open fire; there had been movement, and a tense argument between yourself and Ghost about who should lead the charge; there had been a brief period of satisfaction after you’d convinced him to let you stay up front.

There had been landmines.

“Nae, look here, lass—stay awake,” Soap snapped his fingers in front of your face. You must have begun to fade out when you tried to recall the details. He reached to unclip your chest rig, “Yer kit—”

“No.” you shook your head, and it made you feel like vomiting, but you didn’t stop. You felt a deep-seated dread pulse down your spine, and you needed answers.

You needed one answer.

“LT?” You looked at Soap, who stared back at you with a sympathetic frown, confused. “Where’s—where’s Ghost?”

“Oi,” a heavy boot stomped the dirt a few inches above your head, “Look up.”

And there he was—seemingly unscathed. It made your stomach burn, a sloppy mixture of frustration and something else. Maybe disappointment, maybe embarrassment.

Maybe.

If he had done things his way, it would probably be him on the ground right now. And if you could just hurry up and die, you wouldn’t have to eat your words about being able to front the line.

How long had he been standing there, anyway?

Your voice was shaky as you addressed him.

“Want—” you rasped, “Want you to do it.”

Soap exhaled audibly through his nose, glancing up at Simon with sharp eyes through a furrowed brow.

If words were exchanged, you didn’t hear them; and when Ghost took Johnny’s spot on the ground next to you, you didn’t see it happen, once again fading out.

“Gotta open your fuckin’ eyes, sweetheart.” Ghost’s words snapped you back to attention. He said it as if he were chastising you for forcing your way to the front of the line and, successively, getting yourself blown up.

You wanted to argue, tell him it was his fault for yielding to your demands, but all you could do was look up at him while he stripped you of your chest rig and pressed down hard around the sticky spot on your side. The action made your muscles flex, and you clenched your jaw through the unbearable pain that ran through you.

You might’ve grabbed at his forearm, but your body was numbing itself too quickly to register your own movements.

The last thing you saw were his eyes, almost frantic as he scanned your body.

But it couldn’t have been real fear—likely a figment of your imagination. Something to focus on as your body grew colder. Probably just a trick of the mask.

You wanted to rip it off.

~~~

You woke hesitantly.

You felt cold, but it was only skin deep; nothing like the chill that had infiltrated your bones when you’d started losing blood.

With a shallow sigh, you opened your eyes.

The infirmary.

You felt a level of reassurance in knowing that, if you died now, at least it would be in the comfort of a medical cot and not on the ground in the middle of nowhere.

There was an IV stuck into the crook of your elbow, padded with cotton and medical tape to keep it in place. You couldn’t feel it, but you winced at the thought of the needle in your arm, and the bruises that were scattered around it.

“Morning.” You registered Gaz sitting on a chair next to the cot.

You breathed, happy to see him. He didn’t look tired, didn’t look concerned—you wondered if you had even been here for more than a few hours.

You shifted, propping yourself up with your pillow. The pain that had been plaguing your side seemed to have been reduced to a dull pulse, but you still huffed at the feeling as you resituated yourself.

There was a piece of fabric—a shirt—draped over your stomach that you didn’t recognize. You tugged at a loose string on the hem, noticing the blood stains that had crusted over the material.

It didn’t bother you; it was probably your blood.

“Hi.” You smiled halfheartedly at Kyle, who watched on as you made yourself comfortable.

“How ya feelin’?” He tilted his head forward, smiling back at you.

Gaz was one of the few people you had bothered to get close to.

It wasn’t on purpose, and it wasn’t as if you put effort into shutting everybody else out—Gaz was just easier.

As much as you appreciated Soap’s friendship, and Price’s guidance, Gaz had the innate ability to listen. He knew when to shut up, and when to keep himself scarce; he knew when to add his two cents, and when to make himself available. He managed to be kind and collected, even in the most outrageous of scenarios, and you found him to be a tranquil presence in an otherwise stressful line of work.

Maybe it was because he was closest in age to you; maybe it was because he knew where to get cigarettes; maybe it was just the urge you had to form a bond, to experience the type of friendship that was always depicted in old Vietnam War movies.

Whatever it was, Kyle was the closest friend you’d ever had in any platoon. And you appreciated him immensely.

“Like I got blown up.” Your smile morphed into something more sincere, and Gaz laughed quietly.

“Happens.”

“Sucks,” you responded pointedly. “But I feel better than I did.”

Gaz just nodded, his lips still curled into a soft smile.

The doors to the infirmary opened with a loud scrape against the linoleum of the floor, and Soap walked in carrying a tray of paper coffee cups. He tsked at the sound of the doors, cringing slightly as they swung shut and produced the same grating sound.

“Christ, haud yer wheesht.” Soap muttered, toeing the scratch on the floor before squaring his shoulders and making his way to your bedside.

“Come bearing gifts, Johnny?” You watched him put the tray down on your cot’s side table.

“Bottoms up, lass.” Soap handed you one of the cups, and you popped the lid off to hasten the cooling process of the coffee.

The aroma of the drink on its own was enough to perk you up, and you smiled at the men who sat beside you.

“You Irish it up?” You quirked a brow, smiling at Johnny as he sipped his own coffee.

“Scots have a bit more, eh, practicality than that.” He smirked.

“And I wouldn’t let him.” Gaz chuckled, blowing gently on his own coffee.

The three of you drank in silence. The coffee was black, bitter, but it warmed you up and helped you relocate your senses.

“So,” you popped the lid back onto your cup, putting it onto the tray that Soap had left on the side table. “How’d I end up here?”

“Passed out before evac,” Gaz sighed into his coffee, clearly not too keen on having you relive the series of events. “Got you here without much trouble.”

“Aye, y’were fine,” Soap finished the rest of his coffee and tossed the paper cup into the trashcan nearest to your bed. “Wound was shallower than we thought. Fucked up yer ankle, mild burns, couple cracked ribs, but—” He gestured to your chest, which was mostly bandaged. “Fixed ye up nice.”

You looked down at your body, really taking it in for a moment.

Your chest felt heavy, constricted by the bandages that covered your ribs and side, and your ankle was wrapped, but looked much less serious. There was something sticky on the irritated portions of your skin, probably bacitracin.

“What’s this?” You finally brought attention to the shirt that still rested on your lap.

“Ghost’s.” Soap didn’t explain.

“Couldn’t find anything to wrap ya up with—fucking disaster out there,” Gaz picked up Johnny’s slack, “Used his shirt instead. Couldn’t let you bleed out, though I doubt you would’ve, either way.”

The image of Simon removing so much of his kit just to get to the t-shirt beneath it in the middle of an evac zone made you smile. You tried not to dwell on the heat that crept into your abdomen.

That explained why it was covered in blood, at least.

You nodded, sighing. “I wasn’t out long, then?”

Soap pursed his lips, almost smiling. You looked at Kyle for a straight answer.

“How long have I been here?”

“Day and a half…maybe—little more like two,” Gaz smiled sheepishly. “They’ve had you pumped full of everything. Morphine, the works.”

“Knocked ye out good.” Soap laughed.

“Better than dying.” You sighed, shaking your head. You reached out for your coffee again, finishing it in a gulp before passing the cup off to Soap to toss it for you.

“Chest feels alright?” Gaz took the lull in conversation to ask again about your state of being.

“Tight, but…” The ache was still there, and the bandages were a bit snug, but you could manage. “Yeah. Feels ok…”

“Just rest.” Gaz still didn’t look worried, and that made you feel more at ease with the situation.

“Haven’t a thing goin’ on, next few days.” Soap nodded, doubling down on Kyle’s suggestion that you commit to relaxing.

The doors to the infirmary scraped against the floor again, but you didn’t bother looking at who had opened them, assuming it was a nurse coming in to check your IV or replace your bandages.

Soap and Gaz briefly made eye contact, glancing at each other in their peripheral after watching the doors open, but you ignored it as reflexive; a nod to each other in support of their insistence that you rest.

“And after that?” You knew you were looking too far ahead—you didn’t even know how long it took ribs to heal—but a little taste of optimism from your friends would be encouraging.

“You’re out of commission.”

The deep Manchester growl rattled your train of thought, and you turned to look at Simon, who stood in front of the doors.

“What?” You looked at him incredulously—surely he couldn’t be trying to punish you for nearly getting killed; surely you had misheard.

“You’re not goin’ back out there.” Simon’s eyes flickered over your body before he let his razor-edged gaze land on your face.

“Just—with the state yer in, lass—” Soap tried to soften the blow, brows furrowing into a gentle expression.

“Not in any state.” Ghost finally moved from his spot by the doors, and in several brisk strides he was by your bedside.

You tried to chalk it up to the fact that you were lying down, but you couldn’t help but feel as though he was looming.

“You were out o’line.” You could practically see his sneer beneath the balaclava, lip curling into an ugly, twisted shape as he lay into you.

And for what?

For the first time since waking up, there was a shock running down your body; not out of any physical discomfort, but out of pure rage.

“I was doing what I enlisted to do.” You huffed, folding your arms over your chest and trying to ignore the twinge of your muscles as bruised flesh rested on bruised flesh.

He stared at you for a moment; unmoving, unblinking.

“You join the army to get y'self killed?” He said it like he thought it was funny, and that’s what really did it for you.

He could’ve excluded you from any ops in the near future. He could’ve yelled until he was red in the face about how your stubbornness and lack of awareness consistently and unnecessarily put you in harm’s way.

That much you could’ve understood. Respectively, it made sense; it was true.

But the edge of mirth in his voice as he mocked you whilst you lay drugged-up in the infirmary made your blood boil, and the morphine could do nothing to stop that.

“You can’t do that.”

In an effort to save face, you turned your attention back to Soap and Gaz, trying to shut Simon out.

“He can’t do that,” you searched their eyes for signs of support, something you could leverage, “We have a pecking order. Price has to—to...”

Your sentence fell off when you saw Soap giving Ghost a pointed look, Gaz staring at the floor, frowning.

“It’s only six weeks,” Kyle tried to highlight the silver lining, looking back up at you and giving you a timespan to consider, “Just till we can be absolutely sure you’re okay.”

“We…” Soap sighed, still looking at Simon with a subtle glare, “It’s just to make sure yer in the best shape possible, lass—nothin’ personal.” He chanced a glance at you, smiling, and you scoffed.

Taking a deep breath, you turned to stare straight ahead at the foot of the cot. “Your idea, Lieutenant?”

Simon stared down at you, saying nothing, but when you side-eyed him you could see a glint of something in his eyes that told you everything you needed to know: It had definitely been his idea.

Even if you had only been bruised, you were certain that he would've suggested the same timeframe for you to stay on bed rest, under the guise of healthcare. A sadistic form of punishment that saw you wasting away while your friends continued business as usual.

“You’re being irrational,” you scowled at him, letting your arms drop down to your stomach to give your chest a break from supporting them. “And—not for nothing—kind of a dick.”

“Easy, Sergeant.” He glared down at you.

“I’m fine,” you squared your shoulders, as if adjusting your posture was all it would take to convince the men around you that you were sturdy. “I could understand a couple weeks—I could understand a month. But six weeks is—that’s appalling. It's not fair.”

“Life’s not fair, sweetheart.” Ghost, too, squared his shoulders, and it had the effect he surely desired; you shrunk into yourself slightly. “You wanna talk about appalling? You let me know when you ‘ave to dig shrapnel out of a subordinate.”

He turned on his heel without so much as a nod towards Soap and Gaz, and you felt just as upset about his disregard of them as his vitriol towards you.

“Lieutenant!” You called after him, “Ghost!” You were aware that the conversation was over, but you were still keen to argue. “Simon!”

The doors swung open and shut again with the same piercing scrape against the floor.

You glared at the doors, your disgust at Simon heightened in your state of exhaustion.

“Johnny?” You didn’t look back at Soap, still focusing your anger on the doors.

“Aye.”

“More coffee.”

~~~

A week later, you were back on your feet.

The nurses had given you enough ibuprofen to last a lifetime, maybe two, and then they sent you on your way.

The hurt was still there; every time you coughed; every time you stretched your left arm too suddenly, but it was fading.

It wasn’t really the pain that bothered you now. It was more so the waking worries, the shakiness of your breath, and the way you jerked awake each night in a frenzy of twisted blankets and sweat and nausea.

You tried to suck it up; you were hardly the first soldier to have an experience like this. You tucked your head between your knees when you had to, but never your tail between your legs.

You refused your need for help. You refused to acknowledge any weakness.

You hated the notion that this stretch of forced bed rest was only proving a dismal point; you weren’t cut out for the task force. The people that whispered in the halls about you being nothing more than something for the men to look at were likely finding their evidence in this extreme shortcoming of yours.

You kept your distance from Simon in order to avoid any further conflict. But he always did a good job of making himself unavailable, even at the best of times, so you hadn’t had to tiptoe around the barracks.

You walked into the mess hall on a whim. Your appetite was still mostly touch-and-go, but you knew the least you could do for yourself after everything was eat.

Gaz waved you over to the usual table, and you set your tray down across from Johnny.

“Need a new callsign.”

“Don’t like Bravo-Nine?” Gaz looked at you over a spoonful of applesauce.

“No, not—you know what I mean. Soap; Gaz; Ghost; Berserker.”

You’d been doing a lot of thinking over the course of the week; maybe Berserker wasn’t you.

And you’d laughed at the thought initially—of course she wasn’t you. That was the whole point. She was a projection, symbolic of you. It’s not like Simon was Ghost.

You had rolled your eyes at the comparison, trying to stifle any more thoughts of him.

Eventually, you’d decided that the ritualistic version of yourself was inadequate—or perhaps you were inadequate to call her a representative.

You were no Berserker. You were the Sergeant who cracked three ribs in one go after going in blind and setting off a landmine.

"Hard thing to change," Gaz quirked a brow, "Sticks with you."

“It’s a good name.” Soap picked at his fingers.

“Feels wrong now,” you tried to explain, “A berserker would’ve been able to handle some scrapes.”

“A berserker would jump’t the chance to run onto a landmine.” Johnny countered with a smirk.

“Thought about your other options?” Gaz spoke up again, stopping an argument before it had the chance to begin.

He was always good at that.

“What about, uh…” He tilted his head back, squinting at the ceiling as he tried to come up with something.

“Tits McGee?” Soap laughed at his own suggestion.

You flicked a pea from your tray at him, but it veered off track and hit Gaz in the cheek.

“Oi!” Gaz wiped the moist spot it had left on his face with his hand, cringing. “No friendly fire at the lunch table.”

Soap barked a laugh, and you kicked him under the table as you stifled your own laughter.

“What’re you lot on about?”

And there was Simon.

Always when you least expected him; ready and willing to ruin a good time.

Ghost sat down next to you like it was nothing; like he hadn’t just chewed you out a few days earlier for nearly dying.

He was taking up too much space—at the table and in your head. You tried to ignore him, but your smile wavered.

“She’s changing her callsign.” Soap gestured to you with his chin.

“Doesn’t feel like a true berserker,” Gaz smiled, eyes darting between you and Ghost. “Tell him.”

Kyle knew how upset you were, and he had said he wouldn’t get in the middle of it. But it was clear that he was now attempting to take on the role of peacekeeper, if only to keep mealtime pleasant.

You shot Simon a sidelong glance, nodding in response to Gaz’s prompt. You didn’t want to grace the Lieutenant with a verbal reply. He didn’t deserve one.

“I suggested Tits McGee.” Johnny smirked into his drinking glass, and this time you stomped on his foot under the table. He winced through a chuckle.

“Fair idea.” Ghost huffed out what could’ve been mistaken as a laugh.

You grit your teeth.

“What about something…scarier…?” Gaz spoke as the thought came to him, looking at you again. “Give Ghost a run for his money.”

Soap swallowed the water in his mouth, eager to toss out suggestions.

“Reaper.” He let his voice drop an octave for emphasis.

“Spirit.” Gaz quirked a brow at you, expectantly, as he silently asked for your input.

“She wouldn’t wear it right.” Simon shook his head, crossing his arms.

Your nails bit against your palms. It seemed like you couldn’t do anything right, as far as he was concerned.

“Shut up.” It came out muttered and withdrawn, but it felt good to get it out all the same.

“You ‘ave something t’say, love?” Simon looked down his shoulder at you, and the moment you looked back up at him, you knew you’d made a mistake in thinking you could keep it together.

“Yeah,” you glared, standing from the table. “Fuck you.”

You left without clearing your tray.

~~~

You never thought you’d find a barracks bed so spacious, but your own bed felt huge compared to the medical cot you’d recuperated in.

You pressed the heels of your palms against your eyelids, appreciating the silence and warring with yourself about why you always let Ghost get under your skin the way you did.

You heaved a sigh, stretching your arms out. You made sure to rest your left arm at a more practical angle even when you extended it.

Relief for the rest of your body wasn’t worth the jolt in your side.

After the incident at lunch, you fell into a repetitive pattern; mind wandering to Simon, chastising yourself for letting him live so comfortably in your head, then trying to focus on something—anything—else.

And you didn’t appreciate the way your body reacted to the thoughts of him, warmth swelling in your stomach and fingertips grazing your waistband.

It was a losing battle.

He had the ability to be kind, and it was a rarity, but a welcome one.

When you’d started as a rookie, you understood why people worshipped him; he was strong, capable, and, for the most part, managed to stay humble.

He was competent. And that was nice.

For a while, even you had fallen victim to the cult of personality that trailed him—it was hard not to.

He was just a person, a soldier like any other, but he could seem like so much more than that at times. You admired him, his drive, his passion.

He was merciless in his work ethic, unforgiving in his reproach, but he had his moments.

You’d knocked on his door early on into your time at the base.

It was nothing more than a work-related rendezvous, impromptu but necessary; you had reports he needed, and that was all. But you still felt a sort of buzz, a sense of pride nipping at your heels for being trusted enough to take on a task as menial as paperwork.

He’d opened the door, and you’d been left to stare up at him.

“What’s'is?” He nodded his chin down at your hands.

“I—the reports you needed,” you handed them to him, “They’re all in proper order.” You hesitated, “I think.”

He had stared down at you.

“You think?”

“No, I…I know. They are.” You didn’t want to be overly confident, but you did feel as though the reports looked good—better than good, even.

“Good to be certain.” He’d folded the reports, almost fidgeting with the paper.

“Yeah,” you nodded, unsure of what to say now. “It’s...all there.”

There was another pause. He let your words hang in the air, leaving you to stand awkwardly in the threshold of his room.

“But, uh—that’s all,” you nodded again, trying not to squirm in the silence he created. You looked at the ground. “Thanks for…trusting me, Simon.”

You turned to walk back to your own room, but he cleared his throat.

“Simon?” He seemed confused, and for a moment you wondered if you had gotten his name wrong, “We on a first name basis, love?”

“I just—that’s your name…” You'd probably gone pale at that point, but you tried to recover. “I figured, I mean, in your own room…do you want to be Lieutenant?” You stuttered through an explanation.

He had narrowed his eyes at you then, but there was no malice in his gaze; if anything, he just seemed more confused than he had been.

“Ghost is fine…” He spoke as if he were questioning himself.

“But you’re not Ghost,” you doubled down, smiling sheepishly, “I mean—not here, you’re not. Not to me.”

“Why?”

“I don’t really think of you as Ghost unless we’re…out, somewhere,” you tried to sound nonchalant, but the words spilled out as you tried to avoid the repercussions of disrespecting a superior officer. “And—I dunno. You’re kinda scary when you’re Ghost. Your name…suits you…”

You searched his eyes, still trying to read whether his bewilderment would morph into anger.

“It humanizes you. And I…I like that.” 

“You like Simon.”

“Yeah.”

He shifted his weight. “A’right.”

You waited for more, but it never came.

“Yeah,” you repeated, finally finding the willpower to walk away. “Goodnight, Simon.”

“G’night.” He watched you leave before shutting the door.

You couldn’t help but smile at the memory, despite yourself. So you tried to remember what had made you hate him in the first place, just to torment yourself further.

It had been the day following that conversation.

He had been brusque, finding you in a common area with Gaz, playing a watered-down version of blackjack—no bets, just yelling and laughing as you continued to fall short.

“Redo them.”

“What?” You’d looked up from your hand.

“Redo them.” He repeated as he dropped the stack of reports onto the table in front of you.  

The reports you had been so excited to hand over to him.

“But what’s—”

“Fix. Them.” He’d gritted out, and you didn’t have the strength to look him in the eyes. “And be fucking certain they’re in order this time, sweetheart.”

“O—ok…” You conceded to his demand and rested your palm on the stack of paper in a gesture of submission.

He walked out without another word, leaving you to stare down at the reports he’d returned to you, feeling well and truly insufficient.

You had decided, in that moment, that you hated Ghost. And you hated Simon Riley just as much.

You had never been able to figure out why exactly he had switched up the way he had; if you had done something to get on his bad side, if it was delayed payback for calling him by his name. No matter how curious you got, you never asked, simply putting him on your bad side, too, just to keep things fair.

You heaved a sigh, sitting up in bed and staring at your room.

It was messy in a very minute way. You had clothes that needed washing, and a stray sock on the floor; your bed wasn’t made and there were reports on your desk that needed filing.

Clean to an onlooker; filthy to a soldier.

Your eyes wandered to Ghost’s shirt where it hung on your door.

You still hadn’t given it back to him, too dead set on eluding him at all costs after the ordeal in the infirmary, but it was casting a dreary shadow in your room. You didn’t want it near you, despite the way you’d clung to it when you’d woken up, and despite the way you’d managed to avoid returning it even when you’d had ample time to do something as simple as hanging it on his doorknob.

You didn’t know whether you should treat it as if it were a talisman or an omen, but given that it was stained in your blood, you leaned towards the latter. 

You stared at it for a few moments before finding the motivation to get up and grab it off the hook it had been dangling from.

Maybe you could treat it like an olive branch, even if it was only for this particular occasion.

He’d have to offer you a whole tree to make you consider allowing him on your good side for anything else he’d put you through.

~~~

It was relatively quiet in the barracks, and you felt like you were missing out on something. But you knew it got like this sometimes; weeks of high energy often resulted in a lull.

Simon’s room was at the end of the hallway, shrouded in shadows where one of the hall lights had gone out. His door had the same menacing energy that he did, and you felt insane for comparing the man to a door.

But were you really that far off?

Rigid, unfeeling; Ghost was essentially just another fixture—in the barracks, on the force, in the quiet corners of your mind.

You quickened your pace in an effort to get this over with. The sooner you gave him his shirt back, the sooner you could quell the feelings of frailty and lousiness, the sooner you could rid him from your thoughts—at least for a little while.

You stood in front of his door, and before you could question your true intentions, you knocked.

He opened the door in a huff, and you found yourself taking a step back. He didn’t say anything, fixing his unforgiving gaze on you.

“This is yours,” you held up the shirt, “Figured you might want it back.”

You watched his eyes scan the shirt in your hand before flicking back up to your face.

“Covered in your blood.” He looked like he was quirking a brow beneath the balaclava, and you suddenly felt irate—why wear the mask in his own room?

“Well, I haven’t really had time to wash it, considering…” You motioned up and down in front of your chest with your free hand. “But, um…Johnny said it was yours, and I felt bad holding onto it, given that I don’t really have any…need for it now.”

“Why would I want it back?” His tone was flat.

“It’s your fucking shirt.” You heaved a sigh, realizing that your attempt at diplomacy was going unheeded.  

“Don’t want it.”

Nothing else. Not a word—not a ‘thank you’ or a ‘happy to see you out of bed.’

Nothing to suggest he even cared about what had happened, or that he had any inkling of what was still going on in your head. He didn’t even question you about your outburst in the mess hall. He was completely cold, fully detached.

Typical.

“Well,” you swallowed the urge to push him, to see his feet slip out from under him and watch him stumble. “Fuck me for trying, Simon.”

You turned to make quick work of walking away, fidgeting angrily with the shirt in your hands. But he was clearly in the mood to argue.

“Oi—” You heard his footsteps behind you, “You mad?”

You scoffed. “Shut up.”

“Are you mad at me?” He clarified, catching up to you as you stormed down the hallway.

You didn’t answer him until you got back to the door of your room, opening it, and standing in the doorframe.

It gave you a sense of power, being in your own space.

“Am I mad at you?” You swiveled to stare up at him, your tone venomous. “Fuck you, Ghost.” You could no longer deny yourself the satisfaction of shoving him, and you pushed against his chest hard enough that he swayed back slightly.

“Watch it.” He glared down at you like he was trying to burn a hole through your head.

“Please—or what?” You challenged, “You’ll make me sit on the sidelines for an extra week? You gonna snap my neck in my own fucking room?”

Once you started, you couldn’t stop, and every single issue you had with him was coming to the surface.

“You won’t do shit. You never do shit—not unless it’s in the job description. You ignore everything so dutifully, Simon, like it’ll just disappear if you don’t give it the time of day,” you were yelling now. “Cause that’s what you think, right? That problems and people will vanish when they realize they’re not good enough for Lieutenant Riley?”

“Wasn’t personal, sweetheart—you’re in no shape to be out there.” He sighed, and it just fueled your rage.

“I don’t take anything you do personally,” you pressed a finger into his chest for emphasis. “You walk around here like you own the place, Lieutenant, and you don’t. You don’t get to call all the shots—I don’t care what kind of hard-on you get for the authority you have in one-four-one.”

“Sergeant—” You could tell it was taking effort on his part to stay stoic as he stood in your line of fire, and a vicious part of you wanted to see him break and fight back.

You wanted him to give you a good reason to hate him. Something that might finally stick. 

“I’m not fucking finished,” you cut him off, eager to express every single detail about him that made you feel so incensed. “You are the epitome of ego, you are indisputably one of the most self aggrandizing people I have ever had the misfortune of meeting. All you are is a fucking killer, just like the rest of us, but you seem to think you’re God’s gift to SAS—because what would one-four-one be without you, right, Simon? What would any of this be without you!”

You took a deep breath, and it made your ribs settle over your lungs uncomfortably, but you were nowhere near done.

“You act like you don’t care about the praise, the commendation—but you fucking do, and that’s why you turn your nose up at it. Cause you think you deserve it. And why the fuck should you acknowledge any compliment to your skill? Why should you acknowledge something that you already know to be true?”

Suddenly, you were cackling; manic with hatred, confused by your hostility towards him.

Ghost stood silent, and you wished he wasn’t wearing the mask so you could see his face and analyze how your words were hitting him.

You wanted to see the upset on his features—never mind how pretty he might look, carved in agitation.

“You don’t pay attention to the way people shy away from you, or the way the rookies worship you, or the—fuck, Simon, the women! You don’t care about how girls look at you! Because it’s what you think you deserve!” You couldn’t stop yourself from throwing that detail in, but you quickly recovered from your thinly veiled barb of jealousy.

You lowered your voice, wanting to hammer home how deeply, truly repulsed by him you were.

“You are so fucking aloof, it’s insane,” you hissed, “Ignore me all you want, Lieutenant, but I’m not fucking going anywhere. Am I mad at you? Fuck you, Simon.” You focused now on catching your breath, but you wanted to make sure he knew you meant it: “Fuck. You.”

He hadn’t moved the whole time, staying in the same spot in front of you throughout your rant.

Maybe he was thinking about the situation at hand. You wondered if he had actually listened to anything you said, or if he was too baffled by the fact that he was being screamed at by a subordinate to even hear you.

Maybe he’d hit you. You would, in his position.

“S‘at all?” His tone was casual, maybe a bit gruffer than normal, but that did nothing to subdue your rage.

All you’d really wanted was a reaction, and he wouldn’t even give you that.

“Get the fuck out.” You took a step back, slamming the door in his face.

You leaned against the door, breathing. Your side felt like it was splitting—maybe the stitches were under pressure, or your ribs had been held too taut against your lungs when you yelled.

You’d take an ibuprofen later. Now, you clutched his shirt in your fists, and tears slid off your cheeks to mingle with the bloodstains.

~~~

An hour or two later, you felt somewhat more under control.

You tried to shrug off your emotions, burying them somewhere to keep them guarded and stop them from getting to you.

You shoved Simon’s shirt under your bed. Out of sight, out of mind.

You saw no point in wallowing—you’d had a week to do that in the infirmary. Now you just wanted some semblance of peace, a good night of sleep.

Distracting yourself with paperwork seemed just as good. But your hands were shaky, and you quickly grew frustrated.

Be fucking certain they’re in order. You heard the words in Simon’s voice, clear as day, as the memory bounced around in your head.

You shoved yourself up from your desk chair at the same moment you heard a knock on your door.

You hesitated.

“Yeah?” You called out, walking slowly towards the sound.

“Got you something.”

Gaz’s voice was cheery, and you let out a brief sigh of relief upon hearing him—initially worried that Ghost had come back for retribution.

Relief may not have been the proper word. Still, you opened the door.

“Didn’t even ask who it was.” Gaz smiled when you ushered him in.

“What’d you bring me?” You ignored his teasing with a grin.

“First," he made himself comfortable on the edge of your bed, "Tell me if you’ve got a light.”

You quirked a brow at him, taking the hint. You rummaged through your nightstand to locate a lighter, finding one and handing it to him.

“Solid,” he took the lighter, reaching into his pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes. “Go ’head.”

You smiled, shaking your head with an amused huff. “Inside?”

“You deserve it.”

“With my…” You tried to appeal to your better judgement, the stitches in your side a reminder of the turmoil your body had only just experienced.

Kyle looked at you expectantly, holding out the pack, and you let your sentence trail off as you fished a cigarette from the box.

“Terrible influence, Garrick.” You perched the cigarette between your lips, waiting for him to light it for you.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he smiled, watching you puff smoke as he lit your cigarette. “You need a vice. Heard you tore LT a new one.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. You moved from the bed to open the small window in your room, resting your hand on the sill and watching the smoke trail up into the night air.

“Word travels fast,” you almost smirked at the knowledge that people had heard about your row with Ghost. “He had it coming.”

Gaz got up from your bed and walked over to lean opposite you against the window.

“Only person that’s ever done it,” he wedged the window up a bit more when the smoke blew back into his face. “Long as I've been here, at least. When Soap’s mad at him, he just listens to songs about stickin’ it to the English.”

“I know,” you ashed the cigarette, smiling, “I have his playlist.”

Gaz laughed, and you stamped the cigarette out on the outer part of the sill, walking back to your bed and taking a seat. Gaz watched you, analyzing your movements before he pulled the chair from your desk and sat.

“You, uh…” He chewed the inside of his cheek, “He was glued to you, Ghost was. Wouldn’t leave your side.”

You furrowed your brow, looking up at him in confusion. You didn’t know where this was coming from—or why Kyle would bother to tell you right now, rather than while you were still in the infirmary. Or why he'd tell you at all, for that matter.

“He wasn’t there when I woke up.” You scoffed halfheartedly, unsure of what point you were trying to argue, or why you were trying to argue it.

The thing is, you had questions—but it was easier to inquire with a reserved disbelief than it was to ask anything up front. 

“He was there before that, though,” Gaz fiddled with the lighter, flicking it on and off. “We—y’know, Johnny and Price and I—we made him leave.”

“Just because?” You tried to sound amused, but the curiosity gnawed at you.

“Needed a shower, hadn’t eaten.” Gaz put the lighter down on the desk. He rolled his shoulders back, pressing his palms to his thighs with a sigh.

“So?” You prompted when Gaz had stayed silent for longer than you anticipated.

“So, just…” He cracked his neck before looking back at you, “Maybe try not to take it all out on him.”

“Take what out on him?” Your tone went sharp, and Kyle made a face.

“You know what I mean,” he backed down slightly, but continued with his effort. “I think he’s…unhappy.”

“I get blown to smithereens and we all throw Simon a pity party?” You felt your skin growing hot, unnerved by the notion that you were supposed to go about business as usual after such an event, while everybody around you seemed to have more sympathy for Ghost and the grave he’d dug for himself.

“You cracked three ribs!” Gaz smiled, trying to ease the sudden tension.

“It was enough for LT to throw a hissy fit over!” You snapped back, perhaps a bit too harshly, and Gaz let his smile fade, ready to concede to you.

You continued to seethe for a moment longer, staring at Gaz’s feet. He dipped his head down, trying to get you to listen.

“I think he’s unhappy because he wasn’t there when you woke up.” He said simply, his voice gentle. He wasn’t trying to upset you, just attempting to share his opinion and see whether or not it improved anything.

“Hardly my fault…” You frowned, finding his gaze again and crossing your arms.

“Yeah, no, I know—believe me, I know,” Gaz rubbed a hand over his face, “But he was…so…He was fucking besides himself with worry—or, I mean, it seemed like it. Didn’t leave the infirmary til we pushed him out a few hours before you came to. And I think he was really set on being there to see you through it.”

Gaz looked at you. You looked back, tilting your head in silent encouragement; you were listening.

“It’s like he…built up this idea in his head about…” he trailed off, “And then it didn’t happen. And he doesn’t want to feel stupid, so he’s just angry instead.”

You nodded, taking in the revelation that maybe Ghost wasn’t mad at you, but at himself; that he was facing a similar struggle from you as you were from him.

It didn’t make you feel better. If anything, it made you want to knock sense into him all the more.

You’d laid out your cards—it was his turn now. If he had such big feelings, he could either suck it up and ignore them, or he could come out with them. And nothing Gaz said or suggested could make you change your mind.

You scoffed, shaking your head. But you smiled a little, subconsciously reassured.

“That’s my hypothesis, anyway.” Gaz shrugged, returning your smile ten-fold, and you felt yourself relax a bit, feeling the tension dissipate.

“Big word.” You laughed softly.

Gaz grinned. “Read a book or two.”

You reached out to snatch the pack of cigarettes from him, fishing another out for yourself before pushing the box back into his hands. He put them away, handing you your lighter.

“Not joining me?” You nodded towards the pocket he’d shoved the pack into, speaking through your hands as you lit the cigarette.

“Nah,” he shook his head, sighing. “There’s…mm—I didn’t come to see you just so we could talk about Ghost.”

“You talked about him,” you mumbled, “I listened.” You moved to the window again. “What else?”

“We’re shipping out,” Gaz sighed, “Next week.”

You went quiet, picking at one of your fingernails and watching your cigarette burn.

“…Without me.” Your words came out small, disappointed.

“Yeah,” Gaz’s voice went soft around the edges. “First time in—”

“Yeah.” You cut him off.

You knew how long you’d been in 141; and it felt like eons to you, despite the fact that it had been only a tiny fraction of the time everybody else had been on the task force. You didn’t need the reminder now—not when you already felt like an outsider.

“All of you, then?”

You looked back over your shoulder at Kyle, and he nodded.

“Price too?”

He nodded again. You took a long drag of your cigarette.

“In and out,” he tried to make it sound like fun—and really, it was, to an extent, but your thoughts were elsewhere. “Won’t even be a full forty-eight hours, way we’ve got it planned.”

You smiled—he always downplayed it, but you wanted to believe him.

Without Gaz and Soap around, you’d be bored out of your mind. You could handle a couple days, but anything longer than that seemed dreadful.

You didn’t let yourself fall into the vortex of thoughts that opened up relating to Simon; you refused to acknowledge the way your stomach tensed at the idea of him on a mission without you, the way sweat beaded on the skin of your back at the notion that you wouldn’t be there to watch him—you didn’t know what the feeling was, but you knew you didn’t like it.

“I believe you.” You flicked the cigarette out the window.

“Good.” He said simply.

It was another hour of banter before Gaz decided to call it a night, by which time the strange feeling in your stomach had begun to feel more akin to a hunger pain.

“Hey,” he nudged you with his shoulder as you walked him out of your room, “Don’t think too hard about it, yeah?”

“About what?”

“Ghost—and him being…”

“Being Ghost.” You offered sardonically with a smile to match, but Gaz took it in stride.

“Mm,” he nodded, “Ghost being Ghost.” He added, “You were the one that wanted his help, remember.”

He didn’t clarify, but you knew he was talking about how you’d pleaded for Ghost to be the one to treat your wounds as you lay bleeding.

You nodded, sighing an affirmative.

When you shut the door behind Gaz, you found yourself standing frozen in the same spot you had been in after shouting at Simon.

It was significantly more tranquil now, but it still made you feel a sense of unease.

Did you feel bad? And if the answer was yes—did you feel sorry for yourself, or for him?

You got in bed and curled into yourself, suddenly feeling like it was too big and almost wishing you could be back in the infirmary.

At least you could sleep in that cot; the morphine drip kept you in a steady, sleepy haze and removed all of the anxiety induced by your near-death experience.

Against your better judgement, you threw your hand over the edge of your bed, contorting yourself as comfortably as you could to lean down and grab Simon’s shirt from the spot you’d chucked it beneath the bedframe.

If he was so adamant that you keep it, you felt as though it was only fair for you to use it.

You draped his shirt over the foot of your mattress, and you instantly felt as though the bed had shrunk down to fit you exactly; it was cozy, it was made for you, and not hundreds of recruits just like you.

He took up too much space at the table and in your mind, so what was a little space in your bed?

It’s not like this changed anything. You were still upset, still frustrated, still completely and utterly confused. Simon’s shirt was simply an added presence that helped quell the shakiness in your hands as you moved to switch off the light.

And it added a bit of fuel to the thoughts you’d deemed taboo.

~~~

You hadn’t been trying to count down the days until the force left, but it was hard not to. You knew that them leaving base would mean radio silence and a consuming sense of loneliness.

You couldn’t tell if the feeling in your gut was a product of the unfortunate event you’d just lived through, your intense dosage of Advil, or just the crushing fear of being left behind.

So, you’d tried to make the most of things as the week went by; and maybe you sat at the dinner table a little longer than you needed to, even when Simon cared to join; maybe you didn’t say anything when Soap tried to look at Gaz’s cards over his shoulder.

You wandered into the transport bay on the morning they were set to leave, and they were all standing at the ready.

It almost had you laughing; little toy soldiers, all lined up.

“Where you off to?” You sidled up next to Soap as he fiddled with his chest rig.

“Need to know basis.” He grunted, pulling at the strap around his shoulder. He looked up at you with a grin. 

You rolled your eyes, returning the smile.

“Then tell me all about it if you come back in one piece.”

“Always do, lassie.”

You cringed. “Don’t tempt the fates, Johnny.”

Gaz appeared in your peripheral, and you turned to him.

You couldn’t decipher his gaze; if he was nervous or if he felt sorry for you.

“Gonna miss ya out there, Sergeant.” He smiled softly at you.

“Yeah,” you walked over to him, slinging an arm over his shoulder, “I know.”

“Always the picture of humility, you are.” He smirked, and you punched him in the arm.

“Take care of yourselves.” You knew they would—they always did. And it wasn’t like you had anything to worry about; it was one operation, a brief mission to wherever the hell, and you’d see them in a few days’ time.

As cocky as Soap could be, he was right: they always came back in one piece.

Unlike you.

Price cleared his throat, cutting short the banter between you and the Sergeants that flanked you.

“Captain.” You looked up, offering him a nod.

“Sorry to see you sitting this one out.” He was being sincere—that was something you appreciated about Price; he didn’t say anything he didn’t mean. “Won’t feel the same without you.”

“Yeah, well,” you still didn’t know how to take a compliment from him, “I’ll be good as new, soon enough.” You added; “Only a month left, and then I’ll be back at it.”

He nodded, and you saw his cheeks broaden, offering you a small smile.

“Don’t let that arm go stiff, Sergeant.”

“Roger that.” You responded with a similarly minute smile.

You turned your attention back to Gaz and Soap, hoping that getting enough face time with them now might hold you over while they were gone.

Ghost stood in the corner, checking guns for loose ammo and saying nothing. He barely looked your way, and when he did, you tried to hold eye contact.

Maybe you were trying to scare him, wear him down a bit and make him nervous. Realistically, though, the man that stood a few yards away from you would never consider you a threat.

And you knew that. But you couldn’t admit that you were looking at him just to look.

You wanted him to squirm under your gaze now the way that you always did under his.

The door to the bay opened and you knew it was best to see them off before they loaded—you were a soldier, not a would-be widow; you couldn’t bear the feeling of being left behind, but the idea of watching them leave was even worse.

“Alright,” you rolled your neck, trying to appear indifferent to their departure. “Be good.” You looked pointedly at Soap, who nodded, saluting.

“Aye.”

“You too.” Gaz pressed a finger to your chest, feigning menace, and you rolled your eyes as you watched the Sergeants gear up to go.

Ghost still hadn’t said a word, but you found yourself being pulled into his orbit as you turned to leave.

It was no big deal. He was standing by the exit, anyway.

Still, you stared at him as you walked out, waiting for him to say something. Or not.

He gave you a curt nod in an effort to catch your attention.

“See you in a few days, sweetheart.” He kept his voice low—maybe out of habit, maybe because he wasn’t sure if he wanted you to hear him.

You huffed at him, frowning at him but refusing to respond.

His eyes shifted beneath his mask, but he didn't speak anymore. And you didn’t care.

But when you walked out of the transport bay, you could feel your heart racing, challenging your mind.

~~~

Admittedly, it was calmer with them gone. But you were bored, and feeling more outcast and alone than you’d care to confess.

It gave you time to work on the reports that had started to pile up, and even more time to debate where exactly you stood with Simon.

And then you debated whether that was something even worth debating.

He was an asshole. He was your superior. But he was also, in a twisted sort of way, your friend.

And you’d never heard him call Soap or Gaz sweetheart.

He was an ally in dark times, who used his own clothes to stem your bleeding—something he’d only done because you, in your weakest state, had begged for his help.

And you still didn’t really know why you had asked. And you didn’t like the fact that the time you spent alone with your thoughts was bringing you closer and closer to figuring it out.

You thought a lot about Gaz's words, his explanation for Ghost’s behavior: he’s unhappy, he wanted to see you through it, he built up this idea.

You still couldn’t fully wrap your head around what the idea Gaz had mentioned was, and you had been too proud to ask for any clarification.

Simon’s shirt was still unceremoniously draped over your bed, and despite the comfort it brought you, you tried to ignore it.

Two days came and went, and by the third day you had allowed the initial drops of worry to seep in.

It didn’t last long before the whole dam exploded.

And then it all started to blur together, like you were lying on your back in the dirt again, feeling like your head was being held underwater.

In the early hours of day four, commotion in the hall roused you. It wasn’t as if you had been asleep, but facing such loud noise after midnight still made you grumble as you padded to the door and flung it open. Walking down the hall, you didn’t care that you were barefoot, too intent on giving into the curiosity that was tying your stomach in knots.

You heard Price’s voice first, the sharp pinch of his words as he demanded everybody move out.

That was your first tip off that something was wrong.

And then Soap rushed past you without so much as a first glance, let alone a second, as he booked it in the direction of the infirmary. There was a hand on your shoulder, then, and Gaz offered a look of sympathy, but his eyes were glazed over and intense in a manner that didn’t suit him at all.

He tripped over himself as he followed Soap.

“Gaz?” You called after him, suddenly frantic and in need of answers.

One answer.

“Garrick?” You started to follow him, but it didn’t feel real; you felt like you were looking down at yourself as an outsider, your legs moving on their own as you sped barefoot down the hall, floating. “Kyle!”

That finally got him to snap to attention, but he kept walking as he spoke to you over his shoulder.

“Ghost—” his voice was shaky, and you had to wonder what had happened—what he had seen, “Direct shot.”

You felt a final tug at the knot in your stomach, and you thought you were going to be sick.

You stopped following Gaz, standing still in the middle of the hall. You felt directionless.

You drifted through the barracks in an unstable haze, almost numb but still all too capable of feeling the anger that had started to bubble within the uneasiness of your stomach.

He was supposed to be untouchable, unstoppable—invincible.

But he was bleeding out in the infirmary just like you had.

He was merciless, yes, and he was unforgiving—but he had his moments.

You wouldn’t have taken a bullet for him. Would you? Certainly, you would’ve done something.

You would’ve tried.

If you had been there, you would have forced him to do things the way you wanted to, the way you always did. Forced him to see it your way and come to an agreement in your favor; forced him to walk in the direction you chose; forced him to follow your pace, stayed in front of him like you always did; forced him to follow your trail.

And he would’ve listened, just like he always did. Because he, in his own way, seemed to approve of your drive.

And then maybe he would have walked back into base on his own two feet. And it could’ve been you lying on a cot in the infirmary.

As it was meant to be.

Somehow, you found your way back to your own room, some guiding force helping you shut the door, pushing you towards your bed.

The numb and the melancholy made way for a stronger sense of fury the moment your eyes fell onto his shirt, wrinkled and pushed to the foot of the bed.

In a fit of blind rage, you grabbed it and began whipping it against the bed; a toddler throwing a tantrum. You smacked it against your mattress as hard as you could, trying to strike fabric with fabric until the fear dissipated.

Because that’s what it was. Fear.

Because without Ghost, what was 141 worth?

Without Simon, what was any of this worth?

There was a knock on the door, and Gaz pushed himself into your room without waiting for a response.

“He’s—”

“Get out.” You were panting, still clutching the shirt in a white-knuckled fist.

“Listen, Ghost is—” Kyle looked exhausted.

“Get the fuck out!” You screamed, burning your lungs in the process and letting the pain in your ribs punish you from the inside out.

You didn’t care. You couldn’t care.

Gaz closed the door in a hurry, and you continued to watch on. He cast a vague shadow beneath the door, and you waited to see if he’d venture back into your room.

“He’s going to be fine,” you heard him sigh behind the door, “He’s up. He—bloody hell—he tried to tell them how to do the stitches.”

You breathed.

You hadn’t realized you had been holding your breath.

You heard Gaz’s footsteps echo through the hall as he walked away, and you crumpled over your mattress. The anger and fear didn’t vanish with this new revelation; it all worked together to create an anxious giddiness.

He tried to tell them how to do his stitches.

You knew he was a good nurse in a pinch, but you were fairly certain that he didn’t know how to do stitches. You didn’t even think he knew how to sew.

Cocky motherfucker.

Maybe it was the adrenaline that lingered from your outburst, or the sense of relief that flooded your senses, but when you pushed yourself up against the headboard of your bed, your hand found its way beneath your waistband.

You had to get this energy out somehow.

So you circled your fingers around your clit, thinking about him—not for the first time, not for the last—and tried to find some kind of relief to distract yourself from the rollercoaster of emotion you’d just been on.

You reached for the shirt that you’d left in a heap on the bed, straining your fingers to curl against the spongy spot on your front wall. But the effort you put into stretching for the shirt where it lay on the edge of the bed made your side split at the exact moment you began to call his name.

And you started sobbing.

It was pained, not at all reluctant—an all at once reboot for your body, shedding itself of all the intensity you’d just put your mind and heart through; finally accepting that you yourself had been hurt, and that you had no idea how to bear this cross.

You stopped trying to make yourself cum, planting yourself face down on your pillow and biting into it to silence your wails. But the tears kept coming, and soon you were pressing your face into nothing but a sopping wet piece of bedding, stained with your tears and your drool and your snot.

You clung to the shirt, subconsciously bringing it up to your face.

It smelled like the iron in your blood, crusted over and lingering in the woven material. And beneath that, his scent still clung to it. You breathed deep, huffing the smell of him.

You must have looked absolutely insane. And you felt like you were; choking on your cries, burying your face in fabric that had been soaked in your own blood.

But it was ok.

He was ok.

And you were in love with him.

☆Like my work? Buy me a ko-fi :)☆

[girliism]

patrick didn’t believe in love at first sight, how could he when he had a new girl in his bed every night. so what was that weird feeling he got in his stomach the first time he saw you across the way at a party. it was like everything around him went quite and his vision honed in on just you. you and how you laughed loudly at something your friend said, showing all your teeth. he needed to know you. patrick pushed his way through the sea of people to where you were standing but when he got there you were gone.

the second time patrick saw you you were standing behind the counter in front of him at some cafe he randomly decided to come to. this must be what people called fate. he didn’t care that a line was building behind him or the weird look you were giving him. he was finally face to face with you, the girl that had been plaguing his mind all week, and you were even more beautiful up close. “um, are you gonna order?” the sound of your voice snapped patrick out of whatever daze he was in. patrick cleared his throat “yea, just a plain black coffee.”

patrick came back to that cafe every single day, and just sat there. sometimes he’d bring his home work (that he only pretended to do cause he was usually to busy staring at you) other times he’d bring art. you didn’t really notice him at first but when you did you always had your eye on him. he’d come in, sit at the same table and order the same thing, you guys were even on a first name basis. “hey, patrick. same thing again today?” you asked him expecting a ‘yes’ but instead patrick shook his head. “no, actually i wanted to order something else.” you got a little excited when he said this cause patrick never try’s anything new. “i’ve been waiting for this day, we just got some new stuff on the menu-” patrick cut off you by saying your name. “i wanted to order your number.” patrick said with full confidence. “oh…” you said softly, trying to hide the smile that was forming. you gave him your number and he took you out the following week.

now that you and patrick were dating he could stare at you wherever he wanted. “i think you have staring problem.” you joked one day when patrick accidentally held up traffic cause he got distracted by your side profile. how when he looked over the sun just so happened to be hitting you perfectly, making it look like you were glowing. and you know what maybe he did have a staring problem, he couldn’t help that you were so beautiful.

patrick loved looking at you. he loved looking at your face in the morning, how soft and relaxed you were. mouth slightly open, your long lashes that rested against your cheeks. he’d lightly trace over your sleeping features with his pointer finger. he loved looking you in your eyes, mainly cause of how nervous you got, breaking contact after only a few seconds. he liked looking at your body, not always for sexual reasons but also for sexual reasons. he loved looking at you post-sex cause your face was all red and flushed and you always had this tried dopey grin that made his heart break from how full of love it was.

[shixcherie]

Can We Keep Her ? | Choi San & Jung Wooyoung ☆

~ ~ call me chérie ☆

Navigation | Kinktober List

☆ Day 17 : Captor Sex

↬ [ Synopsis ] : What started as a cheeky game of playful hacking quickly turned into a nightmare as you found yourself trapped by the most feared mafia gang in town. With your survival hinging on successfully completing your first mission, you begin to warm up to your teammates, San and Wooyoung. Will this be where it ends, or could you end up being claimed by the entire group ?

☆Word Count : 5.6k ☆Genre : Smut with a lot of plot, Angst, Mafia Au. ☆Pairing : Mafia! member San x Rich! daughter F.Reader x Mafia! member Wooyoung

☆☆☆ WARNINGS : Smut with a lot of plot, part one of an upcoming series so treat it as a pilot chap, mafia themes and elements, oral (m.recieving), Whiny Wooyoung throwing tantrums, Soft! Dom San, a detailed world of the KZ, neck bites, nipple play, Mission-focused narrative with a constant sense of danger. Hinting at OT8.

NOTE : Grinding hard to catchup my loves as my exams had a chokehold on me as I deliver Day 17 to you. This is the first part of a mafia series that’s gonna start on this blog so treat this chap as a pilot. There is alot of plot in here so pls have patience while reading. Hope you like it ma chéries.

"Get that fucking person to me right now!" an angry Hongjoong threw his glass of whiskey, which shattered into pieces as it crashed against the wall on the opposite side of the dark meeting room.

"It is impossible to breach our security system. No way some random person could have hacked into our system and messed it up so... eloquently." Yeosang said, almost amused by the culprit's skills as he adjusted his glasses and took notes on the laptop in front of him.

"I don’t care who, how, or why this happened. All I care about is that we might loose 100 billion dollars worth of gold, and now we look like dumbasses who don’t even know who did it!" Hongjoong banged his hand on the table, startling Yeosang, then shifted to stand with his hands braced on either side of it, “Fuck!” he screamed loudly.

"Calm down, Joong. We'll find out who this bastard is. Let’s have faith in Yeosangie's skills, okay?" Seonghwa chimed in, rubbing Hongjoong’s back. Hongjoong began to calm under his touch, while Seonghwa’s other hand caressed Yeosang’s hair, soothing him as well.

"When will Wooyoung and San be back?" Hongjoong asked Seonghwa, trying to suppress his anger.

"Tonight. They’re almost done with their mission. Also, San has a boxing match in two days." Seonghwa answered his boss.

"And Mingi?"

"Still on his mission in the Neighhaw district, undercover. He should be back in a few days as well." Seonghwa replied smoothly.

"I-I might have a few coordinates on this person, um... but I’m not sure if it’s the right one." Yeosang spoke again, hesitant and unsure of the information at hand, catching Hongjoong and everyone else's attention.

"Yunho, Jongho, bring him to me!" Hongjoong ordered the Ho-e brothers, who were leaning against the wall in the corner of the room, arms folded, observing the chaos as they waited for their boss’s orders.

"Not him. It’s a her." Yeosang squeaked, gaining all of their attention as he turned his laptop toward them, showing the picture of the person responsible for the masterful breach.

Everyone’s eyes filled with different emotions, some with shock, some with amusement, but Hongjoong’s were burning with fiery anger.

"L/n Y/n is her name. She’s the one who broke into our system, stopped all of our gold-dealing operations, and planted a virus that nearly wiped out all of our data. Thankfully, I caught it just in time and stopped it." Yeosang continued, a bit surprised himself as he studied your profile.

Hongjoong turned to Yunho and Jongho. "Get me her, tonight," he ordered them, voice firm laced with authority “Let’s show her the true price of crossing the KamorraZ.” with that KamorraZ boss Hongjoong left the room.

-

“I am done with the evening tea, so I am taking my leave now.” you said, gently tapping your lips with a tissue and glancing up, not really surprised to receive any replies.

Your dad, the CEO of Nexus, a tech empire known for crafting masterful cameras and tech gadgets, was engaged in an intense conversation with your elder brother about some business matters, barely glancing at you.

While your mother was too busy feeding your younger sister, a bratty 15-year-old who still managed to capture all of her attention, warmth, and affection. Being the middle child was definitely the worst!

Shaking your head, you got up and left for your room. It did hurt sometimes,being ignored, not getting attention, and receiving minimal love,but they did shower you will limitless money making you get used to this life. And honestly, you were not complaining, not at all.

Not constantly being on their radar gave you the freedom to explore everything from horse riding and boxing to advanced coding and hacking, with hacking being your favorite pastime.

You liked messing things up, the thrill of not getting caught while still making your presence felt gave you immense joy. Randomly breaching various organizations' security systems and corrupting them with viruses was something you were extremely skilled at.

Does that make you a bad person? An irresponsible adult? Probably.

Do you care? No.

Did they care about you? When you were away from the house for a whole night, did your family even notice? No.

Did they come looking for you? No.

So what’s the point? Should you care anymore? Fuck NO!

A fat middle finger to you, cruel fucking world.

8PM, in your room.

Your fingers quickly worked on the keys, tapping away blocks of code. You were almost there with fucking up this security system that you somehow got hold of, ready to mess it up once you get past these operations, which seemed like some kind of gold dealings.

Eh, who cares? Let’s fuck this shit up.

With that, in dramatic fashion, you warmed your hands for the climax as you sabotaged the gold dealing of an organization called…KZ ? Interesting. Breaching their security system was a bit difficult, kinda advanced compared to the other orgs you had played with in the past.

But it’s Y/n here! And there ain't a system you can't fuck up.

Then you started injecting the virus into their system. Your fingers raced over the keyboard, typing commands to sneak the harmful code inside their defenses. Excitement rushed through you as the screen lit up, showing lines of green text while the virus worked its way through KZ’s security.

A dark look crossed your soft face, and a wicked smile appeared as you thought about the trouble it would cause. Just as the final command ran, the room's door banged open, startling you.

Your bratty sister, Anya, burst into the room, a mischievous grin plastered across her face.

“Guess what? Mommy, Daddy, Hyung, and I are off to Giovanni’s party,” she announced in that screechy tone of hers, practically glowing with delight. “Oh, and don’t bother waiting for dinner, we’ll be out all night! Enjoy your lonely little meal!” The sheer audacity of this brat made your blood boil.

"Have fun, Anya. Try not to embarrass yourself too much in front of your precious friends.” you sassed back at her, not even bothering to look up.

"Hump!" she replied, unplugging your system and making your screen go blank at once.

Blinking a few times you looked up at her, anger boiling through your veins. She shot a satisfying wicked grin at you before walking out.

Eh, you were anyway done with it. With that, you decided to go for a walk, alone in the extremely safe neighborhood of yours, unaware of who was waiting for you.

10PM, outside your house.

A chill went down you spine as the cold breeze wooshed past you, the ambient night sounds ringed your ears as you walked in your neighbourhood. Your neighbourhood filled with elite families, had highest security, so walking alone at night was completely safe.

But tonight’s a bit differnt. You didn’t feel safe walking alone.

A black car closely followed you, keep tracking of your every turn as you started walking fast. As you speed up walking, turning back from time to time to see if they still followed you.

Your heart raced, and you quickened your pace, but it wasn’t fast enough. The car screeched to a halt just ahead, cutting you off, the KZ logo did not go unnoticed. Two figures emerged, one insanely tall and lean, the other buff and well-built. Yunho and Jongho had their faces hidden with only their intense eyes visible exuding a cold and intimidating presence.

You barely had time to react before the tall one caught your arm, yanking you back with ease. You struggled, but buff one moved in swiftly, silencing you with a hand over your mouth, chlorofom clouding your senses.

"That was almost too easy. No, Jongho?” the tall one, Yunho, teased exchanging looks with the buff one, presumably Jongho."Were you hoping we’d catch you, sweetheart?” he mocked,breath hot against your ear as your conciousness slowly started to slip.

“Most likely, Yunho. Lets take her to the base.” Jongho replied sparing you one final glance, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

A blindfold was slipped over your eyes, and you were shoved into the car. The doors slammed shut.

"KamorraZ always on top." Yunho and Jongho laughed, their voices dripping with confidence as they exchanged a playful high five.

Oh, fuck! KZ - THE KamorraZ, the most powerful mafia gang had you. And now, you were at their mercy.

That’s it you’re consciousness fully slipped of darkness clouded your brain.

-

The blindfold was yanked from your eyes, you blinked rapidly, struggling to adjust to the harsh light flooding the room. As your vision cleared, the reality hit hard, Hongjoong stood at the center, his icy gaze piercing right through you. Surrounding him were the KamorraZ members, all of them watching with unnerving intensity—Yunho, Jongho, Wooyoung, San, Seonghwa, and Yeosang. Mingi was notably absent, but that wasn’t comforting.

You tried to read their faces, hoping to make sense of the situation, maybe also trying to figure out what’s gonna happen with you now.

Hongjoong’s voice cut through the tense silence, sharp and confident. "I see no reason to keep you alive," he said, his fingers tapping impatiently on the table. "You’ve trespassed into our world, and for that, death is the only price.”

You gulped trying to keep a composure, but inside you were a freaking mess.

Your throat tightened. This is it? you thought, panic swelling inside. I’m going to die now? Wow… I haven’t even had proper sex yet!

A few of the members shifted uncomfortably. Yunho, leaned casually against the wall, gaze flickering between you and Hongjoong. Jongho stood stoic as ever, arms crossed, though his face gave out nothing. Yeosang, meanwhile, watched from the shadows, his sharp eyes never leaving you while Seonghwa, standing beside him, seemed more contemplative. His expression was hard to read, but there was a flicker of something, pity, perhaps?

San and Wooyoung exchanged a glance, something unreadable passing between them. You couldn’t tell whether they were in favor of or against your fate.

Wooyoung broke the silence stepping forward, speaking confidently, “She hacked us.That alone shows she’s got skills. Skills we can use.”

Hongjoong’s eyes flickered toward Wooyoung, unimpressed. “Skills?” he repeated, voice laced with skepticism. “Skills that nearly cost us our security. That’s not something to celebrate, Wooyoung.”

San chimed in, standing beside Wooyoung “If she’s good enough to get through our systems, she could be worth more alive than dead,” he argued, his tone playful but serious underneath. Wooyoung’s partner in crime, hence proved.

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, his patience thinning. “And if she uses those same skills to betray us? Do you really want to take that risk? We’re not in the business of charity, San.”

Seonghwa, standing to the side, spoke next. His voice was calm yet firm, “We should at least see what she can do before making any rash decisions.”

Hongjoong’s gaze shifted to Seonghwa, clearly annoyed. “Rash decisions? I’m trying to prevent a disaster. You know what happens if word gets out that we let someone hack into our system and walk away.”

In the shadows, Yeosang, who had remained quiet until now, finally spoke, his presence subtle but commanding. “She’s already in too deep,” he said, his voice low. “If she’s loyal, she could be an asset.”

He continued, “I’ve reviewed her background thoroughly. She doesn’t seem to have any allies, so it looks like she’s been doing this alone… just for fun, I guess?” His gaze shifted to you, studying your every move, searching for any sign that contradicted his words. When you nervously bowed your head, it confirmed what he suspected. He was right.

The thick tension filled atmosphere dawned like a veil, your survival literally dwindled on a thin thread. Everyone’s eyes were now on Hongjoong, waiting for his final call. The leader’s jaw clenched, clearly irritated by the pushback, but he wasn’t someone to ignore the voices of his crew especially when Wooyoung and San were pushing this hard.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Hongjoong let out a low sigh, frustration clear in his voice. “Fine. One chance.”

You nodded slowly, your heart pounding as Hongjoong continued. “In two days, there’s a boxing match. You’ll assist Wooyoung and San. Arthur, a member of a rival gang, has the gold deal secured.Yeosang confirmed it. Fix what you messed up, under the cover of the fight. Wooyoung and San will fill you in on the rest.” He finished, gesturing toward Woosan, both now had smug smiles on their faces, having just won you a chance to escape death.

Leaning in, his breath brushed your face as his voice darkened with a mix of threat and intrigue. "If you succeed, you live. But if you fail..." His eyes held yours, a slight smirk on his lips. "You'll beg for death, but it won't come easy.”

-

After spending two days with Wooyoung and San, you slowly warmed up to them. The three of you shared meals as you learned about every member, they also told you stories of their past missions, and you entertained them with your absurd stories of hacking into security systems and causing mayhem.

From the very beginning, it felt like you would get along well, and that assumption turned out to be true. At least here, with them, you felt heard—unlike in your soulless home. Wooyoung’s playful charm and constant flirting, paired with San’s unexpected warmth and casual touches, made the cold, brutal reality of KamorraZ a little easier to bear.

But the two days weren’t just about bonding. They were also filled with intense preparation. Self-defense training and running through the mission details with Wooyoung and San consumed most of your time. You learned that San was scheduled to face off against Arthur, a key figure in the rival gang, in a boxing match. Arthur’s men would be scattered throughout the arena, watching closely, but your mission was clear. While the fight served as a distraction, you’d sneak out, locate Arthur’s car, secure his laptop, sabotage the deal, and alert Yeosang. After that, you'd return to the match unnoticed. San would finish Arthur in the ring, ensuring that the night ended in your favor.

It was a solid, well-thought-out plan. What could go wrong? Apparently, everything.

San paced nervously in the back of the van, his usual bravado slipping. From the driver’s seat, Wooyoung caught your eye through the rearview mirror and offered a reassuring smile. “He always gets like this before a fight,” he said with a soft chuckle. “He’ll be fine once we’re there.”

You nodded, trying to calm your own nerves, but the tension in the air was thick. Watching San run a hand through his hair, his brows furrowed, you couldn’t just sit there.

“Hey,” you said softly, moving closer. “You’ve got this. We’ve got this.” Your hand brushed his arm, and he glanced at you, his eyes softening briefly.

San managed a faint smile, though his shoulders remained tense. “It’s not just the fight,” he admitted, voice low. “If we mess this up, it’s all of us at risk.”

His vulnerability struck a chord. “I’m nervous too,” you confessed, scooting closer, placing your hand on his. He gripped it gently, his fingers wrapping around yours. “But we’re a team, right?”

San’s gaze lingered on yours, the tension in his eyes betraying the brave face he tried to wear. His thumb traced soothing circles on the back of your hand, but the longer you stared, the more your heart raced.

Who’s calming who?

You glanced up at San, his breath hitching as your hand grazed his thigh. His usual bravado faltered, but the darkening in his eyes showed he wasn't as confused as he pretended to be. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, and the air between you both thickened.

“Maybe I can help.” you whispered before you could stop yourself. Slowly, you slid off your seat, settling between his legs. San’s breath hitched as your fingers toyed with the waistband of his pants, the tension growing.

“Yah! Don’t have fun without me!” Wooyoung yelled from the front, glancing at the rearview mirror, grip tightening on the wheel. His dramatic reaction only added to the teasing mood.

You shot him a playful look. “Eyes on the road, Woo.” you teased with a wink, then turned your attention back to San.

Freeing his thick, veiny cock, you paused to admire him for a moment. San's smirk grew, giving you the approval you sought. With one kitten lick across the tip, his composure shattered, a wave of pleasure taking over as his nervousness faded into thin air.

Maintaining eye contact, you swirled your tongue around his tip, watching pleasure cloud his gaze as he let out a low, breathy “Fuck.” His head fell back against the seat, eyes closed, and a shudder ran through him as your other hand massaged his balls.

Pumping his hard length slowly, teasingly, you pushed him further with every stroke, his soft moans fueling your desire. Without warning, you took him fully into your mouth, your lips wrapping tightly around his girthy cock. San’s hands tangled in your hair, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper with each movement.

The van filled with the wet sounds of your mouth, drawing out San's breathless moans. Wooyoung, still watching from the mirror, groaned dramatically. “This is torture, you know,” he whined, tossing his head back in frustration but keeping the van steady. His grumbling only heightened the playful tension, and you could feel his frustration adding to the heat in the moment.

“Y/n, I— I’m gonna—” San’s voice cracked as his hips bucked slightly. You quickened your pace, hollowing your cheeks, your jaw stretched pleasurably by his thick length. The sensation of his tip hitting the back of your throat made you push through the ache, desperate to take every inch.

San’s body tensed as he twitched in your mouth, spilling himself into you with a groan. You swallowed everything, your tongue still working him until he had nothing left to give.

Pulling away, you wiped your lips with a satisfied smirk. “Feel better?” you murmured.

San’s eyes were half-lidded, his face flushed, a lazy smile playing on his lips. “You reallyare something else!” he breathed out, still catching his breath. “But,I am feeling much better now.”

From the front, Wooyoung groaned, throwing his hands up dramatically. “You owe me for this, San. Big time!” He shot you a teasing smirk through the mirror. “And you, babygirl, get ready for your punishment once I’m done driving.” His playful threat sent a shiver down your spine, adding to the delicious tension filling the van.

—

Now with San behind the steering wheel, you decided to work on the mission a bit. You studied Arthur’s profile and the routes you need to take in the parking lot to reach his car. Getting everything ready to corrupt his system, you also prepared a sneaky surprise for the rival gang.

The van came to a sudden halt and stopped with a jerk.

“Gas station. Pit stop.” San shouted from the front as Wooyoung got down the van shooting you a dirty look.

What was that now ? Why is this guy sudddenly acting weird ? Is he..jealous ?

As San headed inside to grab food, you found yourself alone with Wooyoung by the van, the tension between you two lingering. He leaned against the side of the van, arms crossed, pretending to ignore you while his jaw clenched slightly.

You decided to break the silence. “What’s with the look, Woo? Jealous?” you teased, a smirk tugging at your lips.

He scoffed but didn’t meet your eyes. “Jealous? Of San? Please. I’m just—" Wooyoung paused, searching for an excuse, but you could see right through him. "I’m annoyed, that’s all."

"Annoyed, huh?" You stepped closer, tilting your head slightly. “You’ve been pouting since then. Come on, admit it. You hate when someone else gets the attention.”

Wooyoung finally looked at you, his usual playful grin creeping back. “Me? Pout? I don’t pout. I’m just... irritated that San got all the fun back there, while I had to focus on keeping the van on the road.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Sounds a lot like jealousy to me.”

"Jealousy?" Wooyoung straightened up, inching closer with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Please, if I were jealous, I would’ve thrown San out of the van and taken his place."

You chuckled. “Oh really? So what’s stopping you now?”

Wooyoung opened his mouth to respond but quickly closed it, narrowing his eyes at you playfully. "You know what? Fine, maybe I am jealous. But only because I didn’t get to show off my skills first."

"Skills?" You burst into laughter. “So that’s what this is about. You feel left out.”

You leaned against the van next to him, grinning. “Don’t worry, Woo. I’m sure you’ll get your chance soon enough. Besides, it’s cute seeing you all worked up.”

Before Wooyoung could respond, San returned with bags of snacks, completely oblivious to the banter that had just unfolded.

“What did I miss?” San asked, glancing between the two of you as he handed Wooyoung a drink.

Wooyoung snatched it, side-eyeing you with a playful grin. “Oh, nothing. Just figuring out who’s more jealous in this van.”

San raised an eyebrow, confused, while you and Wooyoung exchanged knowing looks.

Making your way inside the van, San once again took the steering wheel while you settled in the back with your laptop, preparing the surprise for the rival gang. A wicked smile crossed your face as you dramatically rubbed your palms together, imagining the chaos your plan would cause.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed Wooyoung until he settled behind you, his legs trapping you in place as his warm body pressed against yours.

His hands began to softly rub your waist, pulling you slightly closer to him. "Woo, what are you doing?" you muttered, eyes narrowing playfully, a faint smile dancing on your lips.

Wooyoung’s breath, hot against your ear, sent a shiver down your spine. “Showing you my skills.” he whispered, his voice laced with mischief. He dipped his head, leaving soft kisses along your neck.

“Eyes on the laptop, babygirl.” he threw your tease back at you, his smile evident against your skin as his lips began trailing open-mouthed kisses. Occasionally, his teeth grazed your skin with gentle bites, causing you to suppress a moan.

Despite the distraction, you tried to stay focused, fingers hovering over the keyboard, but Wooyoung's attention made it increasingly difficult to concentrate. "How am I supposed to work like this?" you asked, breathless, feeling his lips linger on your pulse point.

“Multitask, baby.” Wooyoung murmured, his breath hot against your skin as his hands slid up to your chest, massaging gently but firmly. His fingers brushed over your nipples, teasing with just enough pressure to send a jolt through your body. His lips trailed along your neck, sucking lightly and leaving faint marks.

His hands squeezed and kneaded your boobs over the clothes making it impossible to focus. You tried to stay on task, but each touch clouded your mind further.

"Wooyoung…" you gasped, voice shaky, eyes closed as he chuckled softly against your neck. "Keep working…" he whispered, fingers pressing harder. "I know you can handle it."

San’s deep voice suddenly broke through. “If you two are done, a little focus on the mission would be nice,” he teased. “Unless you want me to pull over and join.”

You flushed as Wooyoung smirked. “Feel free, Sannie. But win the fight first. You gotta earn it you know ? ” he shot back teasing, his hands still on you.

San chuckled, meeting your gaze in the rearview mirror. "Don't worry, I always earn what’s mine." he replied, voice low and filled with intent. "Just save some energy for later, you’re gonna need it."

As the van slowed near the arena gate, the weight of his words lingered. Wooyoung pressed a final kiss to your shoulder, whispering, "Time to focus, babygirl." You both quickly fixed yourselves and moved to the front, ready to face the mission ahead.

-

The underground boxing arena screamed of grit, raw energy and danger. Dim lights flickered above, casting shadows over the crowd, a diverse mix of mafia gangs all copped together in anticipation. The air was thick with tension, the stench of sweat and smoke mingling with the metallic scent of money.

Everywhere you looked, men in dark suits and expensive watches lounged around, whispering deals, exchanging deadly glances, and clutching their drinks with one hand and a beautiful blonde in their other hand.

The parking lot outside was a stark contrast to the grimy atmosphere of the arena. Sleek, luxury cars lined the lot, an indication of the wealth and power amassed here tonight. Ferraris, Lamborghinis, and armored SUVs gleamed under the faint glow of streetlights, guarded by stoic, armed men. It was a place where opulence and danger lived side by side, giving you a stark reminder of the stakes involved.

As the van rolled in, you passed a tough security checkpoint. Hulking men in black scanned the van, checking IDs, and giving approving nods before stepping aside to let you through. You felt their eyes on you, but with Wooyoung and San by your side, you slipped past the security with ease.

Inside, thecheerful roars echoed, crowds of people swarmed the arena floor, eager for the violence that was about to unfold. San stole a quick glance at you, a soft look adorned his face before egtting replaced with intense feline eyes. A calm exterior dawned him at the intense fight that lay ahead. You exchanged a quick nod. Wooyoung, on the other hand, flashed his trademark grin, leaning in for a quick “Good luck. Don’t get caught.”

Then, you parted ways.San to the ring, Wooyoung to manage the bets, and you to find Arthur’s car.

The arena buzzed as San climbed into the ring, greeted by Arthur, a towering figure with a snarl to match.The crowd roared as the two men stood infront and eventually bowed, marking the begining of the fight while Wooyoung collected the bet money on San’s name.

The fight began with a flurry of punches, San's lean frame dancing around Arthur's brute force. Wooyoung stood at the sidelines, eyes sharp as he handled the stacks of cash betted on San, his hands moving swiftly to manage the money while keeping a close eye on the fight. Every punch San landed, Wooyoung would grin, his confidence in San palpable as he entertained the others throwing down their money.

Meanwhile, you slipped out of the chaos, nerves buzzing as you headed to the parking lot for your first mission. The weight of it pressed on you, but you held steady, determined not to crack under pressure. Spotting Arthur’s sleek black BMW in a dim corner, your heart raced, but you reminded yourself to breathe.

This was your chance to prove yourself and not get killed.

You pulled out your tools and got to work, hacking into the car’s system. The dashboard lit up as you breached its firewall, fingers flying over your laptop as you worked to corrupt the data and plant the surprise for the rival gang.

Back in the ring, San was locked in a brutal exchange of punches. Arthur's size made him formidable, but San was faster, more precise. Each strike was calculated, his movements fluid. The crowd roared as he landed a solid punch to Arthur’s jaw, sending the man staggering back. San was in control, and it showed.

Meanwhile, you worked quickly, aware that time was running out. Arthur's car system was more than just a firewall; it was the nerve center of his entire operation. As you cracked through the layers of security, you stumbled upon sensitive files detailing a massive gold smuggling ring. But these weren’t just any dealings; they were KamorraZ's—your gold. Arthur had been skimming from KZ all along.

A smirk tugged at your lips as you wiped the data clean, erasing his transactions and taking back what was yours. Swiftly, you sent a notification to Yeosang, so he could lock this all down for KamorraZ, securing your regained control of the gold deal. Gold deal acquired. First Task done!

Next, you wiped the data clean, erasing years of shady transactions, leaving no trace behind and successfully planted a virus, rigged to not only erase all his data but also lock him out of his own networks. Second task checked off!

Now for the fun part, the cherry on top if you may say.

A program designed to send a mass email to every crime boss, claiming Arthur is “switching careers” leaving the mafia life to join a bunny band. Attached was a photoshopped image of Arthur in a ridiculous sparkly outfit, his crew labeled as his "backup bunny dancers," each given a humiliating stage name. Also, every time one of Arthur’s men would try to log into their accounts or communicate, their profile pictures would automatically change to cartoon characters, everything from clueless clowns to pink bunnies wearing tutus.

It was a deadly blow wrapped in a joke. In an instant, the infamous Arthur’s crew would go from feared mafia gang to a running joke in the mafia world. Laughter would ripple through the underworld, and Arthur’s once-feared name would become synonymous with mockery.

Final task accomplished!

Wooyoung, half-focused on San's fight, checked his phone. "Status?”

“Almost done,” you replied, watching the final upload. The plan was flawless. Arthur’s reign would crumble, his gold reclaimed, and his reputation destroyed in a way no one would forget.

Wooyoung signaled San that your work was done, a proud smirk adorning his face.

Fueled by adrenaline and the successful completion of your part of the mission, San delivered the final blow, a fierce uppercut that sent Arthur crashing to the mat. The crowd erupted into a frenzy, cheering and shouting as San stood victorious, barely breaking a sweat. Meanwhile, Wooyoung threw a fist in the air, collecting the piles of cash while flashing you a quick look from across the room.

“Mission accomplished,” you texted the whole group back at the base, as you made your way back to Wooyoung, the rush of success surging through you. As you rejoined them, San had just won his match, the crowd roaring with excitement as he raised his fists in triumph. Wooyoung was already collecting cash from the bets, his grin wide as he pocketed the money.

Just then, he big screen above the ring lit up, showing a hilarious photoshopped image of Arthur and his men in bunny costumes with tutus completed with exaggerated expressions.The crowd burst into laughter, adding to the night’s chaos. Even Arthur and his crew were too stunned to react, their fearsome reputation shattered in an instant. Your little bunny surprise had worked perfectly.

Wooyoung had a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “You're evil. Perfect for KamorraZ.” He chuckled, shaking his head as the crowd continued to roar with laughter, unaware of the all the other chaos you’d unleashed on Arthur’s operation.

Taking this as your cue, you shared quick glances with San and Wooyoung. “Time to slip out,” San said urgently.

You maneuvered through the crowd, securing the winnings from the fight, the gold deal, and the chaos you'd caused. Once at the van, you jumped in, adrenaline still surging.

“Let’s get back to base. They need to know the beautiful chaos you have caused.” Wooyoung said, counting the cash with a wide grin. San nodded, starting the engine and pulling away. As the arena lights faded behind you, you smiled at the success of your first mission. One that had shaken the underworld.

Back at the base, the atmosphere buzzed with celebration as crew members surrounded you, congratulating you for your successful mission. Wooyoung clung to your side, practically bouncing with excitement. “Look at you, all badass! Ready for tonight ?” he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

San leaned against the wall, a proud smile on his face. “You really nailed it,” he said, shooting you a smirk that made your heart race. It was clear both he and Wooyoung were down bad to steal you away for the night and finish what you had started back in the van.

Hongjoong stepped forward, his tough love evident as he clapped a hand on your shoulder. “Not bad for a rookie. You’ve earned my trust,” he said, his tone gruff but with an unmistakable warmth behind it.”Atleast we don’t have to kill you now.”

Seonghwa approached, a soft smile on his face. “You did well,” he said, his voice calm yet encouraging. “We knew you could handle it.”

Yeosang chimed in, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I can’t wait to see Arthur’s face when he realizes what happened. You really pulled one over on him!”

Yunho and Jongho joined the group, both grinning widely. “You’ve got guts,” Yunho said, giving you a light punch on the arm. “Welcome to the family.”

Jongho laughed, adding, “Next time, let’s make it even bigger!”

As laughter filled the room, Wooyoung leaned closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “You know, after all this, I think you, San and I deserve some private time together” he said, glancing at San, who nodded in agreement, his expression playful yet intense. Your heart raced but you shot him a playful smile with a look in your eyes that screamed approval to his request.

You could feel the crew’s acceptance wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You were no longer just an outsider, you were part of the team.

In this moment, it felt more like home than your actual home ever had.

~ ~ Chérie ☆ signin’ off

Disclaimer : This is totally fictional and not a real depiction of the ATEEZ members. It's all just for fun only so please don’t take anything seriously and keep the mood light around here.

© ShixCherie.

[finelinefae]

everything with you

synopsis: a simple, true kind of love

word count: 7.1k

contains: fluff, angst, cancer, brief mentions of sexual assault, allusions to domestic violence and a toxic relationship, normal people/one day vibes, boyfriend harry

a/n: posting this here because i love it so much and i was feeling emo. also have been away for a week so haven't had much time to finish writing things I'm still working on (there will be a soft girl sunday post tomorrow don't worry and i am also working on a tattoo h blurb as well !!)

. . .

October 1st 2017

Harry and Y/N met during freshers week at University in 2017. 

"Should we make out?" 

They were standing in a closet now after meeting just ten minutes ago downstairs. 

"M' names Harry," Harry spoke, sitting on the couch and looking down at his first drink of the night. He wasn't much of a drinker but also feared missing out or being seen as unordinary - at university, drinking felt like it was deemed ordinary. 

Y/N blushed, her cheeks pink from the humidity in the room and the fact that a guy was talking to her. She pulled down the sleeves of her dress to hide her shaky hands. She noticed she stuck out like a sore thumb with how she decided to dress, her long sleeves and knee-length skirt juxtaposed with every other girl in the room. 

"'M Y/N." She responded. Harry nodded, sheepish and awkward as he tried to think about something to say. 

They were sitting side by side, looking out at the other people dancing to the music that echoed through the house. "What do you study?" Y/N managed to ask and cringed at the question. Was it normal to talk about school at a house party?

"Music." He nodded as Y/N tried to think up another question despite already asking one. "What about you?"

"English." She said and an awkward silence fell between them. 

Harry eventually turned to look at her, lips parting at the natural beauty even just from looking at her side profile. Her hair was in waves that fell down her back and he thought her dress was pretty too. She had a tiny bump on the bridge of her nose that led to her plump, cherry red lips. 

She felt his gaze on him and turned her head, catching his eyes and looking down from embarrassment. He was beautiful like a living, breathing adonis. His eyes were a sea glass green and he had chestnut brown curls on his head. 

"It's a little loud in here don't you think?" Harry spoke, his voice seemed closer to her now. 

Y/N looked up and looked around at the crowd of people, "Just a little." She said, 

"Do you want to go upstairs?" He wondered if maybe it would be easier to get to know her in a quieter setting.

Y/N followed him upstairs, wondering whether he knew where they were going and if he knew anyone else at the party. She had only just met him and despite his awkwardness, her trust issues were too much for her to just relax around him. 

He opened the door and pulled her inside, "Um...Harry?"

He nodded, already guessing what she was about to say and looking down at her, "We're in a closet." He stated. 

"Yeah." She whispered, her heart racing at the close proximity. 

"I don't live here." He tried to hide his embarrassment. 

Suddenly, Y/N burst out laughing, the entire situation was something she didn't see coming and she couldn't help but laugh at the predicament. It wasn't too long before Harry began to laugh along with her, the both of them standing in the closet in hysterics. 

When their laughter quietened down, Harry looked down at Y/N. His demeanor changed as he admired her as she bit back a smile. "Should we make out?" 

Her lips parted, "U-Um-I-I've never been kissed before."

"Me neither." He murmured, he wasn't even sure why he asked, he just felt like it was something he should be doing being at a freshers party. 

Y/N thought about it for a second, she gulped down her nerves and looked at his lips before looking at him again. "O-okay." She nodded. 

She'd never been kissed but neither had he, so neither of them could complain it was a bad kiss. She thought it'd be better to kiss him now to get the firsts out of the way. 

"Okay." He released a shaky breath and slowly leaned forward. 

Y/N stood on her toes the closer he got to her, their breaths echoed around the room as their hearts raced at the same time. The tension was thick as their lips were closer to touching. It seemed strange that the first person to touch her lips was a man she had met just ten minutes ago. 

Harry reached for her hand, brushing his fingers against them and feeling how soft her skin was. Her eyes fluttered shut when he felt his fingers run up her arm, a path of goosebumps arising. Her nose rubbed against his and her eyes fluttered shut when his fingertips touched her waist. 

She had the urge to press a kiss to his jawline as his fingers danced across the skin on her arm, "Harry," She whispered, her head resting on his shoulder. 

 Everything she was feeling right now was exactly how she thought she'd feel if someone kissed her and yet their lips hadn't even touched yet.

His lips brushed against hers and eventually, she leapt up into his arms and pressed her lips to his, arms wrapping around his neck. She whimpered at the sensation of his tongue tangled with hers, her entire body felt as though it was on fire as he continued to touch her. She tugged on his hair like her hands had a mind of their own and he released a guttural groan which made her tummy flutter with excitement. 

If they were to continue, she was curious to see where things would go next but her curiosity was killed when the door opened and they pulled away from each other. 

"My bad." Someone chuckled and closed the door again. 

Harry was breathing erratically, looking down at the floor as his mind whirred. 

"I should go." Y/N was the first to talk and before he could even reply, she opened the door and left. 

February 20th 2018

Harry was late for class but he was in no rush to get there. In fact, he hoped the seminar would be over by the time he got there so he didn't have to answer any questions. He hated talking in front of people. 

He decided to take a longer walk to his seminar, going in a direction he had never gone before and hoped he would get lost along the way. 

As he pulled out his phone to change the song he was listening to, he ended up bumping into someone else. "I-I'm sorry," He immediately crouched down and picked up the books on the floor.

"I-It's fine, don't worry about it." A delicate hand touched his as they reached for the same book. 

His head perked up when he registered who the person was, the voice was the last thing he heard before he went to sleep every night. "Y/N?" He spoke before he could stop himself. 

She looked up at him, he noticed she looked different to when he had first met her. The light in her eyes looked dimmer and she seemed more on edge than when he had first met her. 

"Harry?" She smiled, standing up. 

"It's good to see you." Flashes of their first kiss came to mind and he quickly brushed them away. 

"How's the first year treating you so far?" She tucked her hair behind her ear. 

"It's been... good." He was lying but he wouldn't tell her that, not when he felt the need to impress her. 

"Oh I'm glad, we should-"

"Y/N!" Y/N stilled, her head turning to look past Harry's shoulder. Her sudden change in expression made him turn to see the person who had caused it. 

A man stood waving his hand in the air in the distance, he looked slightly older than both Harry and Y/N. "Who's that?" Harry looked at Y/N.

"T-That's Shaun." She muttered, holding her books tightly to her chest. 

"Is he your boyfriend?" He hated how the question tasted when he asked it but wanted to know. 

"Yes." She said, his heart was hurting but he tried his best not to show it. "I should get going."

She walked past him but he called her name before she managed to get away, "Here," He took out a pen and wrote on the front of the page of her notepad his number, "In case you need me."

She smiled but it didn't meet her eyes, "Thank you." 

He watched her as she walked away and didn't start to walk again until she walked around the corner. 

He couldn't help the gut feeling that was definitely going to need his number whether she wanted it or not.

May 15th 2018

Harry had finished his last music exam and stood in his dorm room, packing his room up since his mother would be picking him up tomorrow afternoon for the summer. 

He knew other people were out partying and enjoying the fact that the first year was over but he was too keen to get home. University hadn't treated him nicely and that was just the way it was for him. 

He hadn't made many friends besides a few in his music class, even then he wouldn't really consider them friends, mostly just people he spoke to now and then. He hadn't been to a party since the first week of freshers nor did he really want to. 

"Fuck." He murmured to himself when he could hear the vibrations of his phone ringing. He rummaged through the piles of items he had created whilst packing and eventually found his phone under a pile of clothes. 

The number was unknown but he picked it up anyway. 

"Hello?" He frowned, waiting for a response from the unknown caller. 

"H-Harry?" He stood straight and held his breath when the voice he hadn't heard in a while was talking to him on the phone. "I-It's Y/N."

I know. That was what he wanted to say but instead waited for her to carry on speaking. He wasn't sure as to why she was calling him now since he had given her his number three months ago. He spent the first few days waiting for a call from her but was always let down. 

"U-Um, I know we haven't spoken in a while b-but I really need you to come g-get me." She was on the verge of tears as she held the phone to her ear, waiting for him to say something.

Harry cleared his throat, "Are you okay?" He asked, concern in his voice as he walked to the door. 

He waited for a response, "No." She sobbed, "I'm at a party outside campus on Melville Street and I don't know anyone else." 

He stumbled over his belongings as he pulled his shoes on and tugged on his jacket. "Hey, don't worry. I'm on my way and I promise I'll be there in five minutes." 

"O-Okay," She whimpered, "Thank you...Harry." 

He ended the call and raced down the steps to the front door, running out and making his way to Melville Street where he knew all the parties were held throughout the year. He could already see a mass of people at one particular house at the end of the road and could only assume it was the house Y/N had called him from. 

He pushed his way past the other students, apologising as he did so but making no effort to stop himself from getting to Y/N. He ran up the stairs and opened the door to each room, ignoring the screeching from teenagers making out and wanting him to leave. 

Eventually, he got to the end of the hallway and faced a closet door. He slowly put his ear to the door and heard the sniffles and cries of someone behind it. Carefully, he pulled the door open and looked down to see Y/N, crying into her knees as she curled up into herself. 

He closed the door behind him and crouched down in front of her, "Hey," He whispered, not wanting to frighten her. 

She looked up, cheeks tear stained and makeup smothered which she tried to wipe away with the back of her hand. "You're here." She whimpered and wasted no time in leaping forward and wrapping her arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder. 

This was the last thing he was expecting to happen tonight but he didn't stop from holding her tightly in an attempt to squeeze the pain out of her. Sometimes people just wanted a hug and he just so happened to be the only person who could give that to her right now. 

"What happened Y/N?" He looked her in the eye and was brought back to the first time they were in a closet together. He wished he could go back to that time or at least be with her now under different circumstances. 

"It's nothing." She wiped away her tears as best as she could. 

"I don't think you would have called me of all people if it were nothing." He cupped the side of her cheek and noticed a bruise under her eye. His heart fell out of his chest when the worst-case scenario came to mind, "D-did Shaun do this to you?"

He didn't need an answer from her because the look on her face was clear enough to tell that he was right. Y/N began sobbing all over again, "How long Y/N?" Harry asked, firmly. 

She didn't answer, "Y/N, how long?" 

"Since February," She confessed in a whisper and hid herself away from him. 

Harry felt an incredible urge to walk out to find Shaun and release every ounce of his rage onto him but he also knew that wouldn't do anything to help Y/N at this moment. So he took a deep breath and placed a gentle hand on Y/N's shoulder. 

She looked up with wide, teary eyes and tried to crack a smile, "Let's get you out of here." 

She laughed breathily, "What? You don't like being in a closet with me anymore?"

He couldn't seem to find it in himself to laugh with her, "Not when you're like this Y/N."

She loved the way his voice sounded, she had been thinking about it ever since she first kissed him in the closet. Maybe that's why Shaun treated her like he did because she was lying in bed with him and dreaming about someone else. 

Harry walked out of the house with Y/N under his arm, shielding her away from the party. "Do you have anyone who can pick you up from your dorm?"

Y/N looked down at her shoes, embarrassment filling her, "I-I moved in with Shaun, he didn't want me living with the other girls and he's in his second year so..."

"Fuck." Harry said, eyes wide. 

"Yeah," She laughed, pitifully. "Feel free to name me an idiot for the next few hours."

Harry sighs, "I'd never call you that Y/N. Sometimes we make mistakes when we're cast out into loneliness by others." 

They carried on walking in silence. Y/N wasn't sure where they were going until they got to Harry's accommodation. "We'll have to sleep here for the night." 

"A-Are you sure?" Y/N was nervous, wringing her hands together. 

He didn't reply as he led her upstairs to his dorm where he knew everyone else was out getting drunk. She stepped into his room and was surprised to see the piles on the floor. It was amusing and sad to see. Each pile seemed to represent a different part of him, parts she knew nothing about, and yet he was the first person she thought about calling when she was in trouble. It felt like a cruel trick, she relied heavily upon strangers to lift her up because it was easier than being seen as weak by the people she deemed most important. 

"I've been packing, m' mum's picking me up tomorrow. It's a bit of a mess." He begins picking up things from the floor, underwear and pages of sheet music. 

"You play guitar?" She was still standing by the door.

"A bit, piano mostly." She notices the keyboard at his desk. 

"You can take the bed, I don't mind sleeping on the floor." He stands, not sure how to act with a girl in the room, especially a girl he thought about before he went to sleep.

"Why can't we both sleep on the bed?" She wondered, kicking her shoes off. 

"Y-Yeah," Harry gulped, "W-Whatever makes you comfortable." 

Y/N and Harry sat side by side on the bed and were immediately brought back to their first interaction. Except this time they didn't have the noise of the party to fill the awkward silence. 

"He didn't rape me, Harry." She whispers out of nowhere, she was crying again and he hated it. 

"I never thought he did." He lied, he did think that.

"I-I'm not that desperate." 

"I never said you were." 

"Shaun was good to me and then... I've never been in a relationship before. I didn't know how it was supposed to go." She confessed.

"I know," He knew she needed to talk about it but he also knew she didn't particularly want to. 

"Right." The sheets ruffled beside him and he looked over to see her lying on the bed with her back facing him. Her shoulders were shaking as she cried into his pillow.

Harry didn't know what to do. He wasn't good at comforting people or talking to people or being around people but he couldn't live with himself if he just sat there and watched her cry. He twisted his body and placed a hand on her shoulder. He noticed her flinch slightly but in a blink of an eye, she turned around and buried her face into his stomach, wrapping her arms around him and sobbing into his shirt. 

Harry did nothing as he ran his fingers through her hair and just let her cry for the next hour. 

"Harry," Y/N whispered in the dark, the both of them lying side by side flat on their backs. 

"Yeah." He whispered back.

"I wish I didn't leave the first time." Her confession surprised him. He thought he was the only one who thought about their kiss daily. He often thought how they'd be today if she were to have stayed. 

"Me too." He said and felt her pinkie hook around his. 

They fell asleep after that. 

June 20th 2018

It was summer and Harry was in Italy with his family. 

"Harry! Lunch is ready." His mother called from the patio as he sat in a hammock with his guitar. 

He lugged himself out of the hammock and felt a vibration in his back pocket. 

Y/N: I hope you're having a good time x

He bit back a smile, feeling giddy with the fact that she had messaged him in the middle of the day even though they'd been texting on and off since the summer began. 

Harry: Yeah it's been alright, too hot for my liking.

He held his breath as the dots began to appear as she typed out a reply.  

Y/N: Why am I not surprised? x

Harry: I've been working on a few songs whilst I'm out here though

Y/N: I look forward to being the first to hear them x 

Y/N smiled as she looked down at her phone whilst she sat in the back room on her break from working at the supermarket. He had told her once he'd never played a song before to anyone, not even his mother. She asked him if he'd ever play something to her and he immediately replied with three letters. 'Yes'. 

Y/N worked for the rest of the day and finished her shift at three thirty. She had to pick up a few things before she went back to her house where she was living with her mother and grandmother. 

She went to check the time on her phone but ended up seeing a message from Harry. 

A gasp escaped her lips when she noticed it was a voice note. It was a long time since she had heard Harry's voice. 

She reached into her bag for her headphones and pulled out the tangled mess. Suddenly a crackling sound and the heavy rain pouring in the background began to play. She waited until she could hear the gentle strum of a guitar and Harry's voice flooding her ears as he began to sing. 

There was something so comforting about his voice and a part of her felt ignited by the pure vulnerability in his voice as he sang. "Sorry, okay bye." He mumbled at the end of the voice note. 

She laughed and immediately began to type out a message. 

Y/N: It's beautiful. 

Harry: I miss you Y/N.

Her heart stuttered from the simple text message. 

Y/N: I miss you too Harry. 

July 20th 2018

"Here let me take that for you." Harry grabbed her bag and slung it over his shoulder, "I'll show you up to your room.”

"It's...big." Y/N looked at the home Harry had in Italy with his family. 

He chuckled, "You could say that."

He was in awe that she was here with him in Italy. He had invited her out when she told him she'd never been abroad before despite having a passport. After asking his mother, he bought her a cheap flight over to the Amalfi Coast and set up the guest bedroom, buying her candles and things from the nearest grocery shop.

"Do you love her?" Anne smirked whilst she stood at the door with her arms crossed, watching her son put face masks into what would be Y/N's bathroom drawer.

"No," He shakes his head. "No, I don't." 

"Okay." She said but wasn't assured by his answer.

Harry placed her bags on the double bed and gave her time to take in the house. "Is your mum home?" She wondered. 

"No, she and Astrid went to the market," Harry said.

"I can see the sea." She looked past him, out the window. 

"That's funny, since you arrived all I can see is you." He whispers, looking into her eyes. She didn't have to tell him she agreed because he already knew. 

Things between them had changed over the last month and they both knew it. Since Harry sent the song over to her, things between them were different. They spent the majority of their nights sleeping late and having deep conversations over the phone. Harry now knew more about her than anyone ever did and she knew even more about him. 

They hadn't kissed since the night they first met and Harry would be lying if he said he didn't think about it still. 

"Harry, come down and help us with the groceries!" His mother called from the kitchen. 

Y/N followed Harry down the steps where his mother and sister were. "Harry!" Astrid squealed, the six year old leaping into his arms. 

"Hey, Astrid." He smiles, putting her down afterwards and walking over to his mother. 

"Oh goodness, you must be Y/N! Harry has told us so much about you." Anne grins and goes over to hug Y/N. 

"It's nice to meet you," Y/N spoke, shyly. 

"Hi," Astrid grinned, one of her teeth missing. 

"Hi Astrid, it's nice to meet you." Y/N grinned. 

"You're pretty." Astrid hides behind Harry as she speaks. 

Harry and Anne laugh, "Why don't you take Y/N down to our beach? It's a wonderful day outside." 

"Sure," Harry nodded, putting the milk in the fridge. 

Harry led Y/N back to her room so she could get dressed into her bathing suit. "You don't have to come with us if you don't want to. You're probably tired."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Y/N asked, pulling out her swimsuit from her backpack.

"I want you to be everywhere." He smiles softly. 

She bites back a grin, "Give me a second." 

Harry walks back in once he puts his swim shorts on and halts his movements when he notices Y/N standing in front of the mirror putting suncream on. Her hair was tied back and she had removed her makeup from her face. She was wearing a black, one piece swimming costume. He could see the curve of her hips and her breasts and watched as she applied sun cream to her bare arms and legs. He didn't want to stare too long but he couldn't help but revel in the beauty of her. 

"I'm ready." She smiles, covering her body with a towel. 

"Cool." Harry gulps. 

. . .

"It's cold." Y/N shivers when she walks further into the ocean. 

"It feels good." Harry smiles, walking out into the sea. 

They stood facing each other in the middle of the ocean. "Your family seems nice,"

"They're alright," He couldn't stop looking at her. 

I really want to kiss you right now. He thought but tried to contain himself.

"Have you written any more songs?" She asks. 

"A few, I was inspired you could say."

"By who?" She wonders. 

Before he could reply, a wave knocked into them both. Y/N lost her balance and slipped underwater but Harry just managed to grab her waist and hold her before she was able to drift away. 

They both started laughing, Harry's hands were on her waist the entire time as they smiled at each other. 

"Are you going to kiss me?" Y/N wonders, Harry's breath catching in his throat, "At the party you had the same look in your eye when we were in the closet."

"Do you want me to kiss you?" He asks.

"I always want you to kiss me, Harry." She says. 

He scoffs, smiling, "You can't say that you know." 

"Why not?" She bites her lip.

"Because then I'll just have to kiss you all the time." 

"I always want you to kiss me, Harry." She whispers again this time in his ear, arms around his neck and legs around his waist. 

Harry shakily exhaled and leaned his head forward. He had thought of this moment for months since the first time they met and he didn't think it would happen for a while. Y/N had told him all the things Shaun had done to her during their short relationship and he knew it would affect her for a while once they had broken up. 

She kissed his shoulder, the saltiness of the water on the tip of her tongue, before she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. 

Harry whimpered like he had been in desperate need of her this whole time and he was finally getting what he wanted. His hands were everywhere as he tried to hold her in the ocean, she pushed his wet hair back and cupped his cheeks. 

"Y/N," He whispered over and over again, "I'd never be like him, I hope you know that."

She said nothing, just smiled and kissed him again and again and again and again. 

August 3rd 2018

"Do you think I'm a good writer?" Y/N asked, her bare chest pressed against Harry's as she finally caught her breath from opening up to him in a way only he was allowed to see. 

"I think you're a wonderful writer." He hums, releasing her hair from her messy ponytail so he could massage her scalp with his fingertips.

"Really?" She smiled up at him, he felt a tight feeling in his stomach at the sight of it.

"Yes." He kissed her sweaty forehead.

"I think you'd be a good musician." She played with his fingers. 

"Thank you." He wasn't sure what to say besides that. He knew she had faith in him, sometimes too much. 

"Harry," She started. She moved to sit up, she was naked and slouched over but it didn't phase him one bit, he liked seeing her naked, it was possibly one of his favourite things. "Y' know you're my best friend right?"

"I know that," He nods. "You tell me every day."

"I think I might be in love with you." She confesses, a sigh of relief escaping her.

"I know I'm in love with you." He admits, he'd never told anyone he loved them besides his mother and sister but with Y/N it felt different. He felt as though he was opening a part of himself that had always been locked and only she knew how to open it.

"So we love each other?" She crawls over to him, falling beside him and lying on her back, her head lolling to the side to look at him. 

His hand goes to her tummy and he rubs his thumb up and down, "We love each other." His hand slowly creeps lower. 

"Can we have sex again?" She asks, biting her lip.

He loved the way her cheeks flushed when she spoke about doing intimate things with her. Her eyes would turn a darker shade and the hairs on her arms would stand on end. 

"Y'never have to ask." He murmured and kissed her everywhere.

January 30th 2022

Harry and Y/N moved in together when they graduated. It was an easy decision and they didn't regret it one bit. 

"Morning baby," Harry hummed, kissing her shoulder and handing her a mug of coffee. She was wearing a shawl and a lace bra with his boxer shorts and he made sure to take a mental picture of her right this moment. 

"Morning handsome." She whispered, tired and achy from being at her computer for a second day in a row. 

Y/N was a writer or at least trying to be one. She was currently signed to a literary agent and was attempting to get a book published. She'd been spending the last few days going through the edits she'd been sent from her first draft. 

He placed two hands on her shoulders and rubbed his thumbs into them, massaging her shoulders and easing some of the tension. "I'm going to the studio today, wrote a few songs last night." 

"You did?" She grinned, her head turning to look up at him, "Will I get to hear them first?" 

"You know you will. You always get to listen to them first you know that." He chuckles, leaning down to kiss her. 

He rubbed his thumbs under her tired eyes as he cupped her cheeks, "Get some sleep darling, please." 

"Can I have a kiss first?" She pouts, her eyes gazing up at him.

He snickered and kissed her the same way he did when he first met her, leaving her in a daze as he left her in the kitchen and walked out of the house to get to the studio. 

"I think I want to marry her," Harry spoke aloud, his friend Mitch turning to him.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I want to marry her." 

"Good for you, man. She's good for you." He gives him a friendly pat on the back. 

Harry drove home with a memory stick sitting in the passenger seat of his car. He also had an engagement ring in his back pocket that he picked up on his way home. It was cheap and fake, costing him just thirty pounds, but he planned on buying her a new one when he sold some of his demos to other artists. 

When he walked through the door, he noticed Y/N was no longer at her computer. He walked into the lounge and saw her passed out on the sofa, a loaf of bread was on the coffee table with a tub of butter and a knife stuck into it. 

He sat down beside her, and she stirred. "Hi baby," He stroked her hair out of her face.

"You're home." She hummed, grabbing his hand and holding it to her chest with her eyes still shut.

"Come to bed, my love." He keeps his voice down when he speaks to her. 

"But I want to hear your music." Sleep weighed heavy in her voice. 

"Y' can hear it tomorrow darling, let's go to bed." He picks her up and cradles her in his arms as he carries her up the stairs. 

"Love you," She whispers as he lays her in bed and covers her in the blanket. 

"Love you too." He grins, lazily and crawls into bed next to her, holding her tightly. 

September 16th 2024

He's never felt pain like this.

"Where is she?" He gripped onto her mother's shoulders, looking at her with pleading eyes. 

He had rushed to the hospital, cancelling his show last minute since he was touring with the band he had written songs for. They invited him at the last minute to be the opening act for their show and he accepted despite his homesickness and desire to stay with Y/N.

"Mr Styles?" A nurse approaches with a doctor beside her. 

"Is she okay? What's going on?" He was tired before he got the phone call but now he was wide awake and wasn't planning on getting sleep anytime soon. 

"Mr Styles, we're going to need you to take a seat." The Doctor places a hand on his shoulder but he brushes it off, growing frustrated. 

"Please, just tell me what's going on." 

A sigh leaves the doctor's lips, "Miss Y/L/N has had to have emergency brain surgery."

"W-What?" He froze, unsure how to process it all.

"We found a tumour in her brain that we've had to remove, the cancer is still there but-"

He blocked out the doctor's words after that, all he seemed to hear were the words 'surgery' and 'cancer'. Y/N had cancer. 

"C-Can I see her?" He had tears rolling down his cheeks. 

"She's asleep but you can go in and see her." The Doctor nods and turns to the nurse, giving her instructions. 

Everything blurred and moved in slow motion as he walked down the corridors to Y/N's room. He couldn't believe what was happening and whether or not it was real but the pain coursing through him was enough to tell him that his life had taken a turn for the worst. 

"We'll leave you alone." The nurse nods. 

Harry saw Y/N lying in the hospital bed with wires coming out of her and a bandage wrapped around her head. 

"No baby." He shook his head, "No, no, no." He walked forward and fell to his knees in front of her. 

He gripped her hand and squeezed tight, sobbing as he tried to think up ways to help her, to trade places, to take all the pain she was feeling and consume it himself. 

"You'll be fine," He whispered, kissing her cheek, "You'll be okay." All the while twisting the cheap engagement ring he had given to her before he left to tour. 

It wasn't the most extravagant engagement but it was perfect for them. Harry had taken Y/N camping for the first time but they soon realised they both hated it. It didn't help that it was pouring with rain and the tent had a hole in it. 

So, they ditched the tent and bought a cheap motel room. They had dinner at a restaurant opposite the petrol station where the food wasn't too good but they had to beat soft serve ice cream. 

Harry asked the question after they had sex in their motel room. A tangled, sweaty mess and in a haze, he just blurted out the question to which she immediately said yes and broke down crying because she loved him so much.

Later on, Y/N woke up in the evening with Harry sitting awake beside her. 

"H-Harry," She mumbled, her eyes fluttering open and close. She was very tired. 

"Hey darling," He crouched down in front of her so he was eye level with her, "M right here."

His voice always soothed her, since the very first day they met, "I'm sick aren't I?" She tears up. 

He slowly nods his head, "But you'll get better."

She wasn't so sure.

December 1st 2024

"Can we go to Italy to get married?" Y/N asked, sitting at the windowsill with a book. She was wearing a headscarf over her hairless head as the sun shone through the window. 

Harry thought she looked beautiful.

"I thought you wanted to get married here at home?" He wondered, they both wanted something simple so planned their wedding reception to be at their house in the back garden. 

She placed her book down and stood up on shaky legs. She was getting thinner the more they did chemotherapy, sometimes she could barely hold her head up from exhaustion but she was fighting her way through it all. 

She climbed onto Harry's lap who was sitting at the table writing music. "I want to go to Italy for Christmas and get married."

Harry chuckles, "I don't think people will be happy if we do all that last minute, it'll cost a lot too." 

She shakes her head, a cheeky grin on her face, "I just want it to be us two." 

He thought about it. He knew how much their families meant to the both of them and how important it was for them to be there but he couldn't lie if he said the thought didn't tempt him.

 "What about our parents?" He asked.

"Well I assume they'd be upset for a while but they'll get over it. We can have a party in the back garden just like we originally planned." She snaked her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder, he could tell she was getting tired. 

"When would you want to leave for Italy?" He wonders and she knew she had persuaded him. 

"Tomorrow." 

December 3rd 2024

They got married where they kissed on the beach. 

Y/N was rushed to the hospital in the evening. 

May 22nd 2025

Harry was alone. 

He stood in front of the mirror adjusting his tie and tried his best not to get emotional. 

He hadn't seen her in a while but he hoped she was giving him some reassurance wherever she was.

"My boy," Anne walked in, wearing a sleek dress, "You look so handsome." 

She adjusted the lapels of his suit and cupped his cheeks, a bittersweet look on her face, "They're waiting for you." 

He nodded, glanced one last time at the mirror and exhaled. 

People were already standing in the pews of the church, some were already crying as he walked to the end of the aisle. He turned around and took a heavy breath, his hands shaky. 

"You've got this," Mitch whispered, reassuringly. 

Suddenly everyone stood up as the music began to play, waiting for the love of his life to turn the corner. 

Y/N beat cancer on Harry's birthday this year. 

He cried tears of joy and they celebrated by ordering two ice cream cakes and eating them both with just two spoons and Mamma Mia playing in the background. 

They decided they wanted to get married again with a proper ceremony since their wedding in Italy was slightly tainted by the fact she had to go to hospital. Their mothers were also adamant they had another wedding they could actually attend. 

He held his breath when she walked out in a beautiful, white dress. It was a tight fitted, mermaid dress with an open back. She was adamant about having a tight fitted dress so she could see how bloated her belly got with the buffet they had for the reception. With the chemo, she couldn't stomach a lot of food but now all she wanted to do was eat and Harry loved it. 

His eyes began to water as she walked down the aisle on her own. She didn't want anyone to walk her down the aisle because she didn't like the idea of someone giving her away. No one was giving her away because she had always been Harry's right from the beginning.

"You may now kiss the bride!" Everyone cheered as the Officiant announced it. 

Y/N leaned forward and smiled, tears down her face, "Should we make out?" She whispered. 

"Most definitely." Harry smiled and it was the happiest he had ever been in his life. 

October 1st 2027

Welcome to the world, little Matilda. 

You came into this world with sun beams coming out of you and we haven't seen the rain since.

Your mother is currently asleep and I haven't got the heart to wake her up. She never ceases to amaze me with how strong she is and I've promised her months of rest since all you seemed to do was wake her up in the night with your tiny toes and little fingers pressing against her belly. 

I've loved your mother for ten whole years now and it just adds to your perfection that you were born on the day we met. 

On the day we met, I was awkward and shy and hated people which makes no sense since we were at a party. I had no intention of meeting your mother but she was there and I thought she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. 

Don't worry Matilda, you are half your mother and will be just as pretty as she is. 

She was my first kiss, the first person I opened up to and the only person I wanted to spend my life with.

Except now we have you and my world before these ten years seems non-existent. 

I love you Matilda and no matter how much I say I love you, I will always love you more than that. 

You have my green eyes and your mother's little nose. I can already tell you have the imagination of your mother because you were grabbing at my fingers last night and making noises with a smile on your face. 

I promise to raise you with as much love as I have given your mother and I know your mother will love as hard as she loves me. Our house will be filled with nothing but love for you Matilda and I hope you hold onto that and carry it with you wherever you go. 

You will always be the light in our lives from now on my sweet Matilda. 

"Is she awake?" Y/N murmurs, eyes still shut.

"No, she's sleeping." Harry looks down at the little girl in his arms. 

"I can't believe we made her Harry." She smiles, cheeks pink, reminding him of the time they first met. 

It did amaze him how the person they created together was a product of their love. He didn't really think it possible to hold love in his hands until he held Matilda for the first time. 

"I love you, Harry." She whispers, holding his hand. 

"I love you too." He sighs, feeling utter bliss.

He would do it all again, he thought, the ups and downs and in-betweens, he'd do it all. 

Everything with you. 

[markiemelon]

hiiiii~~ can i request a scenario where nerd!mark and athlete!reader are on a study date and mark finds reader so cute when they don't understand the material? also bonus points if the reader is shy and doesn't want to ask for help cus they're embarrassed

Thank you!! ur writings make me so happy

focus

genre fluff ﹋֪֢ ♡︩ · no warnings!

pairings nerd!mark x athlete!reader

4:18pm — ♡

“yn,” your math teacher addressed you, “im worried that your training is interfering with your studies.”

that wasn’t the first time you’d heard that, and yet, you still couldn’t think of a good excuse to tell. “look, yn, i’ve made it easier for you by arranging some study sessions with a classmate of yours.”

you actually felt kinda relieved to hear that. surely, some extra studying couldn’t hurt.

“in fact,” he continued, “he’s right here.” he gestured to a familiar boy walking into the room.

it was mark. you knew mark, but you never crossed paths much, considering how different your priorities were…you were all about training, and mark was all about studying…

“so i have to spend the rest of my afternoon with this nerd?” you accidentally said aloud.

“now, yn, we still have to be professional during after-school hours.” your teacher demanded.

mark just chuckled and smiled at you. his round glasses and ruffled hair added a gentlemanly charm to him that made you swoon a little.

“i’ll be off now, but feel free to stay in the classroom.” your teacher said, shuffling together some lose papers. “mark, just lock up the door as usual, i trust you as our class president.”

you widened your eyes. “he’s class president?”

“you didn’t know?” mark raised an eyebrow.

“i—uhh”

“i’ll leave you guys to it then.” your teacher nodded before he exited the room.

you approached mark. “if it makes you feel any better, i didn’t even know our vice principal until last week… so um, don’t take it personally.”

with that pathetic attempt at explaining yourself, mark sensed you were nervous. he walked up to you, his arms crossed and head nodding ever so slightly. “alright.” he said with a grin. “i won’t.” he looked at you for a second longer before pulling a chair out from the desk. he insisted that you sit, and he sat beside you.

and so the studying began… you handed mark a crumpled up page from the deepest, darkest depths of your backpack, and he looked confused “do you… want me to throw this away for you?”

“no!” you snatched it back. “that’s my calculus homework!”

“oh shoot!” he couldn’t hold in his cackle. “I’m sorry— yn im sorry.” he said it with the biggest smile on his face, weak from the laughter.

“whatever. just tell me how to solve this. or save us both some time and just tell me the answers.” you slumped in your chair.

he scanned the page briefly. “yeah, so it’s simple, really..” mark inched the graph paper closer to your side of the table.

he pointed at some numbers and rambled, of course, you couldn’t keep up. so you did the next best thing, which was letting your mind drift off to somewhere else..

“actually, he’s kinda cute..” you admitted to yourself while observing his side profile.

focus.

“it must be the glasses. he looks good with glasses.” now you were noticing things you hadn’t payed any attention to before.

focus.

“why is he so close to me…” your heart skipped a beat at the realization.

suddenly, mark’s voice became clear at the mention of your name.

“yn… focus” he cooed, not even looking up from the paper. he must have felt you staring, but oddly, you didn’t look away from him.

mark stopped his writing, but he kept his pen to the paper, holding it still as he turned to face you.

almost immediately, your confident demeanor crumbled, and now, head lowered, you depended on mark’s answer to break the silence.

“solve this one. it’s what i just showed you.” he rolled his pen to you.

“oh. okay.” you hesitantly took hold of the pen, and did your best to pretend like you understood, but mark obviously wasn’t buying it. after writing some gibberish, you gave up.

“um, mark?”

“yeah?”

“im a little embarrassed to ask… but.. can you explain it again?”

he didn’t look surprised. he looked at you endearingly. “as expected..” he chuckled, weighing his head side to side to stretch out his neck. his gaze shifted to the clock on the wall behind you. “you know, we should probably head out now.”

“already?” you looked back to see the time for yourself. he didn’t say anything for a second, he just nodded and flashed a gentle smile. “you get too distracted.” he nudged your shoulder. your cheeks burned a little when he did that. “well you’re too distracting.” you nudged him back.

mark grabbed his shoulder where you touched as if he were injured by your strength. “i’m so distracting yet you couldn’t focus on a single thing i said?” he teased you. you didn’t have a witty comeback, so you just stayed silent and stuffed some things wherever they could fit in your bag.

at that point, it was clear to both of you that the next few study sessions you had lined up, would be far more exciting…

a couple weeks of studying with mark went by, and the flirting made its way into your classes. he was getting bolder in his advances. it started with some subtle compliments but now he’s been giving you these corny winks from a across the room, and he makes it really obvious what he’s doing.

once mark started sitting next to you, hell broke loose. one time, the teacher asked the class to solve something, and you miraculously managed to figure it out before mark did. it still backfired tremendously…

“oh my gosh, i got it!” you whispered to mark. “it’s 29!”

he smiled at you for a second, before raising his hand, while simultaneously blurting out, “29! it’s 29!”

your teacher looked pleased. “that was quick, mark. as always, you never disappoint me with your calculating abilities.”

mark threw is head back laughing as quietly as he could, and you kicked his leg underneath the table.. as hard as you could.

later, you would find yourself sitting with mark, side by side, staring down at your math textbook.

“okay, so tell me, what's the answer to number 4?" mark questioned you.

you didn’t even try to hide the fact that you had no idea what was going on. “i don’t know it.”

mark paused and laughed out of disbelief. “yn, it’s a good thing you wanna be an athlete and not a mathematician.”

what he said was true, but it annoyed you regardless, so you snapped back.

“and it’s a good thing you’re cute, ‘cause that’s the only reason i haven’t killed you yet.”

“psh,” he laughed in an exhale. “are you into me or something?” he kept his eyes fixed on the paper in front of him.

you giggled, “i think that’s the first time i’ve actually known the answer to a question you’ve asked me.” you smirked to yourself, feeling proud of your smooth talking.

when he didn’t respond, you continued.

“yknow.. mark, for being top of the class, i thought you’d have a bit more common sense.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” he didn’t even bother looking at you.

“yes, mark, i’m into you.”

he still avoided looking your way, but he couldn’t hold back his smile. you stayed staring at your cute math tutor, and you could tell it was making him shy. “yn. focus.” he tapped his pencil on the table.

you tried to pout. “but the math isn’t cute...”

he tapped his pencil more aggressively.

you didn’t try to fight back. you started jotting some things down desperately trying to figure out the equation, until he tapped his pencil again. “yn. i need you to focus.”

annoyed, you jerked your head to face him. “i am focused. im literally doing the math-” your eyes traced his features.

“no, i mean on this.”

“on what?”

he smiled and tapped his pencil to his cheek.

“i need you to focus on me.”

this ended up being longer than intended... but thank you thank you so much for requesting, im so happy to hear that you like my writingggggggggff!!!!! also sorry this took so long, im kinda backed up on requests LOL.

[rwrbficrecs]

Thanks for all the love on the recent Readers' Choice list ✨ The May faves are a little late but hope you all enjoy these recs 💕

you turned a moment (into forever) by viciouslyqueer (book-verse)

@suseagull04: Think of the fluffiest bedsharing fic you've ever read and combine it with a college roommates AU, and you have this fic! I can't stress enough just how soft this fic is, this is the perfect fic for if you need a quick pick-me-up!

running through my mind all day by allthelovesaved (book-verse)

@na-dineee: Henry rarely, if ever, jogs. It's not something that interests him. That is until he stumbles upon Alex's TikTok profile (thanks, Pez!!). Alex, a passionate runner, shares his knowledge in a captivating way. Coincidentally, he's also the brother of Henry's colleague June, who convinces him to join their "group running thing"... This sweet, sweet story is fluffy and funny, very soft and a little silly (says the author), and it just made me very, very happy.

Wit and Wisdom by @pridepages (book-verse)

@heysweetheart-writes: A window into the future of "Little Matters" my absolute favorite story. Im so in love with this family and happy to see the woman Cat has become and how much of Alex she carries with her. I cried and laughed and EJ left me wanting more of them as usual. If you haven't read Little Matters yet, what are you doing with your life?? Haha

hymns down your sides by @smc-27 (book-verse)

@na-dineee: One of my favourite authors delivers yet again! Henry, a refined boyband veteran in his mid-30s, meets wild, lately kind of self-destructive boyband star Alex. Henry can't probably save him, but maybe he can give him a push in the right direction? This story put me through the emotional wringer. So many feelings, so much hurt, and the chemistry - absolutely gripping!

the poem you make of me by @omgcmere (book-verse)

@suseagull04: The riches found within this fic know no bounds! It's a writer Henry AU that maintains a lot of the same themes as the book (which it coveys just as well), but it adds another layer of heart with the fact that in this verse, Henry is not just a writer, but a poet.

Savasana by @iboatedhere (book-verse)

@na-dineee: Lawyer Alex has hit a low point in his career. The situation is absolutely not pretty, and understandably, Alex is skeptical about whether yoga can fix it, as June suggests. Can yoga instructor Henry straighten things out for Alex? - Alex pulls one Alex after another - it gave me whiplash in the best possible way! The story is very touching and sweet, also absolutely hilarious at the same time !! So fun to read !!

Henry Fox, All-American Hero by @tintagel-or-cockleshells (book-verse)

@suseagull04: This is an AU of a book I loved in middle school, so not only did it give me so much nostalgia, but it has all the quirkiness of RWRB too! Alex in this is so mischievous and sweet, and I love it!

A Wretched Beginning by @royalasstronaut (book-verse)

@dot524: This was a fun romp — forbidden relationship, college/academic AU, tension and angst, and loads of longing. Henry is Alex’s TA and um… things happen. Oh, and they may also be connected in other mysterious ways.

Pleasant Melody by @clottedcreamfudge (book-verse)

@zwiazdziarka: Love at first sight that feels magical in otherworldly way is one of my favourite kinds of love stories. And this fic is a spectacular example! Henry is a pirate, Alex is a very special siren, they shouldn't make sense but they do. The longing is excellent and I would gladly read ten more fics based on the same concept.

Meant to Be Yours by @affectionatelyrs & @happiness-of-the-pursuit (book-verse)

@zwiazdziarka: Definitely one of the most unhinged fics I've read in this fandom. (Warning: proceed with caution!) Alex loves Henry, Henry doesn't know Alex exists. Alex's dream is of course to meet Henry and his attempts to do so are... worrying. Second-hand embarrassment hits hard, highly recommend!

check out our past Monthly Faves here ❤️

[greg-montgomery]

hiii first of all let me say i am ABSOLUTELY IN LOVE with your blog and that everything you post is amazing <333

.....and since your requests are open, let me give you the receipt to kill me 😈 (or to make my day, it depends)

so that would be a scenario involving hotch x reader + reader ovulating (or in the days before cycle when the hormones are all 🥴🦋🥰🤭��) + him being condescending in bed

my brain is fixated on this and I was waiting to request this to someone

⚠️ i am a consent-queen anon and i invite you to write this only if you can/feel like it/have the time to. If not, delete the ask bc i don't wanna make you uncomfortable, you're so sweet in your interactions <3

hiiii <3 you're so sweet!!! i'm super late to this, but i hope you're still around and get to read this and enjoy it <33 ilysm!

minors dni - 18+

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Those damn profilers….and you had to be the one to be dating one of the best of them. It was impossible to hide from Aaron.

It wasn’t common for you, wanting to hide things from him. He was the one who you trusted more than anyone else in your life. But sometimes, you felt…embarrassed of things.

Like that evening, you wanted to have sex with Aaron, but didn’t want to be the one who initiated it again. You were the one who was all over him the night before and that morning. It felt almost humiliating having to ask for sex again.

But you weren’t at fault. Aaron had just come home from work and he was so tired, he didn’t follow his usual routine of taking his suit off and running into the shower. That was the reason you felt guilty for wanting to disturb his resting time. But that was also the reason you wanted him so bad; his suit, his untied tie, the sweat on his forehead. And maybe also the fact that your little period calendar app had reminded you yesterday that you were ovulating.

Still, no matter how much you were trying to conceal your sudden and very much desperate desire for your boyfriend, he was clearly onto you.

“Why are you staring at me, honey?” he asked, not bothering to lift his head to look at you. His eyes were glued on the screen of his phone, going through his emails.

“Just missed you, that’s all.”

“I missed you too, baby.” His deep voice calling you ‘baby’ only worsened your problem. Maybe you just had to get some alone time and take care of it.

“Um…I’m gonna go take a shower, okay?” you said.

“Now?”

“Yeah. Did you wanna go first?”

He finally lifted his gaze from his phone and looked at you with a smirk. “Are you really that desperate?”

“What?”

Aaron threw his phone on the cushion next to him and spread his legs wider. “On my lap.”

As if you were under a spell, you got up without even thinking it, walked towards the couch, and straddled Aaron’s lap.

You were so turned on that even that light touch of your body meeting his sent sparkles to your clit.

His large hands went straight to your exposed thighs, rubbing them up and down.

“My princess,” he said leaving a small kiss on your lips. “Haven’t I told you that I want you to always ask me for what you need?”

“I don’t…”

“Don’t lie to me. I can tell you’re struggling,” he said with a soft laugh. And with a tone that suggested that you were pathetic he added, “You’re horny, aren’t you?”

“Aaron,” you whined, and hit him playfully on the arm.

“Aren’t you?” he repeated.

You were too embarrassed to reply with words so you just nodded your head.

“See? I can always tell what’s going on in that pretty head of yours,” he said, his hand cupping the side of your face, “so you may as well just ask for what you want. It’ll save us both time.”

“You’re being mean,” you said.

“Am I still going to be mean if I get you off?”

Embarrassed or not, his words made your eyes sparkle.

“That’s what I thought. Now take off your clothes,” he ordered.

As you were getting undressed, Aaron unzipped his pants and took his cock out. When you got to the part of taking off your underwear he started stroking himself slowly, not taking his eyes off you for a moment.

You were almost drooling watching him still all dressed up touching himself, and the ache between your legs was getting unbearable.

“Come back here,” he said, once you were fully nude.

His thumb started touching your clit, circling it in a slow pace that made your knees already tremble. “Aaron…”

“Do you like it?”

“Mhm…” you said biting your lip.

“You can be louder, sweetheart. No one’s home but us,” he said and slipped his middle finger in you.

“Ah…”

Aaron’s fingers were thick, and could make you see stars. But at the moment, nothing but his cock could really satisfy you.

“I want you to fuck me. Please, Aaron, I can’t…”

“Okay,” he said, leaning in slightly to leave an open mouthed kiss to one of your nipples. “Okay. I’ve got you.”

He kissed the spot between your breasts and looked up at you with a smile. “You really need me, don’t you baby?”

“So bad,” you admitted.

With that, he pulled you down by your hips, and you took his hard dick in your hand, guiding it into your hole.

“My God,” you moaned at the feeling of him finally filling you up. “Aaron…”

He threw his head back and swallowed harshly at the feeling of your pussy around him. “Ah baby…”

Aaron’s dick was big just like everything else about him, which was exactly what you needed; feeling him deep inside you, hitting every spot that made your thoughts blurry and left you thinking only his name.

Your movements were desperate, riding him and taking him all in like you needed. His hands were on your ass, not to guide you but more for his enjoyment.

You wrapped your hands around his neck and kissed him deeply, wanting to devour every drop of this man’s body. “You feel so good inside me,” you moaned against his mouth.

“You like it, baby?”

“I love it.”

You pulled away just enough for him to move his hands and cup your tits, massaging them as you rocked your hips against his.

“You always take it so well. If only you could see how desperate you look, baby. Just a dumb girl who’s always thinking about my cock, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Aaron. Yes,” you moaned, and the built up in your lower belly got bigger and bigger.

Aaron started rubbing your clit, faster than he did at the beginning, watching your movements getting more and more clumsy as you were getting closer towards your release.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whined.

“That’s my good girl. Come on, baby. That’s my girl.”

Aaron’s encouraging words, his finger on your clit, and his dick buried in your pussy had you clenching around him and moaning his name. “Fuck.”

“Kneel for me. I wanna cum on your face,” he moaned.

Still feeling numb between your legs, you got on your knees in front of him and watched him as he stroked himself. Soon he painted you with his cum, and you enjoyed the feeling of the warm liquid on your skin. It made you feel his.