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0nlythrowharrybeaux · 6 months

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With Discretion - Part 3 ^**

Sorry for the delay friends! I had a night lol But here is part 3! I'm panning on doing a little holiday check-in for this pair so it's supposed to end a little abruptly. More to come over the christmas/ny season!

Read the other parts here

Warnings: infidelity, mentions of insecurities, sexism, divorce. Oral (m receiving), face fuck, sex (unprotected p in v)

WC: 17.5K

It was nearly 6:30am when you were awakened by some knocks on the door. You groaned and yawned before trudging out of the comfort of the large king bed that you had melted into for the night. When you opened it up, eyes slightly squinting a bit through the blurriness of your vision you saw Harry holding two large mugs and wearing an amused smile on his face.

“God, I knew you woke up pretty.” He said softly and you sniggered as you opened the door to let him in.

“Oh, sure thing.” you replied groggily with a giggle as he stepped inside.

“Good morning, by the way. I ummm, just wanted to come by and see the sunrise with you. I can leave if you’re still in need of some more sleep, but I was trying to hint at it yesterday when I mentioned it and-”

“I did get the hint. You beat my alarm by 3 minutes actually!” You smiled, “I just wasn’t sure if ummm…you’d be joining me or not, but I’m glad you’re here.” You assured him. “M’just gonna brush my teeth and ummm, grab a sweater or something.”

“Yeah, it’s a bit cold out.” He said and then just made his way outside to the balcony and while you went into the bathroom to freshen up a bit. As soon as you were more awake and cozy you headed out to join him on the balcony. “I tried the new milk steamer they have in the kitchen and made cappuccinos, I think.” He said as he handed you one of the mugs and you smiled, “Didn’t sweeten it or anything though.” He warned as you looked down into it.

“S’alright. Good coffee doesn’t need sweeteners.” You said with a smile.

“Well I hope it’s good then.” He joked and you both laughed softly before turning to the horizon that was turning a lighter shade of blue now, a very light hint of orange starting to emerge from the darkness. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you. I need that bed though, it’s phenomenal.” You hummed and he smiled.

“It really is. I’m glad you were comfortable.”

“And what about you?” You asked him.

“Good too. Had a dream…a nightmare actually about some thief breaking into my home and stealing all my tiramisu!” You immediately burst into laughter, “Don’t know what could’ve brought that on but… that’s what I dreamt of.” he said with a grin.

“Yeah, I wonder…” you joked with a playful roll of your eyes and a gentle nudge of your elbow into his side. You let your laughter subside and the sound of the waves on the shore took over, bringing a peaceful silence over you for a few minutes. The sky was clearing up more and more by the minute, showing off its splendor without any hesitation.

“Are you nervous about going home?” Harry asked you and you set your cappuccino down on the thick rail of the balcony.

“A little bit.” You admitted, “Wish I could just fast forward to the end of it all.” You sighed and he extended his left arm over your shoulders and pulled you into his side.

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” You sighed and looked at the sun starting to peek up over the horizon, “You were right, this is gorgeous.” You hummed.

“Yeah, it’s really something.” He smiled as he leaned his head against yours. “You know, I could give Cal a raise so he has to pay you more in alimony.” He mused and your body started shaking with laughter before it inevitably squawked out of you. Your head was thrown back as he laughed along with you, really happy that this is how you reacted to his little joke.

“Ah, that’s funny…” you hummed when your laughter died down.

“I’m like 25% serious.” He added and you shook your head.

“You’re silly.” You smiled before sipping at your cappuccino.

“Just a little bit.” He grinned. “What’s the first thing you’re gonna do after you settle the divorce?” He asked and you hummed pensively.

“Take my Italian vacation…” you hummed, “I’ve been begging Cal to take me on a romantic getaway to Italy for years! Like a month-long thing though. I want to get to know the entire country.” You smiled. “But I think I can take myself on a romantic getaway.” You said and he hummed.

“That sounds like a wonderful time. Italy is probably my favorite country.” He hummed. “Does your entire trip have to be…by yourself? Or can you afford a little extra baggage for a few days?” He asked and you twirled around and smiled up at him.

“A few days, huh?” You asked and he nodded with a coy smile, “Mmm…perhaps that’s arlright.” You smiled.

“Ok… and well for the rest of your trip, I know a lot of really excellent spots, have a lot of friends in Italy. Chefs, architects, artists…could fix you up with them when you’re in their region? See the best parts of each place.” He offered.

“Ummm, yeah! That sounds phenomenal. It’ll take me a bit to plan, but I’m definitely interested in that.” You assured him.

“Alright. When you have a date let me know.” He said and you nodded. You just stayed looking at each other and your heart fluttered when his dimple started carving deeper into his cheek.

“What?” You asked and he shrugged.

“Just…excited for you, I guess. Like, you’re going to be just fine. I really love that for you.” He said and you felt your cheeks warming with a blush.

“Thank you, I think I will be fine too.” You agreed.

“OK, the good part is starting!” He said and twirled you back around and you both set down your mugs. You smiled at the now purple and orange ranges of colors that were painted across the sky as the blazing sun started showing more of its brilliant face. Your smile widened with each passing second as more of it started to emerge seemingly from nowhere at all. It was breathtaking to say the least.

You couldn’t help but feel that this was the perfect thing to witness as the sun rose on a new journey in your own life. It was kind of poetic. It made you smile as you leaned a bit more weight back on Harry and he held you a bit closer. The moment was solemn as you both kept the quiet between you and just let yourselves feel the awe of the moment.

Harry was in his head as much as you were though. He was thinking about where things would go with you from here. He supposed you’d want some time to just reacquaint yourself with yourself. He figured that you would probably move out, but would you stay in New York or head off somewhere else? Would you go back to work and give up your business? Would you even be interested in a romantic anything with anyone for a while? Because he wanted that with you…or to at least try. He had huge crush on you and the more time he spent with you the bigger it got. Obviously, he didn’t know nearly enough about you, but he was interested in getting to know you deeply. He was quite enamored with you just from what he’d already seen and experienced for himself.

“What’s your favorite color?” You suddenly asked and he smiled.

“Green.”

“Like your eyes?” You asked and he chuckled.

“No. Like…a jade color.”

“So basically your eye color.” You sniggered, teasing him.

“Yeah, I guess so then.” He sighed in defeat, “Just makes me feel calm. And you?”

“Right now…mmm, like an orange color. Like…oh, well just like that I guess.” You said as you pointed to the little sliver of sky right above the rising sun. “It just makes me feel warm and fuzzy…I don’t know.” You said.

“Yeah, I can see why.”

“It just looks so…happy.” You shrugged with a smile, “I can’t wait to just…feel it for myself again, you know? Like from the inside.”

“You will.” He assured, “I promise you will.” He said with certainty and you turned around, your eyes met his. You reached for his face and he wrapped his arms around your waist and you kissed him deeply. You melted against his warmth, loving the feeling of your lips meeting together passionately. You hadn’t felt this riled up in years. You could jump out of a plane with how invincible you currently felt. As you pulled apart and your eyes blinked open they met with his. Harry’s lips twitched up in a grin and you just nuzzled down into his neck timidly.

“I really like you.” You confessed and he just squeezed you a bit tighter.

“I really like you too.” He hummed with a smile as he stared at the sunrise.

After that lovely moment between the two of you, you went your separate ways and it was back down to reality. You had just been watching TV, waiting for Caleb to wake up when your phone rang and you saw it was a call from him.

“Hello?”

“Did you leave?” He asked tiredly.

“No. M’upstairs, had Gerard give me another room.” You explained.

“Alright. Well ummm, I’m just gonna have a shower real quick and we can stop somewhere for breakfast, yeah?”

“I’d rather not. Just want to get home and have that talk.” You said to him.

“Sweetheart, I’m so fucking hungover.”

“Cal, you need to stop stalling.” You sighed.

“We can even start the conversation in the car! I just feel horrible right now and need to get something in my system.” He groaned.

Not even twenty minutes later you were sitting across from each other in the booth of a little diner off the first exit of the highway. You had already had your coffee, so you were just getting through some French toast while Cal nursed his second cup of coffee while he forcibly nibbled on some toast and bacon. You were looking at him expectantly and it appeared like he wanted to speak but the words were stuck somehow. You sighed in disappointment and surrendered, just glancing down to your food instead of him. You had just finished cutting off another piece of your French toast, just about ready to guide it into your mouth when he spoke up.

“I want a divorce.” Caleb’s words were low, but clear. Coward. He couldn’t do it while you were looking at him.

“Good. I do too.” You said cooly and he let out a quick, dry laugh. His response made you look up at him. “What?” You asked.

“That there is one of the things I…hate about you.” He said with a smile. His eyes weren’t full of contempt or spite, they were more amused than anything, it confused you for a second, “I used to love it though. S’one of the things I loved the most about you.” He said with a smile, “The way you’re so collected…so unaffected by everything.” He said and when you realized he wasn’t being a dick you smiled. “You’ve always been too good for me. I knew that.” He said with a hint of defeat in his voice.

“I met Dani. She threw up.” You said and he frowned upon hearing this.

“What’d you say to her to make her react that badly?” He questioned as he glanced down into his mug.

“Nothing. She just…felt so guilty I think? I actually pulled her to a trashcan before she puked all over herself.” You informed and he hummed.

“Well, it’s big of you to be nice to her.”

“Why? She didn’t do anything to me?” You pointed out and he smiled and nodded.

“Right.” He sighed before licking over his lips nervously. “It’s different with her.” He said and you now glanced down at your food again. “She’s just as brilliant, but in a more…reserved way.” He said and you chuckled.

“In a way that’s less intimidating, you mean?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” He said.

“Since when have I felt that way to you?” You questioned.

“I don’t know…I suppose I’ve always felt that way to some extent but over the last couple years it’s been…too much.” He explained.

“Is it something I’ve done?” You asked. Wanting to know if there were things that you did to make him feel less than. Because if there were, you definitely wanted to clear the air with him about those things.

“No. No. You’ve always been lovely.” He assured you. “It is an issue with me, 100%.”

“OK.” You said quietly.

You still had so many questions for him, but were soon back on the road and you’d occasionally type them into your notes app as the questions arose. When you got home the tensions seemed to rise between you two. It was a nervous type of tension versus one of anger. You were very past the point of being angry at Cal for his cheating. You were still a bit irritated for the whole dinner thing, if you gave it some thought but your time with Harry had made the shit show worth it, so you were no longer dwelling on it.

“Should we get a couple drinks?” He asked you nodded and followed him to the bar area in your home. You hoisted yourself up onto one of the stools as he headed behind the bar. He just served you both a scotch on the rocks despite it only being about 11am. “Well, it’s five o’clock somewhere.” He said as he handed over your drink and you just knocked it back quickly while he savored his.

“So Dani…how did that happen?” You asked him as he set his tumbler down.

“Just working together. She’s really good at stats, so I would always check my work with her. I felt like maybe I bugged her a lot, so I just started being a bit more friendly to not…annoy her as much, but I soon realized that I liked her vibe. It started out really platonic, like just work stuff, then we started getting lunch together every now and then, then afternoon coffees and ummm….yeah. It just happened over time.” He explained.

“How long?”

“We were together for a year.” He explained and you nodded.

“And before then? Have you…been with other people?” You asked and he sighed.

“Yes.” He confirmed and you swallowed thickly.

“The whole time?” You asked, not being able to look at him.

“Yes.” He confirmed shamefully and that’s when the tears started to form.

“Jesus…” you whispered.

“I just don’t think I was ready to get married when we did.” He said and you took a deep breath before scoffing.

“It was your idea to get married, Cal!” You said with frustration and he sighed.

“I know…I just…thought that that’s what you wanted. Like when we talked about it, it just seemed like you were excited for it and I just thought that…if I didn’t show you that I was serious about you that you’d…leave me. That’s why I proposed to you.”

“I mean who isn’t excited at the prospect of getting married but…did you want to marry me?” You asked him.

“I was sure I would want to down the line…like I didn’t do it just like that. I mean, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t think I would get there. I mean…I’ve always had a wandering eye…I just thought it would…change.”

“Well if you’ve never tried to work on that before it just wouldn’t suddenly go away, you know?” You said and he shrugged.

“Well, s’too late for that now.” He said.

“Yeah…” you whispered as you wiped a stray tear from under your eye, “So now you’re in love with Dani?”

“Yeah and she wants absolutely nothing to do with me so…” he said with disappointment.

“How did she find out?” You asked.

“I have a note on my phone about how to bring this up to you and she saw it. I had to explain it to her and she just blew up on me.” You looked at him like he was an idiot.

“I think anything less than that would’ve been a bad reaction, Cal. If she loves you too and just discovered that your whole relationship is actually an affair of course she lost her mind! She probably feels awful!” You scoffed.

“Well, I told her that I’m in love with her and that I wanted to be with her though. Like, I wanted to end things with you for her and like…I guess I hoped she’d come around with that information, but it’s been months and she will barely even look at me. ”

“Can you blame her?” You questioned and he sighed.

“Guess not. I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me but…either way, I think that our marriage has run its course.”

“I think so too.” You agreed and he sighed. “I ummm…knew you were cheating since the beginning of the year.” You confessed and his eyes met yours. “You accidentally made a reservation from our shared account while I was on there looking at a reimbursement from a client. I showed up to your office before the time of the reservation, thinking it was like a work thing, best case scenario.” You explained, “Obviously, you weren’t there… but then I started noticing other things and inconsistencies when you’d talk to me about supposed work trips…and I just…didn’t know how to bring it up.”

“It wasn’t your responsibility to.” He said and well, that much was true, “Honestly, I haven’t been happy with you for a long time, Y/N. I should’ve said something about it when my feeling started to change. I’m really sorry, you didn’t deserve this.” He apologized sincerely.

“Thank you.” You said and he nodded.

“So ummm, I think we need to meet with Shawn to draw up some divorce papers.”

“Yeah…I’ll call him tomorrow morning, see if he has some time this week.”

“Perfect. Ummm, I think I should probably go stay somewhere else.”

“Yeah, if you want to.” You said to him and he nodded.

“I actually ummm, already have another place in the city. It’ll be easier with work and all.”

“Oh! Ummm, yeah that’s alright then.”

“It’s with my money by the way. I haven’t used anything we’ve put together for that. Or for Dani. Or any woman for that matter.” He said, as if that would somehow make all of it better.

“Alright, well thanks.” You chuckled and he shook his head.

“Again, I’m really sorry for all of this, Y/N.” Cal said and you smiled sadly.

“Yeah, me too.” You whispered.

“OK, I’m going to pack a bag. Just let me know what Shawn says.”

“Will do.” You said before he chugged down the rest of his drink and then left quietly.

You still had so many questions, but you didn’t know that they were even worth asking anymore. The more Caleb had spoken the worse things had gotten for you. You sniffled a bit, but just held in all of your tears because he really wasn’t worth it. You slid off of the counter and washed the tumblers before setting them on the rack beside the small sink to drip dry. You then reached for your phone and texted Cecilia to see if she was available for dinner. Thankfully she was and you just avoided Caleb by doing miscellaneous tasks around the house until he was gone with a large suitcase and duffle bag.

You got showered and then ordered in a fat pizza so that you and Cecilia could binge out a bit while you shared what had happened. She knew that you suspected Cal of cheating and that there was plenty of evidence against him, but wait until she heard all of this…and well, Cece’s responses never disappointed.

“That dog!” She gasped when you finished telling her about how he said he’d always been sleeping with other people. Now you were in tears because you were grieving your life…your time…your youth! You were so young when you got married to Caleb but you were in love with him then, so you thought it wasn’t a bad idea. But you wish you’d been less naive, you wished you’d listened to your family and your friends who were concerned about this decision. For the first time in your life you felt like you were stupid…over a man’s mistakes! It infuriated you that you felt like that. Why should you feel bad or regretful over things you’d done out of love? It made no sense, but here you were, actually feeling regret for marrying Caleb.

“Do not bring sweet, innocent dogs into this.” You hiccuped before setting your wine glass down. God, you’d be in the shit tomorrow with the hangover you knew you’d have. You had a bunch of meetings with some potential vendors the next day since the lady you used for all your tents and table rentals was moving out of state and taking her business with her. Plus you now had to contact your lawyer to tell him about the divorce. It was just going to be a bad day tomorrow.

“You’re right.” Cece said with a pout, just as drunk as you were, “What a scum bag.” She finished and you sighed.

“Do you remember Harry?” You asked randomly and she turned to you with a furrow in her brow.

“Harry from the club?” She asked and you nodded as you sniffled.

“That’s his boss.” You said and then bit your lip, “We…fucked…well he did all of the fucking…” you confessed and she turned to you, jaw on the ground.

“You did not!”

“I did.”

“That night?”

“Yeah.” You confessed. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him this entire time. Like he was so fucking wonderful! And ummm, last night too while Cal was off somewhere, drunk off his ass. Harry railed me in the kitchen until my legs were as weak as overcooked noodles and then he licked tiramisu off my tits and I have a huge crush on him!” You blurted out and Cece started screaming and laughing. You both looked insane, all snotty with swollen eyes from crying together and now screaming and giggling like school girls over the most fantastic lay of your life.

“Oh my god! He’s so hot…even licked tiramisu off your tits…that sounds like a dream…” she hummed in approval.

“It really is.” You said quietly. “I mean, he’s always so nice to me. That first time, at the hotel, he told me if I was his he’d never take me for granted like Cal does.” You said more solemnly.

“Sounds like he likes you too.”

“Oh, he does…Even suggested that we just be friends til everything gets sorted out with Cal, which is so sweet of him.”

“He sounds fake.”

“Right!?” You exclaimed, “Like way too good to be true.”

“If he’s so perfect why isn’t he with someone?”

“He did mention before that he hadn’t met someone who he really wanted to settle down with, so he’d just been seeing people very casually.”

“Awww…what if you’re the one he wants that with?” She cooed in her drunkenness and despite the butterflies in your tummy at the mere idea of getting to date Harry, you tutted.

“I don’t think we know each other that well.” You reasoned, “As long as he’s not all fragile like Cal I think there’s a chance. I mean, I toughened up because Cal said I was too soft to be an entrepreneur! I honed in on those traits and skills. I stepped into my power, not just as a business owner, but as a woman! And now he tells me I’m too abrasive and intimidating? Like…what if Harry likes those qualities in me now, but like Cal, he’ll soon discover that he wants someone who’s of an easier disposition as a partner?”

“You mean a pushover?”

“I don’t think women who aren’t outspoken are pushovers…” you clarified, “But like, some of us are just a bit more outspoken, you know? I don’t think I’m tactless or rude about it, and certainly not emasculating-”

“Men emasculate themselves. If Caleb has never felt that he’s been good enough for you then at one point or another all of this would’ve ended anyway. The problem in this marriage was him, babe. Get it through your head! Don’t let him make you feel like being who you are and stepping into your power were the problems. Like you said, he wanted that for you and now that he feels less than he thinks it’s bad? Sexist. Sexist. Sexist!” Cece said with harsh claps for added emphasis and you smiled.

“You’re right.” You ceded.

“Of course I am!” Cece guffawed and you sighed. “Do you think Harry will fire him?” She asked.

“Harry’s not petty like that, I don’t see why he would. I mean, Cal’s good at his job and like, as much as Harry and I are friendly, my personal problems with Caleb have nothing to do with their work, you know?”

“I guess you’re right. Though, I do think it’d be more satisfying for everyone involved if Cal stays working there and has to see you with his boss.” Cece said and you laughed.

“I wouldn’t want to rub his face in it…”

“Oh please, what do you think he did to you last night at that dinner, babe? Intentional or not, he set you up! Genuinely, how did he think people would react to the news of him being married out of nowhere?” She questioned, “You need to stop taking the high road and just hit below the belt, just once! It feels so good, I swear it does!” Cece pleaded with you.

“Yeah, we’ll see…” you hummed with a smile. “Like I don’t want to make him feel bad on purpose, you know?”

“Fuck that! He deserves it and you deserve to see Karma doing her best work to restore balance to the universe.” She said simply and you giggled. Count on Cece to always want to see justice served, it’s not that you didn’t, but you just didn’t like forcing Karma’s hand. You knew it would all happen in it’s due time and you could wait.

… ONE MONTH LATER …

You were doing really well on your own. You’d started putting more effort into your business, which saw it growing. You’d started taking better care of yourself, and much to Cece’s dismay, channeled your rage into a new hobby - gardening. Which as peaceful as it was meant to be, was actually full of rage because you absolutely hated it. You hated dirt, you hated how needy plants were…but were trying to learn to love it. She’d scolded you many times over the fact that you weren’t just plowing Harry every chance you got. But like you had explained to her and him before, you just needed to figure things out for yourself before you involved anyone new in your new life. You had spoken to him on the phone a few weeks back for an hour, just catching up and checking in on each other, but apart from that he was giving you space which you desperately needed.

Maybe you didn’t love Caleb anymore, but you were still grieving everything that could’ve been. No one who gets married out of love goes in thinking that it’s going to end in divorce. Sure, it’s always a possibility, but every person went into it hoping that they would beat the odds, not become a statistic, yet here you were. Thankfully though, the divorce proceedings were going swimmingly thanks to the prenup, which you had insisted on if only to prove to Caleb all those years ago that you were in it for love and not his money. Cal had always been very generous though and helped with a lot of your debts from school and other big expenses from when you were younger and struggling. But thanks to that, you were both leaving the marriage without many losses. Though Cal’s generosity was once again proven when he assured you that he’d take care of the legal fees since he’d been the one who’d ended the marriage long before you guys took a step towards divorce.

You were still trying to find a place of your own to live. Cal had charged you with overseeing any renovations on the house that would make it more marketable so at least for the time being you weren’t being rushed out of the house. But you were debating on whether you should stay in the suburbs or head into the city. However, the more you looked into it the more you were convinced that New York City was not a place you wanted to live. Sure, it was gorgeous, but it was a bit gross, prone to flooding, infested with tons of critters, and those were just a few deal breakers among other inconveniences. And finding a place that had minimal exposure to all of these things would cost you an arm and a leg. Also, your clientele was largely in the suburb areas, so you were staying put for now until you found something else.

You’d already done a lot of renovating to the home when you purchased it, so there wasn’t too much apart from some flooring changes to the staircase and renovating the half bath and it’s connected outdoor shower that was used for your luxurious saltwater pool. You had just shown out the flooring guy when your work phone started ringing and you glanced down to see a number you didn’t recognize and let it go to voicemail as you weren’t really able to take any new clients right now. It was a bit later in the day when you realized that this caller had left a voicemail. So you put it on speaker as you opened up your fridge to grab a snack when you heard a shaky exhale through the speaker.

“Ummm, hi Y/N. This Is Daniela, I got your number from Tamika. I hope you don’t mind.” She spoke nervously, “Uh, I was wondering if you were available for a talk over lunch, o-or dinner or just some drinks sometime this week? I just wanted to talk about ummm…Caleb.” She said, “This is my cell, so feel free to call me or text me. Ummm, yeah, bye.”

You bit your lip as you thought about it for a moment. As much as you didn’t want to get involved in the throws of their affair, you at least wanted to clear the air with her and assure her that you didn’t blame her for the demise of your marriage. You had your divorce hearing in a month and you didn’t want to start making Cal think you were ganging up on him with his mistress, so you wanted to tread lightly. You decided to consult with your trusty best friend before calling Dani back.

“Hey girl!” Cece greeted cheerfully and you instantly smiled.

“Hey! How’s your day?” You asked and she hummed.

“It’s been…interesting.” She said, “But I have a feeling it’s about to get better.” She sang and you chuckled.

“I’m just calling for your input, nothing to do with Harry-”

“A damn shame.” She interjected and you sniggered.

“Dani called me. She wants to meet up with me.” You said and Cece perked up.

“Ooh…”

“I don’t know if I should go though.”

“OK, why not?” She asked.

“I just don’t want Caleb to think I’m plotting against him. Like, we’re just so close to finalizing the divorce and going our own ways. I don’t want to stir up any trouble.” You explained.

“Then just tell him you’re gonna talk to her. You don’t have to keep it a secret.” Cece said and you groaned.

“I know! But I know he’s going to say no and give me shit about it-”

“Well too fucking bad! At least you’re giving him a warning!” She said and you giggled.

“Right…I might also be nervous because…I’m thinking of perhaps asking to see Harry after.” You confessed and Cece’s excited shriek made you giggle, “Not for sex.” You said.

“Boo…” she grumbled and you rolled your eyes.

“I just…miss him a bit. He’s been so understanding, but like…I forget about the stress when he’s around. He makes me feel…really good.” You said and Cece cooed.

“Awww babe, I really think you should talk to Dani and then get any sympathy you have for Cal fucked out of you so good you don’t have problems for the next few years.” She said and you laughed loudly.

“God, Cecelia…” you scoffed.

“It’s what you deserve.” She said simply and you smiled.

“You know, I should just call you when I need to hear what I want to hear.” You mused and she cackled.

“What’re best friends for?” She asked and you smiled. After agreeing to meet up over the weekend for brunch at yours, you decided to call Dani back. You agreed to meet for lunch on Friday, which was good, hopefully you could arrive a bit early and surprise Harry. Your eyebrows furrowed when you heard the front door open and walked over to the entrance of the home to see Caleb walking through the door.

“Hey!” You greeted him with a smile as you approached him and he smiled as well as he swung the door shut and walked up to you and quickly kissed your cheek.

“Hey, you look great!” He complimented you, “How’s it been?” he asked as he pulled back.

“Good. The flooring guy just left a bit ago, he’s gonna remove the carpet from the stairs. And then the contractor is coming tomorrow to see about the pool shower/bathroom.”

“Perfect.” He smiled.

“Yeah. And what brings you here?” You asked.

“I have a business trip to San Diego.” He said as he made his way up the stairs, “It’s legit.” He added as he glanced back at you, wearing a smirk and you rolled your eyes.

“And you had to come here for?” You questioned, as you made your way into your previously shared bedroom that was now just yours.

“I need t’pack my lighter clothes. S’still summertime in California! Or have you been gone so long you already forgot?” He asked as he walked into your closet and you plopped down onto the bed. “Can you grab my suitcase from the trunk of the car? I forgot it!”

“Yeah!” You called out and headed downstairs and grabbed his empty luggage from the car. Soon you were placing it on the bed and he was coming out with a few shirts. He seemed in a chipper mood, so you were going to bring up the Dani thing while he was.

“Should I take the yellow one?” He asked of the light yellow shirt he brought out.

“No, it kinda washes you out. Also you’ll look like Dwight Schrute.” You said and he chuckled.

“You’re right.” He said and set it aside and grabbed another instead.

“It’s good you’re here though, I was actually going to call you about something later.”

“What was it?” He asked as he inspected another shirt.

“Ummm…Dani called me.” You said and he glanced up at you. You saw the glint of hope in his eyes.

“What did she want?”

“Just to talk. We’re gonna have lunch on Friday.” You said and he sighed, “And I don’t intend to…shit talk you to her or anything. I think she’s just…feeling a bit lonely. Probably wants to make sure I don’t hate her or something.” You said and he nodded.

“Yeah, I think she needs that.” He said and you hummed.

“How’ve you been doing?”

“I mean, way better at work now that I have nothing else to do.” He said with a small smile, “Just getting by, I guess… waiting every day hoping that she’ll talk to me…let me explain…anything really.” He said a bit sadly as he proceeded to fold up some trousers, “I didn’t know I could feel so strongly about a person. I mean, I thought that with you that was as much love as I could feel. We just connected so well you know?”

“Oh I was there…” you recalled with a smile and he did as well.

“I felt challenged. Like that sounds…bad, but you were something to work towards, you know? You kept me on the edge of my seat. So good that you made me want to be better. To be more…hence the whole CFO thing. I felt like I needed to aim higher.” He explained.

“But with her?”

“With her I felt like…enough for the first time in a really long time. And I can’t discredit any of our marriage, because you’ve pushed me to achieve a lot of the things I wanted to achieve. But I don’t know, it just kind of felt like…”

“Like we never quite found the sweet spot?” You asked and he nodded.

“Yeah. It’s like happiness was always just out of reach. Like I could see it, but I couldn’t get there.” He explained, “Was it like that for you?” He asked and you shrugged.

“I guess so, but I didn’t know it until you said it just now.” You explained as you extended your hand asking him to hand you some of his undershirts to fold and pack up. He did so easily, “I mean, as you know, my parents are still married. But they’ve never been all that affectionate with each other so I didn’t think there was anything wrong with how we were you know? Like that was the picture I had growing up, always striving for more, and well, they’ve made it this far.” You said and he hummed.

“Right… my parents are like that too. Do you think they settled?”

“Well historically, men settle for partners more than women.” You explained and his eyebrows arched upon hearing that, “It’s called settling for Ms. Good-Enough. So men are more likely to settle for a partner who meets most of their expectations rather than the person they really want out of fear of missing the train, or whatever people call it.” You said, “At the end of the day I guess we’re all scared of being alone.” You said as you dropped a neat stack of his undershirts in his luggage.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He hummed, “Do you think Dani will ever forgive me?”

“Yeah, I’m sure she will but I don’t think that necessarily means she’ll give you another chance.” You said to him and he frowned, “I mean, you have to understand just how humiliating this is for her. You let her fall in love with you and made her think that she was your one and only, only for her to discover that she was actually your side chick! I mean, that doesn’t mean your feelings weren’t real, but it’s…shitty to find out you’re the other woman. It’s happened to me before in college and it sucks. Moreso when I got bitch slapped for “seducing a taken man” when I had no idea he was taken! I think that’s why I’m nice to her because it’s not her fault and I shouldn’t take out my frustration on her. Like it sucks to be in that position. You wonder if there’s any world in which you would’ve been the first choice. Or if you were the first choice, would that person still go off and find someone else? And it feels like…you just can’t win. Either way you feel horrible about yourself and it doesn’t matter how much love exists, you still feel stupid and foolish for falling for something like that. I know that you love her, Cal, but you really hurt her and you need to respect how she navigates this.”

“Can you at least tell her to talk to me? I just want to properly apologize to her. Not some rushed interaction like we’ve had. I won’t try and change her mind I just need her to know that she…means everything to me and that I fucked up. I need her to know that.”

“Cal, I don’t want to mettle. I don’t want to be her friend, I just need her to know that I don’t blame her.” You said and he nodded in understanding.

“Do you hate me?” He asked after a beat of silence.

“No, Cal. I just wish…I knew about all of this early on so that we could try to…not make such a big mess.” You said and he smiled.

“Yeah. Next time.” He said and you smiled. “What about you? Anyone new on your radar?” He asked and you considered talking to him about Harry for a moment, but quickly decided against it, you could keep this to yourself until you actually figured it out.

“No, just been focusing on me and the business. Hanging out with Cece a bit much…been drinking way too much on the weekends.” You said and he chuckled.

“Cece is fun.” He said and you nodded, “I’m surprised she hasn’t hooked you up with the eligible bachelors of New York.” He chuckled.

“Oh believe me, she has tried!” You laughed as you reached over and grabbed another pair of slacks he had brought out.

“Of course. She acts fast.” He said and you nodded. “Well I am always rooting for you. I hope you know that.”

“I am rooting for you too.” You assured him, “So long as you’re being good.” You said and he grinned.

“Yeah, lesson learned.” He stated with a smile, “My flight doesn’t leave until 9:30pm. Want to have some dinner and drop me off?” He asked and you side eyed him.

“Only if I can drive the Quattroporte.” You said and he grinned.

“Fine.” He agreed, much to your surprise. But he was lonely and just needed to be around someone. You felt bad for him, but there really wasn’t much you could do about that.

Cal’s flight was leaving from JFK so you drove a bit closer to get some dinner in that area. It was nice just chatting, talking about your plans after everything was finalized with your divorce. You took your time and were really enjoying how amicable things were between you two, and finally the time came to drop him off at the terminal.

“Thank you for being so gracious about everything, Y/N. I don’t deserve it after everything I’ve put you through. You’re…remarkable and I was right.” He said and you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

“About?”

“You being too good for me.” He said and you smiled at him and shook your head.

“Have a good flight.”

“Thanks.” He said before getting out of the car. He grabbed his luggage and with one final wave he was heading inside and you were heading back home.

The next two days went by rather quickly and you were now nervously trying to pick something out to wear to lunch with Dani that would probably also make Harry swoon just a bit. You were planning on getting there a bit early to see if Harry had a few minutes and were manifesting that he was available. You ended up choosing to wear a nice fall outfit with some flared, tan corduroy pants, a thin black turtleneck long sleeve, and some pointed black, heeled boots. You grabbed your purse and hurried out and took off for the city. You had no idea why you felt nervous, but your stomach was in complete knots the entire drive.

Finally, you were inside and riding up the elevator to the administrative floor, fidgeting with the rings on your fingers. It was nearing lunch time so there were people hurrying about as you calmly made your way past reception, the other offices, and back to where his office was, according to the map you scanned when you walked off of the elevator. You saw Tamika straightening out a few things at a desk near Harry’s office and approached her.

“Hey Tamika!” You smiled at her and she glanced up at you.

“Hey Y/N! What a nice surprise to see you up here.” And then her smile faltered a bit, “Oh ummm, Dani told me she was meeting with you. I’m sorry about everything with Cal.” She said and you shook your head.

“It’s alright. I knew about it a while ago. At least we can end it amicably.” You said and she nodded.

“Yeah, as long as he’s not an asshole about it.” She said with you sniggered and nodded.

“No, he’s been very good about it.” You assured him, “Are you heading to lunch?”

“I’m actually, leaving for the day. I only have afternoon classes today.” She explained.

“Oh OK.” You said and she smiled.

“Cal’s away on business in San Diego but-”

“I actually wanted to talk to Mr. Styles-er Harry for minute. Is he in by any chance?”

“Yeah, he’s in there.” She smiled, “You can just go on in.” She assured you with a smile and you nodded.

“Thank you! I hope class goes well.”

“Thanks! Have a good weekend.” She said before grabbing her bag and waving as she headed off. You waved back before turning around and walking the few steps over to Harry’s office. You gave a few knocks before pushing open the heavy, partially frosted glass door and peeking in.

As soon as Harry detected some movement he glanced up from the documents in his hands and you saw his face light up at the sight of you.

“Oh my god, hi! What’re you doing here?” He questioned as he immediately pushed himself up from his seat as you headed towards him. You hummed happily as he hugged you and you hugged him back, letting your body fit against his so perfectly.

“Dani asked to meet me to talk over lunch.” You informed as you started to pull back, “Thought I’d drop in and see if I could stick around in the city afterwards. Maybe we can go to dinner?” You suggested and he sighed as his hands found yours and glanced down.

“Sorry, tonight’s no good. I have plans.” He said with a small pout.

“That’s alright, kinda dropped in unannounced didn’t I?” You shrugged.

“Just for transparency’s sake, it’s a date.” He shared, “It was a set up.” He sighed, “I don’t know why my friends meddle-”

“Because they care about you.” You said and he chuckled.

“They’re really bad match makers though.” He chuckled and you giggled.

“Well good thing it’s just a set up then.” You said and he grinned.

“Still get nervous though. Kinda seems unfair to agree to date people when you’re not interested in them.”

“Very true, but hey at least you’ll be nice about it.” You said and he smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, always.” He assured as his thumb ran over your knuckles gently. “What about tomorrow? Do you have plans?” He asked.

“Just brunch with Cece. Gonna get day drunk and lounge around in the pool.” You said with a grin and he smiled.

“That sounds great. Can I crash it? I hear you have a really nice pool.” He hummed and your smile widened.

“Yeah! I think Cece would love that more than I would.” you giggled and he chuckled.

“She was cool.” He hummed and you smiled.

“I’ll let her know you said that.” You said and he nodded.

“Yeah, please do. So ummm, should I bring something?”

“Ummm, we’re doing more breakfast-y food, so I think it’ll be best to make that at mine.”

“Settled. I’ll bring the champagne then.” He concluded with a smirk and you laughed happily and hugged him again. He seemed surprised, but was quick to hug you back.

“Oh, I��ve missed you.” You hummed without really thinking too much about it and he chuckled.

“I’ve missed you as well.” He said quietly, his large hands slid down to your waist and you pulled back. Your eyes met his and then fluttered down to his lips.

“I know we said just friends but-”

“That’s alright, I can make an exception.” He whispered as he leaned down and attached his lips to yours. You hummed happily and let your hands glide up his brawny chest before draping them over his shoulders, your bodies moved closer together, allowing your kiss to deepen. He gently nipped at your bottom lip which made you smile, “What?” He breathed out, his smile matching yours now.

“I just really like how you kiss.” You whispered and he smiled before leaning back in and you teased at his bottom lip with your tongue. He opened his mouth a bit more to let you in. You moaned against him when you finally got to taste his tongue. He sighed as his hands slid down to your bottom before squeezing and then giving a very quick little spank which made you gasp and pull back from the sloppy kiss you were sharing. “Mr. Styles!” You exclaimed with a shocked expression.

“Sorry, these pants are very nice.” He mumbled and you smirked.

“These I did wear for you.” You admitted.

“Well thank you, I love ‘em.”

“You’re welcome.” You giggled.

“Maybe I can get in them sometime.” He hummed with a smug look, “Like just to try ‘em on, they’re nice.” He clarified, but the mischievous glint in his eyes confirmed his double entendre and you chuckled. “So what time tomorrow?”

“Noon-ish? I’ll text you my address.” You said.

“Perfect. Can’t wait.” He hummed before dipping down again and kissing you once more. Just as things were getting steamy your cellphone started ringing. You two broke away from the kiss with a wet sound and you sighed as you pulled your purse between the two of you. You saw it was Dani calling and you answered. You glanced up at Harry as you brought the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi Y/N, I’m just wrapping up. Should I meet you in the lobby?”

“Yeah, that’s good. See you there.” You said and then hung up.

“Time to go?”

“Yeah.”

“You nervous?” He asked, hands sliding into your back pockets and you giggled as he did this. He then started pushing you closer to him again.

“A little bit. Obviously she wants to talk about Caleb, but I just don’t know what about. M’not at all gossipy, so I hope it’s not just to talk shit.” You chuckled.

“A little shit talking might take place.”

“Well, yeah she can vent if she needs to. But Cal and I have been able to be very amicable and I don’t want to do anything that ruins that vibe. I did tell him I was meeting her and he said it was fine.” You share.

“Well I don’t know Dani all that well but from what Tamika tells me she’s really sweet. And so are you, so I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He assured you.

“Right.” You exhaled and he chuckled.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. And do me a favor, bomb the date, yeah?” You joked and he knocked his head back in laughter.

“I promise you I’ll do my very worst.” He assured you and you chuckled before tiptoeing and kissing his cheek before he slipped his hands out of your back pockets and let you go. “See you tomorrow.”

“See ya’!” You sang before hurrying out of his office and back to the elevator.

Once in the lobby you quickly found Dani and shook her hand as she officially introduced herself. The place she had in mind for lunch was a little cafe around the corner. So as you walked over you made some small talk. Soon enough you were seated and reading over the menus provided. You were a bit anxious to know what it was that she wanted to talk to you about and as she kept hopping from topic to topic about food and drinks and dessert you started to get a bit impatient.

“Good afternoon, what can I get you guys?” The waiter suddenly came up and you glanced up at him and ordered your food and drink first and then Dani went ahead and ordered. After he left, assuring you the food would be out soon you glanced up at her and she smiled a bit nervously.

“So what did you want to talk about?” You asked her and she sighed.

“I just wanted to clarify that I didn’t know about you at all when I agreed to be with Caleb. I feel really guilty about it though and I don’t know how to make it stop.” She confessed.

“Well I can assure you, I have no beef with you. I don’t blame you at all for his behavior or for his choices.”

“So you’re not getting divorced because of me?” She asked and you shook your head.

“Not you personally. I mean, Cal is in love with you and that made him realize that we needed to divorce. And for me learning about his relationship with you definitely was a factor in why I wanted. divorce, but there are other factors to it as well. I mean, why wouldn't I divorce someone who doesn't love me?” you explained and she bit her lip.

“Has he cheated on you before?” She asked and you nodded.

“Yeah, for years apparently.” You sighed.

“Oh…” she said with a small frown.

“I only found out about his cheating at the start of the year. So when he was with you already. He hasn’t been with anyone else other than you lately though, if that’s of any consolation.”

“To some extent it is…I mean, he keeps trying to talk to me and apologize and explain himself, but I don’t think there’s a justifiable explanation for any of this.” Dani said and you nodded.

“Yeah, I agree.”

“I love him. I love him so much, the last few months have been torture, but I’d be a fool to trust him after what he did to me. And now hearing about how this is just something he does…like it doesn’t just stop because you love someone, you know?”

“That’s precisely what I told him the other day. He’s made a habit of his infidelity and there’s no way that’s going to change unless he really works hard at breaking that habit.”

“Right…and I mean, I’d have to be an idiot to forgive him and get back with him.” She sighed.

“Not necessarily. I mean, if you trust him and you work together to make sure you’re on the same page and that you expect the same things out of the relationship it could work. I mean, it’s all based on trust and if you trust that he won’t screw up again, then great! But if you don’t trust him there’s no sense in putting yourself through something like that. You’ll just be full of doubt and miserable and no one deserves to constantly be living on edge like that, you know?”

“Yeah…you’re right.” Dani exhaled in surrender and you frowned a bit.

“Dani, Caleb does love you though. And he is sorry for lying like this. He asked me to tell you that.” You explained.

“I know. But I mean this was maybe my first real adult relationship and like…to discover that I was just the side chick!?” She exclaimed and your frown deepened.

“I’m really sorry, Dani. You didn’t deserve that.”

“I know! It’s why I can’t…I can’t trust him or give him another chance without feeling like a fool for it.”

“Well, seems to me you know which direction you’re leaning towards.”

“I do. It’s just…kind of hard to hold my ground on it.” She explained.

“I mean, you can always change your mind down the line. And well, something tells me Cal will be waiting as long as you need even if it is just to tell him that it’s done for good.” You said to her.

“I just don’t want to waste his time-”

“Girl, he’s wasted both of our times! He’ll be fine.” You emphasized and she chuckled.

“Very true.” She shrugged.

“And look, the last thing you want to do is waste your own valuable time! I’ve been with Cal since I was 23. We got married when I was only 24 and he just told me that he got married to me because he was scared I would leave him if he didn’t commit big right away. All those years are time neither of us will get back and we weren’t even with the right person!” You said and she sighed and shook her head sadly, “I know you’re not asking for my opinion, but if I can just impose it for a second I’d say to just choose you. Heal from the heartbreak and when you’re feeling more level headed about it all revisit it. See if you still love him or if everything has worn off. But make sure that whatever step you take next is for your benefit alone.” You advised and she nodded.

After that part of the conversation you two just ate and talked a bit more about your next steps. She wanted to know how you were moving on from this as well, which in reality was just a taking it day by day approach. Just from your time with her, you gathered that Dani was smart and very sweet and you could see the similarities between your way of being and hers. She was still learning how to assert herself though. For lack of a better term, she was still a bit of a pushover and maybe Cal liked that. It helped him keep her by his side. Thankfully, you had learned better in grad school. You’d learned the hard way not to bend over backwards for everyone and you could still be kind and helpful, just not at your own expense. When Cal told you that you were just harder to deal with than Dani you thought maybe it was an issue with you, but it was all with him. Dani was easier to manipulate because she still considered Cal’s feelings even when it was tearing her apart. You hoped that something you said to her resonated and made her think twice about her choices with Cal in the future. He seemed to be intimidated by women who had owned their power and well, you just couldn’t see yourself being with anyone like that ever.

All along you thought that he was the one encouraging you and empowering you to do more out of love. Empowering you to tag on a second masters. Empowering you to go for jobs you qualified for. Empowering you to pursue your passion and start your own business. And you let him because you thought the he was just being supportive and wanting to see you grow and excel. But now that you looked at your life and your accomplishments, you saw how he felt that he had given all of that to you. But after you were done with school and found your confidence and worth you didn’t need his help as much. You were more than capable on your own and that made him feel less than. Like he wasn’t good enough for you because you didn’t need his help to succeed. Suddenly everything just felt so transactional between the two of you and that just put a bad taste in your mouth. But at least you were going to be free of it very soon.

**********

Thankfully you beat the rush hour traffic out of the city and were able to stop off at the grocery store to pick up the food you’d be having for brunch the following day along with something to make for dinner. You also got yourself a nice bottle of wine and decided that homemade pizza was the way to go for dinner. Your mood improved when you remembered that Harry would be joining you tomorrow as well and you tidied up around the house with a little more pep in your step. After the cleaning bits you were in for a well deserved shower, so you washed up, exfoliated and shaved, and were soon rushing down the stairs in a big t-shirt and some tiny shorts to make your pizza. Your stomach was growling intensely, begging you to eat as soon as possible.

You were playing some of your happy music, singing and dancing around as you prepped your pizza while the oven pre-heated. Everything was going according to plan until your doorbell rang and you pulled up your phone to check the camera to see who could be out there at nearly 8 at night.

“Oh my god…” you whispered to yourself in shock as you saw none other than Harry, standing at the door with a bouquet of flowers in his hand and a tote bag over his shoulder. Your heart just about melted at the sight of him nervously biting his lip as he waited for an answer. What was he doing here? You took some calming breaths as you set your phone down and scurried out to the front door to let him in. You unlocked it and opened it up with an inevitably large smile that he was already mirroring upon seeing you on the other side of the door.

“Hi.” He greeted you with a slightly bashful grin.

“Hi! What’re you doing here?” You asked him through a nervous chuckle.

“I know it’s a bit late now, but I-uh was wondering if you still wanted to do dinner? With me?” He asked hopefully and you bit your lip to suppress your smile for a moment.

“Your timing couldn’t be more impeccable. I was actually just about to throw a pizza in the oven.” You said, pointing behind you with your thumb.

“Really?” He grinned and you nodded.

“Really, ummm come on in!” You chuckled and opened the door wider and he stepped forward. He immediately looked around the foyer before his eyes settled on you as you locked up. When you turned and saw him taking you in, you glanced down at your choice of pajamas bashfully. “Sorry, I’m a bit slob-by right now.” You explained.

“You’re not slob-by.” He assured with a small smile, “You look cute.” He shrugged and you laughed a bit, “M’serious. Like, yeah you usually look so put together, but this is nice too. You look cozy.” He assured and you chuckled.

“Thank you.” You accepted his compliment as he chuckled as well.

“Oh, got these for you.” He said as he extended the arrangement of flowers towards you and you took them.

“Thank you, they’re lovely.” You thanked him, “They’re not re-gifted are they?” You teased with a smirk and he chuckled.

“No, I swear they’re not!” He assured you, “I ummmm, didn’t end up going to the set up thing. I may have…sent her a $200 DoorDash gift card…” he said and you burst into laughter.

“No!” You gasped.

“You said, verbatim, do my worst!” He defended through a chuckle.

“I actually never said that. You said it yourself! I only told you to bomb it, but obviously, I was kidding.” You laughed as you shook your head, your eyes meeting his.

“No you weren’t.” He hummed knowingly as you bit your lip and shrugged.

“OK, I wasn’t…but that’s…I can’t believe you did that.” You chuckled as you shook your head again, “And here I was thinking you were incapable of being an asshole.” You teased.

“I also brought you some tiramisu.” He said as he raised the shoulder that had the tote bag hanging on it. “For like… old time’s sake.” He said.

“And I was right! So completely incapable of being an asshole.” You said and he chuckled, “Come on back to the kitchen.” You said and he followed you trough the house. “Can I get you anything to drink?” You asked as you set down the flowers and opened up the fridge, “I have…a very lovely red blend chilling in the fridge, I have…Coke Zero, water, or if you want a cocktail you can look through the bar.” You said as you turned around.

“Water is good for now.”

“Cold?”

“Please.” He said and you reached in for the pitcher of water and set it on the counter.

“Can I hand you this cake?”

“Yeah, of course!” You said as he pulled out the individual serving of it and you set it on a shelf in there.

“Can I help you with anything?” He asked you.

“Ummm, let me hand you a vase for the flowers.” You said as you scurried around to get one out. And soon you were handing it over as he got some water in it, while you served him a glass from the pitcher.

“Here’s your water.” You said setting it down beside him.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, of course!” You smiled, “Ummm, I only bought pineapple for my pizza.” You said.

“Oh! I mean, I already knew you had good taste, but that’s just perfect.” He hummed with a grin and you rolled your eyes playfully at just how over the top he was.

“Glad you like it, if you didn’t I would’ve had to ask you to leave.” You joked as you headed back over to where you had left you little can of drained pineapples unattended upon his arrival.

“That serious is it?”

“Oh yeah! Huge dealbreaker.” You responded smugly as he came up beside you.

“You know what my dealbreaker is?” He asked as he looked down at the pizza.

“What?” You questioned.

“When people are light-handed with the cheese.” He said to you, “Look at this!” He reprimanded playfully and you giggled.

“It’s not that I want to be stingy, I just have to be mindful of my tummy.” You defended. “Specially now that I have an unexpected guest!” Harry laughed at your excuse.

“Fine. But next time I’m gonna bring you those Lactaid pills so you can eat all the cheese you want.” He said and you smiled up at him.

“Wow, my hero. That’s so romantic of you.” You responded and he hummed.

“I know right.” He hummed smugly as you scattered the pineapple all over the pizza’s surface. “So how was lunch with Daniela?” He asked.

“Good. I think she just needed to talk about her plans. Cal had mentioned to me that I was abrasive, but I think he just likes that Dani is still quite…easy to talk into things. I mean, I was that way when we were first together because he’s older. I assumed he was wiser, knew better, knew more than I did, you know? So she still gives a lot of weight to how her calls will impact him and his feelings.”

“I see.”

“Yeah, so I just reminded her to ensure that whatever she does next, that she’s doing what’s best for herself. Like, I know Cal hopes she’ll take him back and maybe she wants to, but she’s doubtful, you know?”

“Yeah, understandably so.”

“Right. And I mean, I also explained to her that living like that, with doubt in your partner is just awful and draining. So to only get back with him if she knew for a fact that everything was different this time.”

“Do you think it would be different?” Harry asked.

“I think so…Cal is so in love with her and I’m sure he would put in far more effort than he ever did with me. But at the end of the day he still broke her trust and that’s always going to be hard to recover, you know?”

“Yeah. Well, I think it’s good you were able to hear her out, give her a bit of advice.” He hummed and moved out of your way and hurried to open the door of the oven so that you could slide the tray in.

“Alright we have about 20 minutes.” You said as you closed up the door and then reached for your phone to set a timer.

“Cool. I’ll help you clean up a bit.”

“Oh, thank you.” You smiled and then just asked him to wash the things you had used to spread the sauce and the few dishes in the sink while you packed up the things you had used for the pizza. “So are you driving back home tonight and then coming back in the morning?”

“No, I was gonna get a room somewhere close by.” He said and you hummed.

“Well you can stay here if you want?” You offered, “We have guest rooms and that way you won’t need to have another expense.”

“Only if you’re OK with it, Y/N.”

“Of course! I’ve stayed at your holiday home free of charge, let me at least do the same for you.” You smiled and he nodded.

“OK, thank you. I’ll go get my overnight bag from the car and ummm, possibly change into something more comfortable.”

“Yeah, sure!” You said and he hurried out to his car.

You text Cece quickly to let her know that Harry had come by tonight and she responded so fast you swear she broke a record. She asked you to be extra nice to him, which you knew what she meant by that, but to please let her know if she needed to just find an excuse to cancel on you for brunch. You rolled your eyes upon reading that, but soon Harry was coming back into the kitchen.

“Let me give you the room upstairs.” You said before guiding him up the steps. “Sorry, we’re renovating the bathroom in the room downstairs. It has a door to the backyard as well, so we use it for the pool.” You shared as you reached the top of the stairs and flicked on the lights before you continued guiding him down the hallway.

“That’s alright. I’ll be closer if you need me. Or if I need you! You know, for safety reasons.” He tagged on and you sniggered as you stopped before the closed door. “Don’t laugh at me. You make me nervous.” He confessed lowly when you opened up the door to the room. You turned to him with some confusion as you moved aside to let him in.

“Do I really?” You asked him and he nodded as he stepped in further, “Why?” You questioned through a small laugh as you flicked on the lights. You were now a bit concerned with what he would say next. Would he be just like Caleb? Intimidated by a fully realized woman? Afraid that your power meant less power for him?

“I just…don’t feel in control.” He explained with a slight furrow in his eyebrows as he set his bag down at the foot of the bed. “It’s not something that happens to me often so I don’t…know how to act sometimes.” He admitted with a nervous smile, “Like I just…word vomit or my thoughts get jumbled up, like they did just now, and it’s weird for me to feel this way.” He explained.

“Oh…” you said back quietly and then smiled. “Well, I must admit you make me nervous too.” You confessed as you stepped further into the room.

“See, I’d never know that.” He said with a small smile as you sat at the end of the bed as he proceeded to unzip his bag. “You always appear so poised and just collected.” He said as he removed his toiletries bag to get to his sleeping clothes.

“I assure you I am not.” You smiled nervously and then your smile faltered a bit. “That’s actually something that ummm…Caleb mentioned when he told me he wanted to get divorced. He said he used to love it and it’s one of the things he hates most about me now. I mean, he wasn't actually like, being a dick about it when he explained.” You said softly and Harry frowned as he looked up at you. “I guess he meant to say that he felt that I was emotionally impenetrable to some extent. Like I’m hiding behind the nonchalance?” You explained.

“Hey, look at me.” He said and you glanced up to him, “I don’t think you’re hiding. I think you’re just…maybe a little bit guarded.” He explained and you nodded, “And not in a way to elicit interest or speculation from others. S’just to ensure that you’re showing your vulnerability to the right people, to the people who you can trust. I don’t think I could ever hate that about you when it’s the thing that just…keeps me on my toes.” He smiled and you did as well, “I like it when you let me in and show me what exactly it is you’re thinking and feeling.” He explained.

“You’re right about it all. I mean, I used to be the biggest pushover, so now I just…ensure to be a bit more reserved to gauge who deserves more of me and who doesn’t. I don’t know, maybe to him it was some game, like I was playing hard to get or something? But it’s just that after being treated like a door mat for so long you start to toughen up, you know?”

“Yeah.” He hummed. “I don’t like that he gets to you like this.”

“Me either…I mean, usually he wouldn’t but like a part of me wants to feel some sense of responsibility for what happened so that there could be a logical explanation as to why he betrayed me this way. Like if there’s something, anything, I could fix or do better next time to prevent getting cheated on then I’ll be safe, you know? Then I could for certain say I did everything I could and the issue is with the other person. But when he says it’s just because he has a wandering eye then…I feel like an idiot because I basically walked into this situation, you know?” You explained to him.

“If he has a wandering eye he would’ve found any number of reasons to cheat, love. People like that always have an excuse and always find a way to shift blame. There is nothing you can or could’ve done better because it’s all in Cal’s hands. It always has been. His inability to have some respect for his wife and marriage and his lack of some basic self-control are his issues alone. S’got absolutely nothing to do with you, so get that out of your head. It’s absolute garbage.” He said with conviction and you bit your lip and nodded. Harry was right, these things were Cal’s issues alone and you were not interested in continuing to take any fault for him.

“You’re right. So right…” you hummed, “Well, I’ll leave you to get changed.” You said and he nodded as you closed the door behind yourself and headed back down stairs.

**********

The night had been fun so far. Your pizza was good and you both had a couple of cocktails as you watched bake off, shouting at the TV screen as if you were watching the Super Bowl.

“If Janusz get’s kicked off I will throw a fit.” Harry mumbled, before letting out a shaky breath.

“His ice cream is not going to set in time…” you said with fear and just moments later you were both groaning as he served up his technical dessert. It was a completely melted mess.

“Alright, he’s still got the show stopper to get back on his game.” Harry said and you hummed in agreement. Completely entranced as you watched the show stoppers until they were presenting it to the judges.

“Sandro’s got to take star baker.” You hummed.

“Yeah, he was basically smashing it the whole time.” He hummed in agreement. Moments later they announced Syabira as star baker. “What?! No!”

“No! Boo!” You both griped, “Her first custard was completely liquid!”

“And she failed the technical! It was absolute shit!” He added with gustó and you giggled a bit. “Sandro was robbed…” Harry shook his head. And then you watched as they let Kevin go with small frowns.

“I’m about to cry…God.” You muttered and he chuckled and pulled you into his side. You smiled as you rested your head against his shoulder and then you cuddled a bit closer.

“Go on and get comfy then.” Harry said softly and you smiled as you just had him lay down so that you could lay over his chest. The next episode came on and you both watched it quietly like this for a bit.

“Harry?” You spoke tentatively.

“Hmmm?”

“I really like you.” You said softly. His heart started pounding hard at your confession.

“I really like you too.” He said as his hand ran up and down your back soothingly. “Literally think about you every day.” He confessed. You pressed yourself up a bit and smiled at him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!” He chuckled through his confirmation, “Wanted to talk to you a bit more but I figured you just needed some space to get everything sorted out.”

“Well thank you for considering that but ummm…you can talk to me whenever you want. Just throwing that out there.” You said with a grin and he chuckled.

“Noted.”

“Can I kiss you?” You asked and he smiled.

“Yes. Please.” He barely got the words out before you were connecting your lips to his.

You had no idea how, but just being around him made you feel like you were on fire. Your lips moved eagerly with his and you melted against him at the feeling of his big, warm hands siding down to your waist and pressing your body even closer against his. Your neck was growing a bit sore from your position so you decided to straddle his lap before connecting your lips to his again. The soft, wet smacks of your kisses made your tummy tingle. You reached one of your hands to his, guiding it down your backside. Harry was quick to take the hint and grabbed handfuls of your bottom before guiding you to rut against his lap. You could feel the bulge of his cock growing through the sweatpants he had on and you shifted on his lap, feeling his fingers dig into your bottom. It made you grin into the kiss and your eyes flickered open as you slightly pulled back. Harry opened his eyes and looked at you before glancing down to your lips, he started reaching to kiss you again, but you slightly pulled back with a teasing smirk and he smiled.

“Please.” He whispered.

“Please what?” You questioned innocently.

“Please kiss me.” He clarified and you lowered yourself back down only to skim your nose along his before kissing the corner of his mouth and he chuckled as he dug his fingers further into your bottom, “Please.” He requested again. It was making you excited, hearing him beg for you, “Please, baby.” He whispered.

The impatience in his eyes was feeding a part of you that had been starved for so long. Your eyes were swimming with a dark need and every part of you just wanted to blow his mind and have him so horny and needy for you that he kept begging and begging for more of you. You wanted him to keep thinking about you nonstop, you wanted to make him feel so fucking good. Take such good care of him like he always did to you. You grabbed the side of his face gently with your right hand and he leaned into your touch as his eyes fluttered closed.

“Look at me.” You whispered and his eyes slowly blinked open to meet yours. They were also dark with lust and glanced down to your mouth again. You ground yourself against his clothed erection and you smirked as his eyes fluttered closed as a deep groan rumbled through him. “Gonna take such good care of you, Harry. I’m gonna make you feel so good, just how you make me feel good.” You whispered. “Want you t’do whatever you want to me when you feel it, OK?” You requested softly and he nodded.

“Yeah, baby.” He assured, “We’ll feel it out together, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You smiled before kissing him again. You suddenly sucked on his bottom lip before sinking your teeth into it and tugging it back. Your eyes met his and they followed yours until you were kissing his chin and then up his jaw. Harry extended his neck and you smiled before kissing right under his jaw, gently sucking, latching your lips to his skin.

“Harder.” He muttered and you sighed and sucked harder. His hands squeezed your butt until you let go. You kissed the bruised little patch and then sunk lower. You kissed over his bobbing Adam’s apple and then the base of his throat.

“Take off your shirt.” You hummed seductively and then pulled back. He sat up quickly and haphazardly tore off his shirt before dropping it on the ground. Upon seeing his exposed body again you lunged at him. He sniggered softly as you immediately felt up his abs. He may or may not have flexed a bit harder so that your fingers could really feel the dips of his well defined, washboard abs. Then your hands roamed up his chest. So broad and firm, you could practically grab a handful of him. You sunk lower yet again to kiss over his pecs. You scratched down his left pec as your tongue swirled over his right nipple. You felt him twitch beneath you as you nipped at it gently before you sunk even lower. You kissed each one of his abs and around his belly button before kissing down the trail of hair leading to his cock. You stopped at the elastic of his sweatpants.

“Let’s get these off.” you said and he helped you tug them down along with his briefs. His thick, heavy cock sprung up quickly as soon as his briefs were down his thighs. You quickly got them down to his ankles and he sat up and kissed you as he toed them off. His hands held your face securely as he licked into your mouth. You moaned into his messy kiss and reached for his cock. He sighed in relief as you squeezed your palm around his tip. You felt his precum smearing against your skin and you rubbed it over him before making a fist around the head and stroking up and down slowly. “You’re so fucking big.” You mumbled into his mouth.

“I know, but you still take it all the way don’t you?” He responded and you nodded.

“Yeah. Love how you feel inside.” You panted.

“Mmm…suck my cock.” He ordered and you pecked his lips before sinking again and not wasting any time to get him into your mouth. He moaned the second your were sucking on his tip. You were messy with it, letting yourself salivate at the taste of his skin on your tongue. You got a little bit greedy and sunk down halfway. After a few seconds there you sunk down all the way and he groaned and dug his fingers into your hair as his tip met with the back of your mouth.

“Fuck…oh fuck…” he exhaled with eyes squeezed shut. You breathed through your nose as you tried to get him down your throat and gagged and he pulled you up quickly. “Breathe, baby. Breathe and try again.” He hummed, “Fuck, please try again. Need to get down your little throat.”

You swallowed thickly before sinking back down, taking your time to get him in deeper. Then you felt him start thrusting up slowly while his hands guided your head over him. He was locked on his pace, which helped you know when to expect the nudge of his tip to the entrance of your throat.

“Doing so well for me. Gonna go a bit deeper now. Breathe f’me. Then let it out nice and slow.” He said and you did so and when you started to exhale he started pushing your head down even lower. You hummed around him and he moaned at the vibrations around his cock. You were dripping saliva but neither of you seemed to care. He starting thrusting up a bit faster, just nudging down your throat, “Fuck, that’s a good girl…” He groaned deeply, “Take my fucking cock. Take my cock down your throat.” He grunted as he fucked your mouth until you just couldn’t hold off anymore and choked around his cock. He pulled you up and panted hard as he gripped your hair hard in his fist. You swallowed hard and caught your breath before resting your head on his thigh and smiling up at him. He smiled down at you too and then bit his lip as he watched you sink down and lave at his balls. You were gentle as you sucked one in between your lips. “Shit…fuck th-that’s fucking good.” He moaned, pushing your face closer to his groin. You moaned before popping off and sucking the other one just the same until his legs were wriggling beneath you. “Fuck you’re gonna make me come…” he moaned and you quickly popped off and he was panting. “Shit.” He chuckled breathily and you hummed and kissed his thigh.

“Can I ride your cock?” You asked and he nodded.

“Yes. Please baby, ride my cock.” He begged. You knelt up and slid your shirt off before standing from the couch to get your shorts off. Harry sat upright but slouched against the couch. He wrapped a fist around his cock as he watched you undressing. “So fucking pretty.” He hummed and you smiled as you approached him and then knelt over his lap.

“Ready?” You whispered and he nodded. He glanced down, holding his cock up at your entrance to let you lower yourself. You started to drop your hips, obsessing over the feeling of his cock sinking into your sopping pussy. You felt the pressure increasing against your entrance until it finally gave and he plunged deep into you. You both moaned in satisfaction as you relished in the feeling of his cock finally being inside of you. “Fuck you’re so deep.” You smiled against his lips and he hugged tight around your waist and pulled you down as he thrust up hard. You gasped as he reached new depths that made your thighs tremble because his tip was rubbing right into your spot. You were covered in goosebumps in seconds before an involuntary moan spilled out of your throat.

“Fuck…that’s it isn’t it, baby?” He hummed haughtily as he thrust up into it again.

“Yeah.” You whimpered, “Right there…please don’t stop!” You keened as your toes curled. You started to grind down against him going faster and faster until your were gasping and choking on a cry as your orgasm rolled through your body like a giant wave. You tingled and shivered and seemingly vibrated in ecstasy. You felt so secure as Harry hugged around you tight, continuing to move you over his cock, helping you ride out your orgasm. You started to ride him again, adding a little more bounce to your movement and he groaned and surged forward to latch his lips to your nipple. He sucked hard as you ground down against him.

“You’re so good.” He hummed before sucking it back in again. Your hands raked into his hair and he groaned as you tugged a bit roughly at the roots. “Fuck, you feel so good, baby.” He praised, “Can I take you to the bedroom?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yeah, let’s get up there.” You grinned and without regard for your clothes rushed from the TV room to the bedroom he'd be in.

He followed you in, not really minding the door as he trailed behind you, hands on your hips. He turned you around when you got to the foot of the bed and he picked you up and tossed you up further onto the bed. You laughed as he clambered over you, kissing you as he parted your legs to fit himself between them. You bit your lip as he lined up to your entrance again and started to push inside. Your jaw dropped as you exhaled in relief at his girth stretching you and filling you up. Harry’s eyebrows were creased as he tried to keep it together and just held himself deep inside before drawing himself out. You whined at the lack of his intrusion and he grinned.

“Please, Harry. Please.” You whispered.

“Yeah, baby? Want my cock?” He teased and you nodded.

“Yeah, please. Need you back inside.” You keened and he prodded at your entrance, teasing you by just letting his tip push into you before he’d draw his hips back. You lifted yours up trying to chase after his cock, desperate to feel him back inside of your tight, hot walls. “Harry…” you whined, eyes locking on his and he chuckled at your desperation before just dipped back inside to the hilt. He rolled his hips into you and made your eyes roll back in pleasure. He immediately started to pick up his pace, the thwacking sound of his balls against your ass was making you feral. You were cursing and whimpering as his cock hit all of the right spots. You fit a hand between your bodies and rubbed at your clit in quick circles until your were struggling to breathe, body tensing up as your pleasure started to reach it’s peak.

“Fuck, you’re so close. I can feel it, you’re so fucking wet for me and squeezing so hard, baby.” Harry hummed with hunger as he maintained his thrusting pattern consistent. It was building you up, pushing you towards the edge with each one until you were trembling.

“Oh! I’m coming!” You cried out loudly as you rubbed your clit faster until you were withering around Harry’s cock. He moaned as he started thrusting harder and deeper into you. You winced with each merciless thrust to your poor, sensitive, dripping pussy.

“You OK? Want me to stop?” He asked and you quickly shook your head.

“Please no.” you whimpered and he chuckled lowly.

Should I keep going and flood your little pussy with my come?“ He panted.

“Yes please, I want it so bad.” You mewled and he groaned.

“Fuck…fuck, I’m right there…” he moaned before he choked out a groan and dropped his weight over you and he sunk as deep as possible, releasing his load deep inside of you. He was panting but found your mouth with his. Kissing you sloppily as he hummed in pleasure. He was tingling and you were loving the warmth and weight of his body over yours. “Fuck, I missed you.” He sighed in satisfaction and you smiled as you hugged around his back.

“I missed you too.” You hummed happily.

After lazing around for a bit Harry headed off to have a shower and you ended up telling Cece that you guys could just meet up for dinner and she was very supportive of that decision. You joined Harry in the shower and had another go in there before he ended up dragging you out and eating you out on the bed until you were seeing stars. Your chest even burned a bit from how shallow your breathing was.

“Fuck…oh my god…” you panted as Harry kissed his way up your body before reaching your lips and kissing you quickly, “Think we’ll need to sleep in my room, the bed’s all damp now.” You huffed.

“Do you mind?” He asked and you shook your head.

“Not at all.” You assured him.

After he got dressed you were both settling into your bed. He pulled you closer into his body, spooning you so that you were nice and snug against him.

“Thank you for coming over.” You hummed quietly and Harry smiled and hugged you just a bit tighter.

“There’s no where I’d rather be, baby.” He assured you. “The divorce is final in a few weeks right?”

“Mhmmm.” You confirmed.

“Can I take you out or is it too soon?” He asked quietly and you turned around.

“I’d love to go out with you.” You said, practically beaming from ear to ear.

“Oh great, I’ll plan something special for us soon. I’d say tomorrow, but tomorrow, we’re spending it in bed. Have to make up for lost time, so rest up.” He hummed before kissing you and you easily fell into it until he turned around and asked you to scratch his back and you talked quietly until you both dosed off.

The next few days were absolute bliss with Harry. You got a peek of his domestic side and were absolutely obsessed with how sweet and thoughtful he was. Of course the reunion with Cece was as exciting as you’d imagined. There were tons of laughs and inside jokes now and of course, the promise that Harry would be around a lot more. He had made breakfast for you Sunday morning and then drove you around to do your errands for some events you had coming up in the next few weeks. You spent some time in the hot tub, mostly making out until you just needed to have a shower and have another good shag before bed. Your body was sore and tired, but you hadn’t felt so good in so long. Good in every sense of the word. You felt at ease around him and the evidence was in how you passed out on his chest as he played with your hair tenderly.

“Hey, baby.” Harry mumbled against your temple as you stirred a bit.

“Hmm?” You groaned groggily.

“Sorry it’s so early, but I’ve gotta go to work.” He said and you frowned, your weekend together had flown by.

“Right…Monday.” You huffed with dread and he chuckled.

“Yeah, love.” He said before kissing your forehead, your cheeks, and then you puckered your lips against his softly. “I have a dinner meeting tonight, but I can come again on Tuesday? Can even get off early, help you set up for that event for your client?” He offered and you nodded immediately and he chuckled. “Alright, baby.”

“Drive safe.”

“I will. I’ll text you when I get to the office, OK?”

“OK.” You hummed, “I’ll walk you out?”

“S’alright.” He assured and you shook your head and sat up.

“I insist, baby.” You said and he smiled and gave you a second to stretch before you hurried down the stairs with him and out to the door.

“Miss you already!” He called out the window and you grinned and blew him a kiss before he drove off.

… SIX MONTHS LATER …

You and Harry had been seeing each other on the DL for four months now. He had asked you to be his girlfriend on new year’s eve and you’d been spending all of your free time together. Shortly after the divorce with Cal was finalized you guys were able to sell the house and you’d found somewhere else to live by then which was actually a bit close to Harry’s own place which was rather convenient as your relationship grew more and more serious. Personally, you were thriving and you were looking after yourself so much more than before. Harry was an incredible partner and you swore that everything you felt for him couldn’t fit inside of you in any way, it seemed to be overflowing and you were seriously considering telling him you loved him over your holiday in Italy.

Cal had been doing a bit better than before. Dani ended up asking to be transferred to the London branch of the company and had been there since January. Obviously, this completely devastated Caleb, but he seemed to also just focus on bettering himself. You didn’t really talk often after he told you Dani left, he wasn’t sure who to talk to it about, but you encouraged him to find a therapist to work on himself and he assured you he would try his best. He would reach out every now and again though, he was still feeling a bit lonely and you were itching to tell him that you and Harry were together. You hated feeling like you had to hide your happiness, but Harry had insisted on telling Cal himself before you went on your vacation. He said that at least this way you’d be gone long enough to give him time to get used to the idea without feeling like you guys were shoving your relationship in his face. You agree to let him do it in his own time, but also it would save you the difficult task of having to tell your ex-husband that you were in a relationship with his boss; you couldn’t see that conversation going well in any capacity.

Harry was also very happy with you. He loved to see you thriving and he was more than thrilled that he was playing such a pivotal role in your happiness. He feels that he had always been a pretty good partner, but with you it was just different. He lived for the times he made you smile. He was also very excited for your romantic Italian holiday, it was just three weeks away now. He had planned to stop in England for a few days on the way back so that you could meet his family, he just felt like he needed to make all of the right moves with you because he wanted you in his life forever if possible.

He was currently typing away at his computer furiously, just trying to get everything settled before he left. Just then a few knocks on his door sounded.

“Hey Harry, you wanted to talk to me?” Caleb asked as he came into his office and Harry glanced up at Cal.

“Hey mate, yeah. Have a seat.” Harry instructed and soon Cal was settling into one of the seats in front of Harry’s desk.

“What can I do for you?” Caleb asked cheerfully.

“I’m going to be out of the country on holiday for a month in a few short weeks and I just wanted to touch base with you about some of the things I’d like you to be in charge of while I’m gone.”

“Yeah sure.”

“So I’d like you to head all of the client meetings for that time period. You’ve been doing so well with that, I trust you the most to make things work and to cut the best deals. There’s a particular client that I really want to land, I’ll email you all that information and my personal files on the client. Please look over it when you get a minute today and we can discuss some strategy tomorrow.”

“Perfect.”

“Additionally, you and Daria will be overseeing all operations in my absence. That being said, you’ll receive a bonus for all the extra work you put in for that month. I know it might make you have to shift your schedule somewhat so please just take note of any extra hours and I’ll will ensure you get some OT for those hours as well.”

“Not necessary, Harry but thank you.” Caleb nodded in agreement, “So where are you heading off to?” Cal asked and Harry bit his lip for a second. He knew you didn’t mind him telling Cal about your relationship, in fact he had been the one to ask if he could break it to Cal because of their overlapping professional relationship and well, now was the moment to do it. He had even tried to do it a bit sooner but when he’d seen it was a rough day for Caleb he’d put it off. But this needed to happen now.

“Italy.” He shared and Cal’s eyebrows arched up in surprise.

“Oh, nice! Y/N is going to Italy soon too. Not too sure of the dates but-”

“That’s actually another reason for why I wanted to talk to you.” He said and Cal looked at him expectantly, “I’m…with her. Y/N, she’s my girlfriend and we’re going on holiday together.” He said, just getting it out there and Cal’s eyebrows arched up even further.

“Oh…” was all he said and Harry nodded, waiting for his next response expectantly but he didn’t say much, just kind of looked at his desk.

“I wanted to tell you because well, we still work together. I know that your marriage ended not too long ago, but I just want you to know that whatever has gone on outside of work is not any of my business so long as you keep doing excellent work here. And I have certainly treated you as a great employee and friend to some extent and ummm, I hope that you will do the same for me now that I’m with Y/N. I guess, I'm just saying I hope this doesn’t impact our professional relationship.” Harry explained.

“When did this happen?” Cal asked, seemingly ignoring what Harry had just said.

“Officially, I asked her to be my girlfriend on new year’s. I think we’re getting serious now though.” Harry said.

“Already, huh?” He asked with a sad smile and Harry nodded.

“Yeah, I’m ummm…in love with her and I want to see this through.” Harry admitted to him and Caleb cleared his throat and nodded.

“Right. Well, thanks for telling me. I don’t love her anymore, but it’s just…a weird situation, you know? It’s fine though, I’m glad you’re happy with her.”

“Of course. And well, Y/N wanted to tell you a bit sooner but I insisted I break the news to you since…we’re the ones who will continue to see each other day to day.”

“No, I get it. She’s…great and I mean, you’re lucky to have her in your life.” He said and Harry nodded.

“Thank you, I know.”

“What ummm…what brought you guys together?” He asked.

“I think the dinner at my place in September really sealed the deal. I mean, I thought she was beautiful and smart and just the way she helped Tamika and well, Dani…I just thought she was really great. Then ummm I went to check on her since I could tell she was…a bit sad about the way the night had gone for her and ummm…one thing led to another and…well…” he sighed and Cal looked surprised.

“Oh…”

“I’m really sorry.” Harry apologized because he had never meant to get in between you two. And though he had omitted your previous interactions, he felt that having sex with you while you were upset with Cal could make him think that Harry had something to do with you also being eager to get a divorce from him.

“Well, it’s not like I didn’t deserve it.” He said and Harry frowned a bit, “Just…treat her right, yeah?”

“I will.” Harry smiled and Cal returned the gesture.

“And she’s happy?” He asked Harry who nodded.

“Yeah, very happy. She’s doing great.” Harry confirmed.

“Good.” He hummed.

Obviously, things were just a bit weird for the rest of the day but Harry felt nothing but relief knowing that he’d been able to finally tell Caleb about his relationship with you. He loved you, it had happened so quickly for him, but just getting to say that to someone had made it all the more real. For the rest of the day he felt this pressure over his chest, an anxious need to tell you exactly how he felt for you. He didn’t want it to go unsaid for a minute more.

And when he got to your apartment that night and heard some Frank Sinatra playing through the door he immediately smiled. He loved that he could see you whenever he wanted now, though that did nothing to get him to stop thinking about you all day every day.

“Baby, is that you?” You called out as soon as you heard the front door close with a heavy thud.

“Yeah!” He called back as he set his things down and slipped out of his shoes, “It smells amazing!”

“It’s a chickpea masala soup!” You announced and soon you felt Harry wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Hi, baby.” He greeted as he kissed the side of your head.

“Hi!” You greeted him happily and then spun around to grab his face, “A kiss please.”

“Another?” He grinned and you nodded, “Of course. Anything for m’girl.” He hummed happily and pressed his lips to yours. After a few distracting and wonderful moments of your lips together you parted and you reared back to look in his eyes, “Told Cal about us today.” He shared.

“Oh? How’d he take it?” You asked right away.

“Fine. He was just surprised.” Harry explained and you nodded.

“Good. So I can come visit you at work now.” You grinned.

“Course. I’ll always make time for you.” He hummed happily and you kissed him again, “Ummm, as I was talking to him I ummm realized something. Well not realized, because I’ve known but realized that I needed to do something about it. And I just really need to tell you that I…that I love you.” He said and your eyes softened as they met his.

“Do you really?” You asked with a little smile.

“Yeah, baby. You’re everything I didn’t know I was missing. The moment you came into my life it was changed, for the better, of course. And I don’t want to let another minute pass me by without telling you that despite all the time and hurt that we’ve endured, we met when we were supposed to and I can’t imagine my life without you in it. My whole heart is all yours, always.” He said sweetly and you pouted in endearment with a thumping heart at his confession.

“I love you too. With every piece of my heart and I don’t even want to think about life without you, H. Thank you for loving me.” You said and he chuckled as he kissed your forehead.

“No, thank you for making me feel whole. I’m so lucky to have met you, I’ll never ever get tired of showing you what you mean to me, baby.” He assured with a happy smile as your eyes teared up.

“Oh, I love you so much.” You sighed as you hugged him tight and he hummed happily.

“I love you.” He whispered happily.

—- Tag List —-

@sunshinemoonsposts @anotherdudetteinthisworld @matildasatellite @sad-avocado @sunflovverharry @cherrysulewski @daphnesutton @gurugirl @jessitpwk @permanentllyharry @here4thefanfics @slutfortigertattoo @angelbabyyy99 @freedomfireflies @behindmygreyeyes@mellamolayla @nikkisimps @dioc4ne @straightontilmornin @mema10 @fkinavocado @hazuniverse @lolyouallsuck @kathb59 @fictionalmensblog @criesbc1d @mamassssontour

532 notes · View notes

andypantsx3 · 10 months

Text

BAKUGOU KATSUKI : MASTERLIST

please be respectful! do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or otherwise share on other platforms. all my reader characters are fem + afab unless otherwise specified. please see individual fic posts for nsfw ratings and other warnings!

bakugou writing tag | universal masterlist

MULTI-CHAPTER

incendiary (30K) : complete

When you accidentally go viral in defense of quirkless people, an extremist group puts a target on your back. Pro hero Dynamight is the last person you want watching it.

you’re the one that i haunt (15K) : complete

Ghosts aren’t real. At least, that’s what you tell yourself when the spirit of pro hero Dynamight suddenly starts haunting your apartment.

statistically significant (24K) : complete

You’re the scientist who developed a neural net to model the value of assists. Now that your work is feeding into the hero rankings, pro hero Ground Zero has a bone to pick with your results.

cover shot (through the heart) (16.5K) : complete

For years, you’ve been the only assistant in the business equipped to handle foul-tempered supermodel Katsuki Bakugou. That is, until he catches on to your weak point.

war paint (28K) : complete

Desperate times force you to disguise yourself and join the kingsguard. When a suspicious string of crimes strike the palace, however, Captain Katsuki Bakugou starts paying extra close attention. (A Mulan AU)

savvy (17.5K) : complete

You’re a business course third year who’s good at being bossy, organized, and data-driven. You just want to use your business savvy to help all heroes. Well, all heroes except one. [smutty one shot follow on: defiant]

barbarian-verse au (various) : in progress

You find yourself traveling with barbarian Bakugou. Things get complicated quickly.

ONE SHOTS

fruit first (ask questions later) (3.6K) - gn!reader

When the grocery store you’re in becomes collateral in a villain attack, pro hero Dynamight comes to your rescue. When you become armed with a handful of oranges, however, someone may need to come to his rescue…

abs-olutely worth it (3.5K) - gn!reader

You’re an amateur hero photographer whose shots of Bakugou’s abs keep going viral. Everything is going great…until Bakugou catches wind of it.

defiant (4.5K)

There are a lot of benefits to managing your pro hero boyfriend, but dealing with the PR nightmares he generates is not one of them. After Katsuki gets way too mouthy with a hapless reporter, you take it upon yourself to put him in his place. Katsuki, however, has other ideas. [a smutty oneshot companion to savvy; you do not need to have read savvy first!]

DRABBLES + PROMPT FICLETS

general bakugou x princess reader (1.1K)

Your father is ailing and with no sons in his lineage, your country risks dissolution and open war if you do not marry. There is only one man you can stomach the thought of assuming the throne.

always (1.5K)

Best friend Bakugou helps you through a breakup.

todobakureader domestic fluff (1K)

The sound of muffled arguing in the kitchen wakes you up on Saturday morning.

destruction (1.6K)

"Are you this stupid on purpose?"

wine & dine (0.3K)

“Oh my god, I am gonna fuck whoever made this apple pie so hard they see stars for weeks.”

always first (0.7K)

“It’s not a double date, we’re just third and fourth wheeling."

just can’t weight (0.8K)

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?" + gym bro Bakugou

personal chef (0.4K)

Living with Bakugou is like living with your own personal chef.

fan art (0.2K)

Bakugou has an embarrassing secret (ft super cute art from Merms!!)

#character: bakugou katsuki #andie's writing

361 notes · View notes

absurdthirst · 2 years

Text

Airport Hookup {Javier Peña x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 17.5k

Warnings: Stranger sex, fingering, protected sex, canon typical violence, kidnapping, oral sex (male and female receiving), soft feelings, confessions.

Comments: Deciding to have a little rendezvous with a handsome stranger in an airport, you never imagined it would end up being your new boss, Javier Peña. Except he seems to either not remember you, or just not care about your airport hookup.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Rushing down the concourse, you pray you haven’t missed your flight. The power had gone out at your motel and the alarm hadn’t gone off. Leaving you to rush to dress and repack your suitcase before racing for the airport. You don’t know how long it would take to rebook the flight since everything was done through the DEA and you didn’t want to show that you were so incompetent that you couldn’t show up at the proper place at the proper time.

“Oh!” You misjudge a step and your ankle rolls in your sensible inch heels, sending you careening into the man you were hustling by. A flash of annoyed dark brown eyes and a mustache are all you catch as you turn your head. “I’m so sorry!” You call back as you continue on your way, hoping he wasn’t too annoyed at the frantic woman running into him. “So sorry!”

Javier huffs, watching the woman rush past him as he carries his case that contains all of his worldly possessions. He can’t believe he’s going back after what he did but they want him. The DEA wants him to catch Cali. Fuck, he needs a drink. Glancing around, he spots the bar, and takes a seat at the counter, swiftly ordering a whiskey.

****

You pant, staring up at board, and your chest heaves while you read that your flight is delayed for an hour. “Thank God for that.” You huff, finally taking a moment to catch your breath and straighten up. Your skirt has ridden up and your blouse is untucked. You quickly straighten your clothing before you decide you need a drink after that manic rush. You need to calm down. You walk back up the concourse and soon find a bar, sitting down next to a handsome stranger - the only seat that is left - and you soon recognize him as the man you bumped into. “I’m really am sorry about bumping into you. I thought my flight was leaving…turns out it’s delayed.” You chuckle awkwardly, “let me buy you a drink to say sorry for nearly knocking you off of your feet.” You offer.

Javi looks over the rim of his glass, amused and impressed that you weren’t skulking away in embarrassment after realizing he was the one you had bumped into. You’re pretty, very pretty and he discreetly glances down at your hand, pleased to find it bare. “I never say no to a drink with a beautiful woman.” He tells you, tossing back the whiskey and setting the empty glass down on the bar top to be refilled.

You fluster, and gesture to the bartender to refill the man’s glass. “Put it on my tab, and I will have the same.” You tell the bartender who nods and quickly pours you a measure. “To not missing my flight.” You chuckle, holding your glass up for a toast. Javier clinks his glass against yours and you take a sip of your drink, sighing as you begin to relax.

Javi grins as he watches you out of the corner of his eye. It’s been awhile since he’s had a drink with a woman without it being an after the moment type of thing. “Can’t miss your flight?” He asks, watching your shoulders roll back and you lean back in your seat. “Big plans ruined?”

Setting your glass down, you turn to look at him. “New job in a new country. I’m nervous as shit. I just - this is a big opportunity and I don’t want to fuck it up.” Your confession is followed by you sipping your drink again. “Sorry. I’m sure you wanted to have your drink in peace. Plus, I’m sure your wife wouldn’t want you accepting drinks from random women.” You half joke, discreetly eying his hand to see if he’s taken a ring off. He’s handsome as hell, you can’t deny that, and you don’t want to feel guilty when you touch yourself to a fantasy of him later.

That has Javier chuckling, shaking his head and making sure you get a glance of his left hand. “Definitely not married.” He huffs, lifting a brow at you. “Smooth though. Making me answer the question you are really asking without asking. Just like your husband wouldn’t want a strange man flirting with you at a bar in an airport.” He sends you a small wink and grins.

You snort, “married? Me? Absolutely not. No man has managed to tame me yet. Most men don’t tend to like…independent women. They want little homemakers who will stay at home barefoot and pregnant and that’s…it’s just not me. I want to see the world. Do something with my life.” You ramble on a bit before you stop, turning to pay attention to those beautiful brown eyes. “You must be a heartbreaker with that face.”

He likes your attitude, the compliment doesn’t hurt either. He gives you a slow grin. “I do okay.” He acknowledges. “But if they get their heart broken, it’s because they decided they would be the one to ‘tame’ me.” He tells you with a slight roll of his eyes. “That’s not my fault I don’t want them barefoot and pregnant.” He uses your words and smirks when you lift a brow at him before he takes another drink of the amber liquid in his glass.

“No one can tame a man who doesn’t want to be tamed. Not every woman is cut out to be barefoot and pregnant and not every man wants to settle down. It’s the beauty of freedom of choice. Besides, you look like the kind of man you don’t want to tame. You have that look about you that you know what you want and you go out and get it. I like that. Been burned a few times by that look but keep coming back for more. I’m a sucker for a bad boy.” You giggle, sipping your drink once more.

“Awww shit.” Javi makes a face. “There’s your problem.” He tells you as he finishes his whiskey and motions to the bartender to pour you both another round. “You go for boys. You really need a man, not some pissant little boy who thinks he’s tough and shows it by treating a woman like shit.” He looks over at you and gives a small shrug. “Seen it a lot.”

You raise your eyebrows, crossing your arms as you look at him. “So…are you a man?” You ask, and he snorts.

“Oh I am all man, hermosa.”

You smirk, shifting to lean closer to him. “Is that so? Well, what sets a man apart from a boy? Apart from treating a woman like shit. What’s the defining factor?” You challenge.

Javi hums, enjoying the banter between the two of you. Especially since he is about to get back on a plane to go back to Colombia and deal with another cartel and all the bullshit headaches that come with it. “Hmmm.” He crooks his finger and motions you closer. When you lean in, he moves his mouth closer to your ear. “A man won’t cum until your thighs are trembling in pleasure and you are satisfied.” He murmurs in your ear. “Every time.”

You can’t stop your thighs from clenching at the combination of his words and the way his voice deepens when he murmurs in your ear. You’re a little breathless when you respond, turning your head so your lips nearly touch his. “Even if that time is in an airport bathroom?” You whisper. Unable to deny that you want him for a moment longer. You’re wet from his cockiness and the way he presents him, it’s a heady combination.

Breaking into a slow smile, Javi moves closer, nudging his nose against yours as he stands and reaching for his wallet in his back pocket. Keeping his dark eyes on yours, he opens the billfold blindly and pulls out several bills to cover the tab and then some. “Especially if it’s in an airport bathroom.” He tells you cockily. “Have to leave a lasting impression.” He slaps the money down on the counter and steps back. “Want to find out?”

You smirk, nodding as you shift to stand up from the barstool. You grab your purse and suitcase, waiting for him to square up before you try and spot the nearest bathroom. He is soon stepping out into the bustling crowd full of people trying to find their gate. “Follow me.” You tell him, seeing the family bathroom. “More room.” You tell him as you stride over to the door. He follows you inside and you set your things down before locking the door behind him, spinning around to face him. There’s a moment where you just stare at each other. Almost surprised that this is happening. The moment is soon gone and you surge forward to press your lips to his, loving the way his mustache tickles your upper lip.

He loves the way you take charge, wrapping his arms around you before he slides his tongue into your mouth to caress yours and pull a moan out of you. He cups your ass, squeezing playfully as he groans into your mouth and starts pulling your skirt up so his fingers can find the edge of your practical and plain cotton panties, perfect for comfort while traveling. Walking you back towards the spacious sink that is available in the family bathroom and only stopping when your ass hits it. “You want to cum?” He asks, pulling away from your lips and kissing down your jaw while his fingers slide underneath your panties and they comb through the neat thatch of curls above your cunt, groaning when he finds the edge of your puffy lips already wet. “Make you cum on my fingers then my cock?”

You moan when his finger finds your clit, and you grip his upper arms to keep yourself balanced despite the way he has you pressed up against the sink. “Oh fuck. I- I want that. Yes. Please.” You gasp, a little dumbstruck with how good this already feels. You moan softly when he begins to rub your clit. “More. Need more.” You demand, knowing you can be outspoken when you won’t see this man again after this.

“Good girl.” Javi hums, scraping his teeth over your chin while he twists his wrist so he can push two fingers deep into your cunt and curl them up while his thumb takes over rubbing your clit. “Tell me what you want.” He urges you, cock hard against the seam of his jeans and loving the way that your walls clench around him.

You whine, rocking down onto his hand, and you finally gather your senses. Reaching down, you cup his cock through his jeans, and tilt your head to press your lips against his for a moment. “I want you to make me cum on your fingers, and then I want you to fuck me so hard I feel you every time I fidget in my plane seat.” You nip his jaw, working on unbuckling his belt.

Javi hisses when you squeeze him and pulls his hips back so you can better access his belt. “Going to.” He promises, pumping his fingers into you and finding your lips again when you wrap your fingers around his length. Groaning into your mouth and twitching in your hand. “You’ll feel me for days, hermosa.”

“Jesus Christ. I think you’re right.” You pant, feeling how thick he is in your palm. You pump him, loving how his cock feels like silk over iron. Your movements stop when he curls his fingers just right, and you cry out. “Oh God. There. Right there.” You gasp, thighs starting to shake. He seems to know just how to push your body within minutes compared to the weeks it took your exes.

Pulling his fingers out, he pushes three back inside you, wanting to stretch you open even more. “That’s it, baby.” He murmurs in your ear, making sure that he keeps his fingers pressing against that spot that made you gasp out. Wanting you to cum for him and soak his fingers. Your grip is loose around his cock, mouth slack and eyes tilted up towards the ceiling while you edge closer to your orgasm. “Cum for me, show me how tight your little cunt is going to squeeze my cock.”

You whine, gripping his shoulder with your free hand, and you clamp down on his fingers. That raspy voice has you crying out, closing your eyes as you orgasm. “Fuck. Oh Fuck.” You moan, leaning back against the sink.

He works you through it, keeping his thumb pressed against your clit while he keeps his fingers working in and out of your fluttering walls. Making your knees sag while his body keeps you pinned against the counter, wanting you to have ever second of pleasure that you can get from his hand before he fucks you. “Good girl.” He coos, smirking against your jaw. “Good girl.”

You pant as he withdraws his fingers from your dripping cunt. You haven’t cum that hard from someone else in…well ever. “God you weren’t wrong…definitely a man.” You declare as you reach down to wrap your fingers around his cock. “If you weren’t a total stranger, I would eagerly give you a blowjob to say thank you for that beautiful orgasm.” You smirk, pumping his twitching cock.

Javi chuckles and shakes his head, reaching back and pulling his wallet out of his jeans again so he can grab the condom he keeps in there. “I’d rather fuck you.” He tells you, grunting when you squeeze him with just the perfect amount of pressure. “You gonna let me fuck that tight little cunt and see if I can make you cum again?” He asks, putting the foil packet in his teeth and ripping it open so he could pull the rubber out.

You hum, letting go of his cock so he can roll the condom down his length. “That sounds perfect. If you can make me cum again.” You challenge, shoving your panties down and spinning around so you can brace yourself on the sink. “Fuck me.” You order, wiggling your ass.

Smirking, he swats your ass hard enough to make the sound pop in the bathroom and he chuckles when you gasp. Nudging your legs apart even more he takes his cock by the base and starts to guide himself to the hot, slick core of you. Pushing slightly when he feels that give at your entrance and lets go so he can grab your hips as he pushes inside you with a sharp snap of his hips.

You cover your mouth to smother your scream of delight. The way he stretches you out with his girth has you biting down on the palm of your hand. “Oh Jesus.” You groan, lowering your hand when you’re full to the hilt. “Baby. God.” You adjust to him, and look over your shoulder at him. “So are you gonna fuck me, big man?” You tease, clenching playfully around his cock.

Growling, he nips your jaw and pulls back so that he can set a rough pace. The sound of his hips slapping against your ass echoes in the bathroom, groans and grunts accompanying them. “You want to feel me fuck you?” He hisses, making sure that his hips grind against your ass and his fingers dig into the meat of your hips, smirking when you squeeze him tight.

You cling to the sink, falling forward, and your eyes meet his dark ones in the mirror. The look in his is feral, and it has you clenching around him with a whine. “Fuck. You look so hot.” You declare breathlessly, unable to stop yourself from saying what you are thinking. You’re never going to see him again so who cares? “Feel so good inside of me. Not- not satisfied yet though.” You smirk, leaning up on your tiptoes to change the angle.

Huffing, he ramps up the intensity of his thrusts, locking his jaw and hissing between his teeth every time he pushes deep and brushes against that spongy little spot that makes you clench around him. He moves his hands to the small of your back and presses down, changing the angle and groaning out loudly when you choke out a cry of pleasure. “How’s th-at?” He demands, feeling the sweat starting to bead on his brow.

You grip the sink, "fuck yes! Just like that. Just like that." Your calf muscles are starting to burn but you ignore that, focusing on the way his cock pushes against the spot inside of you. "Fuck. I'm gonna cum." You moan, dropping your head down between your shoulders.

One hand snakes up, wrapping around your jaw and pulling your head up. Desperate to see your eyes in the mirror as you fall apart, Javi won’t let you look away. Needing to see the moment your pleasure overtakes you and your eyes go bright. “Cum.” He orders harshly, feeling your body primed to explode around him, sucking him deeper as your walls threaten to crush his cock in their grip.

Your eyelashes flutter as you struggle to keep your eyes open with your impending orgasm, but the look in his eyes is too intense to look away from. You clamp down on his cock, a cry escaping your lips as you coat him with your cum. “Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.” You pant, finally closing your eyes as he works you through it.

Javi groans, loving how tight and wet you get. The sounds of his cock fucking into your wet cunt even louder and obscene in the sucking noises. “Good girl.” He rasps out, holding firm to your body and starting to lose control, his thrusts becoming sloppy and unmeasured. “Fuck. fuck.” He hisses, edging closer and feeling his body drawing tight. “Fuck.” Pushing deep, he feels like he’s burrowing inside your body, spilling into the condom with loud groans and harsh thrusts as he rides out his orgasm.

You opened your eyes just in time to watch him cum, loving the way his jaw clenches, and his neck muscles clench. "Fuck, you're so beautiful." You murmur, reaching back to caress the hand squeezing your hip.

He chuckles breathlessly, leaning down to kiss the nape of your neck. "You're the one who is beautiful." He murmurs. You fluster, turning your head to kiss his jaw.

Javier ducks his head and captures your lips with his, kissing you softly several times while his body relaxes and his cock starts to soften. After a moment, he pulls back and grips the base of the condom so he can ease out of you and allow you to clean up. “Understand the difference between men and boys now, hermosa?” He asks playfully as he pulls the condom off and ties a knot in it to throw in the wastebasket.

You giggle, shifting to stand up after pulling your panties up. You adjust your skirt, and reach out to grab the back of his neck. You press your lips to his, kissing him for a moment before you pull back. "Oh definitely and I've decided I like men. Proper men who can make me cum twice. You are...I am never going to forget you. When I am suffering through a boring date with a boring boy, laying there and pretending to orgasm, I will think of you." You promise, "and how you made me cum so fucking hard I saw stars."

Javi smirks as he tucks himself back into his jeans and buttons them up after tucking his shirt back in. “Don’t settle for boys.” He advises you, leaning in and kissing you one last time. “Have fun with your new job in a new country, hermosa.” He murmurs, leaning back and winking at you. “Good luck.”

You smile, grabbing your purse. "You too. Good luck with...life?" You giggle. "I never did get your name." You observe, and he opens his mouth. You reach up and press your fingers to his lips. "No. No. I don't want to know. I want to keep this a mystery. Goodbye lover." You wink, picking up your suitcase after unlocking the door.

Javi chuckles as he watches you walk out before him, hips swaying and he grabs his own bag to exit the bathroom. When he gets out, he hears the boarding call for his flight, hitching his bag up onto his shoulder, he hums to himself as he walks towards the gate, relaxed now and ready for his flight to Colombia.

****

Panicking, you rush around your apartment, grabbing your purse and shoving your heels on. "Shit." You hiss, worrying that you are going to be late. It's not a good impression to be late on your first day at your new job. By the time you make it to the ornate building, you are sweating slightly in the humid air, and you rush down the hallway. "So sorry I am late, ma'am." You tell Brenda, the head secretary.

"Don't let it happen again. Follow me." She orders, and you adjust the strap of your purse on your shoulder as you follow her through the rows of cubicles. "Here is your new boss's office. DEA Chief, Javier Peña." She announces, knocking on the door.

"Come in." A gruff voice orders, and Brenda opens the door to your new boss's office.

This has not been the assignment that Javier had been expecting when he was asking what he knew about the Cali Cartel. Arriving in Colombia had been the shit show he had anticipated, but he hadn’t realized they expected this to be a puppet show. He was here as an official presence while the bastards basically got to negotiate getting away with everything they’ve done as long as they promise to be good. His head hurts, he needs a cup of coffee and a cigarette, although he’s trying to stop smoking and no one seems to know where his secretary is. Looking up, he finds Brenda in the doorway, but his eyes widen slightly when they set on the woman behind her. You.

Your eyes widen as you look into the office to see the man who fucked you in the airport. “Shit.” You hiss under your breath, and Brenda turns to look at you.

“What did you say?” She asks, and you swallow harshly.

“No-Nothing Ma’am.”

She nods, “very well. I will leave you to settle in. Your desk is here.” She points to the desk beside his office, and you nod, watching her go. You turn your head to see Javier still staring at you and you walk into his office. “Well this is not what I expected.” You chuckle nervously.

Javi schools his expression, hiding his shock at the woman he had thought far too much about last night appearing in front of him. Instead, he looks back down at his reports. “I take my coffee black, reports on my desk by 7:30, if I need anything typed up, I’ll do it myself.” He tells you, needing to put some space between the two of you. “You’re dismissed.”

Your smile falls, confused at his dismissal. Does he not remember you? Or is he pretending to not know who you are? Perhaps he doesn’t recognise you in your professional attire. You frown when he looks back down at his paperwork. “Ye-” You clear your throat, “yes sir.” You step out of his office, closing the door, and you sit down at your new desk. Trying to not let yourself get upset. It was just a hookup. It didn’t mean anything. Hell, you never even knew his name. You’re here to work and explore Colombia and that’s what you will do. You inhale deeply, and decide to move on from that encounter and do the job you’re supposed to do. Starting with getting him a cup of coffee.

The door closes behind you and Javi leans back in his seat, sighing and immediately reaching up to rub his eyes. Fuck. He had promised himself that this time was going to be different. That he wasn’t going to fuck around and sleep with the women in the Embassy or the locals. He was going to do things right. Now, on the first day, he’s learning he fucked his secretary. Great. Before too long that will get out and everyone will be believing he’s up to the same shit he was last time. “Just keep it professional.” Javi mutters to himself. “Keep it separate.”

It’s obvious that Javier doesn’t want to remember you. Or maybe he genuinely doesn’t. That does not mean that it hurts any less. The first week of work has been brutal. With fetching endless coffees for Mr. Peña and him completely ignoring you bar a grunt of ‘thanks.’ You try to forget about that day at the airport. “Sir. I have your reports.” You announce after knocking on his office door and hearing him call for you to enter.

Javi looks up, barely registering the slight frown on your face, but he still manages to notice how pretty you look. Frowning to himself and glancing back down at the notes he had made, he motions towards his desk. “Thanks, put them anywhere.” He mumbles, reaching for the cigarettes on his desk, the reprieve from the nasty habit hadn’t lasted past the first run in with Stechner. Pulling out one of the cigarettes, he cups his hand and flicks the lighter to light the smoke, sighing as he sucks in a lung-full of the fragrant tobacco.

You watch him inhale the cigarette, unable to deny to yourself how sexy that looks, but when his dark eyes flick to you, you avert your gaze. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” You ask.

He shakes his head, “no thank you, hermosa.” It’s a slip of the tongue but it makes your eyes widen, remembering when he called you that in the bathroom. Maybe he does remember.

Javi glances back up at you, wondering if he should say something or just leave it alone. After all, you had said you weren’t the type of person to be tied down. It was an encounter in an airport and you hadn’t even wanted to know his name, although you did now. “But I’ll be working through lunch, so maybe order something?” He asks, wanting you to stay for just a moment longer.

You nod, “sure. I can do that. What do you want for lunch?” You ask.

“Arepas from that place a few blocks away.” He says and you nod.

“No problem. I can go and get that for you.” You step back towards the door, biting your lip as you wonder if you should say something, but you decide not to, stepping back and out of his office.

Javi frowns when you bring back the bag. Noticing that there is nothing for you unless you dropped it on your desk. “Where’s yours?” He demands as he opens the brown paper bag and pulls the paper wrapped arepas from within. Still hot and steaming, the smell makes his mouth water. Smells like you had gotten him the ones stuffed with beef and chilies.

“I- I didn’t know I could get myself something.” You confess, biting your lip. Your stomach growls but you ignore it, knowing you can get some water. You’re too busy and you forgot to pack a lunch this morning with how late you were getting into the embassy because your alarm didn’t go off.

“Here.” Javi knows you have to be hungry. You eat a slice of toast at your desk and have coffee. If possible, your diet might be worse than his. “Take half.” He offers three of the six arepas you bought for him. When you hesitate, he motions for you to come take them. “Seriously. I won’t be able to eat all of them. No sense in you being hungry.” He tells you, dark eyes on you.

You hesitate, but when your stomach growls again, you nod, and take the arepas from his desk. “Do you want to sit down and eat with me?” He asks, and you are hesitant, but sit down opposite him in the empty chair. You unwrap the arepa, avoiding his eyes. You aren’t sure what to say to your boss who’s been inside of you.

He supposes it’s his fault you are quiet, avoiding eye contact. It’s not like he has done much to encourage conversation between the two of you. But for some reason, he wants to change that. Prove to himself that he wasn’t still thinking about that bathroom at the airport. Or the way that you sound when you cum. “Are you settling in okay?” He asks, wondering if you’ve been to Colombia before or if it’s your first time.

Your eyes flick up to his, trying to not look so surprised at the casual conversation. “Um, yeah. Yeah. It’s - it’s definitely different than what I’m supposed to but that’s why I accepted the job. I was sick of my small town. I wanted to see the world.” You answer, taking a bite of the arepa and moaning at the burst of flavor.

Javi inhales sharply at the moan you give when you bite into your lunch. Reminding him of when he slid inside you. “I can understand that. Laredo is no one’s version of a big city.” He volunteers, not really knowing why he is telling you that. Not like you care about knowing his background. “Why Colombia?”

You smirk, looking up at him. “I speak the language.” He chuckles in response, and you set down the arepa. “You’re a Texas boy, huh?” You ask, and he nods. “I’ve always liked a cowboy.” You wink, before you remember yourself and clear your throat. “I, um, had a bad break up. Decided I needed a change of scenery. We were too comfortable living an ordinary life and I grew tired of seeing the same places, same people. He did too apparently because he decided to cheat on me.” You scoff, taking another bite.

Javi scoffs, shaking his head at the idiot who decided you weren’t good enough. “Boys.” He huffs, reminding himself of your conversation. “I told you about them. Why be in a relationship if you’re going to fuck around? Just be single.”

“Exactly. Besides, I got my revenge before I left. I fucked his boss.” You smirk, “and he hated his boss. With a passion. And his boss was hot so why not? It was beautiful when he realized. Then I left and came here. I don’t want to settle down…why bother when they just cheat on you?” You snort.

“Not every man cheats.” Javi assures you. “My pops would kill me if I was ever unfaithful to the woman I settled down with. And ma would haunt me from her grave.” He jokes, heart panging at the thought of the woman who raised him. “Married for 25 years before she passed, pops never remarried.” He glances down at his arepa. “He always says Peña men are loyal to one woman for the rest of their lives when they find the right one.”

“Good thing you’re not the settling type then, huh? I don’t think I am either. No one seems to be able to handle me.” You chuckle, feeling slightly uneasy as the fact that this conversation is eerily similar to what you had before you fucked in the airport bathroom. You wonder if he will shut down again come end of day.

“Yeah.” Javi takes a bite of his arepa and chews, lifting a brow at you as he swallows. “So what makes you so difficult to handle?” He asks, almost adding that he didn’t have any difficulty ‘handling’ you in that bathroom, but he refrains at the last second. “Horrible gas? Shit with the door open?”

You giggle, shaking your head. “No. No. Not that. Just- most men don’t want an independent woman. If a man doesn’t make me cum, I’m not going to pretend. I’m not going to lay there and fake it, I’ll tell them and try to teach them. Men…boys…find that demeaning. I am not going to sit at home and wait for the man to come home from work, I want to work. I want to be known as more than just their wife. My ex…he wanted a little homemaker to stay at home and look after the kids. That was never going to be me. I want my own identity.”

Javi snorts and shakes his head. “It’s the nineties, of course you want your own life.” He agrees. “Having someone sit at home and wait on me hand and foot would annoy the shit out of me. My parents were partners. Hell, my ma was a better rider than my pops. Her stallion hated him. Bit him on the ass every time he turned his back.” Javi leans back and chuckles. “Swore he was going to turn him to glue and ma would threaten him with the frying pan if he touched that horse.”

You grin, “it sounds like she was a spitfire. I bet you miss her.” You murmur, seeing the grief in his eyes. He nods, and you can’t stop yourself from reaching out to touch his hand. “Sorry.” You murmur, quickly withdrawing it. “I- I better get back to work. I’ll bring you a coffee in a bit.” You say, standing up and grabbing the wrappers and bag.

Javi doesn’t say anything, staring down at where you had touched his hand and holding onto the warmth of that spot for as long as he can. Only sighing when the sensation completely disappears. It had been fun talking to you, something he’s not really had a lot of in a long time. But he’s here to make sure he didn’t repeat the mistakes he made with Escobar. He couldn’t afford to.

****

You adjust the straps of your dress, eyeing yourself in the mirror, and you think you’re ready. You’re nervous. You’ve never done anything like this before. Javier had approached you, filling you in on the latest lead involving Franklin Jurado and his wife. Javier had thought the best plan of action was to flirt with her but that didn’t work so he asked you to get involved, befriend her, and try to find out where Franklin is. After grabbing your purse, you lock up your apartment and head down to the curb to wait for your boss.

Javi drums his fingers on the steering wheel as he turns on your road. Eyes widening behind his dark aviators before he makes sure his jaw isn’t hanging on the ground. You look…edible. The dress hugs you perfectly and makes him think about hauling you up to whatever apartment you live in and stripping you out of it. Instead he parks and gets out. “You ready?” He asks, hoping that you are.

You nod, biting your lip when he opens the passenger door for you. You get in and fasten your seatbelt as he shuts your door, and you watch him as he gets into the driver's seat and turns the engine back on. He looks sexy, dress shirt half unbuttoned, he looks more casual than his normal suit and tie. And his cologne. You want to press your face into his neck, and just inhale him. “So…she didn’t fall for the infamous Peña charm?” You tease. You’ve heard all about his escapades from the women of the embassy. You had even heard about him fucking one of them recently. That had hurt you until you reminded yourself that what happened in the airport meant nothing.

Javi flushes and shakes his head. “She’s in love with her husband.” He tells you. “It’s admirable, but I need to know where Franklin is.” He huffs, finding it ironic that faithfulness was making him turn to you to find out what he needed to know. “Can’t win them all.” He murmurs to himself.

You hum, preparing yourself to try and befriend Christina with a tale of your own husband being gone. You’d dug your grandmother's ring out of its hiding place to put on your ring finger to look the part. “I’ll get it out of her.” You promise, knowing you can be quite convincing. “So…what are you going to do while I become BFFs with Christina?”

“I’ll be close. My eyes will be on the two of you at all times.” He promises, wanting to make sure you know he will be there if something goes wrong. “I’ll snag a table in a corner.” He glances down at your hand and is surprised to see the ring. “From the ex?” He asks. “Boy actually had taste, at least.”

You giggle, shaking your head. "Oh God, that idiot didn't buy it. It was my grandma's. She left it to me when she died. I figured it would look good for Christina...actually show her I'm married. It's a beautiful ring. Probably the only one I'm gonna get." You snort, lowering your hand.

He tells himself that he shouldn’t be relieved that it’s not a gift from your ex. That it’s not some symbol of a future. Hell, he doesn’t even know what happened to the ring he gave Lorraine. He never asked for it back and she never offered. “Never say never.” He murmurs. “I don’t know what my ex did with the ring I gave her, but she has a big, flashy one from her husband now.”

"You were engaged? Voluntarily?" You guffaw. "What happened? Did you- did you, uh, cheat on her?" You ask, knowing that he said his father would kill him for cheating but you wonder if that came after he did the deed. "When was this?" You ask, curious as hell.

Javi huffs, disappointed you would think that. “No.” He glances over at you to throw you an unimpressed look before he looks back at the road. “Hell, it was 15 years ago? Right out of college. I was a deputy with the Sheriff’s department. She and I had been dating on an off since high school.” Javi blows out a heavy sigh. “Her dad basically told me to shit or get off the pot, so I bought a ring. Couldn’t do it though.”

You snort, "you run out on her on the actual day?" You ask, and he looks sheepish. "Oh you did. Peña!" You reach out to slap his arm, "you bad boy." You lean back in your seat, "well...her loss is Colombia's gain." You look up as the hotel comes into view.

“Remember, get her talking.” Javi tells you. “Play up feeling lonely since you are an American too.” He had noticed she was acting like she was lonely, wishing she had someone from home. That had almost gotten him in until he scared her off.

“Yes sir.” You mock salute him, getting out when he parks the car and cuts the engine. “I’ll walk in there alone.” You tell him as you walk into the posh hotel. You find the bar and spot Christina from the description Javier gave you. You sit down at the bar in the empty seat beside her, the bar is busy tonight, and you set your purse on the counter. “What can I get you?” The bartender asks you in Spanish, and you fluster. “I’m so sorry. I don’t speak Spanish.” You lie. “What can I get you to drink?” The bartender repeats in English and you order a vodka tonic. “Where are you from?” Christina asks you, and you smother your smile. “California. Tiny town.” You turn to look at her. “What are you doing here?” She tilts her head, and you sigh. “My husband…he’s here for business but it seems he had to go to Cali so he decided to leave me here to ‘relax.’ Sorry. You don’t want to listen to me whine about missing my husband.” You chuckle.

Christina Jurado straightens in her chair, the martini - extra vermouth and two olives - forgotten in her hand as she smiles at the new face. “Men always want to leave us to pine away at home while they go play, don’t they?” She asks, chuckling with you when you grin back at her. “Join me for a drink.” She offers.

You nod, picking up your drink after the bartender sets it down. You tell her your name, and she tells you hers - like you didn't already know it. "God, they do love to make us pine. I'm lucky though. Every time my husband goes away, he always buys me something sparkly." You wiggle your finger, and Christina holds her own hand up.

"Mine too."

You grin, "they think they can buy our forgiveness...always works." You giggle.

"Doesn't it?" Christina giggles back at you, visibly relaxed and enjoying herself.

"To missing men." You toast, and she giggles, clinking her glass against yours.

"To being spoiled by Franklin and-" She waits for your 'husband's' name. "Javier." You tell her. "To being spoiled by Franklin and Javier." You aren't sure why you said Javier but it was the first name that came to mind.

Javier watches you, three tables away, drinking a soda water instead of the whiskey he really wants. Not sure why he wasn’t drinking beyond the urge to make sure he was completely clear headed in case something happened. Or maybe it was because the last time he drank with you, he ended up balls deep inside you in a bathroom - and that couldn’t happen this time. You throw your head back and laugh, making his eyes trail the column of your throat and he wishes he could come up behind you and kiss your neck.

You sip your drink, talking to Christina about what Colombia has to offer, and she doesn’t seem to like spicy food. “What about your husband?” You ask casually, getting bored of the conversation now. She seems far too interested in fashion and her appearance for your taste in friends.

“Oh Franklin. He loves spicy food. He just called me this morning. He’s in Curaçao and was telling me about this goat curry they serve. I would never eat goat.” Christina wrinkles her nose.

You smile, victorious in your quest, and you resist the urge to turn around and face Javier. “Me neither.” You go along with her, agreeing.

Soon, she checks her watch, “oh he’s going to be calling me soon. I better get back to the room. It was great meeting you.” She says, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

“You too. Maybe I’ll see you around.” You tell her,

“I hope so.” She smiles, getting off of the stool after requesting her drinks and yours are added to her room.

“Thank you Christina. Have a good night.” You tell her before she walks off. You grin to yourself, unable to wait to tell Javier the news.

Javi stands and comes over to intercept you before you can look around for him, the look on your face telling him that you think you have something. “Not here.” He cautions you, aware that you bring attention to men. You are noticeable. “In the car.” He moves past you after he picks up the napkin you had knocked to the ground and continues on like he doesn’t want to pull you close and walk out with you.

You are about to slide off of the barstool when a man approaches you. You pause, looking at the smartly dressed guy, who offers you a smile as he crowds you in your seat. “Leaving so soon? Let me buy the beautiful lady a drink.” He offers, and you shake your head.

“Thank you for the offer, but I am married.” You declare as you hold up your left hand.

The man grabs your hand, inspecting the ring, “he isn’t here, right? What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” He coos, leaning closer.

He had nearly made it to the elevators when he realized you weren’t following him. Turning around to see some guy through the glass of the bar leaning in and crowding you makes a flash of jealousy curl through his gut. “Fuck.” He hisses, hurrying back towards you and wondering how to play this. Act like the husband or just push the guy away from you.

You huff, pushing at his chest as you try to get some space. “Come on baby. Your husband isn’t here. Let me keep you company.” He coos, reaching out to brush your thigh under the hem of your dress.

“Get your fucking hand off of me.” You hiss.

Javi hears the last part, where you are obviously not interested. That pisses him off when the asshole keeps trying to touch you. He reaches your side, immediately reaching out and shoving the man back, his jaw set and his fists clenched. “She said no, pendejo.” He hisses angrily. “Get the fuck away from her.”

You can’t deny the way your cunt clenches at the vicious look in Javier’s eyes. “Who are you?” The guy asks, eyeing Javier.

“Her husband. Now fuck off.” Javier hisses, and you step forward to get away from the man.

“Come on baby, let’s go.” You grab Javier’s hand, trying to drag him away. “He’s not worth it. I’m okay.” You murmur, not wanting him to create more of a scene in case word gets back to Christina.

“Please.” The other man scoffs and sends Javi a condescending smirk. “Your wife’s been in here whoring it up with that blonde bitch who comes in here all the time.” He tells him. “Complaining about being left alone and how they need someone to ‘satisfy’ them.”

Javi pushes your hand off his chest and lunges for the guy, punching him on the jaw and making the guy drop down onto the floor. Javi reaches for your bar napkin and flings it at the guy. “There’s shit on the floor.” He hisses. “Clean it up.”

You know it’s wrong, but fuck if you aren’t wet by that display. You let Javier guide you out of the bar and into the elevator, his hand squeezing yours, and it takes everything in you to not pounce him as the car lowers to the lobby. “Thank you.” You tell him once you are outside, and walking to his car

Javi looks over at you, dark eyes full of concern. “Are you okay?” It’s the first words he’s said to you since leaving the bar and its to keep from doing something stupid, like kissing you. “He didn’t do anything else?”

You inhale deeply. "I am fine. He was just a handsy prick. Nothing I haven't dealt with before. Asshole just wouldn't take no for an answer. I'm fine. Thanks for knocking him out...it was sexy to see you defend me like that." You giggle, feeling a little looser now you've had a couple of drinks.

Javi hums, well aware of the four drinks you shared with Christina as opposed to him having nothing. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He huffs dryly. “Although my hand hurts like a bitch now.” He guides you into the parking lot and over to his car to open the door, fully aware that you are slightly wobbly in your heels.

You settle in the passenger seat, leaning against the window after he shuts the door. "I could kiss your hand better." You murmur once he is in the driver's seat. You reach for his hand before he can turn on the engine, frowning at his bruised knuckles, and you lean down to gently kiss the damaged skin.

His hand is on fire from your lips and takes a deep breath, steadying himself before he pulls his injured hand away to turn over the engine. “All better.” He rumbles out, stomach twisting painfully and he reminds himself of why you were in that bar. “Did Christina give you any clue about where Franklin is?” He asks, using backing out of the parking spot and navigating out of the garage as an excuse to not look at you.

You grin, leaning over towards him, "oh she told me where he is. He's in Curaçao." You are a little cocky, glad you got the information he couldn't out of Franklin's wife. You slump back in your seat, suddenly tired from all the commotion.

“Curaçao?” Javi’s mind reels and he thinks back to one of the tapes that had been recorded of their conversations. “You are a genius, hermosa.” He reaches over and squeezes your leg before he starts planning. “I’ll drop you off at your apartment, you will need to sleep off the alcohol.” He murmurs, knowing that he will be gone before you wake up.

You close your eyes, "happy to help." You hum, suddenly feeling exhausted, but the spot where Javier's fingers squeezed your leg is on fire. "Gonna use my vibrator first then go to sleep. Thinking of you." You confess, the alcohol taking full effect and making you confess things you never would in the light of day.

Javi nearly chokes, head turning to find your eyes closed as you lean against the glass. It wouldn’t be fair to judge you when there have been plenty of times he’s thought about you over the months when his cock is in his hand. He’s slept with one of the girls from the Embassy since he’s been back, Regretting it the second he woke up in her bed since he knew that it would get back to you. Even if it had been, in a way, a silent message to you that what had happened between the two of you wasn’t serious. Since then, he’s kept to himself, jerking off in the shower, thinking of you. “I’ll get you back home so you can do it then.” He murmurs softly.

You hum your thanks, and when he pulls up outside of your building, you huff when he opens your door, and tries to move you from your comfy spot. You lean on him as he guides you towards your door following your mumbled instructions. He takes your keys from your purse, opening your door, and helping you inside. "You don't want to stay?" You ask breathlessly, letting your weight fully rest on him when you wrap your arms around his neck.

It’s so wrong, the way that his cock twitches in his jeans, but he shakes his head. Slowly bringing his hands up to start to peel your arms from around him. “I can’t.” He tells you honestly, both because he knows what would happen if he stays, and because he needs to get to Curaçao. You pout at him but he shakes his head again. “I’ll get you to bed and get you some water, but then I’m locking you in your apartment. Alone.” He tells you.

You let him guide you into your bedroom, and you swiftly begin taking your dress off. Javier's eyes widen when they see your bare back and ass, his cock twitching and he knows that image will be burned into his mind despite quickly spinning to walk to your kitchen and get you some water. You slide under the covers naked, closing your eyes when Javier walks back in. "Javi?" You murmur as he sets the glass down.

"Yeah?" He asks.

"You do remember what happened at the airport, right? You do remember?"

Javi sighs, not wanting to talk about this at all, let alone when you are drunk. “You’re drunk.” He murmurs softly, unable to stop himself from pulling the covers up on your body a little higher. “You have aspirin in your medicine cabinet?” He asks, not bothering to wait until you nod before he is walking toward the small en-suite to rifle through the shelves, not missing the compact containing your birth control before he finds a bottle of Advil. He brings it out and opens the bottle, shaking two orange coated tabs into his hand. “Take these and get some sleep.” He orders you softly.

You nod, taking the tablets, and the glass of water he offers you, before you swallow them down. He sets the glass down, and you close your eyes. "I remember. Every second." You murmur before you fall asleep, imagining Javier in bed beside you, curled around you, and protecting you from the world outside.

He stands there, watching you for at least ten minutes before he moves. Sighing to himself as he moves through your apartment and makes sure your purse and keys are visible on your small kitchen table before he locks the door behind him. Reaching into his coat, he pulls out his cell phone, dialing a number. “I need the DEA jet fueled and a flight plan made.” He rushes down the stairs, talking into the device. “Curaçao, I’m going to Curaçao.”

****

After chasing down Franklin, Javier taps his fingers on the table between him and Jurado. "You were the one who approached my wife? Did you enjoy it? Using her to get to me?" He asks in Spanish, "and the woman? Is she associated with you?"

Javi plays with the edge of the small jet table between the chairs. “You know what I would be thinking about if I were you, Franklin?” He asks, looking up in the other man’s eyes. “That…if your wife wants to see you, she’s gonna see you in jail. Twelve hours every week. Getting felt up by some sweaty guard who’s only highlight at work is getting his hands under your wife’s dress.” His brows go up, knowing how furious he had been when that asshole touched you and you weren’t anything more than his secretary.

"You can say whatever you want. You can't scare me." Franklin says cockily.

"No..." Javier tilts his head as he leans forward, "I can just ruin your life."

****

Your head is pounding as you answer the phone "Hello?" You answer.

"Hey. It's Peña. I need you to go to the hotel and find Christina. We need to get her out of Bogotá." Javier orders. You straighten your back,

"I was just finishing up for the day. I will go now." You promise.

"Okay. Hermosa...be careful. The police will meet you at the hotel. I need someone she knows who can tell her her husband has been arrested and is being extradited to the U.S." He informs you.

"Okay. I got it boss. I will leave now." You hang up the phone, grabbing your things, and you make your way to the hotel. The police are already there, and you walk down to the sidewalk, wondering if you can see Christina as she comes back from the salon the hotel staff had booked for her. You see a car, and your eyes widen when you see Christina. She notices you, winding down the window.

"Fancy seeing you here." She smiles, and you shake your head.

"We need to talk."

She nods, opening the car door, "we can talk back at the hotel." She offers, and you get in beside her. When the car pulls up near the entrance, her eyes go wide. "Shit. Stop." She orders in Spanish, "turn around." She demands.

"Christina, wait. Wait. I work for the DEA." You rush out, and her eyes narrow.

"You what?" She growls as the car speeds down the street.

"Your husband. Franklin. He's been arrested and is being extradited to the U.S." You inform her.

"You lied to me? At the bar?" She spits, clearly pissed off with you.

"Yes. Yes. I am sorry." You hold your hands up. The driver pulls up to a traffic light, and you frown, looking around. Something doesn't feel right.

"You bitch. You're the reason why Franklin has been arrested. I told you where he was-" She doesn't get to continue her rant, as the car in front reverses and Christina shrieks. "Drive. Fucking drive!" She orders, turning around to look at you. "You fucking-"

You scramble, trying to unlock the door when a man raises his gun and shoots the driver through the glass. You scream and he unlocks the door, dragging Christina out until he notices you. He smirks, "this is that DEA bitch." He tells his friend after shoving Christina into the car, and you are certain he's going to shoot. He opens the backdoor, and grabs you despite your kicking and screaming. You are shoved in beside Christina, shaking in terror as they drive off.

****

“We start with just the basics.” Javier explains, tossing his phone between his hands as he hustles through the halls, in high spirits not that he has a chance to get these bastards. “Okay? Where they move the money, Where they keep the money?” He tells the two agents trailing him before he walks into the view room. The one way mirror provides a view of the interrogation room where Franklin is talking to a short, plump man. Javi huffs, annoyed. “Let me guess, it’s his fucking lawyer?”

Without a word, one of the agents knocks on the door as the man opens it. “Agent Peña.” He’s a jovial fuck, for what it’s worth as he walks over and holds out his hand. “Alan Starkman.” He introduces himself as Javi shakes silently. “Mr. Jurado’s lawyer.”

“Yeah, your client has indicated he’s open to a deal in exchange for testimony.” Javi tells him.

Mr. Starkman looks down. “Ah, before he learned that his wife won’t be joining.”

Javi shakes his head in confusion. “What?” He knows he sent you over to get Christina and bring her back to the Embassy. “I’ve just spoken with his wife and I sent my agent over to secure her safety. They are on their way to the embassy in Bogota.” Calling you an agent is a stretch, but anything to make him talk.

Starkman smirks as he pulls a cigarette out of a gold case. “I was informed they never arrived.” He tells Javi. “Go ahead, check with your people.” He puts the cigarette in his mouth and lights it to take a drag before he continues on. “It’s my understanding that she met up with Mr. Jurado’s employers instead.” Javi stares at the man, his immediate thoughts going to you. “I guess she’s had a change of heart.” Starkman takes another drag off the cigarette and stares flatly at the DEA agent. “Whatever deal you had with my client is off.” He tells him before he walks away.

Javi turns and looks at the glass where Franklin is seemingly staring into the room, his jaw firmly clenched shut. “Fuck.” Javi huffs. “Fuck!”

****

You shake as you are pulled out of the car. It’s dark and you can’t see anything but forest. “Come. It’s fine. It’s fine. Nothing is going to happen to you both.” The sicario tells you and Christina. You are dragged along while Christina whimpers, and you eye the militia walking towards you. They grab you and you realize you will be killed if you struggle. They don’t need you. They need Christina. You let them guide you through the forest.

You walk all night, feet now bare since the heels were slowing you down so they tore them off of your feet despite your cries of protest. You are pushed forward until the sun is in the sky, and you enter what looks to be their headquarters. A makeshift cage is opened, and you and Christina are shoved inside. She is gasping, shaking, and you tell her to calm down.

“Calm down?” She hisses, “it’s your fucking fault I’m here.” You nod, unable to deny that. You just hope Javier realizes you’re missing with her, and finds you. Soon.

****

Javi isn’t sleeping, pushing himself to try to get the cartel. He has no leads on where you and Christina are, no way of tracking you down. It’s just like you have disappeared off the face of the earth. He’s getting people in place to take them down, men who are not scared of the cartels, even raiding Miguel Rodriguez to try to both arrest him and find out where you are. Horrible images filling his mind, reminding him of when Helena had been taken, praying that the same fate wasn’t yours. It’s a hell of a way to find out that he loves you.

****

You’re not sure how much time has passed. You haven’t eaten since the afternoon of the day you were taken. They give you water, but it’s made you sick so you are trying to only drink it when you need to. “So are you actually married?” Christina croaks after God knows how long.

You chuckle weakly, shaking your head. “No. No. I - I am not married. Not even got a boyfriend.” You confess.

“You’re not fucking the asshole with the mustache?” She snorts.

“Once.” You confess, “before we knew who each other was. We met up at the airport bar and he fucked me in the bathroom.” You smile at the memory.

“Classy.” Christina scoffs, and you scowl.

“Says the woman who snorts coke and ignores the fact that her husband is covering up for a fucking cartel.” You counter, and she sighs, closing her eyes.

“Fair point. So this guy you fucked…it sounds like more. Do you love him?” She asks.

You look down at your tied wrists. “Yeah. Yeah. I do. I’m in love with him.” You smile as you finally confess it to yourself, “too bad I am never gonna get to tell him.”

****

Javi sits in meeting, hating that he’s not out finding you, but he needs them to want Franklin Jurado to talk. “I stand by the operation, Minister. As does General Serano.”

The minister looks over at him with distaste, reminding him why he hates politicians. “Who was in Bogota at the time of the raid. While you and your men were there for five hours, drilling holes and breaking furniture.”

“We were one minute away from getting Miguel Rodriguez.” He argues.

“But you did not.” The minister reminds Javi, making him turn before he says something he regrets. “I need to you turn over all the intel, including informants over to a special prosecutor. And I’m afraid the DEA can no longer be a part of this operation.”

“Your taking us off?” Van Ness huffs.

“Yes.” The minister snaps back.

Javi brings the conversation back to him. “Minister. We recovered something from the house.” He pulls out a book and hands it to him. “It’s a ledger.” The minister opens it and he explains. “Cartel accounts, transactions, going back years.” He explains that it’s coded and that he needs Franklin Jurado to read the book. “Jurado is the most important witness in this case.” Javi tells the minister and the ambassador. “And he’s in U.S. custody. We’re not handing him over to a ‘special prosecutor’. So you’re welcome to keep the ledger, minister. But we have the only guy who can read it.”

The minister is silent for a moment. “Then Agent Peña, I suppose you have to see this out.” Javi can’t show how relieved he is that he won’t be taken out of the loop on this. The minister stands and shakes the Ambassador’s hand before walking out of the office. Crosby sighs and sits back down. “You make my job a lot fucking harder, you know that?” He asks Javi. “You told me the only way Jurado talks is if you find his wife. And I know this isn’t about Christina Jurado, but your secretary.” He leans in. “Do you have any idea where they are?”

Javi nods. ‘I know someone who might.” He tells the ambassador, hoping he’s right.

****

You lean against the cage, looking over at Christina, who looks nothing like her well groomed self. "Looks like your DEA boss won't be coming to save us." She spits, pissed off and tired. She wishes she had never agreed to go to Bogotá.

"He will. We are in the middle of the fucking jungle. He's probably figuring out where we are. He will be here though. Soon." You tell yourself as much as you tell her, anxious to see Javier and be out of this damn cage.

****

Don Berna, a man that Javi would honestly love to never speak to again. The proverbial devil on his shoulder with Los Pepes. He doesn’t blame him, he knows that he pulled the trigger on helping them himself, but he’s still resentful. Especially because they had killed that kid. He didn’t deserve to die because his father was in bed with Escobar. Sitting at a cafe, he tries not to watch the man eat as he sits with his arms crossed before he finally gives in. “Did you find them?” Javi asks in Spanish.

Ever the gracious host, Don Berna doesn’t answer him straight away. Instead he asks, “Sure you don’t want something? The picada here is the shit.”

Javi huffs impatiently. “You have what I asked for or not?”

Berna waves a man over, handing him an envelope. “That blonde girl, and your secretary are a long way from home.” Berna says as he hands the packet to Javi. He tries to understand what the man means before he opens the packet, trying not to show how worried he is. He pulls out a paper and looks in the envelope before he pulls out a picture. Heart both plummeting and elated when he sees you and Christina in the picture, both holding a recent newspaper. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.” Javi mutters in English, coming up to wipe his lips to hide his relief at seeing evidence of you alive, Covering his mouth completely.

“I’m imagining the headline.” Berna tells Javi in Spanish. “American women held hostage in Colombian jungle. Fuck.”

Javi tries to decide his next move, knowing he needs to work quickly. Going to get up, he thanks Don Berna. “Thanks for the info.”

“Wait.” Javi doesn’t leave, turning back towards him. “I’m going to help you rescue the barbie doll and your woman.” Berna grins, obviously believing that Javi is fucking you. Which to be fair, he had, but only once. “To do this job, we need to work with some old friends of ours.” Javi looks around, knowing who he is talking about and not liking it one bit. “They can help us.” Berna tells him. “They know the terrain like the back of their hand. How to get in and out.”

Sighing, Javi rubs his brow, trying to come up with any way that he can not work with Los Pepes again, sitting down as he weighs his options. He knows you don’t have long. “What’s it going to cost?” He finally asks. Berna sniffs and looks over at him triumphantly, knowing he’s in.

“Cheap.” He assures him. “You just have to make me a promise, Peña.” Javi looks over. “When my name pops up on the DEA to-do list….you pick up the phone and call me. So I can be cautious and protect myself.”

Javi shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “I see now.” He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. “A get out of jail free card.” He huffs in English.

Berna chuckles. “Exactly.” He answers in the same language. Despite hating the idea of it, he would do anything to make sure you come back safe. Even make a deal with the devil again.

****

You are shaking, you haven’t eaten for God knows how long, and Christina’s incessant whining is grating. “Can you just shut the fuck up?” You growl at her when she moans about how tangled her hair is.

“Me? You’re the one rambling on about how ‘he’s going to save us’ and I highly doubt that. We are going to die in this fucking cage, and it’s all your fault.” She whines, closing her eyes, and she leans her head back against the cage.

You huff, crossing your arms, “he is going to save us. He is.”

****

Javi has changed into more tactical clothes, Army green pants, boots and shirt. Hopping out of the jeeps, he walks across the tarmac, shaking hands with one of the General’s men. Berna shows up, admiring the helicopter that they will be taking for the mission as he gets out of the truck. “Great machine.” He tells Javi. “You people know how to build a fucking assault chopper.” FARC are the ones that are holding you and Christina and he will need it to get to you.

“Nice look Berna.” Javi huffs. “You’re coming on the raid?”

Berna chuckles. “Thanks, but no. I’m coming to make sure all goes well with our friends. Look at me. Do you think an important man like me is going to risk his life for some gringo piece of ass? Or pieces of ass?” He asks Javi with a smirk. Javi doesn’t answer, just turns around and walks over to climb into the chopper.

Flying over to the training camp, Javi gives them night vision goggles. “Peña, can we keep them afterwards as a contribution to the cause?” The leader asks him. They even wanted the fucking helicopter, but Javi didn’t give a shit, as long as he got you back.

Waiting was the hardest part. They can only go in after dark and he has to sit on his fucking thumbs and listen to Berna’s bullshit and be in the presence of men he would rather throw in jail than talk to but he doesn’t like the way that is sounds like they don’t want to rescue, more focused on killing communists. “Berna.” Javi motions for him to join him away from the others, walking away from the open air shelter. “Look, I don’t want a bloodbath.” He tells Berna earnestly.

“Listen to me Peña.” Berna looks him in the eyes. “You want the girls, there will be a body count. This is a war zone.” Javi looks at the ground, trying to reconcile that. “But if you want, we can still call this thing off.”

Javi can’t do that. “I need to get them back.”

Berna grins. “Just to be clear, something goes wrong, you still keep your promise.” Javi turns and walks back to the shelter, ready for this to start and to get you back.

As he is getting ready to leave, he puts on his bullet proof vest while Berna watches. “You ever hear anything from Judy?” Berna asks.

“Not since you sold her out.” Javi tells him.

Berna huffs. “Who would have thought it Javier? Both of us, bosses. They give you a nice place in Bogotá?”

Javi adds extra magazines to the pouches. “It’s good.”

“You should see my house.” Berna boasts. “I can take a shit in a different bathroom ever day of the week. My wife loves it.”

That makes Javi look up in amusement. “Your wife?”

Berna waves his hands. “I’m a family man. Bet you still live out of a suitcase.” He jokes with a chuckle. “But your girl could change that if you let her.” Javi loads his pistol and chambers a round, not willing to tell Berna how he feels about you as he walks away to get on the helicopter.

****

You shiver, it’s dark now, and you are getting cold. Christina wouldn’t huddle for warmth even if her life depends on it, and you wrap your arms around yourself. You close your eyes, trying to get a moment of rest, when you hear the gunshots. “What is that?” Christina gasps, worried as she stands up. You follow suit, standing up, and you shake when you hear the machine guns.

“Oh God. Let it be Javi.” You murmur to yourself, praying it’s your boss coming to save you and Christina. Shot after shot echoes in the jungle, and two men rush up to your cage, unlocking it. One grabs Christina, the other grabs you. You try to struggle but it’s no use.

****

Javi hears the comms come over the radio. “Peña, they have your girlfriend in the southeast part of the camp.” He lowers his NVGs over his eyes. “Let’s move.” He tells the men with him, lifting his rifle to his shoulder. The camp is filled with chaos, allowing him to slip by potential threats and move closer to where you and Christina should be.

“All right men, let’s get these fireworks started.” Comes over the radio. “And don’t be pussies, This is easy. Get ready.” Gunfire erupts and Javi passes the men he is with killing indiscriminately but he’s concerned with getting to you. Finally reaching a clearing where you and Christina are standing side by side with your hands up. He calls your name and then Christina’s, relieved to have found you.

****

You exhale in relief at seeing Javier, but that hope is squashed when the man holding you presses his gun against your head. You gasp, and you see the fear in Javier’s eyes as he lowers his gun. You shriek when a bullet buries itself in the man holding you before a second swiftly kills the man holding Christina. You surge forward, pushing your way into Javier’s vest clad chest, and wrapping your arms around his neck. Christina is close behind you, anxious to leave this hellhole. “You found us.” You murmur, relieved enough that you could cry.

“I found you.” You are shaking like a leaf and Javi brushes your hair back and kisses your forehead. “I wasn’t going to stop until I found you.” He wraps his other arm around Christina and guides both of you to the chopper that has landed, but he refuses to let you go when you climb on board. Closing the door so that you will feel just a bit safer. Pulling you against him and wrapping both arms around you, thanking God that he had found you.

Javier drives you to your apartment, and tells Christina she’s on the first flight out to Miami. She will sleep in your guest room tonight, and will borrow your clothes in the morning. She showers first when you’re in your apartment, and you watch Javier make you all something to eat. “I’m not hungry.” You tell him after downing a bottle of water.

“You need to eat.” He demands, setting the toast in front of you. He hands Christina a plate when she comes into the living room with wet hair, wearing your pajamas. “There are men stationed inside and outside of the building so you’ll be safe here tonight.” He promises when she says she needs to sleep. You hear her lock the bedroom door, and you look at Javier.

“I’m going to shower and then go to bed. I- it’s been a lot.” You murmur, standing up to make your way to your bathroom. You wonder if he will stay. Most likely not. Like he said, his men are stationed outside of the apartment.

Javi nods, following behind you. He’s not letting you out of his sight, he can't. Instead, he enters the bathroom behind you and when you turn around and gasp, he reaches out and strokes your arms. “I’m- hermosa, I’m going to stay right here while you shower.” He tells you. “I won’t look but I-” He sighs. “Please?”

You nod, watching him sit down on the toilet. You reach for your tattered blouse, unbuttoning it, and you stand before him in your bra. He averts his eyes, closing them, and you want to tell him to watch but you don't want to embarrass yourself. After reaching in to turn on the water, you finish stripping down, and you step under the stream, sighing in relief as it warms your bones. The dirt washes down the drain, and you hear Javier fidget on the toilet seat.

“Did they-” Javi stops himself, trying to figure out the kindest way to ask. You didn’t look like you had been touched, but he needed to know if you had been. Not that it would change how he felt about you, he just needed to know what he needed to do to help you. “Did they hurt you, hermosa?” He asks softly.

You swallow, thankful that they didn't touch you. Your mouth opens as you try to respond. "N-no. No, they didn't hurt me. Just - I didn't eat or drink anything. It was cold at night too. I just- I just kept telling Christina that you were gonna come save us." You choke, tears stinging in your eyes and they mingle with the water. You never expected to be kidnapped when you accepted the secretary job, figuring you'd be safe in the embassy.

“I’m sorry.” Javi mumbles, but it’s loud enough that you hear it. “I should have never asked you - no, told you to go to Christina. It’s my fault.” He admits easily enough. “I shouldn’t have put you in that position.” He looks down at his hands and then at the shower curtain between you. “I wasn’t going to ever stop looking for you.” He promises.

You close your eyes, heart fluttering at his words, and you remember your admission to Christina about being in love with him. You tried to stop yourself but your heart gave in, and you fell for him. You wash your hair and clean up, turning off the shower. You reach for the towel, wrapping your hair before you wrap the towel around yourself, stepping out of the shower. You decide to brush your teeth, and you tell Javier he can open his eyes now.

Javier opens his eyes and watches as you go through your nighttime routine, following you out of the bathroom and sits down on the edge of your bed. “Put on some pajamas.” He urges you. “I can’t sleep beside you while you are naked.”

You're surprised to hear he wants to sleep beside you, but you don't question it, knowing it could spook him. You are too tired to be shy, dropping the towel as you open your drawer to find your pajamas. Your back faces him as you get dressed and once you're in your pajamas, you pick up your towel and walk into the bathroom, hanging the towel up. You make your way around the bed, seeing Javier has already taken his jacket off. You slide under the covers, watching him.

Javi strips down to his boxers, exhausted and relieved that you are here. “Last time I was in the room, you were begging me to stay, but you were drunk.” He murmurs softly. “Now I’m the one begging to stay.” He knows you wont turn him away, but he wants you to have a choice. “Do I sleep in the bed with you or on the floor?” He asks.

"In the bed." You answer without hesitation. "I want you to hold me...please." You add, tearing up again. You were terrified when they had taken you, convinced you were going to die at a sicario's hand. You need to feel his arms around you, know that you're okay.

“Whatever you want.” He’s relieved and his knows his back with thank you. Quickly climbing in the bed beside you, he turns off the light and rolls over, gathering you in his arms and hauling you close to him. “I’m here.” He murmurs softly. “You’re safe. I promise you’re safe.”

You curl into him, breathing in his scent, and you close your eyes. Sleep quickly finds you, and you dream about Javier greeting you that first day of work like he knew you, if he had been open to getting to know you, to being in a relationship with you. Nights spent together in bed just like this, or midnight lovemaking. It's a different outcome and one that you know is not true when you wake up and find the bed is empty. You blink, confused, and wondering if he was even there, until you hear his voice, gruff as he speaks to someone on your landline.

“Yeah.” Javi speaks into the headset, reassuring the agent on the other end of the phone. “I’m putting her on the plane myself in two hours.” He tells them. “She’ll be there by the afternoon. We need Jurado to talk and we will guarantee Christina will be there and be protected if he does.”

You look up at Christina, wearing your “Colombia” sweatshirt you’d bought from some shitty tourist shop, and she looks exhausted. You doubt you look any better. Despite falling asleep in Javier’s arms, when you woke up, he was gone. He appeared ten minutes later, showered and dressed as he brought you a coffee. No words were spoken, and Christina had taken priority when she woke up, and needed to get dressed. “You can’t seriously love that asshole.” Christina whispers while Javier is on the phone. You ignore her, listening to Javier, and you see her glare at him.

Javi hangs up the phone and looks over at you and Christine. With her hair up and no makeup on, the other woman looks years younger, innocent, although he knows she’s not. “I’m putting you on a plane, the agents in the US will meet it on the runway and take you to your husband.” He tells her before his eyes shift over to you, “do you want to come, or stay here?” He asks you softly. He knows he wants you to go, but it’s up to you.

You shake your head, knowing you’d only be prolonging the inevitable. You are going home. You failed Javier and the DEA by not getting Christina to the good guys. You know you’re going to be fired. “No. I’ll stay here.” You tell him, before looking at Christina. “Good luck Mrs. Jurado.” You say formally, and she stands up.

“Thank you.” She responds curtly, and Javier looks at you as she walks towards the front door.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” He says. There’s so much he wants to say but it’s not the right time.

“See you later.” You nod, clenching your jaw to try and keep yourself together. After they leave, you break down. Sobbing, you cry for what happened to you, to Christina. For your return to America, and for your unrequited love for Javier.

****

Javi ignores the sullen silence of Christina Jurado as they wait for the plane. Rather than use a private one, he booked her on a commercial flight, Cali being unwilling to take down an airliner like Escobar had been. He turns away from the windows in the private waiting area. “In less than an hour, you’re on that plane.” He comes to sit in the row behind Christina. “Your husband knows. He’ll be waiting for you.” She doesn’t say anything and Javier feels the need to comfort her in some small way. Feeling guilty that she and you had been kidnapped. “It’s all behind you, Christina.”

She doesn’t even turn around. “And you think I should thank you for that?” She asks, disbelief in her voice.

“No.” Javi murmurs. “No I don’t.”

Christina continues on, “you think you’re a hero. Because you executed a bunch of farmers to get me out so my husband would testify for you?”

That pisses Javi off. “I did what I had to and I’m sorry for what happened to you.” He tells her shortly as he leans back in the seat.

That makes her turn around, giving him a cold smile. “No, no you're not. And you know it. You're a piece of shit, and I don’t see why she loves you.” Christina turns back around and refuses to talk to him anymore, guilt weighing on his chest and he wonders if she had meant what she said about you loving him.

Walking Christina towards the gate with a couple of agents, Javi gets a call. “Yeah, yeah we’re about to get on the plane.” Stopping in his tracks as he listens to the news that Franklin Jurado is dead. Killed in a prison where he was supposed to be safe, under their watch. He watches the realization dawn in Christina’s eyes. “Let me call you back.” He tells them, hanging up the phone.

****

You are packing when you hear the knock on your door. You exhale, preparing yourself for the fallout from Javier firing you. You stand up straight, preparing yourself, and you make your way over to the front door. Unlocking it, you open it to see a defeated Javier Peña on the other side. “What happened?” You blurt out, knowing something must’ve gone wrong. “What happened, Javi?” You ask, stepping aside so he can walk into your apartment.

Javi walks into your apartment, getting to you was the only thing he could think of. Leaving a devastated Christina with the other agents to fly to the states so she could see her husband's body. He owed her at least that. “H-he’s dead.” He croaks out, dark eyes hollow.

Your eyes widen, "Franklin. He's-?" You choke, and Javier nods. "Shit. Shit. Poor Christina and - oh Javi. Your big break. I am so sorry." You step forward, wrapping your arms around him, "I'm so sorry." You murmur into his chest, breathing him in, and trying to comfort your boss.

The second you are touching him, it’s like a switch has been thrown. All the walls he’s built up, the nobility he’s tried to have disappeared. He grabs your face and holds tight to you while he kisses you, desperately licking into your mouth like he is starving for you.

You gasp into the kiss, reacting for a moment, and your tongue slides against his. Until you remember that he hasn't acknowledged the incident at the airport. You grunt into his mouth, pushing him away from you. "St-stop. I- I can't do this." You declare breathlessly, stepping away from him. "I can't - I can't have you inside of me again, and then have you act like it never happened. Don't do that to me. I can't handle it." You choke, tears now stinging your eyes.

Javi stares at you for a moment before he sighs, dropping his hands and then reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “I know you’ve heard my reputation.” He tells you quietly. “When I was here before. I - this time was supposed to be different. I was supposed to be different.” He drops his hand at his side and gives you a sorrowful expression. “I was surprised. The amazingly sexy woman I had an unforgettable encounter with ends up being my fucking secretary. If- if any hint of what happened got out, you would have immediately be labeled as one of my conquests. So I ignored you.”

You frown, processing his reasoning, and you sigh. “Why didn’t you just tell me that? I would’ve understood. Hell, we both know we weren’t going to marry each other just because we fucked in an airport bathroom. We are both commitment phobes. It’s - I just wish you had told me that instead of me spending months wondering if I had something wrong or - or if you were embarrassed of me.” You confess, crossing your arms.

“I was trying to ignore the-“ he sighs and reaches for your hand. “The fact that I have feelings for you.” He confesses. “You - I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. And I was so goddamn scared I wasn’t going to get you back, I did something I swore I would never do again. I worked with narcos.”

Your heart thumps in your chest at his confession, and you look down at his hand in yours. A smile appears on your face when your eyes meet his. “Well it’s a good thing I have feelings for you too. I- I didn’t doubt that you would find us. I knew you would. You are too stubborn to give up on anything. I love that about you Javier. I’m in love with you.” You admit.

“I’m in love with you baby.” Javi murmurs, reaching up to cup your cheek. His eyes bore into yours and he looks back down at your lips. “Let me kiss you.”

You nod, tilting your head towards his. His nose gently nudges yours, and you sigh when he presses his slightly chapped lips to yours. You run your fingers through his hair before you cup the back on his neck, your other hand pressed above his beating heart.

Javi sighs against your lips, now taking it slower and savoring the feeling of your lips against his. Pulling you closer and tucking you against him. “I love you.” He murmurs softly. His hands slide up to cup your ass and he looks past you to ask if you want to go to bed, but he frowns when he sees a bag open on the floor in your living room. “Are you leaving?” He asks with a frown, dropping his hands and taking a step back,

You look down at the bag, shaking your head. “I- I thought you were going to fire me because - because I didn’t get to Christina in time. I just…wow. I feel stupid now, but I thought you were mad at me over losing Christina and then, in turn, Franklin.” You bite your lip, glancing down at the floor.

“What? No.” Javi shakes his head. “Never would fire you for that. I should be fired. I treated my secretary like a field agent and almost got you killed.” He sighs. “Christina told me she doesn’t know why you are in love with me, and she’s right. I’ve been horrible to you.”

You sigh, reaching up to caress his cheek, sliding your fingers along his jaw until your fingertips are brushing his lips. “I haven’t exactly been a saint. You didn’t get me killed, I’m here, and Christina is wrong. I love you because you are brave. I love you because you are so damn smart. I love you because you are determined, and strong. You are the man I love, and I don’t think anything is going to change that. Not even you.” You answer honestly, cupping his cheek.

“Baby…” He closes his eyes and leans in, resting his forehead against yours. “I am so damn tired.” He confesses softly. “I just want to make love to you and go to sleep for a week.”

You smile, reaching for his hand. You don't say a word as you guide him towards your bedroom. You push his jacket off of his shoulders, kicking off your shoes, and you work on unbuttoning his shirt. "I'm tired too. Didn't sleep in the jungle. I just- I need you before we go to sleep."

“You were brave, hermosa.” He praises softly. “So damn brave.” He reaches for your shirt and pulls it up over your head, groaning when he gets to see your tits and not feel guilty. “You were so gorgeous when you were stripped down drunk.” Javi tells you. “I wanted to stay, but if I did, I would have wanted to touch you. Or give in when you tried to drunkenly beg me to fuck you.”

You fluster, "oh God. I did that. Shit. I-." You duck your head, unable to stop yourself from getting embarrassed that you begged him to fuck you. "I couldn't help it. You're too sexy." You grin, recovering from your embarrassment. You reach for his belt buckle, working on undoing his pants.

“I wanted to.” He grunts, hissing when you reach in and wrap your fingers around his cock. “Everyday I thought about fucking you in my office.” He worked his hand into your sweats bottoms, sliding it under your panties to stroke your clit. “Jerked off thinking about that airport bathroom nearly every day.”

You gasp when his fingers rub your clit. Your grip on his cock tightens, and you love the little grunt that escapes his lips. "Me too. Thought about it all the time. God baby, I want to see you naked." You tell him, wanting to see every inch of his flesh for the first time.

He smirks, knowing that all you’ve seen of him was his cock that day. He shrugs out of his button down and kicks off the boots he had worn. “Yeah?” He asks teasingly. “You want to see me? Not just in a mirror of the airport as I fuck you?”

You step back, kicking off your sweats, and you shift to lay down on your bed. Watching him strip off. Your mouth goes dry when you finally see every inch of his skin. The broadness of his shoulders, the slight smattering of hair on the slight rounded stomach, and down to his girthy cock. "Fuck me Javi. You're gorgeous." You moan, shifting to kneel on your hands and knees. You shuffle towards the foot of the bed before you lean forward, wrapping your lips around his cock after flicking your tongue over the leaking head.

“Oh fuck.” Javi hisses, rocking his hips forward slightly and he cups your cheek. “Baby, you don’t have to do that. Let me touch you. Make you feel good.” He begs softly, wanting to touch you after so much time denying himself.

You pull off of him, wrapping your fingers around his cock. "I want to. I want you to cum down my throat." You tell him before you take him back into your mouth. Deeper than before, you pump what you can't fit into your mouth, and you hollow your cheeks, looking up at him.

“Fuck, fuck.” He hisses, eyes fluttering and struggling to stay open so he can watch, remembering when you had said you would give him a blow job if you knew him. “Good girl.” He moans quietly, trying to stay still so that you can bob your head at your pace. “Knew that pretty mouth would feel good.”

You reach for his hand, bringing it to the back of your head. You want him to take his pleasure from you. You close your eyes when he pushes you a little further onto his cock. You moan around him, caressing his thigh, and you reach around to squeeze his ass.

“Jesus, you’re eager for it.” He shudders and gives a low chuckle. He grips the back of your head as his hips push forward roughly. “Gets you wet, doesn’t it?” He asks, loving how you swallow around him, tightening your throat with every thrust into your mouth.

You moan around him, unable to deny the fact that you are dripping onto your bedsheets. You let him fuck your throat, lowering your hand so you can rub your clit, and tears well in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks when his cock pushes down your throat.

“Don’t touch yourself.” Javi growls, thrusting a little faster. “I’m going to make sure you cum on my tongue after I give you what you want.” He knows that this will be a one and done moment, too tired for round two. Since you want him to cum down your throat, he will just lick your pussy until you cum for him.

You whine around his cock, saliva dripping down your chin, and you whine his name. You want him to cum so you slide your hand down, cupping his balls. You softly roll the sacs in your fingers, feeling them tighten in your grip as you gag on his cock as he pushes deep. but you push through it, wanting him to cum.

He chokes out your name, holding your head tight and feels your throat constricting around him. Cock throbbing and spilling ropes of cum down your throat while he pants and hunches over you. “Shit, fuck, fuuuuuuck.” He moans out.

You struggle to keep up, trying to swallow every drop, and your jaw aches as he rocks through his orgasm. A few drops of his cum escape, and you pull off of him when he grips your neck, and you swipe your fingers along your jaw, pushing them into your mouth to clean his errant cum off of them. "God. You really have been just jerking off, huh?" You giggle, throat a little sore, but you fucking love it.

Javi grunts, feelings ashamed and his eyes cut away from you for a moment. “Only my hand, since Shelly.” He hates that he even slept with her, felt guilty for some reason. He bites his lip and looks back over at you before he’s pushing you back on the bed. “I need to make you cum baby.” He tells you as he reaches for your pants.

You shift to lay down on the bed, hooking your fingers in your sweatpants, and you push them down along with your panties. Kicking them off, you look up as Javier kneels above you. "Please Javi." You beg, spreading your legs to expose your dripping folds.

“Fuck.” His spent cock twitches as he looks at you. “Do you know how fucking good you look?” He asks, kneeling down and kissing your knee and then the other settling to shift down onto his belly and wiggle into positions. Inhaling your heady scent, his mouth waters. “Pretty little cunt.” He coos. “Want to see how it tastes.”

You inhale sharply at his words until you cry out at the feel of his tongue sliding through your folds. "Oh shit." You hiss, immediately reaching down to grip his hair. "Fuck Javi. That feels good." You whine when the tip of his tongue flicks over your clit. "So fucking good baby." You pant, tilting your head back.

He moans, curling his tongue through your folds and enjoying the tangy taste of you. His hands hold onto your hips and his shoulders keep your thighs far apart, opening you up to him. He pulls back and kisses your clit before he flicks his tongue over it, watching the way your face twists in pleasure.

You love it, rocking your hips up to grind against his mouth. His fingers dig into your flesh to stop your movements, making you whine. “I need more. Please baby. You’re all I’ve thought about. I need you to make me cum.” You whimper, cupping your breast with your free hand.

Javi hums, letting go of one of your hips so he can push two thick fingers inside you. Groaning when your walls clamp down on them as he curls them up. He loves the way you respond to him, the eagerness that you try to chase your own orgasm. He pulls your clit into his mouth and starts sucking, pumping his fingers into you harshly in contrast, willing you to cum.

You squeal when he sucks on your clit, so close to your orgasm. “Oh shit. You’re gonna make me cum.” You pant, feeling your stomach tighten as his fingers find that spot inside of you. You look down at him and when those dark eyes meet yours, you fall over the edge. Clamping down on his fingers, you soak him, and a cry of his name escapes your lips. Your back arching until you relax, slumping back down on the bed as your orgasm rocks you.

Gently sucking on your clit, he easily works you through your pleasure, making sure he’s more gentle than he was the last time. He wants you to enjoy all of this and be hazy and sleepy when you are finished riding it out. Only when you are spent does he kiss your mound, before resting his chin on your hip and looks up at you. “Good, baby?”

You nod, “so good.” Your head tilts towards him before you slump back against the pillows, sighing in bliss. “Love you.” You murmur, closing your eyes. “Come here baby. Want you to hold me.” You request, crooking your finger at him.

Crawling up your body, he scatters kisses over your skin before he can settle beside you. Holding his arms open and letting you fold yourself into his chest, Javi sighs. “I love you.” He promises you. “I’m glad that I got a chance to tell you.” He kisses the top of your head and doesn’t even want to think about the heartache that he would have if he hadn’t been able to save you.

You hum, “so much for not being the settle down type.” You murmur playfully, kissing his chest, “looks like you’re stuck with me now.” You joke, closing your eyes as you curl around him. You both fall asleep soon after but you wake up a few hours later. It’s dark outside, and you turn to see Javier is still asleep. You feel the press of his hard cock against your ass, and you can’t help but grind back against him. You hear his soft groan, and you smile, wide awake and wet. You shift, moving to straddle him, and you trap his cock between your wet folds.

Slowly, Javi wakes up, feeling the wet warmth of your cunt and your weight on top of him. Rather than opening his eyes, he smirks, sliding his hands up to hold onto your hips. “It’s not morning yet.” He rasps out, voice husky from sleep. Hearing your moan and feeling your breasts pressing against his chest, he opens his eyes and blinks to focus on you. “Need something, hermosa?”

You giggle, caressing his chest as you rock over him. “I need you. Need your cock inside of me.” You declare breathlessly, reaching down to grip the base of his cock. You lift up and position him as your dripping entrance, slowly sinking down onto his girth. You gasp at how thick he is, nails scratching his chest when you’re full to the hilt.

“Fuck.” Javi’s chuckle at your desperation ends in a hiss, loving how tightly you grip him. The sting of your nails waking him up even more than the feel of your cunt squeezing him. “Take what you need.” He groans, urging your hips up to lift off of him. He watches your bottom lip pull between your teeth and smirks when you let out a satisfied moan when you sink down on him again.

You rock your hips, grinding on him, and moaning when the curls at the base of his cock brush against your clit. “Oh God. Been thinking about this for months.” You confess, lifting up again, and you shift to rest your hands on his knees, leaning to rock on his cock.

Javi huffs, knowing he should have given in long ago, but he can’t change the past. “You have it now.” He promises. “Any time you want when we are out of the office.” He still doesn’t want to hurt your reputation, knowing that he’s still got to be careful, even though everyone assumes he’s sleeping with you anyway.

You nod, reaching for his hand. “I know. The office is professional. At home, I’m yours and you’re mine. God Javi. I just - you feel so good. So good inside of me. Gonna make me cum.” You announce breathily, reaching down to rub your clit.

Pushing your hand away, he rubs your clit, wanting to be the one to make you cum. “Do it.” He orders you, cock twitching inside you and gritting his teeth. “Cum for me, soak my cock and show me how beautiful you look when you are cumming.” He moans when you squeeze him tight, loving how your mouth falls open and you cry his name out.

You clamp down on his cock, soaking him as you cum. Falling forward, and you nuzzle your face in his neck as your orgasm rocks through your. “Oh fuck baby. Want you to cum inside of me. It’s safe.” You promise, trying to rock back onto his cock. “Fill me up.” You whisper, kissing his jaw.

“God.” He’s lost when you tell him that. Wrapping his arms around your body and thrusting up into you roughly. Pushing inside you a half dozen times before he’s groaning, thrusting deep and painting your walls with hot spurts of his seed.

You whimper at the feel of his cum filling you up, being pushed out with every slow rock of his hips as he works himself through his orgasm. “I love you.” You murmur, cupping his cheek to turn his head towards yours before you press your lips to his.

“I love you.” Javier promises you, stroking your back and enjoying the way that you melt against him. “Maybe since you nearly knocked me over in that airport.” He teases softly.

You chuckle, “who knew that hooking up in a bathroom would lead to us being in bed together?” You stroke his chest. “We have a lot to figure out but for now, I just want to enjoy being with you. We have time to figure out the rest.” You promise, kissing his jaw. You are so thankful that he found you in the jungle and you know you are going to do everything you can to help him bring down Cali. It’s personal now.

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#pedro pascal #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x you #javier peña smut #javier peña fanfic #javier peña imagine #javier peña fanfiction

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perperam · 3 years

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Do you have any Harlivy fic recommendations? Preferably something that is already completed?

OH I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE

okay okay so quick little tangent fact !! I actually just finished my undergrad degree in "english literature analysis & writing" and reading fics is so fun bc I get to analyze them and break them down and if it's particularly well written the stars align and it's just UGH so good.

ratings are: E (explicit) M (mature) T (teens and up) and G (everyone) anyways here is a HUGE list of my favorite fics to date, their stats/details/plots, reasonings as to why they're on the list to begin with, and a short analysis:

SHORT STORIES (less than 30k words)

for your convenience they’re in order of length bc I’m focusing on this super hard rn

KISS YOUR BEST FRIEND CHALLENGE (T) STATS — 340 words, shenanigans, fluff PLOT — Harley, TikTok and general Social Media queen, decides to do the trending challenge to kiss your best friend. The best friend? Her roommate and the woman she’s been crushing on for fucking ever: Poison Ivy.

AM I TOO CLOSE? (CAUSE YOU FOLD INTO ME LIKE A HEART WITH A BEAT) (G) STATS — 839 words, fluff, shenanigans PLOT — Harley genuinely wasn’t looking for trouble, but it’s hard to just have a day out when you’re one of Gotham’s most wanted. Running into Ivy, she takes drastic measures (and her hoodie into the mix) to distract the police from looking in their direction.

I’M HOME (G) STATS — 892 words, domestic fluff PLOT — After a long and rough day at work, Ivy comes home to Harley. Relaying the details of her day, she basks in the comfort of her girlfriend, who provides gentle questions and is a phenomenal listener. General cuteness.

CONFLICT DIAMONDS (G) STATS — 990 words, wedding shenanigans, banter, humor PLOT — Batman and Renee Montoya respond to a break-in at a jewelry store, except even though the owner is duct-taped to the wall, it isn’t really a break-in; Harley’s just trying to shop for a ring for Ivy, and that’s difficult to do when the owner is screaming in the corner. Batman and Renee both pitch in to help pick something nice for Harley’s girl, resulting in hilarious banter.

OF COURSE (T) STATS — 1.1k words, hurt/comfort (kinda), harley quinn animated tv show centric PLOT — In the aftermath of Ivy’s death, rebirth, and the fall of Joker Tower, Harley collapses onto the ground. Since she never mentioned that her parents are the reason for most of her injuries, Ivy isn’t sure why she’s so out of it.

PERFECT MORNINGS (T) STATS — 1.1k words, domestic fluff/bliss PLOT — Ivy, who usually wakes up early and before Harley, takes a moment to look at the countless muscles, ridges, scars, and tattoos on Harley’s body as she sleeps. General cuteness.

I’D LOVE TO CHECK YOU OUT (T) STATS — 1.7k words, university au, fluff PLOT — Harley visits the library virtually every day, and it’s definitely not because she needs to work on her university courses and homework. She finally works up the courage to speak to the alluring redhead she sees there every day while absentmindedly looking at a book on sharks.

I’LL LOVE YOU IN THE MORNING (NOON, NIGHT) (T) STATS — 2.1k words, angst, hurt/comfort PLOT — A snapshot look into Ivy and how she comes to know, care, and love all the sides of Harley—from psychiatrist to criminal to girlfriend. She loves her throughout it all.

DAY-DREAMING (T) STATS — 2.2k words, shenanigans, psychiatrist Harleen PLOT — Ivy’s falling for her psychiatrist—her humorous, intelligent, caring, and downright gorgeous psychiatrist. It’s difficult, to say the least.

WHAT HAPPENS IN THEMYSCIRA (DOESN’T) STAY IN THEMYSCIRA (T) STATS — 2.3k words, humor, wedding shenanigans, angst with a happy ending PLOT — In a surprise twist of events, Harley and Ivy were drunkenly married at Themyscira. When asked at the wedding if anybody had objections to the union of Ivy and Chuck, Wonder Woman and the Queen of Themyscira herself come to object. Ivy, for lack of a better word, wants to die a little.

NOT A ROCKER CHICK (T) STATS — 3.1k words, rock band au, fluff PLOT — The last thing Ivy wants to do is go to a rock band concert with her best friend, Selina. Despite her best efforts, she can’t help but completely fall into the rhythm of the band and their music, so different than her own norm. And okay, maybe the singer (who Selina was friends with and called “Harley”) was also kinda hot...

A TENDER HEART AMONG THE GREEN (T) STATS — 3.2k words, gotham city sirens raise Lucy au, domestic bliss PLOT — Harley and Selina come back home to the apartment to find Ivy passed out asleep with Lucy cuddling into the crook of her neck and Selina’s cats cuddling her legs. Knowing that Ivy would rather be caught dead than in such a compromising situation (after all, she is the Poison Ivy, who “hates humans”) the two take a photo, since it lasts longer. Shenanigans and cuteness ensue.

BUILDING YOUR GIRL’S SECOND STORY (M) STATS — 3.3k words, university/grad school au, angst with a happy ending PLOT — Snapshots of Harley’s battle with her violent and abusive boyfriend, Jack, and the way in which Bruce, his boyfriend Clark, and her best friend (and potentially lover) Pamela all love Harley and will do anything, anything, to make sure she gets the help, care, and love she needs.

A DIFFERENT KIND OF NORMAL (T) STATS — 3.6k words, coronavirus pandemic/quarantine au, family au PLOT — Ivy is requested by the Justice League to help create and manufacture a vaccine for the COVID-19 virus. As she works on the vaccine, she video calls Harley and their daughter Lucy, both of whom miss her very much.

RABBIT IN THE GARDEN (T) STATS — 4.4k words, implied suicide attempt, hard angst PLOT — Winters are difficult to Ivy. When Harley comes home one day to see her submerged fully in water in the bathtub, the only thing Harley can do is cry and take her out. Ultimately Ivy is alright—but it doesn’t make it any easier.

WE WILL BE (EVERYTHING THAT WE’D EVER NEED) (T) STATS — 5.8k words, high school au, angst, hurt/comfort PLOT — Harley and Ivy are best friends from high school, living in the middle of Arizona. Ivy is absolutely head over heels for Harley, but the latter is in a growing and increasingly abusive relationship with the older “bad-boy” (literally) Jack. Eventually, the two grow together in more ways than one.

WHERE THE RED FERN GROWS (EXCEPT NO DOGS DIE) (M) STATS — 9.7k words, domestic bliss, no powers just botanist & psychiatrist au PLOT — After her abusive ex-boyfriend tries to maniacally tear down the front door of her apartment with an ax as her best friend, Selina, pushes the table against the splintering wood, Bruce recommends that Harley gets a dog. She gets two German Shepard brothers—Bud and Lou—who lead her one day on their walk to the most beautiful flower shop owner Harley’s ever seen. The story of Harley and Ivy, told with Bud and Lou present to witness every moment.

THE MOMENT I AWAKEN GHOSTS (T) STATS — 11.7k words, falling in love, feelings & realizations PLOT — A deep look into Ivy’s feelings and how they evolve from general hatred against Harleen the psychiatrist at Arkham to a blooming, kind and gentle love towards Harley Quinn, the crown jester of crime.

HARLEQUIN’S ISLE (T) STATS — 17.5k words, hurt/comfort, happy ending, shenanigans, humor PLOT — Harley and Ivy decide to go on a vacation on Bruce Wayne’s new eco-friendly plane, but in a surprise twist of events, things go terribly wrong, Ivy falls out of the plane, and the two (as well as all the other rich and wealthy big-name CEOS on the plane) get stranded on an island with someone actively trying to rob the investors. Harley and Ivy will fight them, god damn it, because they deserve this vacation and they will have it.

LONGER STORIES (30k words to 100k words)

YOUR LOVE (DÉJÀ VU) (G) STATS — 33k words, slow burn, mild angst, canon divergence PLOT — A what-if-Harley-found-Ivy-first fic, YOUR LOVE wonderfully illustrates Dr. Harleen Quinzel treating Ivy in a wonderfully humane and kind way, including learning floriography, the language of flowers, in order to better relate to her. Ivy is taken aback by her doctor's genuine care and begins to develop feelings, all the while Harleen falls hard and fast which wholly confuses and frightens her. The one caveat is that while this is happening, Harleen is also treating the Joker as well, who tries (keyword: tries) to manipulate her. Ivy and Harley dance a timid tango around one another as they try to navigate this new playing field of romantic feelings for one another, and things come to a breaking point when Harleen realizes that, perhaps, all of her patients have a point and that the real villains are not the ones inside the asylum, but rather the ones running it. FAVORITE DETAILS — I just love the way this is written. It provides a wonderful and almost skinny-love like romance (except this takes place in an insane asylum) as Harleen and Ivy both try to understand their strong feelings for one another. The way in which the rogues and other inmates/patients all look out for one another was very heartwarming, and Waylon and Eddie's thinly veiled camaraderie with Ivy—and her thinly veiled appreciation for it—were both lovely and created a really warm environment. It really underlined why Harley loved them because you love them too in the process, and see how she reaches her breaking point. CHARACTER DEPICTIONS — Harley, as she is in all of my favorite fics, is depicted as an incredibly intelligent and talented psychiatrist. Her caring nature is wonderfully outlined in this fic as she helps Waylon, Eddie, Ivy, and everybody else in the asylum be treated with genuine respect and care, going as far as to get them personalized gifts. Her psyche fracturing slowly never once makes her seem unintelligent to the reader, even as she actively places a ditz persona in order to fool the rest of the asylum staff (and the Joker). Ivy, on the other hand, is illustrated in a way that perfectly shows how all she genuinely needed was someone to listen. She's sometimes harsh and crass but you can see how she begins to soften as Harley helps her and treats her with: you guessed it, genuine respect. FINAL VERDICT — I would get this tattooed on my ass if I could

NOVEL LENGTH WORKS (100k+ words)

ACROSS THE WAY (M) STATS — 128.7k words, slow-burn, tattoo artist & flower shop owner au PLOT — Botanist and flower shop owner Pamela Isley moves to Gotham from Seattle in search of a new life. Her shop is located directly next to a tattoo shop—one that is incredibly loud and bothersome. Upon walking in to give the shop a piece of her mind, she meets one of the resident artsits, Harley Quinzel, and cannot get her out of her mind. The two become best friends, and feelings slowly start to develop. On a night when Harley is most vulnerable and in need of a place to escape, Pam offers her apartment as a refuge, and from that point on things are never the same again (in the best way possible). FAVORITE DETAILS — The SIT sessions were a wonderful touch and I loved seeing the recovery of both Ivy and Harley, because it was so real. I also loved how once Harley got out, she did everything in her power to protect both herself and Ivy from Jack, and we got to see her and Ivy grow into their wonderful, healthy romance. CHARACTER DEPICTIONS — I love how all of the characters are illustrated; Selina, who is the caring best friend and genuinely does her best to help others around her all the while being her cocky, usual self. Pam, who escaped Seattle and started anew in Gotham and is the crass botanist and also the insanely kind and caring lover. Barbara is the adorable coffee shop owner, Floyd is the caring figure for Harley that she never had, and everyone is just wonderful. FINAL VERDICT — literally go read this rn, what are you even doing

MAD LOVE: THE BEGINNING & MAD LOVE: THE FINAL CHAPTER (M) STATS — nearly 400k words total, angst, canon divergence, domestic fluff, slice of life PLOT — imagine YOUR LOVE except this is much longer, much more heart-wrenching, a whole lot more angsty, and Harleen's break with Harley is a lot more prevalent. Another what-if scenario of Dr. Harleen Quinzel meeting and treating the illusive Poison Ivy instead of the Joker, MAD LOVE shows an interesting depiction of the way they manipulate, hurt, care, and love one another. The entire story is riddled with well placed metaphors, recurring themes, and both Ivy and Harley's characters are illustrated in the most complex and interesting way. All throughout both the initial and the sequel, Ivy and Harleen play a metaphorical chess game in manipulation as a means to gain the upper-hand on the other, which creates a dangerous foundation for their following love story. In the sequel, "The Final Chapter," the story starts with Harley and Ivy—already married near the end of "A New Beginning"—having two kids and the entire piece spans over Harley's lifetime until she's on her deathbed, with Ivy still stuck at 33 years old beside her. I personally stopped reading the story after Harley died (I was too emotionally vulnerable to continue on) but if you continue reading on, you get to see Ivy move on and appreciate Harley's impact on her life as she finds love and happiness again after the loss of her wife. FAVORITE DETAILS — We get insight into both Ivy and Harleen's trauma, and how not everything can be fixed with love. Neither Harleen nor Ivy (or their actions for that matter) are characterized as perfect in any way, and the story never excuses any of their more-than-questionable actions; in fact they make MANY mistakes and manipulate one another throughout the story, and both have power over the other (Harleen is her psychiatrist, but Ivy could easily kill her, so emotional power over someone with immense physical power). CHARACTER DEPICTIONS — Harleen is depicted as an incredibly intelligent and capable psychiatrist, and the story somehow wonderfully mixes Harley's desire for violent chaos with Harleen's desire to help others. v Ivy is illustrated as the epitome of "I hate you and will not be nice unless you're literally either my wife or kids." She is seldom kind to others, is often crass, but an entire softy when it comes to Harleen and their children. She's a hard worker and is heavily involved in her research. Harleen, on the other hand, is equally cunning but more lighthearted, extremely athletic and active, the "fun" mom, and less into power trips (unless it's about Ivy). FINAL VERDICT — definitely the most interesting fics I've ever read in my entire fucking life, it's so complex and wonderful and a literal minefield of analysis worthy literature, I'd also get this tattooed on my ass if I could

#mryanswers #harlivy #jfc #this is a long ass post #please I spent hours on it #literally

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sambuckylibrary · 4 years

Text

MOD PICKS

Kestrel in Distress by bioloyg

E | 17.5k | graphic depictions of violence

There’s a price to pay for being friends with the former Winter Soldier, but Steve was unavailable for comment so Sam’s ass is the one that ends up being kidnapped. And if that’s not bad enough, these guys expect Sam to roll over and give Bucky, and all his secrets, up without a fight.

Commentary: You kind of sweat here because Sam is kidnapped even though you know that angry long haired guy is going to come for him and bring all of hell’s vengeance with him. Brilliant and action packed and deals perfectly with the aftermath of such an event.

Stolen Moments by jemgirl

T | 22.4 (wip) | ccntw

“No,” Sam said, chuckling. “I don’t cheat,” he swept his gaze up and down James’ body, “even with guys who look like you. But, I’m bored and a little pissed, so if you wanna sit here and shoot the shit ‘til my man shows back up, I’m game.”

Never one to back to back down from a challenge - especially a challenge who looked like Sam Wilson - Bucky took another swig from his bottle and replied, “Sure, doll. I’ve got nothing but time.”

Commentary: Very well put together story line so far, some breath catching moments of tension and anger inducing main character(s). Amazing plot and characterization. You��ll definitely want to beg the author for the next installment.

Hairpin Turns by CocoBadShip

M | 14.5k | no warnings apply

AKA 5 Times Sam Wilson Didn’t Realize Bucky Barnes Was In Love With Him (+ 1 Time He Did)

Commentary: Exquisite take on Sam’s trauma and self doubts and Bucky taking care of him in the most none-subtle ways. Oblivion deluxe and pining fools everywhere. Definitely a very satisfying and fulfilling read.

our vows are no longer vows by mrsenjolras

G | 4.5k | no warnings apply

Our vows are no longer vows, our prohibitions are no longer prohibitions, and our oaths are no longer oaths.

[Or: Bucky, Sam, and two different Yom Kippurs]

Commentary: It was so refreshing to see Jewish Bucky represented in a fic!! Beautiful story, very soft and sweet. Absolutely loved their relationship growth in this one.

Philopatry by Areiton

M | 15k | no warnings apply

"I want to be safe," he says. "But I'm not." "Then why come here? Why put me at risk?" Something flickers in his eyes, little boy lost and utterly cold, and it makes Sam want to give the dude a hug and also pull his sidearm. "I have no reason to hurt you," Winter says. "I don't want to hurt you," Bucky adds, earnestly.

Commentary: Oh god the angst and pining in this *sweats*. Made my heart ache for Sam, my guy just wants to be loved. Lovely story with plenty of Easter eggs, missing scenes and one those that makes canon make sense!

The Best of Men by iwillnotbecaged

E | 14.4k | no warnings apply

Steve and Peggy are getting married, and Steve wants his two best friends by his side. The only problem? They kind of hate each other.

Commentary: If you’re looking for enemies to lovers, this is the one. Very clever plot and exciting interactions. These idiots are really good at pretending to hate each other. Featuring tiny and exhausted Steve Rogers.

#sambucky #winterfalcon #sambuckylibrary #mod picks #mixed ratings #one shots #chaptered #under30k #under20k #under10k #under5k #mod: sammy #kidnapping #love triangles #jewish bucky #post endgame #post winter soldier #enemies to lovers

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cupidford · 4 years

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Hullo my loves. Check out some awesome things I’ve had the privilege to read this month. When I haven’t been able to sleep and need to think nice Johnlock thoughts my brain has either been going to Berty’s AU ptsd John and honey selling Sherlock (see below) or simplyclockwork’s AU meet-at-a-pub love-at-first-sight plain gold ring from a month or two ago. Man I love johnlock so much.

Fics of the Month

Anything To See Him Smile by reveling_in_mayhem

When a new client - John's male ex - comes to 221B, Sherlock comes face to face with a case he had never expected. ~28k

The House on Rue des Boulangers by Berty

AU. After being invalided out of the army, John relocates to a town in northern France. One morning there's a mad stranger in his garden chasing bees, and John's decision is made. ~24.5k

Runner Ups

The Talking Cure by rachelindeed

A little honest conversation goes a long way. ~8.5k

Alright by evelinaonline

Sherlock knows it's selfish to want John to take care of him, but it's entirely John's fault for offering to dry Sherlock's hair. ~4k

and drive such lonely thoughts from your mind by subtext-is-my-division

5+1. 5 times John kissed Sherlock, and 1 time Sherlock kissed John. ~6.5k

And More!

Swift, Fierce & Obscene by J_Baillier

Post S4. Sherlock tests positive for HIV from an infected needle. John doesn't know yet; he can still pretend everything hasn't changed. ~7k

Good Things by TeaCub90

Valentine's Day. When Sherlock returns from Scotland Yard, it’s to find 221B completely transformed. ~2.5k

Quiet Beauty by Strange_johnlock

John might not be as observant as the world’s only consulting detective but he has noticed the way Sherlock looks at him. ~3k

Storms series by Elvendork

In pursuit of a suspect, Sherlock takes a tumble on the ice, and John must patch him up when he refuses to go to hospital. ~62k

Flowers In His Hair by reveling_in_mayhem

John pulls a dandelion from Sherlock’s hair. ~3.5k

Chemistry Partners by prettysailorsoldier

Teenlock. John & Sherlock are Chem partners. Greg tries to help John in asking Sherlock on a date & Sherlock finds out. ~2k

A Study In Sleep by Sarbear08

5+1. John finds out that Sherlock really likes to snuggle. ~8.5k

A Study of Studies in Shades of Red by ColebaltBlue

A case, a kiss, a river called the Rubicon. Parts of the BBC episode "A Study in Pink" remixed into the ACD 'verse. ~5k

Showers are for Flatmates by reveling_in_mayhem

Looking back, John was unable to pinpoint exactly when it was that Sherlock began to follow him into the loo when he was showering. ~5.5k

Honorable Mentions

Stages of Christmas by zipandzap95

Sherlock and John are spending Christmas together after Mary runs off with David. Sherlock feels pressured to fix things with John. ~5.5k

The Adventure of the Spontaneous Recital by spotlightonmringenue

A story about Sherlock when John is believed to be dead, and what might happen if that weren’t true. ~7.5k

The Adventure in the Smugglers' Caves by flawedamythyst

Caves, secret passages and smugglers. What more could a boy want? Oh, right, a snog from his best mate. ~5k

Oh captain, my captain series by simplyclockwork

While in London on leave, Captain John Watson and his running gear catch the attention of Sherlock at Regent's Park.~17.5k

Of Beards and Bets by Strange_johnlock

Established relationship. The residents of 221 decide to self-isolate, and Sherlock has found a way to make quarantine more fun for all of them. ~3k

My God by Calais_Reno

Pagan God John. Sherlock acquires his own personal deity. ~7k

In the Dark of the Night by days_of_storm

Sherlock is dressing up for a case and John has difficulties letting him go. Costumes/Halloween. Toplock. ~5k

Dance with me by A_Winter

John and Sherlock dancing on their wedding day. ~.5k

All we do is hide away by AnneCumberbatch

It's been 35 days since Sherlock threw himself off of Bart's hospital in front of John's eyes. ~4k

#fic rec #fic recs

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boymeetsweevil · 5 years

Text

Off the Deep End

Grouping: Reader x Mermaid!Yoongi, mentions of Reader and other member

Word Count: ~17.5k

Warnings/Themes: Kissing, sex explanation, p*rn mention, fwb???, Interspecies intercourse!! (because Yoongi has a fish d*ck), penetrative sex, biting (+ tiniest blood mention), loss of virginity, a** play mention, some angst, some pining

Summary: Your new mermaid friend, Yoongi, helps you navigate the treacherous waters of love, sex, and National Geographic.

Part of the Masterlist for Group 2 of the @btssmutclub Summer Project

“—and then she asked me if I would be able to come by her studio. She said I would make, and I quote, ‘an amazing addition to her portfolio.’”

The smile on your friend’s face is dazzling even through the grainy filter that late evening Skype calls on a shitty webcam lay over her face. The smile bleeds into her voice and her words which are lightning fast at this point in the call. She’s been talking for only a few minutes now about how the summer is treating her, but you feel like you’ve been on quite a ride. From her story so far you can tell that in no time she’ll check off her half of the summer bucketlist you made together. Your half of the list was much less adventurous than hers: have a summer fling and get a professor to offer you a researching job for the school year in the fall. You figure you might get the second one checked off if you play your cards right this summer. It’s only the middle of the second week of your research volunteership at the marine lab at BTU, the local research university where you’d start attending college after the summer ends. But you feel as though you’ll never get both your goals completed.

“That’s really great, Jay.”

The pride in your voice is genuine, but it’s dampened with a thick shell of self-pity. A tone that Jay picks up on instantly. Her eyes narrow and you’re about to assure her that you’re fine, but she beats you to the punch.

“What’s wrong, babe?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” you duck your head to avoid her gaze and dig your fingers into your old tie-dye t-shirt.

“I know that’s not true. Don’t try to lie to me, I see straight through that crap.”

“I just wish I was a bit more like you, that’s all.

“What, why? You’re the nicest person I know and you have a beautiful soul.”

“I just mean that you’re so good at just reaching out and finding opportunities and then using them. I’m the complete opposite and even if something I want is hanging right in front of me, I’m too scared to act.”

“Hey, hey, what’s this about, huh? Are the profs playing fair over there?”

“It’s not that. The prof leading my research section is actually really great to me. But...I told you about Lab Guy, right?”

“Yes, you did,” Jay’s tone is apprehensive as you bring up the topic of the lab assistant. “What about him? Is he being nice to you?”

“He’s been nice,” you twirl the cord of the old over-the-ear headphones laying on the desk you’re seated at. “I mean, as nice as anyone is to anyone else. Well, he was.”

“And now he’s mean? Listen, if I have to come home and kick his ass, I’ll—”

“God, no, just...listen for a second before you kick someone’s ass, okay?” Jay settles back into her chair but her lips remain pursed with suspicion. “Last week he would ask me questions, or say hi to me when I came to the lab in the morning, but he’s just...stopped.”

“Oh.”

“Just ‘oh’?”

“I don’t mean it like that,” Jay assures you. “I just mean I was worried about you and now I’m not.”

“It wasn’t anything serious.”

“Well, obviously it upsets you. What do you think changed?”

“I don’t know. I was probably just so awkward every time he talked to me that he got scared and stopped.”

“How awkward are we talking, here?”

Your mouth opens and closes for a second as you search for a reason why you weren’t as bad as she’s thinking. But if you’re being honest, you were just as bad. Probably worse.

“Sometimes I wouldn’t always have a response for him when he’d ask me things. But in my defense—”

“Oh my god,” Jay sighs before looking at your sheepish expression and combusting into a fit of laughter. “Are you scared of him or something?”

“No, I’m not. He’s super nice and really funny, and a little nerdy, but he doesn’t look like a nerd. He looks like a model, Jay. I swear if you saw him, you’d wonder if you saw him on TV once. He’s that good looking.”

Jay pulls out her phone, the picture of practiced nonchalance. “What’s his name?”

“I’m not telling you. You’re gonna look him up on my instagram and then slide into his DMs. And then I’ll die,” you explain matter-of-factly.

“I wasn’t gonna do that,” she protests gently, but the phone leaves the camera frame. “Well, it sounds like he’s not scary. So I don’t get why you’re not taking advantage of the fact that he seems to be a good guy and he’s right there.”

You pick up the laptop and move from your rolling desk chair to the large bed in the center of the room. So she can still see you as you move around the room, you lay it on a pillow.

“I don’t know. All I’m saying is that when you get to campus in the fall, you might be disappointed in me.”

Jay sighs in the background, but your back is to her as you dig in your grandparents’ closet for a sweater to throw on. You’re glad you can’t see the way her eyes get soft and sad as she watches you stop yourself from having the things you want. It’s a look you’re actually pretty accustomed to and you hate that. But you hate the idea of rejection more and that’s why you’re always in predicaments like this one.

“You going to bed,” she finally asks when you return to face the camera again.

“Not yet,” you pick at a loose thread on the quilt your grandma knitted almost a decade ago. “I think I’m gonna take a walk on the beach first.”

“Careful. Just because it’s a small town, doesn’t mean there aren’t perverts on the beach at this hour.” You roll your eyes.

“The beach behind my grandparents’ house is private. And closed, thank you very much.”

“You’re a big girl, I know. Just text me when you get back.”

“I will. Talk soon.”

“Okay. ‘Night.” You say goodbye and then close the laptop.

With the sweater as protection from any ocean chill that might roll onto the shore and your feet shoved into some sneakers ratty enough for the beach, you head out.

Despite the catharsis that comes with venting your insecurities to Jay, you still find that you need to take this walk. Nothing settles your nerves more than the ocean. Since you were a child, you’d always been fascinated with it in a way that would silence everything inside you so that you could take in as much of its vastness as possible. Your parents used to bring you to the beach in the summer when you were extra rowdy to calm you down before bed. It helped that the house where your mother’s parents ended up settling in was right next to the ocean. And only a ten minute bus ride away from the section of BTU campus where your lab is located. Since your grandparents were away in Rome this summer, it only made sense that you come out early before the school year to do the internship and avoid the move-in craze by being there as soon as they opened the dorms.

But now, you’re mostly grateful for the short amount of time it takes you to descend the hill the house sits on and hop the tiny fence keeping non-residents and trespassers like yourself out at the right time. Your shoes come off almost immediately and swing from your fingers as your toes dig into the cool sand. A sigh leaves your mouth, the sound deep with content. You feel more whole than you did all day. You begin your trek across the length of the beach. Just there and back, you tell yourself. How fast you walk there and back is another story. You’re in no hurry. The moon is bright but small in the sky. Not large enough to tinge the night sky a cosmic navy, but just enough to be a white orb in the otherwise jet black above.

The sight of the moon draws you in like a wave in the tide and you find yourself being pulled towards the water. You’re only certain you’re getting closer to the water because the sand suddenly goes cold and wet under the soles of your feet and sticks between your toes. The calm you feel is so potent that you barely flinch at the sudden onslaught of water that hasn’t been warmed by the sun in a long while. A subtle deviation in the hush of the tide draws your gaze down into the water. It resembles ink because of how dark it is. Its mesmerizing in its own right, but when two small pinpricks of light blink up at you from beneath the waves, you scramble backwards. With a quickness that can only be a remnant from times when people were prey, you escape the shallow parts of the waterline. The adrenaline keeps your bare feet from protesting the task of sprinting home on hard, sharp pavement.

When you get far away enough for your human brain to take the reins again, you turn back. You squint and realize the twin lights...the eyes are still there. Two specs in the distance blinking curiously at where you once stood. The undeniable fact that you just encountered something raises the hairs on the back of your neck and on your arms. Your body is sending you signals that you may not be safe, but what’s left of the imagination you had as a child suggests that you go back. Figure this out, the little voice in the back of your mind urges

The next night comes and you find yourself waiting by the back door this time, eyes on your watch as you try to replicate the previous night’s outing. This time you don’t even bother to wear real shoes and, instead, you slip on water shoes you found in a random closet while rummaging through the house. The call to the water becomes too strong and you can’t wait any longer. You throw the door open, and run out.

You’re not exactly sure where you saw the eyes because it was dark and there were no distinguishing rocks or divots in the sand that are still there the following night. But you try to keep the same pace and stop after the same amount of time, hoping your hasty math is correct. The continuous ebb and flow of the waves and the homogenous sand and sky don’t do much in terms of validation. This spot you’re currently in could be where you were standing the night before, but it could also be any other spot as well. Still, you have nothing but faith to go off of and stand motionless for what feels like an hour. It has to only have been a few minutes judging by your watch when you hesitantly divert your gaze from the water to the watch face. You’re about to give up when you hear the same unusual splashing as last time.

Your pulse is a hummingbird beat as the splashing gets slightly louder. Every limb locks up in fight or flight response, old buried instincts making you wish had claws to extend or perhaps a tail flicker anxiously. The lights appear, further away than before. They’re pupil-less and unnaturally bright for a night as dark as this one with no man-made lights to assist. Like that of a nocturnal animal’s.

“H-hello,” you call out. Immediately you feel stupid for trying to communicate with—

“Hello,” it calls out in response, pulling a gasp from your throat. You take a step forward, shaky with palms open in what you hope is a universal gesture of harmlessness.

“I, uh,” you try to control your stuttering as you talk into the void. The only noise being the tide. “I saw you yesterday.”

“Yes,” the voice says simply. “Runned away from here.”

“Ran away,” you correct automatically before your eyes widen. “Sorry.”

“Why ran?”

The question catches you off guard. “I...didn’t know what—who you were. I got scared.”

No response comes from the water, so you keep going and hope whatever it is hasn’t gotten bored and left.

“Are you like me? Are you, uh, human?”

“Man? We are not man,” the thing sounds as though it finds the idea humorous. You swallow thickly.

“What are you?” The following pause is long enough to be one of deep thought.

“Our people, we are one tail. Not two tails.”

“You have a tail?”

Curiosity brings you even closer to the water's edge until the water laps at the porous toes of your pool shoes. You can almost make out a pale shape connected to the lights, but you can’t see well enough to make anything else out.

“Yes. But we and man are same without tail.”

The laugh that leaves you is a bit hysterical, but you can’t help it.

“You’re a mermaid?”

“Oh. Yes. Man gives our people this name.”

“Wow, I can’t believe this,” you cup your face in childlike wonder before another, more exciting thought passes through you. “Can I see you?”

“You will not hunt us?”

“No, no. I won’t. I don’t have anything to hurt you with.”

“Make oath.”

“I promise.” You’re not sure what would be enough proof for this mermaid. “I oath?”

The mermaid sizes up your promise. “Come.” You take a giddy step forward before the voice sounds once more. “Not now! Come with sun. Then your eyes will see.”

“Oh,” you pout a little. A quick look at your watch shows that there are still a good number of hours before sunrise and you don’t exactly want to wait now. “I’ll go to sleep here, okay? And when I wake up, you’ll be here still? Promise?”

“Yes...promise.”

“Okay. I’ll see you at sunrise.”

You put enough distance between you and the tide so you can ensure you don’t get swept away in the middle of your sleep but also not too far. Stubbornness makes you want to stay up all night lest your mermaid break their promise and swim away while you sleep. The whole night’s events seem crazy. Because they are. But they’re also just what you needed after feeling so down the night before. Truly, you wouldn’t be surprised if you woke up the next morning and everything was a dream that resulted in you sleep-walking to the beach. Even still, you’re glad you were able to have a brief distraction and take an excursion outside your own head.

When you wake, there’s barely any sun at all. There are no warm colors bathing the belly of the sky because it’s still too early yet. The light that is there is pale, a promise of sun, a precursor from behind the horizon. You sit up and brush the sand off your limbs sleepily with the sound of your watch’s alarm function going off. The memory of setting an alarm for the wee hours of the morning is faint in your brain, but it’s there. Which means you were up and conscious in the middle of the night, last night. Conscious enough to set an alarm to wake up to see the mermaid you may have discovered last night.

The reminder of the mermaid sends you upright a little faster than your still-groggy limbs would like. You tumble forward in your haste only to end up on your hands and knees in wet sand. The sand is the least of your concerns as you trudge into the icy water, searching frantically for a sign of what you still haven’t seen. When the shallow waters give away nothing, you’re desperate enough to go deeper. You wade forward until your thighs are being caressed by the tide. Shivers wrack your body now as the night spent outside in nothing but shorts, a t-shirt, and your grandfather’s sweater catches up to you.

“You awaken.”

The voice startles you and you stumble to the side just enough to lose your footing and wet the hem of your sweater. You curse to yourself before realizing that the voice sounds close. So close. You turn your head, not sure what to expect.

What you see is the top half of what looks like a man. Granted, he’d be a beautiful man, but you weren’t expecting the mermaid to look human at all. The mermaid is pale, you note. The skin on his bare torso is pale and glistens lightly with the water that beads up on its surface. His hair is dark as the water was last night, nearly black and crystalline in its shine. On the sides of his neck are three pairs of gills. They shudder lightly in the open air and if you crane your neck you can see the little filaments under the flaps, red and vivacious. Three much larger pairs lie at the base of the mermaid’s torso, just above the water level, above what should be his hip bones. The sight takes your breath away.

Just beneath the water, you can see the thick trunk of what must be his tail slightly coiled beneath him as if it’s a makeshift seat. The tail looks sturdy and powerful. Much to your surprise, there are no scales like you might see on a fish. The skin of his tail contrasts starkly with his pale skin due to its dark grey color. The tail is littered with a few scars and bumps that suggest its not at all some hyper-expensive costume piece. That’s real life wear and tear, you note. The end of the tail is a large fanning bit that resembles a whale’s tail almost perfectly in all aspects, except for size.

“You’re beautiful,” you breathe. It’s hard for your to drag your eyes off his tail, but when you finally reach his face, he looks less than pleased.

“We know this,” he crosses his arms flippantly. The gesture is surprisingly human and steals a chuckle from you. “Why you are laughing?”

“No reason. I guess I just thought mermaids were a myth.”

“What is mitt?”

“Myth,” you correct, poking your tongue between your teeth a little further than normal for emphasis. The mermaid copies you and the proper sound comes out. “It means I didn’t think there were mermaids. I thought mermaids were just a story.”

“We are not myth,” he hisses and you can see a hint of lengthened canines. “We are here forever.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

The mermaid cocks his head and narrows his dark eyes, before propelling himself back a few feet deeper in the water. You take a step forward without thinking. Salt water bleeds upward into the hem of your shorts, but you don’t mind.

“You can swim?” There’s a hint of arrogance in the faint smile on his face.

“Yes. A lot of humans can swim.”

“Oh,” his mouth drops open, eyes growing large with surprise. Whatever comment he’d planned next clearly wouldn’t apply now. “We think this is a myth for humans.”

“Fish can swim. Why wouldn’t humans swim.”

“Fish are water creatures. Humans are land creatures. Why swim if no water?”

“That’s a good question.”

“Yes, we are very smart,” Yoongi nods to himself.

“What is your name?” you realize you don’t know what to call this mermaid you spent the night outdoors for.

“You cannot say it. Humans can never speak mermaid tongue.”

“Oh.”

He watches your face closely, observing the way your face resembles that of a Mer child when told they must stop chasing bubbles or scolded about being more careful with the fish they’re teasing.

“We have little name. One humans may say. Yoongi.”

“Yoongi?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. Yoongi, I—”

Your alarm chimes on your watch, signaling that it’s time for you to wake up so you can get to the lab on time. Cursing to yourself, you pull your lip between your teeth in frustration. Of course the magic of meeting a ‘mythical’ creature couldn’t last forever. The real world was now giving you a wakeup call. And it couldn’t have been at a worse time.

The tinkling sound grabs Yoongi’s attention and he reaches out with marble white fingers, slightly clawed, to pull your wrist forward. Yoongi marvels at the watch for a brief moment before becoming more fascinated with the delicate hairs on your exposed arm. While Yoongi’s skin looked like it was the same as yours, save for the pale color, it felt different. It was a bit tougher, slightly rubbery. Unsurprisingly, Yoongi’s touch is wet and cold on you as he squeezes your upper arm experimentally.

“You are soft here. Humans are soft,” Yoongi mumbles, more to himself than to you. “And you are warm like a seabird.”

“Do you like seabirds?”

“Yes. We eat them for ritual feast.”

“I see.” You remove your arm from Yoongi’s grasp quickly before he gets any ideas with those sharp teeth. “I have to leave to go to school. Do you know school?”

“Yes, we know school,” Yoongi rolls his eyes. “We learn human tongue in school.”

Yoongi’s admission that mermaids have systematic education involving interspecies communication makes a million more questions pop up in your head. But you don’t have the time and your internship funding will be at stake if you start to slack on your duties. As much as Yoongi interests you, you can’t sit with him at the shoreline until you’re a pruny mermaid expert.

“Can we talk tonight? I’ll come back here again.”

Yoongi purses his lips and thinks for a beat before nodding his assent.

“We will wait here at night. You give us this,” Yoongi points at your watch.

“I can’t give you this. I need this. What if I need to set an alarm or—you...don’t know what an alarm is.”

“And we don’t care for alarm. Give us the singing leech and we will wait here again. You don’t give us leech, we don’t know if we will wait.”

Yoongi drives a hard bargain for your watch despite him thinking that it’s actually just a leech with the power to sing. As you undo the fastening of your wristband, you make a plan to explain to Yoongi what the watch does and thank heavens that it’s just an old Casio you found at a thrift shop years ago. You don’t tell Yoongi that if he takes it underwater it won’t ‘sing’ anymore, but that’s the price he pays for giving you an ultimatum.

Yoongi snatches it out your open palm like you’ll take it back and smiles down at it in his clenched hand.

“You’re supposed to say ‘thank you’ when someone gives you a gift.”

“This is not gift. You pay us. Go to school now.”

With that, Yoongi pushes off the ground with his tail and lunges into the depths at an incredible speed. Part of you would love to run tests on him, but the better part of you reminds you that you don’t do experiments on new friends.

You meet up with Yoongi every day the rest of that week and the next few weeks that follow. Each time you learn about him and other mermaids and each time, Yoongi’s cadence and syntax become a little more natural. When you asked if he went to school during the day, Yoongi scoffed and said school stops at 16 mermaid years of age. Instead, Yoongi would swim to the boardwalk and eavesdrop on a group of young people who made a habit of sitting and chatting after work let out. You brought your phone to take notes from the conversations so you would retain the information a bit better. Yoongi had tried to barter for your phone during one of the earlier meetings and quickly learned that humans needed their phones to survive.

From Yoongi, you’d learned that there may actually be a great deal of merfolk walking among you. Some mermaids went on to continue studying ‘human’ studies and would go through a changing ritual around their 18th birthday to ‘split their tail’ and go on land. Usually this just meant going through college at specific institutions that had merfolk with high administrative privileges working there to get them in. But some would go to travel and study human cultures using a more ethnographic approach. Some would go just to pass as a human, but those mermaids were rare.

Yoongi also explained to you that splitting the tail didn’t have to be done through magical rite, but could happen spontaneously upon leaving the water for long enough. It occasionally happened to beached mermaids if they fell asleep in a particularly wild tide that washed them up on some shore somewhere. But they usually hopped right back in because splitting the tail was a painful and uncomfortable process.

“What’s it like,” you’d asked one night, phone light illuminating your face while you typed up what he said. The light was harsh and clashed with softer moonlight that often accompanied your meetings, but you were still charming in your excitement to hear Yoongi’s stories.

“It’s like...” Yoongi paused, still trying to gain command in human language. “It’s like your chest dried up on the inside. And then that dryness went all over the body.”

“Interesting.” The sounds of your frantic typing fill up the empty space. “What else?”

“Well, our,” Yoongi gestured to his gills when only the mer word popped up in his memory. “What do you call these?”

“Gills.”

“Our gills feel like they’re burned closed. Maybe it’s because we have to learn to breathe from our insides like you do, when the tail is split.”

“You have lungs?” Your mind raced with possibilities about the implications of having transformative anatomy before jotting it all down. At Yoongi’s confused expression, you explained what the term ‘lungs’ means.

“Yes? But we don’t use them when we have our tails. Don’t need them.”

“Wow.”

“You always say that. Wow,” Yoongi mocked you. “‘Wow, Yoongi, so amazing. Wow.’”

“So what? I’ve never met a mermaid before you.” You turned your phone off and let your eyes adjust to the nighttime darkness. When you squinted you could make out the beautifully delicate features of Yoongi’s face. “What did you think when you saw a human for the first time?”

“Mmm,” Yoongi thinks, “Felt bad. It was like someone had maimed a mermaid and left them on land to suffer as punishment for their crimes.”

The answer wasn’t what you expected but it was funny enough that you let out a snort before falling into a pile of giggles. The wet sand cushioned your fall as you slumped to the side and shook silently with laughter. Yoongi is not human, but might also be just a little bit of a weirdo.

“So, how long can you split your tail without the ritual?”

“We don’t know. If you do it without a, um, a wizard?” You approved of the word choice. “You can look like a man, but eventually, you will become s-slimed.”

“Slimed?”

“Yes, like a sea cucumber? Our skin needs water, and there is not enough in the air. So we make our own water. But its heavy and feels bad on the skin when you touch it.”

“Skin....produces...mucus...when exposed...to dry atmosphere,” you repeated the words to yourself as you typed them down. “Cool.”

“It's not just uncomfortable for the body, though. Your soul will call to the sea and the moon will drive you to tears when you see her. She will tell you to come back. If you cannot come back soon enough, she takes you back, through sadness.”

“You mean, like, you die?”

“Yes, sometimes,” Yoongi nodded solemnly.

“Human, we wish to split the tail.”

“Hold on. You want to do it?”

With all the horror stories Yoongi had given you about splitting the tail, you weren’t expecting him to ever subject himself to it willingly. But lately, Yoongi had been fed up with questions about him and other merfolk and wanted to know more about humans. You knew Yoongi had a growing interest after meeting with you so often. Sometimes you’d go for walks at night with him floating effortlessly on his back in the water near you. His gaze would sometimes drift down to your legs and bare feet, and you could tell he was curious about your appendages. About humans.

“Yes. We—I want to do it with the purpose of spending time in your nest.”

“What, like a vacation?”

Yoongi’s eyes grow wide then at the mention of a vacation. “Yes! A vacation for me!”

Vacationing was a concept you’d explained to him fairly recently during the rare period where he would be the one asking the questions. You’d explained that it was when you didn’t have any chores or work and you went away somewhere beautiful or cool or just different to have a nice time. The first time you mentioned it, he’d marveled over the concept since it wasn’t present in mer-culture. But you had no idea he was holding onto it this whole time.

“Okay. You can stay with me. But what about the whole...moon-sickness thing. I don’t want you to die at my house.”

“I will not die. You have a small ocean...a pool at your den. I will sleep there, so I can take breaks.”

Yoongi doesn’t leave you with much room for argument and you find yourself looking up the price and location of salt bags so you can maybe try and make the salinity in your pool match that of the ocean. You’re not sure how he’d do with chlorinated water, and definitely not sure how he’d do without any of the natural salt found in seawater. You find a hardware store that carries a few and heft them home after your internship a few days after Yoongi invited himself over. It takes a while and a hefty chunk from your bank account, but you figure it’s better than having Yoongi shriveling up and dying on your watch. When the day finally comes, you agree to wait until sunset and pick Yoongi up by the edge of the beach where you won’t risk being seen by beach-goers. Yoongi’s waiting for you on the sand when you get there, looking like death warmed over.

Yoongi’s skin looks so different in the dwindling daylight—not pale in an ethereal way, but in a sick way. Granted, he’s not exactly in the best of health. The dark charcoal of Yoongi’s tail has dulled and paled into something resembling the skin of a sea-bleached corpse. The tissue and muscle has thinned through, showing the legs developing underneath. They look like real human legs that someone tossed a disgusting flesh blanket over. Sweat coats his entire body despite the moderate weather of the day, and you instinctively crouch down by Yoongi’s head to wipe at the sweat and smooth the skin of his forehead.

“You’re gonna be okay. We’ll wait til you’re dry and then we can start your vacation at my house. How’s that sound?”

Yoongi groans in response, but nods.

The time passes so slowly that you begin to nod off after a while, but the feeling of a hand shaking your shoulder wakes you from your nap. When you open your eyes Yoongi is kneeling in front of you, looking healthy and human, but still beautiful in an unusual way. His hair is still dark, but it’s not quite so dark that it seems to steal the light around it. The gills are gone and replaced with smooth skin and his tail has been replaced by legs. The legs are slender and you wonder if that’s from disuse or a result of being somewhat petite in general. You��re pleasantly surprised to find that Yoongi managed to put on the oversized shirt and shorts you’d brought him to save his modesty.

The walk to your grandparents’ house is normally short, but because Yoongi’s knees locked up the second you tried to start walking, it took a while. You have Yoongi sling an arm around your shoulder and put as much of his weight on you as needed. Yoongi gets the hang of it about mid-way and you laugh quietly as he tests various speeds of locomotion across the sand. When Yoongi reaches the hill that separates the house from the beach, he takes a few grassy tumbles but pop up immediately like a gopher once he stops rolling. When he gets to the front door of the house, his neck cranes upward while attempting to take in as much of the architecture as possible.

“Your den is so large,” awe colors Yoongi’s voice and he knocks on the wood of the outside with a fist. “What kind of rock is this?”

“It’s not rock? It’s, um, made of that stuff,” you point to the tree growing by the side of the house. “It’s wood.”

“W-wood?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it. Let’s get you inside.”

Yoongi continues to stop and marvel at every little thing inside the house as well. Curious hands trace over throw pillows, your grandmother's knickknacks, the metal of the kitchen sink. When you get to the french windows that open to the backyard where the pool is, Yoongi almost walks into them. You guide him away with the promise of seeing the pool later so he doesn’t hurt himself. In the meantime, you spend the next few hours making random foods for him and showing how the TV works. Yoongi becomes instantly absorbed in a documentary about a group of life-long boat inhabitants from southern China on the National Geographic channel. You manage to get most of your work done because he keeps asking you to put on more ‘pictures about humans’. It’s only when the sun has started to set and Yoongi’s skin gets slimy enough that he nearly falls and dies in the kitchen that you suggest he get in the pool.

When Yoongi sees the pool for the first time, he coos.

“It’s like a tiny sea,” he shrugs off his shorts and you look away, cheeks suddenly hot. “The sea’s baby.”

“Yeah,” you laugh nervously. “It’s not like the real thing.” Yoongi splashes in, pale butt like a tiny moon lighting up the night around you.

The sound of bubbling turns your head back toward the pool and you peer over the edge, nudity be damned, to see that a nest of large bubbles has formed around Yoongi’s figure. A few minutes later they dissolve and reveal him with his original tail intact. The t-shirt he forgot to discard is sopping wet against his skin when he resurfaces.

“How was the first day of vacation?”

Yoongi grins up at you and it’s kind of adorable even with the little fangs and slit pupils.

“I am having much fun.”

“That’s good. I have to admit,” you play with the surface of the water shyly, “it’s nice having someone around.”

“Do you have no family? There is only your smell inside the den.”

“No, no, I have family.”

“Like on the TB? You have par...parents?” Yoongi carefully forms the syllables on his tongue. It’s impressive given that he just recently learned all this new vocabulary. You do correct him about the TV, though.

“Yeah, I do. This is actually the house of my parents’ parents. Well, my mom’s parents.”

“Where are they? They are old now, yes?”

“Yeah, they’re kind of old. But they’re still alive. They’re taking a vacation too. In another country. I think they’re visiting in Greece right now. They’ll be back in the fall.”

“Greece?”

“Remember we saw the Greek statues in that one documentary? The people made of rock?”

“Oh, yes.” Yoongi splashes idly for a second before pushing off the wall to swim a few laps. When he comes back, his hair is plastered to his forehead. “Do you have any peers?”

“Yeah, I do. I have a friend from here, her name is Jay. I call her sometimes.”

“That’s good. And I can be your friend so you will not be lonely anymore.”

Yoongi says it so resolutely that you want to laugh.

After the first night, you and Yoongi learn that tail splitting actually takes less time and is less painful the more it’s done. He wakes up in the morning and takes a cat nap in the sun to dry off and then wakes up in the afternoon with legs after you’ve gone to your internship. You sort of taught Yoongi how to use the landline, so you can call when you’re on your lunch break to see what he’s up to and he can call you to ask how to get to National Geographic again or ask you to bring home seaweed from the store. Because, as it turns out, mermaids enjoy seaweed just like humans do.

You also learn that the more accustomed Yoogngi gets to being two-legged, the slower his skin slimes over. With this discovery, you risk taking Yoongi out in public a few weeks into the vacation. Yoongi gawks at all the other humans that are out when you go to a seafood restaurant on a Friday night. But he quickly goes from being astonished at people to being astonished at fried fish. It becomes a weekly habit when you get your meager intern stipend. And despite his large appetite eating through your savings quicker than you’d like, you’re glad to have the company. With Jay gone, you didn’t have many people in town to talk to. It’s almost a vacation for you as well.

“Human!”

“I’m coming! And it wouldn’t kill you to use my name once in a while.”

You huff in the bathroom as you shove your leg through the only bathing suit you brought with you to your grandparents’ house. It’s a simple athletic one piece, nothing flashy or particularly cute. Lately Yoongi had been bugging you about joining him in the pool at night because he wasn’t so sure humans could actually swim. You figured it might also be because he got bored and lonely out there by himself.

“I have a question,” Yoongi says as soon as you come out onto the deck. He’s treading water with his tail idly while gesturing towards your laptop with a free hand. It sits the mandated 12 inches away from the edge of the pool because you explained in a very scary voice that you can’t have your laptop getting wet.

You sit on the edge near him and dip your legs into the water. Another documentary, this time on the Maasai people, is paused on the screen. “What’s your question?”

“Why do these TV programs not provide any information on human mating rites?”

“Mating rites? What do you mean?”

Yoongi purses his lips as he thinks of a good way to explain the concept. Little does he know, you understand what he means. You’re just hoping he’ll get frustrated and let the question drop. But he doesn’t.

“The way human babies are made. Why is this not depicted?”

“Oh, that. You mean sex. That’s probably the word you’re talking about.”

“Okay, sex. Where is sex?”

“It’s not on there because it’s not really...allowed to be on the programs?”

“Why is it not,” Yoongi blinks like that’s the stupidest thing you’ve said in a while.

“Because a lot of people—from a lot of cultures—think sex is kind of like a bad secret? And that you should try to think about it as little as possible. Only talk about it or do it when it’s necessary.”

Yoongi pauses to consider your words. You’d tried to explain before the way human cultural values vary from group to group, and he seemed to understand at a broad, basic level.

“In mermaid culture,” Yoongi pushes the laptop back so he can rest his head on his elbow in the spot, “sex is never a bad thing.”

“Really?” Despite your slight discomfort with the topic, you find yourself wanting to ask. “What are the mating rituals like for mermaids?”

“Every year, we gather in the mating sands and we start to dance. If you find someone who is doing the same dance as you, you mate with them in the sands.”

“Just like that? In the middle of the place, with everyone looking?” You clutch your cheeks with your hands.

“Yes. It is done with the others there. But they are busy with their own mating, although some may join you later.”

“Oh my god,” you mumble. “So, you pick a different person every year?”

“Usually. Some mermaids will pick the same partner every year or multiple years, but it’s not very common.”

“Don’t you miss your last partner after the year ends?”

“Hm? No. You are likely to never see them again after the mating sands.”

“So you only mate one day a year? Wow.” You wish you brought your notebook to jot down what he tells you, but you settle for pulling the computer to your lap and opening a blank document.

Yoongi snorts. “We don’t only mate once a year. That is just when mer-children are made.”

“Oh,” you face gets impossibly hotter and your next question comes out in a whisper. “What happens during the rest of the year?”

“Sex can happen anytime, anywhere, with whoever is of mature age.”

“How do you...” you glance down at Yoongi’s tail before opting to skip the logistics question. “Nevermind.”

“What was your last human mating rite like,” Yoongi grins like you’re swapping hot gossip and peers up at you excitedly.

“I’ve never, uh, had sex before, so I can’t tell you what my last mating rite was like. But they teach you in school what the baby-making stuff is like—”

“You’ve never taken a mate?” Yoongi looks you up and down curiously. “But you are healthy and beautiful.”

“Y-you think I’m beautiful?”

He shrugs. “Yes. Why would I not?”

“Because I’m not—”. Then you stop yourself.

You realize you’re talking to someone who wasn’t raised with any human beauty standards, because he’s not human himself. It doesn’t matter to Yoongi or any other mermaid whether or not your thighs are ‘too big’ or your hair is ‘too frizzy’. Those concepts might not even make sense or exist where Yoongi’s from.

“I don’t know. I guess, I just haven’t found someone I like, yet.” Yoongi’s brows furrow, so you explain. “Humans don’t have sex quite like mermaids do. A lot of people couple off into pairs and stay together for a long time, so they only have one sex partner after a while. Sometimes until they die.”

“So you are looking for someone to stay with forever before your first mating season?”

“It doesn't have to be forever. I just want to feel comfortable with that first person. I want to know they’re kind and won’t hurt me.”

Yoongi lays a wet hand on your knee and senses the downward turn in your emotions. He mirrors your own serious look. “Do you know someone kind?”

“Well, there’s this one guy,” your cheeks raise with a smile, “He works with me in the mornings. He seems really nice and smart and funny.”

“Wonderful,” Yoongi splashes in celebration. “You will mate with him, then?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t think he would want to...do that with me.”

“Why not? You are good. You are the best human there is.”

You crack another smile. “I’m the only human you’ve met.”

“Yes, and I am fine with that because you are so good. You didn’t try to sell me to hunters or trap me in your home or eat me, like some humans have done to some mermaids.”

“Well, I promise I won’t do any of those things to you or any other mermaid I might meet in the future.”

You’re feeling a bit better with Yoongi rooming with you now. So much so that the good mood follows you to work after that night. You’re able to get up early without an alarm and find yourself taking on more side projects at the lab.

“Alright team,” the faculty member leading your research team gathers you together in the morning. “Tell me what everyone’s been up to since I left.”

The first few students raise their hands to talk about the projects they’ve been working on. When the professor asks if anyone else wants to share, you hesitate before raising your own hand.

“I’ve been working with the algae team, but I’ve also been looking into the gill anatomy of some of the fish we found in the southeast region of the observation waters. I noticed some variation in the gill filaments in the younger populations that I think could be an interesting lead.”

Lab Guy raises his hand as the professor nods.

“I’ve been looking over some of the notes entered in the log for her project, and there’s some really cool stuff in there. She’s doing really great work.”

You duck your head to hide your astonishment. Obviously the research notes that you all logged digitally into the lab��s cloud get monitored by the lab assistants. But you figured they were just checking them when things went wrong or for completion at the very least. You didn’t think that Lab Guy was thoughtfully going through your side project notes and actually enjoying them.

In what you hope is a sneaky jerk of your head, you chance a look at Lab Guy. He’s listening to the professor go over the priorities for the rest of the summer but must feel your gaze. He looks at you through the corner of his eye and offers a small smile. You return a gassy looking smile back in response while your heart pounds away.

Hours later you’re seated at the edge of your pool once more, hands covering your face to hide your furiously joyous smile.

“He just looked at me with those eyes and I just,” you sigh sweetly, “I felt like he didn’t hate me.”

“Why would be hate you?”

Yoongi is paddling around with his head out of the water just enough to let his words not be drowned out by the water. He looks a bit like a golden retriever with just the top of his inky black head moving smoothly through the pool’s surface.

“I mean, I don’t think he ever hated me. But I didn’t think he knew who I was either.”

“And you’re happy because of this?”

You laugh because you can’t contain it. “Yes.”

“That is good. But I am done talking about this lab man now.”

“Rude.” You sit up and splash a wave over Yoongi when he gets close enough with your foot. It doesn’t phase him.

“I want to see you swim, now. If you really can.”

You cross your arms defensively. “Why are you so convinced humans can’t swim?”

“Why were you so convinced mermaids didn’t exist?”

“Because I’d never seen one before,” you blurt out before realizing you’ve fallen into his trap. “Touché.”

You hop off the ledge right into the water. It’s cold due to the drop in temperature at night and you let out a little yelp. Yoongi rests his elbows casually against the wall, eyes dubious as you shuffle around the shallow end of the pool to get accustomed to the water.

You’re not the strongest swimmer, but you did have a friend who was a lifeguard back in highschool who was a few years ahead of you and she taught you a few things. You freestyle to the opposite end at a leisurely pace. Yoongi busts out into a cackle as you make your way back, causing you to stop and tread water. He notices you’ve stopped swimming, but doesn’t try hard to contain his laughter.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s such an odd sight. Forgive me,” Yoongi continues to chuckle. “Very clumsy.”

“This is how people swim! We can’t swim like you without a tail.”

“Still, it’s funny. I cannot help laughing.”

Yoongi swims over to you easily and grabs an arm, holding it up to his face to carefully inspect it.

“You are not made to truly swim.” His splayed hand moves next to yours, and you realize his fingers are webbed. “See? This will not help you.”

“And neither will those,” Yoongi points down at your feet.

“So wha—hahaa—what are you doing?”

Yoongi grabs one of your ticklish feet and brings it up to the surface, but not without some struggle. You end up having to force yourself to float so your body can come up with the trapped foot. It’s awkward and you have to hold onto the lip of the pool for dear life as Yoongi inspects your foot.

“This is too small, you see.” He taps on the sole of your foot. “This cannot propel you through the water. And these,” he releases your foot but move further up your leg, “there is not enough muscle to compensate for your little feet.”

Yoongi’s thumbs are digging into the flesh of your thigh as he continues to talk about how humans are built completely wrong for water locomotion. His hand isn’t particularly high up your thigh but it’s also the first time you’ve really had anyone else touch you there in a non-medical context.

It doesn’t help that Yoongi seems to get closer and closer with every second as he moves up to talk more about how human anatomy makes no sense. You wish you could control your heartbeat a little better. Because despite the fact that Yoongi is your friend and, more importantly, isn’t human, he looks human if you stare at just his face. The problem is that Yoongi’s face is...very nice. Your eyes wander the planes of his jaw and the curve of his lips and eyes before clearing your throat.

“Sounds like you watched the new aquatic life show on NatGeo. Look, why don’t we—”

“How do humans do sex?”

“Really?”

“I told you,” Yoongi reminds you about his explanation of mer-people mating.

“Yes you did. But the difference is that I didn’t ask you to.”

“I am very curious,” he pouts. “And you are so uncomfortable with sex.”

Your mouth drops open. “I am not!”

“You are! You will not look at my eyes when I ask you. And you get sweaty.”

“I should have put a child block on the investigator shows,” you grumble. “What do you wanna know?”

“What does the body do?”

Your lips purse as you consider your options. You could spend too long explaining to Yoongi how genitals work, or you could just find a video to show him and hope that answers all his questions. You go with the second option.

“I’ll show you a video. But,” you poke a menacing finger in his face to show you mean business, “don’t go looking for these types of videos on my computer. The school gave me this computer for the summer. I’ll get in trouble.”

The video you pull up is the first one you find on random porn site. Throughout the video set up, you angle the computer away from Yoongi so he won’t be able to retrace your steps later.

“Here.” You scoot the computer towards him and then turn away as the sounds of the video pick up.

Yoongi’s face is nearly plastered to the screen as he watches closely, holding his chin pensively while taking in the writhing bodies and dramatic moans. The video is about 10 minutes long and you don’t think Yoongi would take kindly to you trying to speed it up to the end, so you stand in the shallow end awkwardly, water evaporating off your shoulders. With a shiver you curl up into fetal position and allow yourself to sink below the surface before buoyancy brings you up again. You bob quietly with your knees clutched to your chin until you can’t take it anymore.

“I think that’s enough,” you come over and shut your laptop. There were still a few minutes left, but you figure he must have gotten the gist. “You can’t possibly have more questions.”

“What are those things between their legs?”

“Oh my god,” you groan and kick your feet.

Yoongi peers down at your legs with open curiosity and you realize he’s like a dog with a bone. It’s clear he’s really not going to quit until he gets all his answers and you figure since he’s not even human, it's somehow not as mortifying. You sigh and grab him by the elbow to help hoist him onto the ground surrounding the pool.

“Come on.”

“What are we doing,” Yoongi clambers out, tail slapping heavily and making large puddles on the rock.

“You’ll see.”

You throw your towel at him to help speed up the transformation process and then wait the 15 minutes it takes for his legs to appear. You give Yoongi privacy as its still a very raw process, but when you finally come back out into the backyard, he’s watching the remaining few minutes of the porno with your laptop on his slender thighs.

“Are you all dry?”

“Yes,” he replaces the laptop and stand up, naked as the day any human baby is when they’re born.

Much to your surprise, there’s nothing between Yoongi’s legs. That is, nothing you recognize. Before you can become self-conscious at your boldness, you shuffle in and crouch down before him. There’s nothing that looks like a penis because his abdomen continues down towards his pelvis in a completely flat plane. When you crane your neck to peer between his legs, you only see a delicate slit, almost like what you would find on a whale. Quickly you look away and hurry back up into standing position.

“What did you find,” Yoongi asks, completely unphased by your quick appraisal.

“You’re not quite human even in this form.”

“Oh. Then you can show me yours.”

“No! Oh my god, no!”

“But you will not let me use your computer and there is no program on TV to help me learn.” His eyes are shiny and round as he pleads with you.

“I—fine, but another time. Not today.”

“But you will just say that again when not today comes.”

“You know what? Fine. Since you’re so whiny.”

“What’s whiny?”

“You right now. You hear the way your voice gets all high when I tell you no? That’s whining.”

Yoongi nods at your definition. “Then, yes, I am whiny.”

He grins when you begin to shuffle off the athletic shorts you’d been using as makeshift bathing suit bottoms. Anxiety freezes your limbs momentarily when you realize this will be the first time someone would see you naked; or semi-naked, in this case. Before your courage completely runs out, you hop back into the pool. It takes some determined wiggling because the thick, tight fabric grips your thighs like a vice once water soaks them, but you get them off. They float off into the deep end of the pool as Yoongi follows you back into the water. You wait a few minutes as the bubbles clear, and he returns to his normal form.

“I’m not standing half naked in my backyard, so this is what you get.”

“That is fine. My eyes are made for the water and the lights are on.”

You can’t argue with him about it because you already agreed and because he dives under immediately. The water slows everything down just a little. So Yoongi’s hands prying apart your legs, shifting one up onto his shoulder so its out of the way, is a slow process. There’s a creeping sensation of the tendrils of his hair tickling the sides of your legs as his face nears your center. It’s a lot. And your hands look for something to do above surface only for them to find nothing and migrate back underwater to hold onto something. Yoongi’s bare shoulder ends up being that something.

Yoongi’s head rises slowly out of the water, fangs peeking out from under his lips as he smiles widely.

“It is twisty down there! And there is some hair,” he says excitedly, like neither of you knew.

“Uh, yeah. Whoops. I forgot to mention that.”

“Were the humans in the video sick? There was no hair on them.”

“No, a lot of people just like to get rid of the hair.”

“Why?”

“Uh,” you try to think of a short answer that will sum up the aesthetic motivations behind shaving genitalia. “Because people think it's cleaner and looks nice? And otherwise you might get hair in your mouth.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen. “Humans put their mouths on each other like this? For sex?”

“Y-yes?”

“And that is more sanitary than the hair itself?”

“I don’t know! Are you done? Can I close up shop now?”

“No,” he says curtly before lowering himself back down.

Yoongi’s hands pry your thighs apart once more. This time the hands stay, thumbs on either side of you, pulling you apart to see more clearly. You grow hot with the thought that you’re more exposed than you’ve ever been. Luckily, the water and the late hour probably help hide the fact that you’re getting wet, but you have no idea what Yoongi might pick up on. A finger comes into the mix, spreading you apart, opening you up in different ways. He doesn’t seem to go near your actual entrance and for that you’re grateful because you don’t know what would happen.

As it is, you’re barely holding it together. Your chest heaves with measured breaths, trying to control your breathing so it doesn’t hitch pathetically. And your knuckles are pale with the hard tension in your hands, trying to keep yourself from encouraging or discouraging. You’re shaking with the effort it takes you to stay calm and reasonably collected. When all the poking around stops, you let out a sigh of half relief and half disappointment. You’re still gasping a bit when Yoongi emerges finally. He tilts his head at you, staring through long bangs which are dripping over his face.

“Shall I breed you?”

“Ha,” you stutter out an incredulous laugh, “That’s ridiculous. We can’t do that.”

“Why not?” He pushes closer, tail thumping against the pool floor heavily. “I won’t hurt you, and we are friends.”

“That’s exactly why we shouldn’t do it.”

“I have mated with friends a few times during the sand rut. We are still friends now. What’s the problem?”

“Well, we—you, you don’t have any junk?”

“Junk?”

“Genitalia, I mean. Remember? When you split your tail, its free real estate down there.”

“True,” he hands you back your athletic shorts, which are now just a wet rag at this point. “But I do not have this problem in my true form.”

You gulp nervously. Yoongi is an anomalous mix of aquatic and human, with the human anatomy ending right below the pelvic bone. Which means, he most likely has a fish dick. And there lies the problem.

“No, I’m sorry. But I can’t lose my virginity to a—I can’t do interspecies stuff the first time around, I’m too old-fashioned.”

Yoongi shrugs and steps out of your personal space so you can figure out what to do with your shorts. More struggling with the shorts takes place as you attempt to put the shorts on while you’re still in the pool because you’re suddenly too shy to change in front of him despite the fact that he saw and touched almost all of you. Yoongi pushes off the wall casually and begins doing his usual mini laps around the pool.

“Alright. Do you want to watch a program about the creation of boots for rain?”

“Uh, sorry. Can’t do rain boots right now.”

You run out of the backyard that night with the excuse that you had work in the morning. Granted, you always had work in the morning during the week, but you were too embarrassed to deal with his unbothered mood. A few days pass after that and you think maybe you’re in the clear, that he’s forgotten the whole exchange and has moved onto other things. Lately he’s been asking you about territorial disputes after seeing a show about the world wars. Maybe Yoongi’s onto new topics.

But you haven’t moved onto new topics. After that day, you went to the lab feeling like everyone could tell you were closer to having sex the night before than you ever had been in your life. Lab Guy tried to come over and talk to you about your side project looking at gill anatomy variation, but you could barely make eye contact. You tried, though. You tried to fake some confidence, and it worked for all of 20 seconds. But then he pinned you with some direct eye contact and an almost private looking smile and you suddenly had a vision of him giving you that same smile as he plowed into you from behind. Suddenly you were up and running to go see how your main project group members were doing. You ended up pulling later hours trying to accomplish your daily tasks without interacting with anyone for fear of picturing them fucking you.

The next few days are tough and tense both at the lab and at home. Yoongi doesn’t seem too perturbed by your skittish behavior and you can’t bring yourself to mention that night. Eventually, though, he confronts you.

“Are you frightened of me now?”

“No,” you say from your criss-cross seated position, 4 feet away from the actual pool.

“Why won’t you get in the water, then?”

“The, uh, salt is bad for my skin.”

Yoongi raises a dubious eyebrow and hoists himself up onto the ledge, fin poking out of the water in the background. He looks like a postcard.

“You are thinking about the time I asked to do sex with you.”

“No, I’m not,” your voice gets incredibly high.

“You are lying.”

“I am,” you sigh. “I’m sorry I’m being weird.”

“If you want to try it, you can tell me.”

“I mean—”

“Unless you do not find me favorable,” Yoongi shrugs.

You can’t even begin to fathom not finding Yoongi attractive. His features are sharp and pretty, and his hair falls over his face in an endearing way. There’s sinewy power in his lithe frame that you aren’t completely blind to. But you also don’t really like Yoongi in any way other than a platonic way.

“I find you very favorable,” you explain, “But you know how I am about Lab Guy and it wouldn’t feel right.”

“Little human,” he smiles, “I am not asking you to join me in the sand rut. I was merely suggesting that we do as merfolk do when they feel the urge. You are still free to be infatuated with your lab man. Though I do think he sounds undeserving.”

Gnawing on the inside of your cheek, you consider his offer. You wonder if maybe it would actually be helpful to get over the initial fear of sex. If you took all the scary mystery out of it, you figure only self-discovery and fun would be left over. Maybe it would change things for the better.

“Okay,” you sigh.

You stand up to peel off your t-shirt and yoga pants. Ever since Yoongi moved in, you’d made it a habit to change into whatever you were using as a swimsuit once you got back from the lab. But because you were behind on laundry it was a sports bra and underwear tonight. If Yoongi were a human guy from down the block, you might be more worried about the fact that your bra and underwear didn’t match or that your legs were a bit prickly.

Yoongi’s eyes are barely visible from above the waterline as they watch you enter the pool slowly. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up when you see his slitted pupils illuminated in the dark. In the back of your mind, you wonder if there was ever a time when humans were hunted by mermaids. You feel a bit like prey in Yoongi’s gaze and as he swims up to you, a fin parts the water ominously. Your heartbeat picks up in excitement.

The entrance to the pool has a small flight of steps and you wait there while Yoongi does his Jaws impression over to you. When he reaches you, he crowds you in towards the steps. Yoongi’s tail lays heavy and wide between your legs, parting them. His nose comes to caress your cheek briefly as he gets his balance against the steps with his hands pulling his weight to lay on top of you.

“I saw,” Yoongi continues to nuzzle into your cheek with his face, “in the video you showed me—the sex video—that they put their mouths together. Why is this?”

“It’s kissing. It shows affection and it feels nice.”

“Is it sanitary,” Yoongi mumbles against the corner of your mouth.

“Not really.”

“Interesting.”

You close the distance and kiss him to demonstrate what it’s supposed to be like. Yoongi goes rigid for a bit before relaxing into your touch. Reflexes take over and your arms wrap around his neck to pull him in. Yoongi releases a low rumbling sound that you try not to analyze to closely. You think he may be purring, but you’re not sure.

Time passes quickly as you kiss and let your hands wander over the planes of Yoongi’s body. All the while, the end of his tail flickers with interest and causes small splashes to fill the background noise. Without thinking, your tongue flickers out only to get pricked by one of his fangs. You whimper a bit and the sound seems to trigger something in him.

He licks into your mouth, predator instincts drawing him towards the tiny bead of blood. It’s not really a kiss as you know kisses to be, but it still causes your heart to pitter patter and your center to clench involuntarily. Yoongi’s tail starts thrashing a bit more wildly as he takes in your aroused state. Gripping you tighter, he snarls into your neck and licks a wide stripe up the column of your throat.

“I’m ready to breed you,” Yoongi maneuvers you onto your front, so you’re kneeling on one of the steps. He inhales deeply. “You smell ready.”

“What does that mean?”

You look at him over your shoulder and see that his pupils have blown out to twice their size. Your back arches on its own accord, showing Yoongi where he needs to be.

“You are ready here,” he palms roughly at your center for emphasis, hand coming away with a viscous sheen.

Yoongi moves forward so the weight of his lower body locks you under him. You feel something rugged and slick brush against the back of your thighs. It’s firm and thick as he brings your hips back against it.

“Wait, wait, wait, Yoongi. Wait.”

Yoongi’s nose comes to nudge at the nape of your neck soothingly. The rumbling sound of his sub-vocal growls help to coax you out of your panic. You trust him and under the fading anxiety, you can feel your want burning low in your gut.

“Ok, go.”

Despite it being your first time, you know the blunt pressure parting your folds is odd for different reasons than just being the first time. Yoongi’s got ridges and grows larger once he’s in at the hilt, pulsating almost to the rhythm of your own elevated heartbeat.

Once Yoongi’s certain that he’s snugly inside you, he wraps an arm around your middle and start pushing off the stairs and into the water.

“Yoongi,” your eyes widen as he goes past the area where you can stand and moves into the deep end. “I can’t breathe under water, remember? What are you doing?”

“You will see. Please trust me,” Yoongi swims you both over to a wall in the deep end. “Rest here.”

Yoongi hoists you up just enough to drape your arms onto the ledge. Yoongi stays behind you, embracing you tightly but begins pumping his hips in a way he couldn’t when he wasn’t able to use his tail for leverage. The first thrash of his hips and tail forces him deeper into you before withdrawing a bit. Meanwhile, his hands roam your body, setting off a wave of goosebumps across your skin.

It takes a while to get used to the sensation, but once your do you can barely hold yourself up as you fall apart. Something about the ridges and the pulsating of his member sends shivers to the tips of your extremities.

Yoongi mumbles some words in his native tongue intermixed with snarls that confuse your ears but you think maybe it means he’s close. Fangs scrape lightly against the skin of your shoulder and stars start forming in the corners of your vision.

“B-bite me,” the words stumble out of your mouth as Yoongi continues to thrash up into you.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh god, bite me. Please, Yoongi.” Your knuckles are practically white with tension as you grip the ledge of the pool. “Just bite me, I don’t care where.”

Yoongi chuckles. “You sound like my last sand rut partner.”

There’s no warning before white hot pain takes over you with the bite. But it’s just enough to push you over the edge and into your high. You spasm in his grip for what feels like forever, breath only coming to you in short bursts. Your lungs burn and you feel like you might pass out.

Yoongi’s climax follows soon after when your core starts convulsing, milking him. His tail wraps around your ankle, giving you only a second to take a large inhale before he’s pulling you under the surface and wrapping himself around you with inhuman strength. Yoongi’s swollen up enough with the constant pulsating so your entrance is sealed practically watertight. Then he’s coming. Thick, hot ropes shoot into you with every pulse of him.

Your fists scrabble against Yoongi under the water, reminding him that you’re running on a shallow inhale at best. He curls around you, one hand pressing reassuringly across your belly as the other grabs your chin to bring you to face him. Almost like a kiss, he presses plush lips against yours and blows into your mouth. A serene, almost drunk feeling spreads in your head and you slump against him, no longer tense. He seems to know exactly when you’re going to run out of air and continues to blow bubbles into you so you can stay underwater for a while. Eventually the bubbles get punctuated with a small kiss, like Yoongi finally got the hang of the concept. Once enough time has passed, you tap his hand and gesture to the surface.

Yoongi’s tongue feels rough outside of the water, but he assures you that letting him lap at the bite mark he left will help it close up a lot faster than the normal healing process in the skin would take. You lay in his lap, limply with your head in his neck so the mark is exposed and just bask in post-coital bliss as he takes care of you. The foggy feeling in your head that came with the bubbles you breathed in slowly clears away, leaving only the pure sleepiness that comes with a late night workout. Your knees can barely hold you up when you finally say goodnight and go to shower the salt water off your skin.

For the next few days, you’re the first person in the lab after having woken up naturally at 5 in the morning. You figure the endorphins from that night just made you a little more motivated than usual. A few of the samples you’d suspended in solution to get some chemical insight have developed and you’re looking them over when the door to the lab opens one morning with the jingle of the lock being undone.

“You’re quite the busy bee lately,” Lab Guy’s voice sounds from where he’s shrugging on his lab coat.

He looks adorable with hair still wet from a morning shower and the smell of his soap permeates the space as he comes over to his desk, which faces yours. He smiles at you and you feel like you’ve been frozen in place once more. Your expression must be one of distress because he smiles again, this time a bit apologetic, and chuckles.

“Alright, I’ll stop bothering you.”

You curse yourself for being so transparent. While it’s reassuring to think that Yoongi didn’t fuck the crush out of you, you hate that you’re so overwhelmed by Lab Guy. You’re not even sure why you’re intimidated by him. He’s never done anything to make you feel bad about yourself, you just aren’t used to having such positive interest directed towards you. If you think back on it, you wonder if this is like those moments where Jay would tell you that learning to take a compliment would do you wonders.

The night after your tryst in the pool, you had called Jay because there was no way you weren’t going to share with her the fact that you lost your virginity. She was ecstatic once she made sure that you felt okay about everything that happened. You couldn’t be as open as you wanted to be because of the whole issue of Yoongi’s existence not being known or comprehensible to most humans. Even still, you were able to gush over how pleasant it was and the fact that the person you lost it to was ‘hot in their own way’. When Jay asked about Lab Guy, you expressed that you were—remarkably enough—still ‘in like’ with him. He still gives you butterflies in your stomach, you told her. And the idea of getting to know him one-on-one outside the lab makes you giddy.

“Why don’t you try to do that,” she’d asked you in the hazy light of your ambient lamp before bed. “Get to know him, I mean.”

“Because I can’t just walk up to him. That’s crazy.”

“Who the fuck is he,” Jay scoffed. “He’s literally just some guy that you think is cute. He’s not a diplomat or, like, a saint. Why are you acting like talking to him would be some sort of smear? You’re not a smear, babe.”

You were too tired to really take her words to heart and merely signed off from the Skype call because sleep was overcoming you. Now, though, you feel like you finally get why Jay had been so frustrated listening to you. Lab Guy is cute and nice and smart. But so are you. And you’re not doing him any disservices by being interested in him. So, despite the nerves coiling in your stomach, you speak up.

“You’re not bothering me,” his head pops up from his work and you put on what you hope is a confident looking smile. “I’m just marking down the composition of some of this suspension.”

The smile he gives you back is instantly brighter and he hesitates a bit before coming over to your side.

“What did you find,” he rests his hand on your desk. You straighten your shoulders and try to appear like you’re not internally screaming at his proximity.

“Well, let me give you the background first...”

With the passing week and some change, Yoongi watches on in amusement as your aura changes completely. You come home with an easy-going contentedness and a smile that seems unfettered.

“You spoke with the lab man, correct?”

Yoongi’s got legs today, and they're criss-crossed on the ground outside the kitchen. Yoongi refuses to step inside since he nearly blew up the microwave once by leaving a metal spoon inside. You’re preparing your lunch for the next day when he questions you. It catches you by surprise, but instead of shrinking in on yourself, you give him a cheeky grin.

“Maybe,” you hum before zipping up your lunch box. “How can you tell?”

“You walk like you’ve caught a large fish.”

“That’s a nice expression. I think I’ll start using that.”

“Why did you say nothing about it?”

“I don’t want to bore you. You’re probably not really interested in hearing about him.”

“You may tell me about him, if you wish.”

“Really,” you bite your lip excitedly and he nods, “Okay.”

You both end up walking on the beach because Yoongi has been feeling the effects of being away from the ocean for so long. You’d told him that it wouldn’t be a problem to just come visit him occasionally on the beach instead of having to stay in your pool, but he declined. Probably mostly out of stubbornness. But you can see the wistful way Yoongi stares at the waterline as you chatter on about the new things going on in the lab.

“Just go in. You can come back to the house whenever you want, but stay the night tonight.”

Yoongi doesn’t wait for you to tell him twice and strips down shamelessly before running straight into the water. You follow after him slowly, allowing the waves to lap at your feet. Moments later he pops back up, gills present on his neck and tail splashing out behind him. The water is too cold to wade through, so you wave away his calls. As a compromise, he comes up to where the waves meet shore and lays on his belly while you sit. Yoongi reaches out and grabs your ankle, tugging to pull you in.

“I have a confession to make,” he smiles up at you while resting his cheek on your thigh. “I misused your computer.”

“For what?”

“To watch sex videos.”

“Yoongi,” you admonish. Your mouth drops open and you dread going back to look at the search history. You’re going to have to clear your whole cache.

“I know you are disappointed in me, but I was curious about something. If there are other ways of sex.”

You nod. “There are. I’m sure you found some of them in the videos.”

“Yes. I want to try one. Will you let me? Or are you pair-bonded with lab man already?”

“I’m not pair-bonded with him.” You kick at the sand near Yoongi’s shoulder, juvenile with infatuation. “What kind of things are you going to try?”

“It is a...surprise. Surprise, is that right?”

“Surprise is right.”

Your bite your lips in decision and decide that there’s no harm in it. “But let me kiss you first.”

“Is kissing really so pleasurable for humans? It is a strange sensation.”

“I like it,” you shuffle over on your knees and Yoongi sits up as best he can while still keeping his tail in the water. “Plus, you have a nice mouth.”

He grins and submits to your ministrations. In all honesty, Yoongi’s long, slightly pointed tongue fascinates you and turns you on a bit. Eventually he gets impatient and has you wiggle onto your stomach, sans bottoms, for your surprise. The surprise ends up being a few fingers up your ass. It takes a long while to become pleasurable; but once it does, you come 3 times from that alone and have to drag yourself up the beach so you can escape him. Yoongi pouts at you and you cackle at him once your breath comes back, letting him know that he looks like a small beached whale.

“I have an idea,” Yoongi says after when you’re simply staring up at the sky. You’re too tired to worry if you get sand in your hair.

“Is it like your little surprise?”

“I will come to your lab with you. To see what you do all day.”

“Is that safe, though? What if you start to slime up while you’re there?”

“But you know I can stay dry for several hours, longer than you are in the lab. It can work.”

“I guess I can check in with my advisor and then go after he says okay.”

“I am excited,” Yoongi claps his hands a little, a gesture that he seemed to pick up after watching enough TV.

A quick email is all it takes to bring up the idea to your advisor. You tell a small lie saying that Yoongi is a friend and prospective applicant for the school who’s uncertain of a major yet. Your advisor is open to the idea and gives his approval quickly. It’s actually surprising how easy it is to smuggle Yoongi into your lab. And as you head to the beach a few days later to pick him up, you worry that the other shoe is going to drop.

Traveling with Yoongi to the lab is interesting because even though you’ve taken him on the local boardwalk and inside a few restaurants, he’s not at all used to being out and about. Yoongi looks small and shy on the bus you take in the morning and shuffles into your space when other passengers start to pile on with the morning work rush. You can’t help but smile at him when he wraps your hand in his and makes a low dissatisfied sound at the lack of free space.

“This is it,” you gesture to the lab doors before entering the code to get in.

Yoongi’s eyes are wide as they take in the benches and the other students puttering around. A few greet you and Yoongi, who freezes before mumbling a greeting in return. After a while, though, he relaxes. You show Yoongi your desk setup and explain to him what you’re working on. Your advisor comes around to say hello to him and you explain that Yoongi’s been abroad, skipping any identifying details. The professor welcomes him before letting you know that the morning check in will be soon.

“You can go look at the observation tanks if you want.”

“What are these,” Yoongi asks while you walk him towards the area in question.

“Those are where we keep the water and plants and animals that we study.”

As you head over, you pass by the entrance just as Lab Guy enters. He looks a little disoriented and you wonder if he forgot to set his alarm or missed his bus. His gaze is heavy on you as he takes in the way Yoongi clings to your side, following you closely and whispering to you about something. You miss the way he seems to forget that he was taking off his coat and watches your back disappear into the observation room.

Yoongi waits until the door closes before grinning at you.

“This is the observation—what are you smiling for?”

“That was the lab man, wasn’t it?”

You nod. “How did you know?”

“Your heartbeat was very noisy when he came into the lab.”

“Are you serious? You can hear my heartbeat?”

“It’s much easier for me to hear things on land,” Yoongi shrugs. “You must get back. Your elder said that you must meet soon.”

“We’re talking about this later,” you point an accusing finger at him before you stumble out of the observation area just in time to get to the meeting before the first person begins sharing their progress.

Everyone goes around and you share your findings so far and accept a few suggestions from your advisor about where to go next in terms of your research. The meeting is brief and you all head to your respective sections to work. Yoongi reemerges from the observation room after some time and mentions going to take a walk around the buildings. You know he really wants to sit like a cat in front of the large fish tank outside of the ecology department nearby. Lab Guy isn’t subtle in the way he pretends not to be straining his ears to hear your conversation. When Yoongi leaves, you pin him with a look that tells him you know he was listening.

“Would you like a transcript of that last conversation,” you bat your lashes mockingly. Lab Guy’s cheeks bloom with embarrassment and he curls his shoulders self-deprecatingly.

“No, thanks.”

“Because you already heard everything?”

“Something like that,” he leans in over the divider separating your two desks. “Is he coming back for lunch?”

“I don’t think so,” you smile. “Why?”

“Just wondering if you were gonna eat with him or,” he trails off while closing his laptop. You get up too since the lunch break has unofficially started. “So where’s he staying currently? With...with you?”

“Yeah. Yoongi basically lives in the pool at my grandparents’ house.”

“I see,” Lab Guy walks with you to your cubby so you can fetch the food you brought from home. “But, um, where is he from? He seems a little shy.”

“Near the water,” you answer tersely. Part of you worries that maybe Lab Guy is onto Yoongi and is just trying to confirm his suspicions that he’s not human by questioning you.

“And are you guys, uh...like are you dating?”

You stop your slow stroll toward the communal eating space to look at him more clearly. Slowly, you realize that he probably doesn’t actually think Yoongi isn’t human—just a little odd. Instead, the onslaught of questions seems to be more about gaining information on you.

“No,” you eye him slowly in your periphery, “I’m single. Yoongi’s not my...yeah.”

“Oh,” Lab Guy releases a breathy chuckle that’s full of relief. “That’s cool.” He trips a little on the threshold leading to the break room.

The rest of the break consists of you eating your lunch and looking at Lab Guy every so often to find him smiling in your direction. He never meets your gaze, and looks away quickly every time you turn toward him, but always comes back once you go back to eating. It makes eating your melon slices hard because you’re trying not to spill any juice while containing your own smile.

At the end of the day, Yoongi pops up looking slightly greasy, but not in risk of revealing his skin is actually used to being submerged in water. Even still, you swab his dewy forehead to collect the pseudo-sweat before packing up. Lab Guy lingers a bit at his own station, still horrible at the art of subtle eavesdropping. Yoongi pins him with a look that startles him away from his station with an awkward little wave in your direction.

“Why do you like him,” Yoongi wrinkles his nose at Lab Guy’s retreating back. You swat lightly at his arm.

“Be nice. How was your walk? Did you go visit the fish in that big tank?”

“Yes. We had a very nice conversation.”

“You did? Can you really talk to—” he grins and suddenly you realize he’s messing with you. “Wow. Your first joke. That’s nice.”

“I fooled you,” Yoongi laughs a deep, croaking laugh that makes you chuckle to yourself as well. “I really convinced you mermaids can talk to fish.”

“Yeah, you got me.”

“What a ridiculous idea. Fish cannot talk.”

You head out through the back and agree that Yoongi will get in the water through the footpath leading to the public beach and meet you back at a spot near your house. As a way of congratulating him for being so human while at your workplace, you call up Yoongi’s favorite fish place and set up a reservation for a table later in the evening when he’ll have had some water time and some drying time.

Much to your chagrin, Yoongi doesn’t try to be as human while at the restaurant. He orders several of the whole fish items on the menu, instructing the waiter that he wants it as close to raw as possible. It comes back steamed and the waiter looks mildly concerned with the way Yoongi picks up the first whole fish with his hands and starts eating it tail-first like a piece of pizza. You lose your appetite and stick to just eating the biscuits that are complementary with the table because Yoongi is a bit too precise with the way he separates the meat from the bones. The moment you lose your cool is when Yoongi tries to coax the bones into your purse while you’re paying the bill. You had silently yanked your purse out of his reach and watched him try to covertly wrap the bones in a napkin like they’d be a good snack for later.

That night, you call Jay to talk a little bit.

“Wow,” she marvels when the call finally connects, “You called me first. Amazing.”

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes. “I just missed you too much to wait for you to call. Plus, I got up early today so I can’t be talking after 11.”

“What’d you do today?”

“Well, the person that I told you about last time came to the lab with me. And then we got dinner. It was a fun day.”

“Oh. That...sounds way more serious than I thought it was. Are you guys exclusive?”

“No, I don’t really think either of us thought that we’d end up like this when it started. I’m pretty sure we’d both say we’re just friends if anyone asked.”

“And is that what you want?”

“I...I think so?”

“It doesn’t sound like you’re all that sure.” Jay leans into the screen, a little habit of hers, to look at your face better. “I just don’t want you to get hurt because everything except the label is there.”

Something about her statement bothers you, but you’re tired and don’t want to dwell on it while you catch up. So you change the subject and find out that she’ll be back in a few weeks with several modeling jobs under her belt and an indie music video cameo. Even with her exciting story about getting roped into the music video shoot while at a gas station in the middle of nowhere, you still can’t focus 100% on everything she’s telling you. When the call ends, sleep pulls at the corners of your vision, but you still wander out to the pool.

You’re surprised to find that Yoongi still hasn’t gotten into the pool yet. He sits at the edge, looking at the minute ripples in the water’s surface. Bathed in moonlight, Yoongi’s beautiful enough to make you stand a beat in the doorway just to look at him. Jay’s words echo in your head. Did you want to try something more with Yoongi?

“Hey,” you walk over to him and sit at his side.

“Hey,” he parrots.

“What’s the matter?”

“I feel strange,” Yoongi frowns down at his reflection. “I don’t feel like myself.”

“What do you mean?”

“It is moon-sickness. At least...I think it is. I wish to stay, and live like this for longer. With you, here. But this pool is not enough. And when the night comes, I feel a pull in my chest. I want to go into the water. Deep, too far to hear your voice or see your face.” Yoongi turns to you, tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry. But I am frightened.”

“Why are you frightened,” your arm reaches out to envelop his shoulders.

“I want to keep you, and I imagine that if I did, it would be sweet.” Yoongi’s hand caresses your cheek. “But I do not think this is in my nature. I fear that I will be erased if I stay.”

“Then...you should go.”

“What about you,” he clutches at your hand. “We may never meet again.”

“We’ll have memories. And that’s better than you wasting away on shore. Infinitely better.”

Yoongi stares at you, eyes searching desperately for one last sign that maybe he could make it. That maybe he could stay if he just focused on you enough. But he can’t find whatever that would be. Or maybe his body won’t allow it. Either way, he touches his forehead to yours before standing. It takes all the strength you have to get up and silently walk him back to the beach without crying. The whole way there, Yoongi’s hand clutches yours tightly and doesn’t let go even after moving from the shore to the water. He leads you with him into the water. If the waves are beating at your bodies a little harsher than normal, you don’t care.

Your hand is finally released when bubbles start forming, signaling Yoongi’s transformation is starting. Usually you would turn away, not wanting to intrude on the moment, but tonight you don’t look away. The night obscures most of the process, but you can still see through weak moonlight. You can see the way the bubbles concentrate at Yoongi’s legs, mending the gap between them and forming sinews while the bones seem to melt away. It looks painful and gruesome, if the way he gasps is any indication. Finally the bubbles clear, leaving Yoongi the way you first found him.

“I wish you could come with me,” he says finally. You study the way his gills move organically in the water and remember how he said breathing with lungs was always a little painful. You feel sorry.

“Me too,” is all you can say. Oncoming tears burn at your throat, and you cough to hide them. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“I care for you,” Yoongi sighs. “We will meet again. I swear it.”

“Okay.”

“Truly, I mean it.”

“Alright. But if you can’t, don’t worry. I won’t forget you.”

“I won’t forget you either.”

You can’t stand there much longer, so as soon as Yoongi’s back is turned, you turn yours too and head back to the house. No sleep comes to you that night because you keep seeing the image of Yoongi’s face when you close your eyes. You call in sick the next day, not wanting to deal with overly happy labmates and do some work on your own with hefty naps intermixed. Sadly, too many days away from the lab isn’t an option for you, so you’re back after that.

“Rough night,” Lab Guy asks you mid-day. He noted the way you didn’t say anything during the morning check in. Not even chiming in to put in your vote for where to eat as a group during the final lab meeting coming up.

“My friend had to leave unexpectedly last night. I...wasn’t ready for him to go.”

Lab Guy nods, sensing that it was probably more serious than what you’re telling him. He does what he can to cheer you up the rest of the week. That means surprising you with the same bag of gummy worms that you would occasionally bring to lunch with you. The way your face brightens up as you tear open the bag makes his heart skip a beat. He’s thankful that whatever happened with your friend didn’t send you back into your shell completely.

When the lab sessions first started, he’d been instantly interested in you. Your story about how you came to love marine science was unique and there was something endearing about the way that you glided through the lab on the first day, like you were a fish in water. But every time he’d tried to talk with you, he’d get confused. You looked like you were terrified every time he came over, but would look upset when he left. Then one day you came in looking like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders and suddenly you weren’t so meek anymore.

The last day of lab comes quickly now that you’re back out of your funk. With your extra project, you’d been forced to spend extra hours in the lab. Long after most of your labmates left, you were still there every day, typing away. Normally, spending some much time locked up inside would have you feeling a bit depressed, but Lab Guy had been spending time with you. Sometimes he would stick around until you were done and then drive you to a nearby diner to get some food in you. Other times, when there was no sign of being done by dinner time, he would order food to the lab. You were truly grateful for his company. As you got closer to finishing your project, you would engage him more. Chatting while you waited for samples to go through electrophoresis, listening to the music he recommended while calculations ran. You suspected that he’d finished his project long ago and was now just sticking around to stick around. Not that you minded. The longer he stuck around, the more you learned about him. And the more you learned about him, the more you wanted to know.

“You know,” Lab Guy says as you send your final report to the cloud, “We should probably celebrate now that you’re done.”

“We will. The team’s going out to dinner tomorrow, remember?”

He nods, lips pouted out. He tries again. “Yeah, but I meant...with just me.”

“Namjoon,” your eyes widen and you look up at him to make sure he’s not joking. “Are you asking me out?”

“Yes?”

“Okay. Just checking.”

“So is that a yes?”

“I guess,” you feign nonchalance. “But what did you have in mind?”

You come out of your second lecture for the day, nearly running into Namjoon once your come out of the auditorium doors.

“Shit, sorry,” he says while grabbing your upper arms to steady you. Once you’re stable, his hands descend to lace his fingers between yours. “How was class?”

“It was good,” you sing song as he checks the hallway for passerby before backing you against the wall. “Are done for the day?” He shakes his head, nose brushing yours.

“I have another one at 5,” he mumbles against your lips before kissing you in earnest.

After several intimate minutes, you wipe your tinted chapstick off his lips and brush back the hair that had fallen into his face while kissing you. He wiggles his hand into the back pocket of your jeans before starting the familiar route to your next class. Namjoon was nothing if not a gentleman walking you to class.

“I’ll see you later,” he says. You nod knowing he’s talking about the dinner reservations he booked for the evening. It’ll be you, him, Jay, and a bunch of other close friends from lab and school to celebrate your birthday.

“Right. See you then,” a few other students in your class approach the door, and he pulls you to the side.

“Before you go, take this.” He leaves you with an envelope in your hand and a kiss on your forehead.

Namjoon retreats quickly since his next errand isn’t nearby and you smile at his distant figure before going to class. Class goes by quickly because it's one of your favorite non-biology classes and you’re excitedly wondering what else Namjoon has planned. Jay is supposed to be picking you up to go see an early movie, but she sends you a text saying that her class ended later than she planned. You figure you’ll check your mail for any family birthday cards and meet her there.

Your tiny student mailbox is full like you expected. There’s a card from your parents full of cash that you’re very grateful for, and a gift card to the movies from your grandparents. There’s also a few flyers from random campus clubs and a few credit card offers. The last envelope you pull is unexpected. There’s no stamp and the return address is from a wildlife organization. You’ve gotten letters like this before that would include a pre-printed donation card and story about how your donation would be used and what types of membership gifts you could get if you donated enough. But the envelope is oddly thin, and you hover above the nearest recycling bin while cutting into the paper.

There’s no donation card or fancy stock paper asking you to consider signing up for a credit card with a smiling dolphin on the front. It’s a letter, written in a sort of chicken scratch that makes you wonder if you signed up to be a child’s pen pal and then promptly forgot about it. But as you read it, you realize who it’s from.

My Dear Human, Today is your birthday. I realize as I write this letter now that I never asked how many years you have. I think that I am many human years older than you, though I have a similar age in my homeland. Are you having the cake with the little flames? I’ve forgotten the word for the fiery little sticks on the cake. I suppose you are wondering how this message was delivered to you. I can’t give you the full answer (because I do not know the full answer) but I believe that there is more communication between merfolk and humans than either of us knew. I miss you every day. My friends say that I may have spent too much time on land, but I do not regret it after having met you. You are my friend as well and if you were here with me now, you could take a vacation in my home. I do not have a small patch of dry land that you could lay around in, but it would be like before. I would love that. It seems that I found one other thing on land that I miss dearly. That is human civilization. I think it is fascinating, and I realize now that there is so much we mermaids do not know. So much that I didn’t know and so many things that are told wrong. And after a few months, I decided I want to be able to learn on land and teach the merfolk. I’ve spoken to a few elders here who see the value in connecting the holes between worlds. And I think that we will end up colliding one day or another. I wish to help us be ready for that day. So next year I will go see a magi (is that what you call them?) and I will do the long tail split for a few years to study in Taiwan.Do you know this place? There is a school there, one that helps my kind blend in so that we may learn among other humans. Before that, I will be studying. I am studying written language right now, and I thought I would start with yours. It is quite difficult and my hand often hurts when I have to hold the pen, but a kind human child comes to a dock near my home and teaches me in the afternoons. He is patient and says I will be ready soon, but he is helping me with this letter as I dictate it. This lovely script you see is not my own. Although it is a foreign feeling, I want to close this letter with my love and a promise that we should see one another soon. Until then, please have this keepsake. I saw in a TV program that this was how people kept the loneliness away. Please keep it. I miss you. Yoongi

Wrapped in delicate twine is a small tuft of Yoongi’s hair, dark and shiny like you remembered it. You can’t help the wide smile that stretches your lips and you tuck the small token into your pocket. Gently, so as not to undo the little bundle you imagine Yoongi spent way too much time tying.

“Hey,” Jay’s voice sounds from down the corridor leading to the student mailroom. “What’s that?”

“Just a birthday card from my parents,” you hold up the very same card. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”

“Oh my god, I’m such a shitty friend. I haven’t told you happy birthday yet, have I?”

“Nope. You haven’t.”

Shoving your hands pitifully into your pockets, you give her a dramatic pout. The hair is still there, letting you know that you didn’t dream up the card or any of your most recent summer. Jay pulls you close and smacks a kiss onto your cheek, promising you the best birthday you’ve ever had.

Much later, while Namjoon is snoring off too much dessert wine, you run your finger along some cardstock you found in your miscellaneous drawer. The last time you wrote a letter by hand was when you had to practice cursive in grade school. Now, though, you stretch the poetic muscles that lay dormant for decades to craft a note to a friend.

Dear Yoongi...

#btssmutclub #bscproject #networkbangtan #bttnetwork #hyunglinenetwork #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfic #yoongi imagines #yoongi scenarios #yoongi fanfic

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panda-noosh · 5 years

Text

Butterfly {The Rockstar Series}{Lance x Reader}

The Rockstar Series: a series of fics documenting rockstar!Voltron falling in love.

Words: 17.5k (oof)

Summary: Relationships never seem to work out for Lance. Maybe he was just destined to be the player.

Genre: angst

Warnings: nothing really

Notes: masterlist - support my writing or ask me about commissions! - aaaaand the rockstar series is over :( i had so much fun writing these characters in this world, and i hope you guys enjoyed reading their little adventures, too. until next time, i suppose :) xx

---

The sound of the door slamming was becoming much too familiar.

Lance didn't even flinch this time. He simply closed his eyes, continuing to lean forward with his head in his hands. The argument he and Allura had just suffered through was replaying in his head, her strained voice, the reason she failed to see – he was a busy man, and she knew that. He had a career to focus on, and yet she insisted on thinking she should come first at all times.

Maybe she should. At this point, Lance was so unsure about his own feelings that he could very well have been wrong. Maybe he was the bad boyfriend. Maybe it was him who needed to put more effort in. Maybe Allura had a point.

Whatever it was, Lance was too tired to focus on it right now. He let the echo of the slamming door ring out for a few more seconds before he stood up, grabbed the notepad of lyrics and threw it at the wall. He wanted to scream, but the others were in bed. He wanted to cry, but he wasn't even sure what he would be crying over, so he bit his lip and clenched his fists and hoped it would have the same effect.

It didn't. That night, Lance crawled into bed – on his own, yet again – and tried his hardest to convince himself that everything was going to be fine. Up until this point, his life had been everything he'd ever wanted it to be. He played venues. He had fans. He was on tour with some of his best friends – he had no reason to be upset.

The routine would continue; Allura would realise she had yelled for nothing, come crawling back to Lance, and the two of them would be fine for another day or two. The next argument – Lance could only hope – would be a little less explosive, something he could handle with a calmer voice.

However, the more Lance thought about it, the more he was beginning to think that perhaps it was no longer his job to handle it. Maybe he should just stop trying.

---

When Lance and Allura first met, it had been an immature case of love at first sight.

Lance will admit to that. He had fallen in love with her looks long before he'd fallen in love with her personality, though he would be a liar to claim her personality hadn't won him over in the end. She could be snarky, a little bossy, a little self-obsessed, but these were all things Lance could deal with, because she loved him and he really, truly believed he loved her, too.

It was just difficult sometimes. Nights when he showed up to bed late, she would yell at him and start crying, asking him why he prioritised everything else over her. Lance would grab her elbows and try to calm her down, tell her on a continuous loop that his workload was just a lot right now, that Allura was always in the back of his mind, that he was sorry, sorry, sorry.

Over and over again, he was sorry.

During their first few meetings, Allura had Hunk's partner on her arm. The two of them were best friends, and seeing Hunk and his partner get on so well – even after all this time – put Lance under a bit of pressure to show off the same amount of affection for his partner. Whilst Hunk and his partner giggled and whispered in the corner, Lance grew increasingly uncomfortable with the way Allura was looking down at her phone, ignoring him completely despite her previous protestations about the fact they didn't get to spend much time together.

And Lance knew it was bad to compare relationships – Allura was trying, but it was getting to the point where Lance didn't even want to try any more. Yes, Hunk and his partner managed to make it work, but that didn't mean Lance had the same skill.

Maybe he was just forever destined to be known as the player of the group.

Maybe he should just learn to embrace that name. It was easier than dragging this out.

“You know, Lancey-boy.”

Lance's head snapped up. He hadn't even realised he'd been holding it in his hands again.

Hunk was stood in the kitchen doorway, wearing a pair of duck pyjamas. On his face was a green face-mask. Under his eyes were dark circles.

“Next time you and Allura start fighting, can you maybe tone it down a little bit? This is the third night in the past week I've been woken up to the sound of Allura stampeding through the fucking hallways.”

Lance squeezed his eyes closed, rubbing his knuckles into them as if he could somehow push the memories away. “Yeah. Sorry, man. I'll – uh – tell her to tone it down.”

Hunk scoffed. “As if she'll listen.” He hopped down off the single step and marched into the kitchen. He tugged open the fridge, examined the contents thoroughly. “What were you two fighting about this time, anyway?”

Lance winced. He hated that term – this time. More than once. A common occurrence. And yes, he knew he and Allura had been fighting a lot, but that didn't mean he liked being reminded of it.

“Uh, just something stupid,” Lance replied.

“The usual?”

Lance raised a brow. Hunk spared him a glance over his shoulder, a Ritz cracker hanging from his mouth – Keith liked his biscuits cold, because he was strange.

“You know what I'm talking about,” Hunk said. When Lance remained silent, he scoffed and clarified. “She doesn't like that you work late, you're too caught up in your music dream to not work late, the two of you clash, yadda yadda yadda. So on, so forth.”

Lance blinked. “That is eerily accurate.”

Hunk shrugged. “I only base my conclusions on what I've heard, and that seems to be the majority of your arguments.”

“Do you think it's bad?”

“Every couple argues.”

“Not as often as us.” Something squeezed in Lance's chest. He wanted to burrow away and hide. “And not about the same thing, over and over. There's nothing I can do about my work schedule. We're busy people, and she knows this.”

Hunk sighed, kicking the fridge closed. With the packet of cold Ritz crackers still in his hand, he leaned against the fridge door, staring at Lance through the creepy eye holes in his face mask. “You could come to a compromise.”

“We've tried. Allura doesn't want compromise. She wants me.”

“Like a girlfriend would,” Hunk said. “She wants to spend time with you. Do you want to spend time with her?”

“Of course I do-”

Hunk narrowed his eyes. “Lance.”

Lance froze.

Voice low, Hunk said, “Do you want to spend time with her?”

And, in that moment, Lance could have honestly punched Hunk square in the face.

The little bastard knew Lance so well. That was the complications that came with being best friends with someone for longer than seven years – Hunk knew Lance like the back of his damn hand, meaning Lance could get away with absolutely nothing, no matter how hard he tried.

Lance pursed his lips and looked down at the table. “Does it make me a bad person?”

“Look, Lance.” Hunk kicked away from the fridge and walked over, placing a heavy hand on Lance's shoulder. “It's normal for feelings to get lost. Allura's a pretty girl, but looks won't entertain you. Looks won't appeal to your personality. You two are just. . . different. You want to rock out and have fun on stage, and she doesn't. Maybe you've just grown out of each other.”

Lance closed his eyes. Grown out of each other.

“So what do I do?”

“You end it.”

Lance's head shot up. Hunk popped another cracker into his mouth, winced and said, “Does Keith really eat these like this?”

“How can you say that to me so casually?” Lance exclaimed, voice shriller than he meant it to be, heart thundering more than it should have been.

Hunk reeled away. “What?”

“You just told me to break up with Allura like it was no big deal!”

Hunk pointed the packet of crackers at Lance. “It's only a big deal if you make it a big deal.”

“Oh my-”

“To be honest with you, Lance-a-million, I never really liked Allura in the first place. She's always had a vendetta against me for that whole mishap with H/P/N – you know, where I thought she liked you instead of me.” He chuckled at the memory. “Yeah, Allura's never gotten over that, even though H/G/N and I have been going out for nearly a year and a half now.”

Lance groaned. “You're too blunt, man.”

“You asked for my advice. I gave it to you.”

“But you could have sugar-coated it for me. I'm sensitive.”

Hunk shrugged, patting Lance's shoulder a final time before he started towards the door. “If you need help with anything, you know where I am.” He glanced back at Lance. “Right behind you, playing the drums on stage. Don't forget our show tomorrow, Lancealot!”

Lance rolled his eyes, trailing his hands through his hair as Hunk disappeared down the hallway. His mind was a boggled mess. He knew he wouldn't be sleeping well tonight, but at least he had tomorrows show to look forward to.

He could lose himself to the crowd then. He could forget his problems – just for a few hours.

----

God. Butterflies were beautiful.

You had countless songs dedicated to their beauty – as weird as that was. You didn't write songs about people you thought attractive, didn't write songs about true love, or struggles in general; you wrote songs about butterflies.

To the untrained eye, you supposed the songs could be interpreted as something completely different. A person in the midst of heartbreak might very well listen to your song and think wow, I relate so much only to find out later on that you'd written the song about the gorgeous pattern of a lycaenidae's wings. You would never tell them they were wrong – you loved discovering different interpretations of your lyrics.

You lay back in the grass. It scratched at your nose. Bees buzzed around you, but they were easy enough to ignore when you left them alone. Your fingers were splayed out on either side of you, your lyric book discarded with the pen clipped in the centre crease; you didn't want to think about work right now. The world was bright, and you didn't want to miss it.

“What are you doing?”

You tilted your head, just slightly, just enough to make out the shape of Mikhail as he waded towards you. He was wearing a big coat, the collar flicked up, a wide-brimmed hat on his head that completed the look of detective you knew he wasn't going for, but had somehow stumbled upon anyway. Tiny blonde hairs pricked him in the eye, but he merely winced instead of brushing them out of the way.

“Gathering inspiration,” was your reply.

Mikhail raised a brow; he did that a lot when he was looking at you, but you'd grown used to it. It no longer made you feel so small. “Right. And you're finding that inspiration by laying in a field? Do you not have hay fever?”

“Only mild.”

Mikhail hummed and lowered himself into the grass beside you. His long legs folded beneath him, he reached forward and started twiddling the grass between his fingers. You closed your eyes, turned your head back to the sun. A spider scattered across your arm. Mikhail swatted it away when it was clear you weren't going to bother.

“I just came to tell you about the show tonight,” he said. “You know the venue you wanted to busk outside today?”

“Yeah.”

“Apparently some band is playing tonight, so you can't. The police will be everywhere.”

You frowned, the only outward sign of your disappointment. “What band is it?”

“Oh, I don't know.” Mikhail sprinkled the grass on your arm. You shuddered, the breeze whisking it away. “They're called Smokey Saturdays, I think. A rock band. All the kids are excited.”

“I'm a kid.”

“You're an adult.”

“I'm a young adult.” You opened your eyes and propped yourself up on your elbow. “Should we go watch them play?”

Mikhail raised a brow again. “Neither of us have the money to buy tickets,” he said. “And I think they're sold out anyway.”

You frowned, flopping back into the grass. “So basically, you've come to inform me that my entire night has been destroyed.”

“Afraid so.” Mikhail laid a gentle hand on your arm. It was meant to be comforting, but his fingers were so cold, and your skin was so warm – you were surprised there wasn't condensation left in his wake when he pulled away. “We'll try again when they've left town. They're probably only gonna play a few shows, and then we get our spot back.”

“But that's a few nights spent doing absolutely nothing. We're gonna be set back, again.”

“These are the hurdles we have to deal with whilst making our way to the top.”

“I don't think there's supposed to be more hurdles than straight road.”

Mikhail sighed. “Just give it some time.”

“How much more time do you think we can give?”

“As long as it takes.” He patted your shoulder. “You just keep lying in the grass writing our songs, and we'll get there.”

You grunted. You didn't like being negative – you had spent such a long time trying to drive Mikhail out of his own negative mindset, but it was difficult to follow your own advice when the world kept throwing curve balls like this one; you were good. You and Mikhail were good, and you'd been told that on so many occasions, it was nearly uncountable. You had fans, a decent Twitter following, plenty of eyes on you when you finally got the chance to play – but none of it was pushing you forward.

It really wasn't like the movies, and this realisation was just putting a damper on your mood.

After Mikhail bid you farewell, claiming his shift at Burger King started in an hours time, you stayed in the grass. You tugged at the green strands and sprinkled them upon your stomach. A bee buzzed by your ear, and you smiled as it sailed past without a care in the world. There were no butterflies around, and part of you thought that might have been a metaphor for how your life was going right now – bees, no butterflies. Ripped strands of grass sprinkled on an old t-shirt. Hands splayed out in grass, roots crawling along your arms, pulling you into the depths of the earth.

You welcomed it with a smile on your face.

With these images in your head, you let out a tiny “Hm,” before rolling over, grabbing your pen and getting to work.

----

The venue was big. Lance liked big venues.

From where he stood backstage, watching Hunk test out the drum kit on stage, he could see his friend was nervous. The thousands of empty seats staring back at him, the seats that would soon be filled with screaming fans – it was daunting for the big fellow, and Lance could see that in the way his brows furrowed, the way his concentration wavered when he tried making sure the drum kit was making the right noise. One of the volunteers had to take the drum sticks out of his hand and test it out himself, as Hunk was lost to his own thoughts.

Keith wandered up beside him. Even without saying a word, without making a noise, Keith Kogane had an energy to him that was hard to ignore. Lance flicked a glance his way, noted the tensing of his friends jaw and smirked.

“Everyone's on edge, eh? Not ready for a big show like this one?”

“Allura wants to talk to you.”

Lance froze. His fingers clenched into his biceps, arms folded over his chest. Suddenly, the sheer size of the venue wasn't enough. His thoughts raced, and when he turned to look at Keith, Keith was staring right back at him with a raised brow.

“What?” Lance snapped.

“You two can't argue two hours before one of the biggest shows of the tour,” Keith replied, forever speaking in monotone. If Keith's voice had a colour, it would be beige. A dull grey. Nothing – just air.

Lance hollowed out his cheeks and waved his friend away, strolling back into the backstage area with his shoulders drawn back in what he hoped was a confident stance; honestly, he felt anything but confident. Since their fight the previous night, Lance hadn't made the effort to go and talk to Allura about the problems their relationship had been facing – he didn't have the brain space to concentrate on such a thing when he was about to perform in front of thousands for the first time.

She wasn't going to be happy.

Lance found her sitting in the backstage lounge. She was chatting with Pidge, a smile on her face. Her hair was pulled up into a tight ponytail. She looked gorgeous, and for a second, Lance could convince himself that he still loved her.

However, as soon as she turned, Pidge let out a grunt and fled the room. Lance and Allura were left entirely on their own, Allura staring up at him, Lance staring at the wall.

He should say something. He knew he should have said something, anything at all, because silence wasn't going to get him anywhere.

Lately, however, words weren't getting him anywhere, either, and maybe that was the first sign of a failed relationship – when silence was becoming a safer option than talking.

Allura coughed. “I didn't think Keith would actually come and get you.”

“Why didn't you come and get me yourself?”

“I didn't think you wanted to see me.”

Lance stayed silent.

Allura looked away, hurt. “I don't want to argue, Lance.”

“Then don't argue.”

“But you're still fucking oblivious.”

Lance closed his eyes – it was happening again. She was losing her patience so quickly, before Lance even had a chance to explain his side of the story. “Allura-”

“You didn't even come to bed last night! Where were you?”

“I slept on the tour bus.”

“Oh, with Keith's partner? Were they better than me? Better company?”

Lance's eyes snapped open. “What are you on about?”

“You seem to be sleeping in that tour bus a lot more often than you sleep with me. Is there something I should know?”

Lance couldn't believe his ears – it was one thing having her yell at him for not coming to bed, a completely different thing to accuse him of sleeping with his best friends partner.

“Allura,” he spat out, flabbergasted. “You can't be serious. K/P/N wasn't even on the bus!”

Allura scoffed, as she always did when she was wrong and she knew it. She folded her arms over her chest and turned away. “I can't believe I'm here. I should have just stayed home.”

Lance was furious. His heart was pounding at a million miles per hour. He wanted to punch something, and this was so unlike him, so far beyond his usual, bubbly personality that it scared him just that little bit. He curled his fingers into his palms, indenting crescents into the skin.

He spoke through gritted teeth. “Yeah, Allura. Maybe you should have stayed home. This tour would be ten times easier if you just fucked off.”

And that was all he could handle. He knew he wouldn't be able to handle her expression. He could tell from the gasp that echoed throughout the room that she was upset, and he didn't want to be here to continue the argument; he'd had enough arguing for a lifetime.

So, with that, he span on his heel and left the room. He had to push past Pidge on his way through the hallway. She called after him, but he ignored her, because the walls were closing in and he really was about to punch something if he didn't get out of this shit hole in the next ten seconds.

He burst out the front doors, gasping as soon as the fresh air hit his lungs. He didn't get very far before he crumpled on the first step, wrapping his arms round his middle, gulping down shaky breaths as he battled with the urge to cry. It sped in his system, showing no mercy, giving him no time to catch his bearings before the tears were rolling down his cheeks, down his nose, sinking into the concrete.

A single butterfly fluttered past. Lance wanted to crush it.

The front steps were such a dangerous place to have a breakdown. He should have gone out the back. He should have done what Keith had done on numerous occasions and just lost himself to the back alleys, made friends with some drug dealers without actually buying any drugs. That seemed like a nice place to settle right now.

But here he was, curled up on some steps in front of the place that was meant to hold the best night of his whole life. The tears rolling down his cheeks should have been tears of absolute joy. The trembling of his hands should have been induced by excitement.

It wasn't. Nothing was turning out right.

It was the sound of a guitar being played that brought Lance back to earth. His band didn't have an acoustic guitar, but he could still appreciate the sound of one when he heard it. Slowly, he looked up, curling his hands against his knees in his attempts to control himself, as if he was somehow only worthy of listening to the soft strum if he was pulled together.

Two people sat on the bottom step; a man, strangely tall with gangly limbs and long blonde hair that blew in his face despite the lack of wind. A wooden guitar was perched on his knee, and he swayed to and fro as he played it.

Beside him – you. Smaller, hidden beneath an oversized jacket. The hood was pulled up, and beneath it, Lance could see the small band of a beanie peaking out. You were gazing lazily at the passing crowd, a leather notebook open on your knees, a pen tapping against your lips. You looked completely dazed, and for a second, Lance wondered if you were on drugs.

But then you glanced over your shoulder, and he realised he'd never seen someone with such a clear expression.

The glance you gave him was one that revealed the fact this wasn't the first time you'd turned to look at him; you probably heard the commotion, him throwing himself through the doors, him collapsing on the tarmac, curling in on himself, quiet sobs racking his body for a reason that was becoming more and more unclear the longer he stayed seated.

He looked back at you now. Surprisingly, you didn't flinch away from his gaze when you noticed he'd caught you – you offered up a smile instead, and your left hand rose in a half-wave that made Lance feel a little better.

He waved back. It wasn't with his usual enthusiasm. He wasn't sure when that would refill, but it would take time.

You leaned towards the blonde man then, whispering something in his ear. Without stopping the drift of his fingers along the neck of his guitar, the man nodded. You stood up, and Lance couldn't stop himself from straightening up when you stumbled up the stairs and sat down beside him.

“Hello.” The first thing you said. So simple, so light-hearted. After the argument with Allura, Lance wasn't sure how he felt about such a simple greeting. With the state his mind was in right now, he half expected you to spit on his shoes in favour of hello.

“Hello,” he replied nonetheless. “Your friend's good at the guitar.”

“Thanks.” The compliment wasn't for you, but the response didn't feel weird; somehow, Lance got the feeling a compliment to the blonde man was a compliment to you, and vice versa. You both had that connection that even strangers on the street were able to see, Lance included.

It was silent for a few seconds after that. Lance spent the time nibbling on his lip, wondering where his natural charisma had faded off to, wondering why he wanted it back, who he wanted to impress.

Then you spoke. “You don't look like you're having a very good time, buddy.”

“Not really, no.”

“Is there anything I can do to help you?”

Lance raised a brow. “Why would you want to help me?”

You shrugged. It was only then did Lance notice you tugging on the grass at the side of you, pulling it from the floor and sprinkling it across your slightly-ripped shoes. “I don't know. I don't like seeing people cry.”

“I wasn't crying.”

You poked his cheek. “You're still crying.”

Lance swatted your hand away, scowling. He didn't bother wiping his tears away. “Alright, so what?”

“Soooo, I want to see if there's anything I can do. I'll get Mikhail to play you a little song if you want.”

“Mikhail?”

“The tall dude. He's Russian.”

“Ah.”

“I can get him to play a song. He won't mind.”

Lance pondered over this for a moment; it would be such a waste of time. He had a show to put on in two hours time, a show in which he was going to be centre stage. There was absolutely no justifiable reason for him to be sat out here listening to a stranger play his acoustic guitar.

But he glanced to the side, just to make sure you were being serious, and he saw you staring at the butterfly that had been making an appearance every now and then. Your eyebrows were knitted together, the evidence of a tiny smile threatening to pull on your face – it looked like you were trying to hide it, lest Lance look over and see you being happy. Apparently it's a crime to smile when the stranger beside you is in tears.

“That's a swallowtail butterfly, I think.”

Lance started, head snapping towards the butterfly you were talking about. “Huh?”

You nodded towards it. “It's a swallowtail, I think. It's quite big, and it's wings are really colourful.” You shook your head, clapping your hands against your knees. “Should I call Mikhail up here, then?”

Lance blinked. You took that as answer enough, standing up and shouting to your friend. He swivelled round, raised his brows at you, and Lance was struck by how handsome this strange man was; a toned face, eyebrows perched on a muscled forehead, bright blue eyes that glistened when he looked at the sun.

“Come play a song, will you?”

Mikhail didn't even hesitate. He stood up, wandered over and sat down. He didn't offer up any pleasantries, didn't introduce himself, didn't wait for an introduction – he just started playing. You sat down next to him, leaning back on your palms, tilting your head to the sky with your eyes closed.

Lance stared. He couldn't help it. The tears that once stained his cheeks had disappeared, and now instead of sadness, it was awe that overtook him.

You started singing.

Lance wasn't even surprised. Your voice just sounded right, like it was meant to be heard over the guitar Mikhail was playing, like the two of you were just made to fit together. His guitar playing and your voice seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Lance didn't feel like you were complete strangers. He didn't even feel like he was with you – he was in a box somewhere, music playing out of some unknown speaker hidden in the ceiling.

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on his knees.

The lyrics were beautiful. You spoke about life, and beauty, and making decisions that had to be made even though they were difficult, and god it was like you were speaking directly to Lance. It was as if you'd taken his current situation and put it in lyrics, and it made his heart squeeze and his hands tremble all over again, but for reasons so different to the reasons from before.

Slowly, the music and the lyrics faded to a stop. Lance inhaled, scared his breathing would somehow shatter the delicate moment he'd just been cocooned in.

And then Mikhail spoke. His voice was rough. It was exactly as Lance expected it to be. “Happy?”

“Thanks, Mikhail,” you said. You bumped your shoulder against Lance's, forcing him to look up. “Happy?”

He smiled. “Who wrote that song?”

“I did,” you replied. “Only the first draft, though, 'cause Mikhail didn't give me time to finish it before.”

Mikhail scoffed, already standing up and marching back to his spot at the end of the stairs. “Always blaming me.”

“Because it's always you!” you exclaimed, throwing a sunflower at him. There was humour in your voice. Lance had forgotten the last time he held something like that to his tone. It made him sad.

You turned back to him, rolling your eyes with a fond smile on your face. “Well, there you go. I don't know how much that did, but-”

“It was amazing.” The words were jumbled. Lance just needed to say them. “It was . . . . yeah. Amazing. Really, really good.”

Again, it fell silent. It was only brief, and it wasn't awkward – it was just heavy. Filled with thoughts, because Lance had a lot to think about, and you just had an energetic brain.

“Do you make music?” you asked. You had bunched your knees into your chest, resting your chin upon them. In your hand, you continued to fiddle with a blade of grass, one of the few you had yet to release to the wind after ripping them from the soil.

“Yeah,” Lance replied. He couldn't quite understand his relief at the fact you didn't know him. It made your actions seem that little bit more genuine. “I prefer rock, though.”

“Aaaah,” you mused. “So our indie style didn't really get you going, did it?”

“It's not something I listen to.” He glanced over. “But I would definitely listen to you two if you ever came out with something official. Have you got anything out yet?”

You hollowed out your cheeks. “Afraid not. It's a work in progress.”

“Just starting out?”

“Honestly, I feel like we haven't even broken the surface yet.”

Lance could relate. He remembered all them years ago, struggling to convince his small group of friends to help him out, feeding them all the positives that came with being in a band. He remembered late night practices in Pidge's garage, trying to ignore Matt Holt's yelling for them to shut the fuck up before he called the police on his own sister. He remembered sitting up all night, the rest of Smokey Saturdays (and Shiro) sprawled around his room as he idly clicked through the internet, searching helplessly for a record label that would suit their style of music.

But now he was here.

Crying on a step outside one of the biggest venues he'd ever seen.

He closed his eyes and rested his cheek against his knee. “I get that.”

“You do?”

“We did it eventually, don't get me wrong – it just took a long time. And I'm not exactly the most patient person in the world.”

You snickered. “Nah, me either.” A pause. Brief. Heavy. Filled with thoughts. “So you made it eventually. You're doing what you want to do?”

“In most areas of life, yeah.” He turned his head, pressing his other cheek into his knee. Opening his eyes, he saw you staring at him. “I'm a very lucky man.” He paused, frowned. “Hey, I never got your name.”

“Y/N,” you replied, as if your name didn't really matter. “What about you?”

“Lance.” It felt nice introducing himself – he hadn't needed to do it for a while now. Introductions became irrelevant when the whole world knew who you were already.

“Well, Lance,” you said, spreading your fingers against the concrete. “I hope whatever bullshit is bothering you today sorts itself out. You seem like a nice guy.”

“You seem nice, too.”

“Good.” You pushed yourself up from the ground. “That's always the goal. I'll see you around, yeah?”

Lance smiled. “Yeah. You will.”

----

You weren't doing what you were supposed to be doing.

Mikhail was off to work. You'd promised him you would be sat at the kitchen table, waiting patiently for the phone call to come through – but it hadn't come through yet, and you were growing restless.

You hadn't been out busking in ages. Sure, the two of you had sat out on the stairs a few days back, but that wasn't nearly close enough to what you wanted to do; you wanted to sing. You wanted a crowd to form. You wanted to lose yourself in the music, just like you always did when people were there to watch. It was as if you became a different person when there was a crowd.

So, two minutes after the phone call was meant to happen, you found yourself thinking it was no use; there was no point sticking around for something that clearly wasn't going to happen. So, you plucked your phone from the table, threw your hat on and headed out onto the busy streets. People were everywhere. Nature was everywhere. Inspiration was everywhere.

You remembered the man from a few days previous – Lance, his name was. He'd been plaguing your mind for quite a while recently, mainly because he was attractive. You weren't going to sugar coat it, or trick yourself into believing it was anything other than what it was – he was a good looking man. He'd captured your attention with looks first, and personality second.

But your attraction to his personality was definitely there. It was definitely growing, and had been growing from the moment you sat down to talk to him. The way he closed his eyes when you started to sing, the way he'd seemed genuinely interested to hear about the lyrics you wrote – you wondered if he interpreted them differently, or if he thought you were crazy for writing a song about an insect.

Nonetheless, he hadn't been judgemental; merely curious. That was good enough for you.

You waded down the street, smiling at anyone who made eye contact with you. The weather was beautiful. You were heading directly for the stairs – your stairs – and though Mikhail was not there to play the guitar, you would sit down on the steps and write out all the ideas buzzing through your mind until his shift finished. Then, you would pick him up and force him to come with you to start the real fun of the day.

You arrived at the steps in record time. You seated yourself down against the railing, tugged your journal from your pocket and opened it to the first blank page. You spotted a woman pushing a baby stroller and started writing out her thoughts; what could she possibly be thinking, and how could you turn those thoughts into a song? She looked stressed, curly hair glued to her forehead with perspiration. In the stroller, two babies who didn't look too far in age from each other were staring into the tiny circular mirrors hung up on either side of them; one of them reached out and snatched it from the top of their car seat. The woman said “ah, ah, ah!” before wrestling it out of the infants hands.

You scribbled down a few words, and then the world took you away, as it often did when your ideas had been bottled up for a while. You wrote until your hand cramped, and then you looked up and wrote some more. The page was filled, not with coherent lyrics, but tiny little fragments, smashed pieces that could join together to form something promising if you just put your mind to it; but for now, it was fine like this. It was fine not to have a coherent idea just yet – it would form eventually.

You smiled down at your work. Mikhail would be happy. He enjoyed the process of puzzles, piecing together whatever random lines you'd come up with, making them into songs that he could play to, write a melody for, lose himself in.

“Y/N? Back again?”

Your head snapped up. The pen rolled from the centre of the journal and landed on the step beneath you; you didn't reach for it, instead choosing to stare up at Lance with wide eyes.

He grinned down at you. Beside him, a muscled man wearing a yellow hoodie and faded blue jeans was standing with a raised brow, glancing between you and Lance as if he'd never seen Lance interact with another person before.

“Lance.” It was all you could think to say.

He looked good. Stupidly good. The kind of good that really shouldn't have been a thing, considering he wasn't even trying; his outfit consisted of a light blue button up shirt, tucked neatly into a pair of denim jeans, a brown belt slung around his tiny waist. His hair was messy, choppy bangs resting against his forehead. It made you think he'd gotten glammed up the day he first saw you.

He smiled. “Where's Mikhail?”

“He's working.”

“Oh. Shame. The place is a little dull when you can't hear his guitar.” Lance turned then, pointing to his friend. “Y/N, this is Hunk. Hunk, this is Y/N, the singer I was telling you about.”

Hunk's eyes snapped to your own. You nearly shied away from his gaze, though you weren't sure why – you were never a very shy person. In fact, you thrived off of social interaction. However, there was something about the way Hunk was staring at you that made you want to curl up in a ball, or perhaps ask what you'd done wrong.

“Hi,” he said slowly. “I'm Hunk.”

“Yeah, I just told them that,” Lance mumbled, before turning back to you with that excited grin plastered on his face. “What are you doing back here?”

“Work,” you replied, gesturing towards your journal. “You seem to be in better spirits today than you did the last time I spoke to you.”

Lance laughed, an awkward ha ha, yeah, as he rubbed the back of his neck.

However, it was Hunk who offered a genuine explanation. “Allura's out with Pidge right now, so he has the freedom to do what he wants.”

You didn't understand.

Lance whirled around, slapping a hand against Hunk's chest. “Would you-”

“Who's Allura?”

Lance drove his knuckles into his eye, exasperated. “My girlfriend.”

“His enemy that he sometimes sleeps with.”

“Hunk!”

You looked away. Okay. That shouldn't have hurt as much as it did.

“Look – uh – that's not important,” Lance continued, trying to shuffle the conversation along. Hunk stood beside him with a smirk on his face, beefy arms folded over his chest. “It was really nice seeing you again, Y/N. Tell Mikhail I said hello, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“That's all you've got to say?” Hunk suddenly exclaimed. The boom of his voice made your heart jump. Lance, however, simply closed his eyes.

“What are you-”

“You went on for ages the other day about Y/N's voice, and now you're just gonna walk off and leave them here?”

Your eyes widened. Hunk was certainly outspoken, but it sounded planned. It sounded like this was something he didn't usually do; he was just. . . trying to annoy Lance, maybe?

Lance blushed. “I'm sure Y/N has other things they're trying to get done that don't need our input. Right?”

“Uh-”

Hunk scoffed. “Alright, yeah. That's the reason.”

Lance grabbed Hunk's collar then, leaving no room for further argument. You barely had a chance to say anything, not even a goodbye, before Lance was hauling the taller boy away, giving you a quick, half-hearted “See you later!”

You raised your hand in a half-wave, watching them go, wondering why your heart was beating so quick.

----

“You idiot!”

“Ay, ay! Watch the shirt, for crying out-”

Lance shoved Hunk into the backstage lounge and slammed the door. “What the hell did you do that for?”

“Do what for?”

“Don't act stupid – you know full well what I'm on about. You just . . . You just said all that stuff, with me standing right there! You made me look like an idiot!”

Hunk scrambled with his shirt, trying his best to fix it as he replied. “What's the big deal?”

“The big deal is that Y/N probably thinks I'm some kind of creep now. Did you really have to go and tell them that I'd told you about their singing?”

Hunk scoffed. “You did more than just tell us about their singing – you were downright gushing the other day!”

“They didn't need to know that!”

Hunk patted his collar down and fixed Lance with a stare that unsettled him – Lance had seen that stare only a handful of times, because it was very rare Hunk ever needed it. The man was bubbly, kind, wanting the best for everyone at all times – it was rare he ever got this look in his eye.

His voice was low when he said, “Why does it matter so much what Y/N thinks of you?”

Lance opened his mouth to respond before quickly slamming it closed when he realised he didn't really have an answer. Why did it matter so much? He'd met you once, and yes, you had left him in awe, but that wasn't something he could blame his sudden anger on – not without sounding obsessed.

Which he wasn't.

He liked your voice, yes, but it was more than that. There was a feeling mixed in there that shouldn't have been there, because he already had everything he wanted; a career, friends, a girlfriend who he . . . who he loved. He really did. He promised.

But then he met you, and it was a bit weird because he was fairly certain every box in his life had been ticked off. Now, however, he wasn't so sure.

Hunk was smirking when Lance looked back up. With his arms folded over his chest, he seemed to tower over him more than usual; Lance wanted to shy away, but held his ground when he said, “No reason.”

Hunk sighed. “Naive little Lancey-boy.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“I think they like you, too, if that helps.” And he said this so off-handedly, turning towards the mini fridge hidden beneath the table. Lance nearly missed it's meaning, because Hunk just said things so casually that it took a minute to process the weight of his words until a moment too late.

However, they processed eventually. “What?”

Hunk kneeled by the fridge, leaning on the door. “Whenever I mentioned Allura? Man, the look on their face – it was the saddest thing I've ever seen.”

“Shut up.”

“Like a kid getting it's favourite toy snatched away.”

“Hunk-”

“Kind of like what you look like when you're having a laugh and Allura walks in the room-”

“Would you stop going after Allura all the time?”

Hunk poked his head over the top of the fridge door. “Only when you admit to yourself that this relationship you're in is toxic as fuck, and making both of you miserable.”

Lance gritted his teeth. Again, that urge to punch something was surging in his bones, and he was fairly certain he was going to snap this time. He didn't want to hold it back. He had a show in seven hours, and he was willing to break his knuckles before then. Maybe that would make him look more rockstar. Maybe it could work in his favour.

However, he stopped himself and instead leaned against the door behind him. Through the oak, he could hear Allura and Pidge laughing about something he didn't care about, something he should care about, because it was his girlfriend and he should care about the things that amused her.

But he just didn't.

He closed his eyes. “You shouldn't be telling me to break up with her. She's your partners best friend.”

“And you're my best friend.” Hunk cracked open a Diet Coke can, took a sip of it and placed it back in the fridge. “I'm not saying any of this to be malicious, Lance-a-botamia. I'm saying this because I care about both of you, and seeing you make each other miserable is making me miserable.” He took a bite of a carrot. “And I don't like being miserable. Not when life is so good right now.”

“So you think I should just end it? Right now. On tour.”

“What better place to do it?”

“You want me dead.”

“I want you happy. As soon as possible, preferably.” Hunk sighed. “Do you think Pidge will let me drink some of her Sprite?”

“Touch my fucking Sprite, and I'll rip your hand off.”

Lance stumbled away from the door just in time for Pidge to push it open in her usual, over dramatic way. Behind her, Allura trailed inside the room, too.

Lance pressed himself against the wall. He and Allura made eye contact. The room went silent, even though Pidge didn't know what was going on, and Hunk was still sipping at a Diet Coke he didn't even want.

Lance forced a wobbled smile on his face and said, “Hey, babe. How was your walk?”

Allura shouldered past him, grabbed her purse from the counter and walked back out again.

Pidge whistled. “Trouble in paradise?”

Lance closed his eyes. “We haven't been in paradise for a long, long time.”

----

This was going to be so easy. It was going to be so, so easy. Lance just needed to do it. He just needed to say it. He needed to bundle up the energy he'd had on stage tonight, lock it up, and release it only when Allura was in front of him.

The crowd had dispersed. The lights were back on. Outside, the sky was black and the stars were bright.

Lance bit his lip, waiting on Allura to appear from the backstage lounge. It didn't take long – it never did. Allura liked kissing Lance after a show. Seeing him on stage always excited her, let her forget about the real problems for a little while. Even though she was mad, her boyfriend was still a rock star – she didn't want to lose that.

Lance was getting pretty tired of only having a happy relationship when it suited her.

She came skipping out of the backstage lounge, ponytail swishing back and forth. She was wearing a pair of shorts, hidden beneath an oversized yellow shirt that was cinched at the waist with a corset belt. She looked utterly stunning.

It wasn't enough.

Lance pushed himself up from the stage just in time to catch her. She dove into his arms, pressing kisses to his cheeks that did not make his heart flutter like they used to. She kicked her legs up, squealed in his ear, and it just annoyed him.

He set her down. She kept her arms on his shoulders.

“You did amazing! That girl threw her damn bra at you, babe! That's another thing to check off the bucket list!”

Lance forced a smile. “Can we talk?”

Allura paused. Even in her excited state, she could tell something was wrong; she was air-headed at times, but not oblivious, not stupid. She'd known Lance long enough to tell when he was being serious.

Slowly, Lance took her hand and guided her through the front doors of the venue. Behind a closed door, Keith played a bit of his bass guitar – that was his way of winding down. Pidge and Hunk's voice came through the same closed door, repeating a mantra of “Rock, Paper, Scissors!”

Lance wanted to be with them. He didn't want to be with Allura.

That really settled things for him.

He led her out into the darkness. The stars cheered him on. The moon might have been disappointed – it wasn't full tonight. In fact, it was barely visible, nothing more than a tiny slice of crescent glistening amongst the blinking stars that dominated its sky tonight.

Lance inhaled. Allura squeezed his hand. He waited for a response, something physical that could convince him this was a bad idea, that could remind him he'd fallen in love with her once and maybe he could do it again.

But nothing happened.

“Baby. You're scaring me.”

Lance glanced at her. He wasn't sure if she could tell in the darkness. “There's nothing to be scared of. Not really.”

“Not really? What's that supposed to mean?”

“I just. . . I don't think either of us can ignore the problem any more, Allura.” There it was. The beginning. He was dropping crumbs, hoping she would understand the big picture without him having to explicitly spell it out for her.

She stared at him. “Problem. What's the problem?”

“We're the problem.”

She spluttered. “Us?”

“We argue non-stop.”

“We're not arguing right now-”

“You're already getting hostile, and I haven't even-”

“No I'm not!” She squeezed his hand. “Lance, this is ridiculous. Tour is making you tired. You're not thinking straight.”

His heart raced into his stomach; she sounded upset. Genuinely upset. The kind of upset that told Lance she was still in love with him, even though he was not in love with her.

“Allura, please,” he mumbled. “I'm not tired. Not of . . . Not of the tour. I'm tired of arguing. I'm tired of not being happy.”

Allura reeled back as if she'd been slapped. Her fingers unwound from Lance's, and she took a step back. “You're not happy?”

Lance rubbed his forehead. He was starting to get a headache. “I'm not.”

“You should have said something. We could have fixed it-”

“We've been trying to fix it, but we always end up right back at square one. You think my life needs to revolve around you-”

Allura gasped. “So you're going to blame me for this?”

Lance groaned. “There you go again, putting words in my mouth, getting angry before you've even heard the full fucking sentence!”

“Don't swear at me, Lance McClain. Don't you dare.” She inhaled shakily. Lance could hear the tears in her voice despite her clenched teeth. “I'm not going to apologise for asking my boyfriend to pay attention to me sometimes. I don't just want the title of girlfriend and that's it – I want you to treat this like a relationship.”

“I do treat this like a relationship!” Lance shot back. “Well, I did. Now I don't see a point to it.”

“What are you saying?”

“There is nothing to save any more, Allura. You're miserable. I'm miserable. Anyone with a working pair of eyes can see it.”

Allura scoffed. “I was never miserable, Lance.”

Lance shrugged. “That doesn't change the fact that I was.”

Allura fell silent, because that was the comment he didn't really mean to say; it had been on his mind, an absolute last resort if things got out of hand, but he didn't think he would have to use it. The words tasted sour, a little harsh, but maybe the truth was just meant to be harsh sometimes. Maybe this was just something he couldn't help.

She sniffled. Lance couldn't see her tears in the darkness, but he heard them. “Okay then. Okay. I – uh – I tried with you, Lance, but clearly my efforts were wasted. Clearly you can't put someone who loves you before your own selfish needs.”

“Selfish needs?”

“You just want fame. You're so focused on getting famous, being at the top all the time, that you forget the people waiting on you at the bottom.”

“That isn't-”

“Well, I'm done. The day you finally crash and burn, don't expect me to be there.” And with those words spoken, she span on her heel and left.

Just like that.

Everything was so backwards.

Lance had been the one to initiate the break up. He'd been the one to lead her out, to have it all planned out in his head – and yet he was the one left standing on his own, unsure of what to do or say. His entire body felt numb, and it was no longer because of the nights chill.

He wrapped his arms around himself, wondering how easy it would be for him to just start running. He had no destination in mind, but he needed to move. He needed to get away. He needed the adrenaline to pump through his body again because he hated feeling dead and he wanted to feel alive again but the show was over, the fans had left, and he was feeling deflated all over again.

This was the life he'd forced himself into. Everything was boring until he got on stage again. He relied on the audience and the fans and the music to get him through the day without bashing his head against the wall, and as soon as it was over, he just. . . . died.

“If it helps.”

His breath got caught in his throat. He did not turn around.

“I don't think you'll crash and burn any time soon.”

He closed his eyes. His head fell forward. His neck strained, and the tears hurt when they slithered down his chin, but he was too far gone by now. His shoulders shook, only stopping when your arms wrapped around his middle and you pressed your face into his back, pulling him into an embrace he didn't realise he needed until now.

“Was that Allura?”

Lance sobbed. It was a response.

You squeezed him tighter. “You're gonna get cold out here, you know. Have you got any friend you could call to take you home?”

“Don't wanna go home,” Lance croaked out. “Don't make me go home.”

You paused, a little uncertain. “Do you want . . . I mean, I have a sofa that you're welcome to use.”

I want to run away. Get away from this place. Sleep.

Lance sniffled, swiping a hand under his nose. “Mikhail won't mind?”

“It doesn't matter.”

Lance turned his head, glancing at you. You were still clinging onto his back, though when you looked up and met his gaze, your eyes widened a little bit and you scrambled back, adorably folding your hands in front of you.

Lance sighed. “If it's not too much trouble...”

“Of course not,” you replied, taking his hand. “A five minute walk, if you don't mind.”

“Lead the way.”

----

When Mikhail walked in, he didn't need to ask.

Lance was curled up on the sofa, head buried beneath the pillows. You'd draped a throw blanket over him, trying to keep him warm, but he still shivered. He still trembled. He still refused to lift his head from the corner of the sofa, and it was the most heartbreaking sight you'd ever been subject to.

Mikhail came and stood beside you. He was so tall, blonde hair pulled into a spiky ponytail. His ice blue eyes stared down at Lance, a hint of sadness evident in his gaze; though he didn't say it, you could tell he enjoyed Lance's company. The compliments Lance had given had stuck with your old friend.

“What happened to him?” Mikhail asked.

“I think he got in a fight with his girlfriend. A pretty big one.”

“And he came back here?”

You sheepishly looked at the floor. “I kind of offered him the space.”

Mikhail's eyes snapped up, burning holes into the side of your face. You refused to look back at him, instead nibbling on your bottom lip with your arms folded over your chest. “Y/N...”

“He said he didn't want to go home.”

“But this is our home-”

“It'll just be tonight. Just until he gets his head on straight. I'm sure one of his friends will be round here soon enough looking for him.”

“And what are we gonna tell them when that happens?”

“That he got his heart broken, and we took care of it.”

Mikhail sighed. “You took care of it.” He shrugged his massive, thick coat off, draping it over the back of the very sofa Lance was sleeping on. “I'm going to bed. Which is something you should think about doing, too.”

You waved a dismissive hand. It was answer enough. With yet another sigh, Mikhail left the living room, left you standing over Lance's sleeping form, a million questions spiralling through your head; you would ask him about them tomorrow, if he was comfortable with such a line of conversation.

You sat down on the other sofa, pulling your knees into your chest. It was with hesitant hands you reached into your bag and pulled your journal out; you'd had plans this evening to write some lyrics under the moonlight, but those plans had been ruined when you stumbled across Lance and the tall, pretty girl he'd been yelling at.

You wrote songs about butterflies. You wrote songs about nature, and grass, and plants, and all the beautiful things in the world.

You looked down at your page and wrote His tanned skin glows.

---

Lance would have gladly spent all day in bed if it hadn't been for the insistent ringing of his mobile phone.

He'd always known his friends would come chasing after him; he had a moment to himself, but it would never last long. That wasn't possible when you were a world famous rock star.

With a groan, he rolled over and swiped his phone from the floor; it hadn't been on charge all night, but when he looked at the screen and saw it was currently 4:00am, that didn't seem like much of an issue. The name glaring back at him was Hunk, but when Lance pressed 'ACCEPT' it was Shiro's voice that rang out.

“Where the hell are you?”

“Well, good morning to you too.”

“Lance, I'm not fucking about.” Lance nearly flinched. It was very rare Shiro cursed. “Where are you? We've been looking for you for hours.”

“You can put your search on hold, then, because I'm fine.”

Shiro grunted. “You're acting so calm about this. Are you drunk? High? Your mother's gonna kill me if she finds out-”

“I'm neither drunk nor high, my good man.” Lance rolled over onto his back and glared up at the ceiling; through the curtains, a tiny sliver of morning sun was beginning to peak through. Lance had a sudden urge to go out and watch the sunrise; maybe it was just because he was in your house, and you gave off the vibes of someone who loved watching the sun. “I'm doing fine.”

“You said that before. It's no more believable now than it was the first time.”

“You're worried about me. That's sweet. I'm flattered.” Lance used his foot to drag the coat off the back of the sofa. It landed on his legs. He wondered why he'd done it. “Did Allura get home okay?”

Shiro went quiet.

Lance sighed. “You can tell me if she's mad, you know. We didn't exactly part on the best of terms.”

“She was packing her things when I went in to ask where you were,” said Shiro. “I think she's gone now.”

“None of you tried to stop her?”

Again, Shiro went quiet.

Lance closed his eyes. No, of course they didn't try stopping her; nobody in the group liked her, and Lance knew that from the moment things started getting serious. The late-night talks with Shiro, once disguised as brotherly love, where Shiro asked if this was really what Lance wanted, if Lance was sure he wanted to spend the rest of his life with this woman. And Lance, naïve as anything, had always said yes, because at the time, Allura's thick locks and her snarky attitude and her sharp tongue was all he thought he needed.

He let his head fall against his shoulder. “I bet she hates me, doesn't she?”

“No one can ever hate you, Lance. You're too good for that.” He paused. “She's just a little angry. Is that you two over then?”

“I suppose so.” It seemed like an unsure answer, not the whole truth. Lance was positive it was over, because he really couldn't see himself going back this time. He couldn't see himself ever loving her again, ever loving anyone again, as he lay across this strangers sofa, glaring up at an unfamiliar ceiling at four in the morning. He didn't want to be put through this ever again.

“Are you coming back soon, Lance?” Shiro asked. His voice was a little quieter now, and Lance had the sudden urge to hug him, as he often did when Shiro got upset. Shiro was an emotional man, but it still seemed wrong for him to be sad.

Lance fiddled with a loose thread on the sofa. “I'm gonna have to, aren't I? We've got a tour to complete.”

“Fuck the tour. If you're not in the right mindset, we can take a break. Go on a bit of a hiatus. We can all have a bit of a holiday. God knows you deserve it; you're the one that's worked the hardest out of all of us.”

Lance scoffed. “Shucks, Shiro. Take a boy to dinner first.”

“I'm serious. If you need a break-”

“I don't need a break. I've had enough breaks to last me an entire life time. Just. . . . Just give me the day, yeah? To get my head back on straight.”

Shiro paused. “Are you coming back, Lance?”

Lance closed his eyes. “I'll be back, Shiro. Don't worry.”

“You'll call me if you need anything, right?”

“Of course. You're my go-to credit card.”

“Ha ha. Don't get yourself into any trouble. I'm not picking you up from the police station.”

“Some friend you are.”

“Goodbye, Lance.”

“See you later, Shiro.”

And then the phone went dead.

Lance dropped his hand to his chest and inhaled deeply. He kept his eyes open, afraid of falling asleep again, wasting the day that was slowly rising behind him. He wanted to get up and get himself back on track; if he let himself fall any deeper into whatever this was, he wasn't sure he would ever be able to pull himself back out of it. That was a risk he certainly wasn't willing to take when he had the whole world watching.

And they were watching, would be watching for the rest of his life. He needed to be prepared for that.

It was on shaky legs that he stood up, bundling the random throw blanket around his shoulders. He crept towards the kitchen, separated from the living room only by the kitchen counter, and went for the fridge. He was still dressed in his day-clothes, his hair still slightly gelled from the show the night before. His voice was still a little croaky, and his ears still rang with the evidence of screaming fans and music blasting through his skull.

He ducked his head down and searched the contents of the fridge for anything he could have for breakfast. There was eggs, some vegetables, a packet of Haribo's that were open, sprawled across the glass shelf. He reached out, plucked a gummy bear from the pile, popped it in his mouth-

“That's not a very good thing to have for breakfast.”

He tilted his head against the door. “Of course you'd be awake at four in the morning.”

You settled on the kitchen floor beside him. Your legs were bare, your pyjama shorts hidden beneath an oversized shirt. Your knee hit against Lance's foot, somehow coaxing him to shift his position so he, too, was sat on the kitchen tiles. He kept his head pressed against the fridge door, trying to hide the blush that rose on his face; you'd been the only other person to see him yesterday. He'd cried in your arms. You'd offered him a place to stay.

Overall, Lance had made himself look like a complete idiot. How was he ever meant to explain this to you?

“I don't sleep very well when it's cold,” you said. “That doesn't explain why you're awake, though.”

“My friend called me. He just wanted to know where I was.”

You paused. “Did you tell him what happened?”

“I think he knows. I think they all kind of know.”

You nodded as if this was explanation enough, even though it wasn't and Lance knew it wasn't – what you had seen yesterday wasn't even the start of it. That was just the tipping point, the product of months upon months of constant arguing and internal battles that had exhausted Lance far beyond anything he'd felt before.

But you didn't push him to answer any more questions. You just sat beside him on the kitchen floor, legs folded, hands messing idly with the edges of the blanket wrapped around Lance's shoulders. He remembered you saying you couldn't sleep well in the cold and wrapped one half of the blanket around you. For a second, you stiffened beneath it's light weight, before Lance felt you slump against him, giving in to the heat.

“You should really go back to bed, though,” said Lance. “You're gonna be tired.”

“I'll be fine. I don't really want to waste the day.” Your eyes lit up then, snapping to his. “We should do something today.”

And the request was so sudden, so innocent, that Lance nearly choked on air just trying to process it; your eyes were wide, smile even wider, but then you saw his shocked expression and your own face started to drop.

Lance hurried to compose himself. “D-do something?”

“Not – like – No. I'm not asking you on a date. I'd give you a bit longer than a day to get over your ex before I made my move.” You laughed awkwardly. Lance couldn't help but grin, amused by the way you dug yourself further and further into this hole. “But we could do something fun. Like – uh – when I'm bored, I go busking. Or I'll go and sit out on the steps and write some lyrics.” You paused. “I go butterfly watching sometimes, too, but that's a bit boring, isn't it?”

Lance shook his head. “I don't think it's boring.”

“Really?”

“We can do whatever you want,” he said, already getting to his feet. “I have the day off, and who better to take me round the sights than someone who butterfly watches?”

Lance offered you a hand. You took it, and he hauled you to your feet. For a moment, you both just stared at each other, and Lance could feel the itching of words in the back of his head, but couldn't quite put his finger on what it was he actually wanted to say.

So, he just shrugged and turned away. “Do you have any spare clothes I could borrow?”

“Oh, so giving you my living room wasn't enough?”

Lance smirked, not turning to look at you. “Well, it is. But you'll have to suffer walking around town all day with a guy who smells like sweat.”

There was a pause. And then, “Okay. The shower's at the end of the hall, last door on your left. I'll sneak in to Mikhail's room and get you something to wear.”

----

Watching the butterflies was usually a very personal thing for you.

You hadn't realised it until now, but having Lance beside you made you feel a little embarrassed. You led him through the field, his fingers threaded through yours so he wouldn't fall flat on his face, and the entire time, you wondered why he'd agreed to this in the first place.

He was just being nice. That was probably it; you'd given him a place to sleep, and now he felt in your debt. You wanted to tell him he didn't have to – he could have gone home this morning if he really wanted to. You wouldn't have minded. You wouldn't have been surprised.

Nonetheless, he was with you, and you were in the field, and there was no point in bringing it up now.

You led him to the middle of the field and sat down. The grass brushed against every bit of exposed skin you were showing off, and you wriggled a little bit before finally finding comfort and flopping down onto your back. Lance stood over you, looking around with his hands dug into his pockets; the white shirt he was wearing was much too big on him, and you'd been forced to pin up the sleeves in any attempt to make him look less like a joke and more like a man borrowing a taller mans attire.

You shielded your eyes from the sun. “Would you prefer to stand?”

His eyes snapped down. “Is the grass not irritating you?”

“No. Well, yeah, but you get used to it.” You patted the ground next to you. “Come on. It's comfy down here – unless you have hay fever.”

Lance scoffed, as if the idea of him having hay fever was a ridiculous one. He shook Mikhail's jacket from his shoulders, laid it out on the grass beside you and followed shortly after; his elbow clipped yours as he shielded his eyes from the blinding sun, the two of you looking around for the butterflies you'd come here to admire.

And Lance was very close to you.

This train of thought was so stupid, and you knew that. You weren't a teenager any more – you couldn't go round thinking every little movement your crush did was somehow in direct link to your feelings; but you couldn't deny the sudden thumping of your heart, the sudden realisation that Lance was so much taller than you, and he smelled like the shampoo Mikhail always used, and he was staring up at the sun right now, waiting for butterflies.

You closed your eyes fully, hands flopping to your chest.

“This is actually really nice,” Lance said.

You hummed.

“Can you tell me what kinds of butterflies come around here?”

You creaked open an eye, turning your head just slightly to get a glimpse of him. He was still staring into the sky, searching for them. He looked to be showing a genuine interest. It warmed your heart more than you cared to admit, both to yourself and anyone else.

“All sorts,” you replied after a moment of silent admiration. “There's brimstone butterflies – they're the most common ones.”

“Which ones are they?”

“They blend in with the leaves. You won't see them unless you're really looking, but they're there, and there's a lot of them.”

Lance hummed. “Any others?”

You shifted, pushing a strand of grass away from your ankle. “There's the small tortoiseshell butterflies.”

Lance snickered. “Really? That's what they're called?”

“They're the orange ones. The orange and black ones, you know?”

“Oh! I see those everywhere!”

“Yeah! They're pretty. I like writing about them.”

Lance paused. It took you a moment to realise exactly what you'd said – was it a confession? At this point, you weren't even sure. You sang about butterflies, their beauty, but you'd never told anyone that was what you wrote about. It felt like ripping a bandage away after so long of covering a wound.

Slowly, Lance turned to face you. You continued staring at the sky. “You're writing about butterflies?”

“Most of the time.” You remembered the previous night, writing things that weren't about butterflies, that could not be traced back to butterflies, that could only ever be traced back to one person.

You swallowed thickly. As if the heavens could somehow sense your sudden desperation for a conversation change, a butterfly fluttered overhead. You gasped, slapping Lance's arm, using your free hand to point at the pretty specimen.

“What? What is it?”

“It's a peacock butterfly!” you exclaimed.

“A who?”

“A peacock butterfly.”

“That means nothing to me.”

Your hand dropped back to the grass. “It's pretty. You're missing out.”

“You're meant to explain this stuff to me. Where did it go?”

You shook your head, grinning. “It's gone now. You probably scared it off.”

Lance's head snapped round. “Me? I wasn't the one yelling my head off!”

“I got excited!”

“Yeah, well, you shouldn't blame me for your precious little peacock butterfly flying away when you raise your damn voice.”

“You're yelling right now.”

“I'm not yelling. I'm scolding. There's a difference.”

It fell silent. It lasted only a second, the only sound being the swish swish swish of the grass as the breeze combed it's invisible fingers through the blades.

And then Lance started laughing.

It started out as a quiet, sudden pfffft sound, before he was rolling onto his side and laughing full force into the grass. You stared at him for a second, before your own laughter erupted and you were doing the exact same thing, curling an arm round your middle. The butterflies flew away, startled at the sudden noise, but you didn't care. Not right now. Not whenever Lance gripped your arm to steady himself before he face-planted the dirt.

“Okay, sorry, sorry,” he gasped, flopping onto his back again, catching his breath with a fist curled into his stomach. “That was so fucking stupid.”

You continued to giggle, swiping a hand beneath your eye. You didn't even have anything to say – not really. The moment was perfect on it's own, and you didn't want to risk ruining it by replying.

Looking up, you could tell Lance was staring at you. His eyes burned holes in the side of your face as you bundled your hands in the grass and continued to giggle, until your stomach hurt and you had to roll on your back again just to catch your breath. On his face, a glimmer of a smile was present – not too obvious, not too big, but enough that you had to look away to hide your own embarrassment.

Lance had the kind of gaze that made someone think they were the only person in the whole world. He had the kind of gaze that rock stars had, eyes meeting, stage to crowd and back again.

You bit your lip and shook your head, staring back up at the sun. “We should sing something.”

He didn't question it, simply nodded, placing one arm behind his head. “What have you got in mind?”

“I'll sing anything.”

Lance pondered, until finally he started singing, all on his own, with no explanation to the song he was singing; it was one you had heard only vaguely on the radio, when you and Mikhail would be driving between different places. It would come on, and you remembered enjoying it, but never stopping to listen to the words.

So you just listened to Lance. You closed your eyes, the lyrics sinking into your brain for the first time. His voice was beautiful – so, so beautiful. He called himself a rock fan, but the voice that carried these words was not the voice of a rock star. It was something else. Soft spoken, a lullaby, some words dipping into a mumble before he raised his voice a little higher to be heard over the breeze, over your thundering heartbeat.

When the song was finished, he inhaled. You cast him a glance, biting your lower lip. He had his eyes closed, one hand curled in his brown hair. His chest rose and fell, and you wondered how many times he'd sung that song in front of someone.

“Beautiful,” you whispered. “Absolutely beautiful.”

He looked at you. His eyes were backlit by the sun, making the blue so much more obvious and clear. It was like staring into an ocean; so blue, so much undiscovered. He was a mystery and a force all at once, and you were suddenly overcome with the need to just lean over and press your lips to his, to swallow the words he'd just serenaded you with.

You looked away, reminding yourself sternly that he'd just broken up with his girlfriend. You needed to be there for him as a friend. You needed to stop letting your selfish thoughts get in the way.

“That's called Welcome to Hell,” he explained suddenly. “My friend Shiro wrote the lyrics. I just sing it.”

“You sing it beautifully.”

“It's usually a bit more upbeat than that. Pretty sure Pidge screams in the chorus, but I thought I'd sing the downplayed version since we don't have the band here.”

You grinned. “I like the downplayed version. I'm more a fan of the soft music.”

“Well then I guess I'll have to play some more soft music.”

“I guess so.”

----

Lance didn't really want to go home.

Home. He didn't even know what counted as his home any more, considering he was never in a single place long enough to figure it out. Hotel rooms. The tour bus. An old inn he'd crashed in once because he'd been too drunk to make his way to the hotel; could he count those places as home?

However, he had to get back to his band mates. He said a halting, slightly emotional goodbye to you and wandered off. He wasn't entirely sure why he felt the way he did, why his throat was constricting, why his stomach clenched with every step he took away from you; maybe it was because he could imagine you going back to square one, sitting on the steps with Mikhail playing the guitar and your voice ringing through the square in front of the venue. You deserved so much more than that. You wanted more than that, and it killed Lance to know he could do nothing to help you along the way.

He arrived home. Allura's stuff had been moved out of the tour bus. Keith's partner awkwardly explained the situation, and then nobody asked any questions; nobody really needed to. They'd all seen this coming. They all knew Lance and Allura would not last, and it didn't embarrass Lance as much as he thought it would; he was doused in relief more than anything else. Relief at the fact he was finally free. Relief at the fact both he and Allura could move on with their lives in peace, figuring it out from this point onward.

Lance spent the first few days back writing lyrics.

The shows had been put on hold at Shiro's request. They were given a two week break, a break Lance didn't know he needed until it was upon him. He could have slept the entire fourteen days away, but he forced himself into a stable sleeping pattern because you liked to call him at nine am every morning, asking him if he was on his way to the venue, and he always was, because the thought of seeing you excited him more than anything else.

Lance was happy he'd managed to stay in touch with you. Every morning, he'd brew up his coffee and put it in his thermal, and then he'd walk to the steps he'd grown so fond of. Sometimes Mikhail would be there, and he and Lance would laugh over some absurd inside joke that they'd developed surprisingly quick. Sometimes it would just be you, scribbling lyrics in your notebook. Lance would sit beside you, lean his head back against the steps, trying to memorise the names of the butterflies you so excitedly pointed out when you thought he wasn't paying attention.

“That's not even a butterfly; that's a moth.”

“It's still pretty!”

Lance would roll his eyes and you'd grin and then you would sit and talk for hours. Sometimes Lance would sing for you. Sometimes you'd sing for him. Sometimes you would just sit in silence and that on it's own was perfectly fine.

Lance was spiralling. He could feel it, the shift from heartbroken to being stitched whole again. It was strange, scary. He didn't want to risk it just yet. He didn't want to get his hopes up.

He walked back to the tour bus on the twelfth day of their break, empty thermal in hand, a coat pulled tight round his body. The collar was up, shielding his ears from the blaring wind that suddenly decided to hit the area. He jogged onto the bus with a hearty brrrr to really exaggerate just how cold it was.

Hunk sat by the window. No one else was in sight.

“Where has everyone else gone?”

Hunk didn't look up from his phone. “They went to dinner.”

Lance raised a brow, pausing in the action of stripping his coat off. “Why didn't you go with them?”

“I wanted to wait for you.”

“Right. . . Why?”

Hunk looked up. There was a glint in his eye, part mischief and part all-knowing; it made Lance want to run right back to the stairs, just to get out of his way.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“You're a creepy bastard-”

“Come sit down, Lancey-pants. We need to have our Big Boy chat.”

Lance nearly gagged. “Please never say that again.”

“Come sit down.”

Lance rolled his eyes, tossing the coat on the back of the chair before he flopped down on the sofa beside Hunk. The bigger man made room, even though there was plenty, and Lance reached into the packet of chocolate digestives, taking a bite out of one as he waited for Hunk to start talking.

He didn't push the conversation. He wasn't sure if he wanted it to start or not.

“Wanna explain to me where you were?”

“I was out with Y/N.” It was the simple answer. The truth.

Hunk nodded, smirking around a biscuit, like he knew something Lance didn't.

Lance leaned forward, trying to meet Hunk's eyes. “What are you smiling at?”

“Nothing. I'm not smiling. I've never smiled a day in my life-”

“You're getting flustered.”

“Why are you so observant-”

Lance slapped the biscuit out of Hunk's hand. “What have you done?”

Hunk's eyes lit up. An amused grin spread across his face, a sharp laugh escaping his throat. “I haven't done anything!”

Lance frowned. “Then why are you smiling?”

“I'm just happy for you, bro!” Hunk shook his head, grabbing another biscuit and dipping it into his tea. “Honestly. How long were you out in that cold weather for?”

Lance slowly leaned back, refusing to take his eyes off Hunk's face. “Why are you happy for me?”

This caught Hunk's attention. His ears twitched. His smile wavered a little bit, like it wanted to get bigger but Hunk wasn't letting it.

“I just. . . You and Y/N. I haven't seen you that happy in a long time.”

Lance's stomach curled. “Hunk...”

“I'm not suggesting anything,” Hunk hastened to add. “Although, if there was something going on, I don't think anyone would really mind. Not like we did with Allura.”

By now, the blush had long since crawled up Lance's throat, attacking his cheeks in a way he could not hide. He looked to the left, fighting off the slow panic rising in his throat – why was he even panicking? It wasn't like he'd made any attempt to hide his friendship with you. He went out with you almost everyday, and nobody had an issue with it.

But Hunk was looking at things from a completely different angle, and he was pulling Lance on it. Lance didn't really have a response, though, because his brain was short circuiting and he was fairly certain he was going to explode into giddy giggles at any given moment.

“You like them, don't you?”

Hunk's voice startled him. Lance's head snapped round. He opened his mouth to say something, anything to dispel this crazy idea, but he found words failing him. His mouth slowly closed, and Hunk's eyes widened just a fraction.

“Wait-”

“Don't say it.”

Hunk leaped up, pulling his feet beneath him on the sofa. He whirled on Lance, grabbing his shoulder. The chocolate digestive he'd previously held fell from his grip, landing behind the sofa cushion, but Hunk didn't seem to care. His eyes were alight, fireworks burning into Lance's skull.

“Oh my god, really? I knew it! I fucking knew it! Shiro owes me a tenner!”

Lance swatted Hunk's hands away. “Would you shut up? It's not like they like me back, and honestly, getting into another relationship right now just sounds scary.”

This was the moment Hunk frowned.

His hands slid off Lance's shoulders, landing in his lap. His eyes had gone dull, his mouth pulled into a frown that contained more disappointment than sadness. “You're kidding.”

“I'm not. That break up with Allura-”

“Was meant to happen!” Hunk exclaimed. “It was meant to happen so you could find Y/N!”

Lance's eyes widened. “You're not really that cringe, are you?”

“I'm being honest.” Hunk flopped back, folding his arms over his chest. “I can't believe you're doing what Keith did. That whole I want to stay single thing. If you've found someone who makes you happy, why would you waste time?”

“I'm not wasting time-”

“You and Y/N hang out every day. You come home looking like a giddy school kid. You wrote a fucking song about them, for crying out loud – did you ever write a song for Allura?”

Lance paused. “That's not the point. The two aren't comparable.”

“My point exactly; you like Y/N. I think you might even love them-”

“Hunk, don't start with that.”

Hunk shrugged. “I just think you're being stupid holding off your own happiness.”

Lance looked away. Whenever Hunk got like this, he was never sure how to reply – he had his reasons, and he didn't need to list them to anyone, but Hunk also had a point. Why was he holding off so much? His entire life motto up until this point consisted of doing what makes you happy, fuck what other people think, and yet here he was, overthinking everything because his brain had been a jumbled mess for days now.

He pulled his knees to his chest, resting his chin on top of them. “Y/N's different, man.”

Hunk tensed.

Lance continued. “You know they write about butterflies? Not men, not women, not. . . attractive people. They write about butterflies, but you'd never be able to tell. And then they sing, and it's like. . . . I mean, it's so different to what I enjoy, but I enjoy it anyway, you know? They have that kind of voice, that level of skill. I don't know. . . I don't know how they do it.”

Lance turned his head, closing his eyes. “And the laughs we have together – I honestly couldn't even tell you what half of the jokes mean, but we just find them so damn funny. They get teary-eyed when they laugh too much, and they snorted once, and it was the funniest thing I've ever heard, so we just laughed some more. An old man even came up and asked us what was so funny.”

“He probably thought you were a couple. It sounds very couple-y.”

“It kind of was.” Lance pursed his lips. “Except we're not a couple.”

“No.” Hunk's voice was sombre. “And whose fault is that?”

---

The crowd was screaming.

Lance could hear his name jumping around. Nothing major. The crowd wasn't just here for him, and he wouldn't have it any other way; mixed in with the sounds of his own name came Keith's, Hunk's, Pidge's, a few Shiro's being tossed back and forth.

Lance closed his eyes, leaning his head against the wall. The pre-show nerves were beginning to settle. He needed a moment to catch his bearings, to focus his brain on the task at hand before he jumped out on stage and put on the best performance he could.

It was the last show in this town, and Lance was ready for it. His nerves ate away at him, but his hands twitched, his fingers curling round the microphone, his ears ringing with the cheers that were already so loud, so enthusiastic, even though they stared at nothing more than an empty stage at the moment.

The count down began. Hunk, Pidge and Keith emerged from backstage, fastening ear pieces into their ears, straightening their hair and their clothes. Hunk clapped his drum sticks together and gave Lance a smile that should have made Lance suspicious, but he was so deep in his own head at the minute that he barely gave it a second glance.

The manager hit “1” and then the opening music started blasting and Lance was jumping out on stage, yelling into his microphone, asking the crowd if they were ready, if they were sure they were ready, telling them this was going to be the best night of their damn lives, and it would be because Lance was back in the game, and he refused to leave here without making every single face in that crowd light up with an emotion none of them had ever felt before.

They screamed right back at him. In this room, they were equals. Yes, Smokey Saturdays were the performers. Yes, they were here to entertain these wonderful, enthusiastic people, but Lance had never felt so close to anyone than he did now, jumping around, singing the lyrics he'd grown to love as the crowd sang them back, all of them with different interpretations of the same song.

Sweat dripped down his neck. The next song came on. The crowd jumped, and Pidge screamed into her microphone, and Keith leaped off his dais and ran along the edge of the crowd whilst still managing to hit every single note on his bass. Lance span on his heel, pointed at Hunk, and Hunk pointed right back-

But not at Lance. Hunk pointed to a spot just over Lance's shoulder.

With a grin, Lance span on his heel and followed the direction Hunk was gesturing to. His eyes racked the crowd; he made eye contact with a few people, all of whom screamed and lost their minds.

Lance, however, could focus on nothing more than you standing in the front row, hands curled around the security barriers, eyes pouring into his own.

He nearly doubled over, nearly missed his cue to keep singing. He tripped over his feet, caught himself and continued, but his eyes never left your own. You were dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. You were barely moving. Only your lips were making any effort, mumbling the words to Welcome to Hell, and for a second, it was as if you were singing along. It was as if you and Lance were in a duet.

Lance turned, microphone still pressed to his lips. Hunk was smiling wider now, slamming his drum sticks into his drum kit, singing along even though he had no microphone and no one could hear him. Lance's heart thrummed with something he couldn't explain, a happiness that was too heavy to be called happiness and still have it's full meaning.

That was the best show Lance had ever put on.

He felt it in his bones as he jogged off stage that night, sweat dripping, soaking his shirt. He flopped against the wall, patting Keith's back when he ran past, giving Pidge a hug when she did the same thing. He got ready to throw himself at Hunk, demand answers, but the man never appeared. With a frown, Lance popped his head round the curtain; standing by the edge of the stage, Hunk leaned over the security railing, his hand outstretched to one lucky fan-

Lance's eyes widened. He had only seconds before Hunk managed to help you on stage, only seconds to dart towards the backstage area, only seconds to comb his hands through his hair before you laid eyes on him, because he really wasn't ready for this, and he never looked worse than when he'd just bounded off stage-

“Ooooh, Lancey-kins!”

Lance span around. Keith and Pidge paused by the buffet table, looking round with mouths full and eyes curious; Lance's heart was beating a million miles per hour, and the rhythm only got worse when he turned to see you awkwardly standing in the doorway. Hunk had an arm slung over your shoulders. He was grinning from ear to ear, because he knew exactly what he'd done.

Lance swallowed thickly. He was so tired. His muscles were drained, and his throat was raw, and his ears were ringing, but seeing you in front of him. . . He couldn't go to sleep. Not without talking to you first.

And maybe he should have been mad at Hunk. The drummer had gone against his wishes, had dismissed everything Lance said to him back on the tour bus, but he couldn't bring himself to feel anything close to anger. Not when you were looking around the backstage area with eyes so wide and curious, mouth slightly open before your eyes landed on Lance and you grinned, wide and kind.

Pidge swallowed loudly, a cartoonish gulp that brought all attention to her. “Who's this?”

“This-” Hunk shoved you forward. Lance grabbed your elbow before you could fall. “-is Y/N L/N, Lance's friend.”

The pair of bassist's eyes widened. “This is Y/N?”

You laughed awkwardly. “Hi.”

“Hello,” said Keith, surprising Lance with his sudden social tone. “It's – uh – nice to have proof you're real.”

“Don't embarrass the lad,” Hunk hissed, shoving Keith back. “Let's give them a minute to talk.”

And then his band were shuffling out of the room, closing the door behind them.

If there was ever a time in which Lance debated starting a solo career, it was now.

He still had his hand on your elbow. He flinched away like the fabric of your shirt had burned him, hastily shoving his hand into his pockets. You bit your lip, looking round the room, possibly searching for something to say, and it was so confusing because neither of you had ever struggled with words before, but there was something different about the atmosphere in this room, at this particular moment, that left barely any room for casual talking.

Lance could tell something had changed. Something was about to change.

Lance wanted something to change.

He swallowed, turned to you and said, “Did you enjoy the show?”

Your eyes met his. He had to hold his breath to stop it from escaping his system in one, obvious whoosh. “You're very good. Made for the stage, I think the term is.”

“I've been doing it for a while.”

“I can tell. The way you interacted with the crowd. . . That was amazing. It was one of the best concerts I've ever been to.”

Lance bit his lip. “You mean that?”

�� “I think everyone on the internet means that.”

Lance chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from his eyes, breathing a little deeper. “Yeah, well. I messed up in the middle of it-”

“You did?”

“I wasn't expecting to see you standing there. It shocked me a little bit.”

You paused. Lance didn't look down at you, but he could feel your own eyes resting on him, waiting for him to elaborate. The words were there, perched on the tip of his tongue – he could so easily explain his feelings right now, but it was complicated and he was tired and his brain really wasn't working at full capacity. If Hunk thought tonight was the ideal night to get Lance to make a move, he was very much mistaken.

“Was it . . . Was it a good shock?” Your voice was timid. Lance's eyes snapped down just in time to see you wince at your own words. “God, was that too flirty? I bet that sounded too flirty. I didn't mean – like – I don't usually come on so strong, but you were really good today and I just – you know – wanted you to know that I really enjoyed myself-”

“It was a good shock.”

You froze. Slowly, Lance brushed his fingertips against your arm, a silent question, a silent invitation.

“Oh,” you whispered, voice cracking. “That's good. I'd hate to be a – a hindrance.”

Lance took a step closer. “You'd never be a hindrance.”

“No? That's good.” You rubbed the back of your neck. Lance's fingers lingered, but upon seeing your suddenly flustered state, he made to pull away.

Your hand snapped out, grabbing his wrist and tugging his own hand into your chest. Lance stumbled forward, forced to place his hand against the door behind your head to stop himself falling into you completely.

Your breath was ragged, a whisper against Lance's skin that was driving him crazy.

“This is so insane,” you mumbled. “So, so insane. I'm not good at this. I feel like I need to be good at this-”

Lance shook his head, dazed. “You're doing great.”

“I am?”

“What is it you want to do, exactly?”

Your eyes flicked to his lips. Lance lost his mind.

“Y/N,” he mumbled, growled, demanded.

“I want to,” you whispered. “But you might not be in the right head space yet. You might be . . . You might still be thinking of your ex, and I don't want to be trailed along-”

“I haven't thought about her for two weeks.” Lance placed his hand on your hip. He wasn't sure why – it just felt right, and he needed to feel your flesh beneath his fingers.

Your eyes fluttered closed. “No?”

“I promise. You're the only person who's been on my mind since I met you.” He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against your own. “And I don't know how you managed it. I really don't know. But I'm so. . . Y/N, I've never been so happy.”

You looked at him. “Why?”

“Because of you. All because of you.”

“Then why are we waiting?”

Lance closed his eyes and kissed you.

He didn't care. He couldn't care. His mind was a jumbled mess and had been from the moment he laid eyes on you, but he was beginning to realise it might not be such a bad thing.

Your lips moulded perfectly against his own. Your fingertips hovered over his hip bones, and it was only when Lance reached down and guided your arms around his middle did you finally take a handful of his shirt, an uncertain grip that had him grinning against your lips; you were so fragile, barely making a move, but it was perfect nonetheless, because you were here, here, here.

With Allura, he'd never felt this way. Even their first kiss didn't have the fireworks and the understanding and the need, because their first kiss had been done purely because they felt like they had to. Allura was a pretty girl and Lance was a rock star, and how could the two possibly exist in the same universe without making out every two seconds? With Allura, kisses just felt like a necessity, a greeting they had to shove out of the way before continuing with business as normal.

But this – Lance was lost. He couldn't describe it. His fingers trailed your jaw and your hips and your stomach, and the noises you made against his mouth were heavenly, and he suddenly couldn't imagine kissing anyone else. Suddenly, this was it.

He pulled away first, his lips ever-so-slowly detaching from your own. You kept your eyes closed for a moment after your mouth was your own again, and Lance chuckled, running a single finger along your eyelids before you opened them and stared at him.

He tilted his head, grinning from ear to ear. “Good?”

He saw you swallow. “Good. I hope to – uh – do it again sometime.”

Lance plunked his forehead against your own. “You're such an idiot.”

---

“Shiro, keep your hands off of Y/N, or so help me god I will implode.”

“He's serious,” Mikhail commented, lounging across the sofa with his guitar in hand, as he often was. He wasn't comfortable just sitting on a chair, or even sitting normally – Lance blamed it on his longer-than-average limbs.

Shiro continued leaning over your shoulder, reading your scribbled words. Lance watched from the sofa, a smile on his face because he could always be found smiling when he was watching you work; your expression of concentration was so amusing, and so adorable, and Lance suddenly wanted both Mikhail and Shiro out of his hotel room so he could have you all to himself.

“I just don't think this line is right for the bridge,” you explained, tapping the page. “Like, yes, it's different, but it doesn't really suit the vibe of the rest of the song, does it?”

“I think it works great. It flows well,” said Shiro.

Lance whooped, throwing his arms in the air. “Yes! That's my baby! You got the stamp of approval from the Big Boss, just like I said you would.”

You turned and threw your pen at him.

Lance caught it, blew you a kiss. “I fucking love you.”

Shiro chuckled, glancing at Lance over his shoulder with that fond fatherly smile on his face. “You getting restless over there, buddy?”

Mikhail snickered. “Buddy.”

Shiro stood up straight, grabbing Mikhail by the collar of his oversized coat. “I think it's time for me and you to leave. Let's go get dinner.”

“Are you paying?” Mikhail asked, stumbling after the older man.

The door closed behind them.

Lance jumped up and plonked himself down on your lap.

You yelped, already trying to push him off. It had only been two seconds. Lance wasn't even putting his full weight on you.

“Lance!”

Lance wrapped his arms over your shoulders and bundled his head in your neck. It was there he pressed a single kiss, just below your ear, and as if that area was some kind of pressure point, you immediately melted against him. Lance grinned, nibbling just a bit on your ear lobe before he pulled away and glanced at the open journal on the table.

“You're writing about my tanned skin again,” he pointed out, pretending to be disgusted despite his fluttering heart.

“As per usual,” you replied. “Kiss my neck again.”

Lance kissed your neck. You hummed.

“You know,” he said, inches from your ear. “You didn't say I love you back when I said it to you earlier on.”

“Awk, Lance, you know-”

He nibbled your neck. “Just say it back.”

Your voice wobbled when you said, “I fucking love you, too.”

Lance smirked. He knew you could feel it. He wanted you to feel it. Your fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt, your body inching towards his. “Good. That's all I wanted.”

“You're such an asshole.”

“Mm. I'm very happy you let me be a complete asshole.”

“I wouldn't want you any differently.”

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sourrcandy · 4 years

Text

TAG GAMES 💫

thank you so much for the tag @songsofaleria !! i love doing tag games :))

name!! harls

nicknames!! non? you can give me one if you want :))

zodiac!! aries

height!! 5’5”

languages!! cantonese, english, mandarin, learning korean and french

nationality!! hong kong and australian

favourite season!! autumn

favourite flower!! gypsophilas

favourite animal!! penguins, guinea pigs, seals, and alpacas

favourites scent!! the ocean, like salty but fresh

favourite fictional character!! oh god, so mAnY. harley quinn, natasha romanoff, elsa, loki odinson, han solo, wylan van eck, jesper fahey, edmund pevensie, draco malfoy, q’ira, jyn erso, cassian endor, obi-wan kenobi, clary fairchild, alec lightwood, jake peralta, raymond holt, bucky barnes, okoye, carmen sandiego, legolas greenleaf, daenarys targaryen, poe dameron, sirius black, fred weasley, rosa diaz, asuka langley sohryu and finnick odair.

coffee, tea or hot chocolate?? all three! how am i supposed to choose, this depends on my mood.

average sleep?? 6-8 hours, depending on how much work i do that day.

favourite color!! blood red or purple

dogs or cats?? both!

number of blankets!! one

dream trip!! bora bora or bangkok

blog established!! february 2020

random fact!! i once wrote and completed a fanfic in 168 hours (a week) it was 17.5k words and i’m extremely proud of myself.

gender!! female

sexuality!! straight

harry potter moral compass?? i’m not sure what this means but i’m a Slytherin and in quizzes i usually get characters like Bellatrix Lestrange, Draco Malfoy, or Sirius Black.

where are you from?? hong kong and proud

why did you start this blog?? to motivate myself and get to know other writeblrs and make friends :))

most recent album played!! the vision - wayv

favourite book!! six of crows

favourite movie!! i have too many but frozen 2 and birds of prey and the fantabulous emancipation of one harley quinn

tagging!! @montevena, @haleliwia, @marie-writess, @innocentreticent and anyone who wants to join :))

#about me #tag games #tysm for the tag

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narryblossom · 6 years

Note

Sorry to bother, but I'm new to the Narry fandom. Your blog has really taught me a lot. I was wondering if you have a rec list of your favourite Narry fics? The longer the better. Thank you for being awesome!

No bother at all! I’m glad to be of service, Narry truly is a wonderful ship. Let’s talk about fics! Here are 50 that I love:

if I got a condo on a cloud then I guess you can stay at my place by orphan_account – 8.3k, pretend boyfriends au

Harry can’t just show up to his sister’s wedding where his ex boyfriend is going to be without somebody with him, I mean he can’t just loiter around the chocolate fountain. So that’s why he enlists Niall’s help.

Turn all your grey skies blue. by mogigraphia – 9.7k, kid fic

Niall’s a new single dad, and Harry’s his daughter’s teacher at the daycare.

The Wedding Singer by littlecather – 27.5k, strangers to lovers

It’s not that Harry doesn’t believe in love, exactly - he just thinks that romance and marriage and all that comes with it are overrated. Niall has sung at over a hundred weddings, and is determined to prove Harry wrong. After all - there’s a reason for all those songs.

Frenemies by alteringegoism – 8.1k, enemies to lovers

Harry hates Niall. Niall hates Harry. But Harry wants Zayn and in order to get to him, he’ll have to go through his best friend Niall. Harry will just have to kill Niall with kindness. That’s if Niall doesn’t kill him first. Oh and Liam and Louis are getting married.

When I Close My Eyes, All the Stars Align by FallingLikeThis – 11.6k, soulmate au

A Beauty and the Beast Au in which Harry’s only beastly qualities are his hair and his bad attitude and Niall arrives to spy on him for his sister but ends up staying for so much more.

Lips As Red As Mistletoe by runawaymind – 9.2k, friends to lovers

It’s near Christmas time at Hogwarts and these damn magical mistletoes seem to chase Harry wherever he goes, and it’s a riddle of its own as to why Niall is close by every time one of those stupid plants seem to bloom out of nowhere.

take me over the edge by jamesniall – 6.7k, smut

“The bathrooms are in the end of that hallway, turning to the right.” Harry says, voice slightly lower and deeper than what Niall was used to hear out there in the golf grounds. “Go in there and wait for me.” Harry finishes, softly slapping his cheek, cleary not intended to hurt Niall, but still enough for him to feel it in his gut, making blood rush faster down to his cock. It feels heavy, more than halfway hard in his briefs and Niall has to bite down a whimper when Harry opens his mouth again.

“And don’t touch yourself.”

Or, Niall is Harry’s caddie for the first day at The Masters, at least that’s how it starts.

baby, you don’t know what it’s like by peerpressure – 31k, strangers to friends to lovers

Harry tries really, really hard to only see Niall as a friend.

It’s not working very well.

Because Niall is simply amazing and Harry is so stunned that he’s even allowed in his presence. And also because he wants to suck his dick. Just a little. But he also wants to cuddle him and maybe share food and fight for blankets and press cold feet against each other and shampoo each other’s hair.

Harry just wants to be with Niall.

(In which Louis is a good friend, Liam is kind, Zayn is always stressed, Niall is the new guy and Harry falls in love)

friends just sleep in another bed by littlecather – 39.2k, canon complaint

“Just - I’ve just been hanging out with Harry. A lot - slept over a couple of times.”

“You slept over?” Dougie echoes.

“Not like that,” Niall rolls his eyes - even though it kind of is.

Tour starts; Niall and Harry grow closer.

must have been the mistletoe by countthestars – 7.3k, friends to lovers

“Hey, Harry,” Niall says, voice low and conspiratorial. “Look up.”

“What?” Harry whispers back, because there’s a lot to look at up there, blinking lights and boughs of garland and… “is that mistletoe?”

“'Fraid so,” Niall confirms. His lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile, but he keeps a straight face as he taps his finger against his mouth. “It’s bad luck not to kiss someone underneath mistletoe.”

let’s spin the world around by jamesniall – 4.4k, college au

“Superlatives are just about putting the word más before an adjective or a sustantive. Like más grande which means bigger, or más fuerte, which means harder” Niall says, looking pointedly at Harry and Harry is 99% sure he’s doing it on purpose.

“más rápido means faster” Niall continues, “Are you getting hard from this, Harry?” and if Harry would have had something in his mouth he would have spilled it all over Niall’s face.

Or, Harry learns spanish thanks to Niall’s dirty talk.

Maybe You’re My Snowflake by pintsandguitars – 20k, college au

Harry Styles loves the snow. Niall Horan loves the stars. And somewhere between snowflakes and night skies, they start loving each other.

A head for business and a body for sin by flickerbyniall – 2.1k, au

He first time he caught Harry’s eyes was about an hour ago, the boy was eating some strawberries from the buffet table around the corner, oblivious to the fact he was standing out in the crowd with his rebellious look.

or Harry goes to a Gala and can’t take his eyes off the boy wearing a leather jacket.

Searching by littlecather – 12.1k, au

Niall has been hired by a magazine to track each employee’s searches on Google. Harry uses Google a lot.

wide open spaces by outwardbound93 – 18.8k, au

“Well,” Harry says at the end of the day. The sun sets late in Texas like it doesn’t want to go, clinging to the scrubby flatlands with the last reaches of striped sunbeams. Niall leans on the broom and watches Harry fidget with a bundle of notecards he has to fill with peoples’ heartfelt sentiments. Love notes, apologies, get-well-soons, Harry’s got them all. “Will I see you tomorrow, then?”

Niall props the broomstick against a shelf holding a bunch of little green plants he doesn’t know the name of. The shop is bursting with green leaves, colorful blossoms like pops of candy mixed with buttered popcorn at the movie theatre, and at the heart of it, Harry. Harry, with his languid speech and that one curl that stubbornly sticks out on the side of his head that Niall always wants to twirl around his finger and that smile that arrives in a flash or unfurls slowly.

“Yeah,” says Niall. “I’ll be here.”

Relatable Content by makesomelove – 12.3k, au

Harry glances down at the floor, then up at Niall, lip curling up in a bashful smirk. Niall wants terribly to kiss him. The opportunity is right there in front of him, and it’s the worst idea in the entire world.

It would reach the press. He’d be in the news - CEO and Founder of BeepFodder Niall Horan Sexually Manipulates Underlings. His mum has an alert for him on her computer and she’d see it and have a heart attack. They’d lose sponsors. Even if they didn’t publish the footage, it’d still exist. It all still would have happened. Harry would know Niall likes him. The thought of the most vulnerable spots in his heart being captured on film and shown to millions of people makes Niall sick. Going through with this in a legitimate way would ruin his life no matter what.

just a little rush, babe by theamazingpeterparker – 10.3k, vampire au

“You know everything they say about Dracula? All that stuff I wrote in my paper?” Niall asks as he rips one of the glazed donuts in half. Harry hums. “It’s all bullshit. Real vampires do tomato juice cleanses and do yoga. Fuck.”

Harry’s a vampire who’s awful at parallel parking, being scary, and being alone. He meets Niall walking home alone one night.

this could be the end of everything by basementhero – 20.4k, mythological au

The Norns remembered each cycle of time and would recount the tale if asked: Harry and Niall were not the first of their kind, nor was it the world’s first attempt at existence. Some cycles were short while other stretched on for tens or hundreds or thousands of millennia. It was always the same in the end, though, no matter how many intervening years it took to get there. Baldr always fell; the giants always attacked, and the realms of Yggdrasil—the world tree—were always plunged back into the void after Ragnarök, waiting for rebirth.

But not everything was so set in stone; at least, it didn’t seem to be.

(or: Niall and Harry are immortal deities, but even gods are subject to fate.)

We Could Be The Ones Who Matter by jibrailis – 17.5k, canon complaint?

Harry and Niall both get weirdly intense about things, and by things, they mean competitive Scrabble.

Uncertainty Principle by jibrailis – 81k, au

He didn’t expect this: Australia, the vineyard, and Niall who won’t look him in the eye.

lovesick boys will write you lovesongs by narryblossom – 15k, past relationship

When Niall walks through the gate at Dublin Airport at four in the morning, jet lagged to hell and back, he feels like he’s home. He thinks he’s never felt so happy to hear an Irish accent, and he certainly has never been so happy to have no fucking clue what he’s doing.

(Well, he has some idea of what he’s doing, he just isn’t sure it’s going to work out the way it does in his head.)

(An AU where Niall dreams of his lost love and finds himself going home to search for him.)

let yourself be enchanted by acastle – 23.8k, hogwarts au

“Which means, I’ve got a Charms post to fill. And do you know who he suggested for the job?”

Harry doesn’t trust the wide beam on his face, and Louis goes on, “Well, he’d told me about this bloke. Class of 2011, student rank number three but top at Charms of his class, Hufflepuff, prefect, atrocious Quidditch player, but he makes a great treacle tart-”

“He suggested me?” Harry says blankly.

Along the Way (Something Changed) by catrinahart – 25.2k, au

For the last five years, singer turned actor, Harry Styles has had Niall by his side to help manage his incredibly crazy life. They met and quickly became the best of friends. Then people start asking questions, making Harry think, what do they see that he doesn’t?

baby, you make my heart beat faster by countthestars – 9.8k, au

Niall’s into Harry. Harry’s into taxidermy.

move your world a little closer by countthestars – 45.8k, alien au

In which Niall is a bit lost, Liam and Louis can’t seem to get their shit together, and Harry is literally out of this world.

(aka: alien narry)

and days gone by by outwardbound93 – 20.7k, college au

Niall catches himself glancing at Harry in the backseat. The tops of buildings are lined with Christmas lights like the iced piping on a gingerbread house, and the crisp sharp light of a winter night makes Harry’s skin look warm and soft.

riverina by outwardbound93 – 13.2k, royalty au

Harry looks up at Niall, the sharp, almost antique lines of his face thrust into regal beauty by the stadium lights. Harry’s ribs press against the size of his heart.

Or, a royalty!au where Niall’s a prince and Harry’s the reporter that writes about him.

and you know in your heart it’ll be worth it by outwardbound93 – 12k, mythological au

“At home, we sleep on the,” he points at the ceiling. “The top, so we don’t float away.”

Niall laughs. “The ceiling, you mean?” He traces the line of Harry’s dimple. “I figured you slept inside a castle, like in the pictures of what Atlantis looked like.”

“I doubt that’s accurate,” Harry says. He palms Niall’s thigh, running his hand down to his knee, where he pauses to feel out the unfamiliar bones with his fingertips. “Otters sleep holding hands so they won’t drift apart, did you know that?”

“What, are you an otter?” Niall asks.

“No, but it might not be too bad,” Harry says. He lays his head to rest on Niall’s chest, over his heart. His fingers tangle with Niall’s in the sheets, his skin tanned and smooth, Niall’s pale and scarred.

“Eh,” Niall says. “It’s not too bad, I guess.”

let me photograph you in this light by storhan – 29.6k, college au

“I like that one,” he says, turning the camera back around to show Harry the picture he took earlier that day of Niall reading. Harry also finds himself smiling, he quite likes that one too.

“Me too,” Harry says softly.

Or, Harry’s a photography major and Niall is his muse.

something so magic about you by storhan – 14.7k, kid fic

Niall’s a single father and Harry’s his neighbor who never seems to wear a shirt.

i sing you like a song i heard when i was young by disequilibrium – 17.7k, magic au

Niall never thought he’d find his way back home. But then, the wind works in mysterious ways: a stranger at the door, an impossible escape. A whisper that changes everything, forever, again.

St-st-stuttering by asaprockme – 8.8k, college au

In which Harry has a stutter that he just can’t control. Niall doesn’t mind.

If we dream forever, whatever happens next by brokendrums – 6.3k, au

Niall meets Harry on the train and can’t stop thinking about him. Then one evening when they get off the train, Harry invites him back to his.

let’s start right now by dramaturgicallycorrect – 29.6k, au

[Harry’s a professional cross country road trip driver, and Niall is his latest fare.]

What’s A Fella T’ Do? by iwanna_seeyou_undoit – 35.6k, pretend relationship

Pretend!Boyfriends AU where Harry doesn’t own any trousers that don’t have holes in them, Niall is the only one who can drive, and they definitely aren’t shagging.

I’m not trying to stop you, love by littlecather – 27.4k, college au

Niall and Harry are the only ones left on campus over the Christmas holidays, and even though they’ve never really hung out before, they manage to spend most of the week holed up in Harry’s room, together.

the piano man’s playing some old melody by littlervoice – 5.6k, pianist au

Harry is a piano player. One day his neighbour puts in a request.

Do you want to come to the gym? by maxette – 3k, strangers to lovers

Niall is Harry’s personal trainer: a romantic comedy without the middle forty-five minutes of misunderstandings.

running around in love again by mozartspiano – 2.5k, college au

they meet at a coffee shop on valentine’s day. it’s all a horrible cliche.

place your head on my beating heart by takesmeunder – 5.3k, college au

That’s usually how they fuck, with Harry on his hands and knees with Niall doing him from behind. It’s impersonal and something they both enjoy, but something twists in Niall’s heart at the thought of doing it that way tonight.

You Feel Like Home (You’re Like A Dream Come True) by roughvoiced – 16k, pretend relationship

Niall sighs and unwraps the scarf from around his neck. “A plus one,” he repeats. “I need one.”

“For what?” Harry asks, watching as Niall unzips his coat, letting it slip off his arms and drop to a rumpled pile on the carpet before slipping off his shoes and striding over to Harry, plonking himself down on the sofa beside him and snuffling up under his arm, waiting for Harry to pull him in close before he speaks.

“Greg’s wedding.”

or, the au where Harry offers to be Niall’s plus one and ends up with a whole lot more than he bargained for.

This Time Tomorrow by colbyjack – 36k, dancing au

Even under the yellowing light of the streetlamp above them and the faint, milky glow from the moon; even in a vacant street in a bustling city and the entire span of states farther than the hills’ green border; even under the rain, Harry thinks Niall is the most wonderful person he’s ever met—the very ‘you’ in his journal.

A story in which a contemporary dancer/ballet teacher and a Latin ballroom instructor fall in love within the first year they meet.

Another Auld Land Syne by colbyjack – 6.2k, this is probably my favorite narry fic of all time i think of it constantly and idk why ok bye

“We drank a toast to innocence We drank a toast to now. And tried to reach beyond the emptiness, But neither one knew how.”

Harry and Niall are old flames who eventually find each other again, of course, because the universe doesn’t want to give up on them.

stacked against you by siempreniall – 3.3k, college au

Niall hates the library. All of the computers are always taken, the stacks make him feel claustrophobic, and his short attention span has never given itself well to studying anyways. The cute boy at the information desk makes it all worth it, though.

i want you so much (but i hate your guts) by siempreniall – 6.2k, secret relationship smut

Niall doesn’t know what he’s still doing there. This isn’t really how he likes to spend his Sunday nights. He doesn’t want to be yelled at and made to feel guilty for something that happened months ago. All he wants is to leave, really.

heartbreak hero by acastle – 30k, enemies to friends to lovers

“So you want me to hear your side of things?“

“Yes, that would be a start.”

“Fine,” Niall steps forward, so he and Harry are practically nose to nose. “Come back tomorrow at 8, so you can air your side of the situation on my segment.”

In which Niall is a love guru of sorts on the radio, who thinks love is the bane of the world, and Harry is a fuckboy who’s lovely, surely, but is not the best boyfriend in the world, not by a long shot. His girl breaks up with him while on air with Niall, and Harry isn’t having that, so he forces Niall to help him win her back.

(Alternatively, Niall’s Guide On How to Win Back the Girl, patent pending. It should work, in theory.)

hold me closer tiny dancer by countthestars – 3.6k, strangers to lovers

Dancing isn’t really Harry’s strong suit. Niall doesn’t really care.

Home is Wherever I’m with You by ziamfcks – 5.3k, strangers to lovers

Niall is blind and Harry works in a coffeeshop. It’s love from the start.

[Click this link to see drabbles from tumblr I’ve rec’d]

So there’s that! I’ve read soooooooo many fics over the years and I’m sure there are a ton that I’ve forgotten. There’s also a narry only fic rec blog called @thenarrystore that posts every day so that’s a good place to find more!

#handleidreaper #answered #fic rec #narry fic rec #narry

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mf-despair-queen · 6 years

Text

Where Have You Been All My Life? - Part 1 - Dad!Stiles Stilinski

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Pairing: Dad!Stiles Stilinski/Reader AU

Word Count: 9,945

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Oral (Both Receiving), Public Oral, Edging, Orgasm Denial (kind of?)

Notes: Part 1 of 2 for Dad!Stiles. Because I legit am sitting at a total of 17.5K and have more to write. Sooooooo you get two parts. If you know the movie Bad Moms, that is the inspiration for this. So, it might have like... hints of cheating but they are getting divorced. So, I think we good?

@thelittlestkitsune and @savage-stilinski are the best and kept me company while I wrote. And they proofread while they went for me. Because I make lots of mistakes!

Part 2

You sat at the kitchen bar, the mug of coffee in the yours spewing wisps of steam from the brown liquid. Your eyes stared into the contents, watching the ripples from the small movements. Your fingers ran along the ceramic, unable to focus on any one particular thing.

All you could remember were the events of the night before.

“You’re serious right now?” you growled at the man following your every step, your voice low to keep from waking your daughter.

“I don’t see the big issue,” he claimed, fixing the band on his sweatpants. “Masturbation is a very healthy thing for guys. And it’s not like you haven’t seen me masturbate before!”

“Yeah, but not to some chick named Cheryl on the internet!” You seethed, placing the laundry basket on the floor of your shared bedroom.

“It’s really not that big a deal, honey,” he groaned, ruffling his hair.

You sighed, picking up a few pieces of loose clothing from the floor before turning to him. “How long?”

He made a face, his nose scrunching as he attempted to stutter out words. “Well, you know… just. It’s not that big a deal. Like, seriously. Just… time is very subjective you know. It hasn’t been that long.”

“The truth please.”

“A little over four months.” Your mouth fell open at the revelation that this had gone unseen under your nose for so long. All those nights that your husband disappeared into his office, he had been online with this chick some two thousand miles away.

“Four months?”

“Yes, but I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong, honey. I’m just masturbating with her. I haven’t touched her or anything. How could this be cheating? It’s just like porn!”

You threw the clothes in your hand in the basket, massaging your temples. “Maybe because you are going behind my back to masturbate with some woman personally? It’s not like porn because you are interacting with this same chick multiple times. You have been seeing her behind my back, not just watching videos of her.” You pursed your lips, tongue darting out to wet them. “Do you have feelings for her?”

“Well, you know, honey. It’s hard not to develop some feelings when masturbating together for so long.”

“Just answer the question!” You hollered, biting your lip immediately after.

The man sighed, nodding slowly. “Yes, I do. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings for you too, honey. How could I live without you or your lasagna?”

A palpable silence formed between you, the air so thick that it could be cut with a knife. If someone dropped a pin across town, you would probably hear it. The man before you opened his mouth to say more, but you cut him off. “Get out.”

His brow furrowed at your words. “What?”

“I said get out of my house.”

“You can’t just kick me out of my house like that, Y/N. That isn’t fair. I’ve done nothing wrong! You can’t kick me out because I was masturbating with some awesome chick online because you’re the cause of this! We haven’t had sex in how long? Or giving me a blowjob even?”

“Three years, and for good reason obviously. You’re a fucking asshole. Maybe I would be more willing to be intimate if you tried. I do everything around here and do I ever get something in return? Nope. I think not,” you told him, throwing a shirt at his head. “And I can kick you out. The house is in my name. So, it’s technically mine.”

“You’re seriously doing this right now?” He grumbled, sliding the shirt on his head. “Can’t we just fuck and make up?”

“Oh my God. Just please, get out, Joe.”

Your husband rolled his eyes, mumbling under his breath, “So unfair,” before he left, slamming the door on the way out. You peeked out the window to watch his car back from the driveway, tires screeching as he barreled down the street. The second he rounded the corner at the end of the road, your body collapsed, tears dripping from your eyes, landing on the carpet beneath you.

“How did it come to this?” You asked yourself, finally lifting the mug to your lips, taking a long sip. The beverage had gone luke warm as you had lost yourself in your thoughts, the liquid rushing down your throat doing anything but warm your soul. You left out another sigh, refusing to cry more.

“Morning, mommy,” you daughter, Julia, greeted with a yawn, stumbling into the kitchen dressed and ready for school. She rubbed at her tired eyes, her glasses pushed up onto her forehead.

“Morning, sweetheart,” you hummed, wrapping your arm around the eight-year-old girl as she drifted to your side. She struggled to push herself onto the barstool, pulling her plate of food that you made her towards her small frame. As she munched on a piece of bacon, you pushed some of her hair from her face, giving her a smile. “Are you ready for your first t-ball practice after school?”

She nodded, almost waking up entirely at the mention of it. “Yes! Me and Cici are going to dominate the team!”

“Dominate, eh?” You laughed. “Have you been reading the dictionary before bed?”

“Maybe,” she giggled.

“You’re a dork,” you told her. Your smile fell, the lump in your throat growing. “I have to tell you something, baby.”

Her eyes drifted to yours, tilting her head in question. “What?”

“Your daddy had to go away on a business trip,” you told her, turning to look back at your cold cup of coffee. “There’s no telling how long he will be gone. So, we will make the best of things, just the two of us. Alright?”

“Whatever you say, mommy,” she said, biting at her bacon once more.

As you trudged out the door and into the car to take the young girl to school, you sighed. You hated lying to her, but you didn’t want to see the look on her face if she knew her parents would be getting divorced most likely. You knew it would break her little heart and that was the last thing she needed right now.

You parked along the curb in front of the school, rounding the car to help the young girl out. You handed her the Marvel backpack she insisted on having with the matching lunch box, giving her a short hug. “Did you need me to walk you in?”

“No, I can do it,” she reassured.

“Alright, baby,” you said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I will be waiting out here to pick you up for your practice. Have a good day at school, love bug.”

“Don’t be embarrassing, mommy,” she laughed, kissing your cheek. “I love you.”

She sauntered off, catching up with a few of her friends on the way in. You gave a short wave in response, shaking your head. “They grow up so fast.”

“Hey pretty lady,” your friend, Lau, said, walking over with her arms crossed over her chest. Her gorgeous red locks bounced with her step, he backside pressed to your car as she leant beside you. “You see down this morning. What’s wrong, sugarplum?”

“Long story,” you hummed. “Where are your boys?”

“Stu is walking Luke into school. They couldn’t stop talking about the new Star Wars that is in theaters. They saw it for the third time last night.”

“They are nerds. I swear,” you laughed. You tilted your head, finding the third member of your female trio waving off her son, Stephen, as he walked into the school. “There’s Camile. Cami! Over here!”

Her eyes lit up as she rushed over to you both, her curly hair pulled back into a bun to keep it out of her face. “Good morning! How is everyone today?”

You opened your mouth to answer but was cut off by Lau. “I’m great, but someone amongst us is keeping secrets.” Both of their eyes fell to you, the frown on your face growing. “Come on. Spill. What’s going on?”

“Can we not do this here please?” You asked.

“Fine. How about over brunch? For once, we all have today off,” Camile proposed. “We have free time till after the kids get out of school.”

“Yeah. That works,” you told them.

Lau’s eyes narrowed on something behind you, her lips curling into a sly grin. “Don’t look now, but here comes the hot widower.” You and Camile turned to see what she meant, your eyes widening at the sight.

Stiles Stilinski was walking down the street, sunglass hanging from his white undershirt. The red plaid shirt he wore blew in the breeze, his ruffled, messy hair swaying with each step forward he took. His signature smile lit up the air around him. The small black backpack hung from his shoulder, the familiar imprint of Star Wars on the front. His hand was grasped tightly around his daughter’s hand, her smile and eyes matching that of her father. In his other hand rested on the back of the carrier he wore with the barely six month old baby in it, his tiny hands holding onto Stiles’ shirt.

You let out an inaudible sigh as you watched the man. You had such brief interactions with him, and you knew it was wrong to hold a tiny crush on him. You had been good friends with his late wife before she passed away shortly after giving birth to their son. It probably didn’t help either that his daughter was Julia’s best friend. But since the second he introduced himself, you couldn’t stop the small blush that would form on your cheeks or the butterflies that fluttered inside you from the short words you shared with each other. He was a caring, spastic young man that had many cruel things happen in his life, but he never stopped smiling. You tried your best to push the feelings down, but they always seemed to resurface more than ever whenever he walked by.

“Don’t look now, but he’s coming over here,” Camile whispered. Once the words left her mouth, your eyes widened, breath quickening. You were afraid to know what you would feel for the single man not that your husband wasn’t in the picture. “He’s right there, guys.”

“Good morning, ladies,” Stiles greeted as he stopped in front of you all, his eyes running over each form before stopping on you. “I was hoping to catch you this morning, Y/N.”

“Me?” You asked, slightly dumbfounded.

“Yeah. Cici had a question for you,” he chuckled, looking down at the brunette girl. The girl slid slightly behind her father, her honey eyes staring up at you. “Come on, honey. Y/N won’t bite. You know that.”

You smiled at the small girl, crouching to her level. “What did you need, sweetie?”

She opened her mouth once before closing it, her brow furrowing. “I was wondering if you could take me to t-ball practice after school. Daddy has to take Ben to the doctor and can’t pick me up.”

“Of course, sweetie. I would love to help you out. I can’t deny you and Julia your practice,” you told her. She gave a shy smile, mumbling a small thanks. You stood up to face Stiles, his face relieved. “Do you have her stuff?”

Stiles blinked for a second, gaping like a fish a few times before his neck and face turned a bright red. “I think I forgot it on the table. Shit.”

“Language, daddy.”

“I meant shoot. This is just perfect.”

“It’s fine, Stiles,” you laughed. “I’m off work today. And we were just planning to get brunch. So maybe I can swing by and grab her stuff before I head out with the girls.”

“That would be perfect actually,” he said, relaxing slightly. “I’m sorry. I messed this up so bad.”

“It’s fine. Accidents happen, Stilinski,” you grinned. “I will meet you back at your house in less than a half hour?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” he grinned.

“Awesome,” you said in return, looking back at at the young girl clasping her dad’s hand and the baby asleep against his chest. “They’re adorable, Stiles. You know that right?”

“Yeah,” he smiled sadly. “But they definitely get my genes. I’m just an awkward turtle.”

“Well, I think you’re perfectly handsome as well,” you stated quickly, flushing once you said it. Lau and Camile were stifling their laughs behind you, knowing how flustered you were getting. “I-I mean…”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he chuckled. Raising one hand, he turned to walk off. “I will see you in a bit.”

When he was out of earshot, the two girls squealed in each of your ears, shaking you back and forth. “You totally like him,” Camile said.

“And he likes you,” Lau mentioned afterwards. “But what about Joe?”

You bit at your lip, pulling your keys from your pocket. “That’s what I will tell you guys about at brunch. Meet at the usual?”

“Diego’s Cafe?” Camile offered. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. They have the best mimosas!”

“Oh yeah they do! But I will see you guys there. Let me drop off Stu first,” she mentioned as the darked haired man walked over, his eyes glued to his phone, probably on some email from his tech company. Lau waved as she took her husband’s hand, walking off.

“Don’t take too long with Stiles,” Camile hinted, nudging your side once before walking back to her car.You sighed, getting into your own car, leaning back in the seat in thought. You ran a hand through your hair once, letting out a long sigh before finally starting the engine and driving off.

You wound up at Stiles’ house shortly after he arrived, the man standing at his door unlocking it. He stopped when he heard your engine die, his stoic face lighting up. “Hey, Y/N! Nice timing,” he joked, pushing the door open as you walked up. “Come on in.”

You followed the man into his house, watching him kick off his shoes in the doorway. His police badge sat on the table next to his keys, slightly dusty from his time off work to get his life in order. You followed the man silently further into the house. “It’s been awhile,” you mumbled to yourself.

“It has,” he responded, catching you off guard. “You haven’t been over since she passed away. And I don’t blame you at all.”

“Stiles,” you frowned.

“It’s fine. Really it is,” he reassured you. “You were her friend. With her gone, you had no reason to come by except to pick up or drop off Julia for playdates with Cici.” He gave a gentle smile. “We make do. I promise.”

“I should have checked up on you more though,” you frowned.

“Don’t start that now,” he playfully glared. The baby against his chest let out a smile whimper before breaking into full tears, squirming in his father’s arms. Stiles’ face fell, looking down at the boy. “Aw, don’t cry Ben. No crying.”

“Here, let me,” you whispered, walking over and lifting the small boy from the carrier. Your fingers brushed against Stiles’ chest as you took the baby, his pecs clenching from the slight touch. You cradled the baby in your arms, rocking and bouncing him to ease his whimpers. “Go ahead and grab Cici’s stuff and I will take care of this little one.”

“Are you sure?” He asked hesitantly.

“I’m a mom, Stiles. I can take care of a baby,” you laughed. He let out a small laugh before removing the carrier from his chest and wandering around the house in search of his daughter’s stuff. You watched the spastic man run through the house, groaning when he couldn’t find the bag of stuff. The baby in your arms cried for a while before finally settling down, his honey eyes staring up at you. His tiny hand kept grabbing at your blouse, tugging at it for attention. You giggled at his actions, cooing at him. “What do you think you’re doing, cutie pie?”

“He likes you,” Stiles laughed when he walked back into the living room with a bag in hand. “You’re lucky. He actually hates like… everyone but me and my family.”

“Well, I feel special then,” you laughed, lifting the baby in the air. “Do you like me, Benny? Am I your friend now?” The baby let out a squealing laugh, clapping his hands together. “You’re such a good boy for your daddy, aren’t you?”

“He thinks,” Stiles laughed, taking the baby from you and placing him in his playpen. “I’m sure he will grow up to have my mischievous side.”

“Lord help us all,” you laughed at him. “You really are a great dad, Stiles.”

“I can always hope that’s true,” he sighed, picking up a small lamb stuffed animal and waving it for his son to see. “I always feel like I’m… messing up. Not having Abigail around has really been hard. Cici doesn’t have a mom anymore and I know she puts on a front to make it seem like it doesn’t bother her. And Ben won’t ever know his mom. All he will know is his lame ass dad.”

“Stiles,” you frowned, pulling him from the playpen. You wrapped your arms around his waist, placing your head on his chest. His chin rested on your head, his leanly muscular arms wrapping around your body. His eyes were glassy with unshed tears, short sniffles resounding around the room. “You’re doing great. Cici is a strong girl and she will grow up to be a fine young woman. It’ll be hard on her but she has you there to support everything she does. And you aren’t a lame ass dad. You are a cool dad and Ben will know that growing up because you will do everything in your power to be there for him.”

Stiles chuckled, his chest rumbling with the noise. “How do you do that?” He asked.

“Do what?”

“Say the right things to cheer me up,” he laughed. “You did it too after Abi passed. You said that she would always be watching over us, protecting us. And it helped. A lot.” He sighed, his arms squeezing you tighter. “Your husband sure is a lucky man.”

You frown wasn’t visible luckily and you had to fight to keep your voice from cracking. “Yeah…”

He pulled away, wiping at his eyes a few times before digging his phone from his dark jeans. “You know, I don’t think I have your number. Abi was always the one to get a hold of you for things so I never thought to get it. It might be helpful to have it so I can get in touch with you whenever we need to.”

“Oh, right,” you said, taking his phone. You smiled at the picture of him and his daughter as his lock screen, swiping to unlock it. The home screen was of Ben resting on his chest, the man looking down lovingly at his child. It was the most adorable thing in the world. Typing in your number, you sent yourself a quick message to get his number before handing him back the device. “I will take care of Cici with the practice. Just text me if you need anything.”

“I will,” he said, licking his lips. His forehead scrunched slightly, nibbling on his lip in thought. “Would um… would your husband get mad if I texted you more often maybe? Just as friends of course! I’m not looking to ruin your marriage, I swear. Just… a friend would be nice to help get through this single parent stuff.”

You gaped at him before quickly shaking your head. “No! I mean… no, he wouldn’t care. Joe grew up with a single parent, so I’m sure he would understand wanting someone there just to talk to. It’s not an easy situation.” You didn’t feel right spilling what had happened the night before, so lying seemed to be the best answer. “I know you wouldn’t intentionally ruin my marriage, Stiles. But just know that I am always here for you.”

“I appreciate that,” he said, handing you the bag. “I’m glad I have you as a friend.”

Friend. The word stung slightly, and you weren’t sure if it was because of your crush on the man that seemed to grow like a parasite the longer you stood in his presence or because of the potential divorce you were facing. “Yeah. Friends.” You turned to look down at the small child sitting on the pen looking up at you. You wiggled your fingers at him, listening to his cute laughter. “Bye bye, Benny. I will see you around, alright?”

Stiles walked you to the door, opening it for you like a gentleman. “Thanks again. For everything.”

“Stop thanking me. I’m happy to help.”

“Right,” he muttered. He hesitated for a second before leaning forward, placing his soft lips to your cheek. His cheeks were red when he backed away. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah. Bye Stiles,” you managed to get out, slipping out the door. You rushed across his lawn to your car, missing the click of the door behind you. Throwing yourself in the car, your hands covered your face, letting out a small squeal. “Oh my god, did that just happen?”

You sipped at the mimosa, Camile and Lau ordering their meals. When the waiter walked off, they turned towards you. “Spill, girly,” Lau said.

You twirled the glass in your hand, watching the yellow-orange liquid swish in the glass. “How hard is it to raise Stephen by yourself for the most part, Cami?”

Camile’s face scrunched up, leaning her elbow on the table. “I don’t know. He’s a good kid. And he gets that his dad works a hard job and can’t be around very often. There are times that he’s difficult, but we make it work. And when Mitch is around, he makes the time to spend time with his son. Sure, it’s not ideal, but it’s fine I guess. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” you mumbled.

“You’re so full of shit,” Lau mumbled. “What did Joe do?”

“What makes you think he did something?” You asked, both girls giving you an unimpressed look. You let out a loud groan, massaging your face. “Last night, I walked into his office while I was cleaning to find him masturbating with some chick online. And apparently it’s been going on for like four months, if he told me the truth. But he apparently he has feelings for her and shit. And it’s just been a wreck because he doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong.”

“Well, fuck him,” Camile said.

“Did he say why he did it?” Lau asked.

“He said it was my fault because we haven’t had sex in three years. But how is it my fault when I do everything for us? Can he blame me for being tired at the end of the day?”

“No,” Lau said. “He can’t give you shit for that. He should be there to support you. And just because you aren’t having sex doesn’t mean he should go wank to some rando online.”

“Agreed,” Camile said. “It’s not your fault that he couldn’t keep it in his pants.” She sipped her drink before continuing. “But what’s going to happen between you guys?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed. “I kicked him out and haven’t heard from him since. But I’m pretty sure this is the end between us. I’m pretty sure out marriage has been dead for a while now. The passion we had when we first got together just isn’t there. And I can only do so much to keep that passion alive when he isn’t reciprocating it. We’ve tried therapy and it helps a little, but the changes never seem to stick.”

“Maybe it’s time to move on,” Lau said, nudging you side. You gave her a confused look only for Camile to finish for her.

“Stiles, babe. He totally has the hots for you.”

“No, he doesn’t,” you blushed. “And even if he does, I can’t make a move right now. I’m still married technically and he’s still coming out of Abs passing away. We have our kids to worry about. I haven’t even told Julia about what happened since I don’t know what’s going to happen. It would end badly for us both.”

“You don’t have to rush into anything,” Camile said. “And you said yourself that it’s probably over anyway. So, things can always happen. It wouldn’t hurt to start talking to him at least.”

“And think of it this way,” Lau said. “He’s hot. There’s no down side here.”

“Seriously?” You laughed. The girls laughed with you, shaking their heads. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I got his phone number earlier, huh?”

Cue loud screeches and hugging in the middle of the cafe, the waiters giving you all weird looks.

You sat on your bed, staring at your closet. Julia was hanging out with Stephen and Luke, the trio of children having a Marvel vs DC marathon. Stuart and Mitch agreed to watch the rascals so the girls could take you out to clear your mind. When you had called them that morning in tears, a stack of divorce papers on your lap, they deemed it necessary to take you out. You knew they would be over soon to head to the bar, but you weren’t sure what to wear.

Something mom-ish? You asked yourself, moving to pick up a rose pink dress, holding it to your body. You made a disgusted face at yourself, tossing the dress aside. Maybe just something comfy? You pushed through the rack of clothes, unable to find anything. “I literally have nothing.”

“Sure you do,” Lau said, pushing the door open, the skin-tight green dress clinging to her frame. The spare key to your house swung on her finger a few times, grinning widely. “No need to fear. The cavalry's here!”

Camile pushed her aside, flopping back on the bed. Her purple tank top hugger her torso, black skinny jeans covering her legs with a pair of black heels on her feet. “You have got to own something sexy. I know we have bought you sexy stuff before.”

“Yeah, but Joe never liked me wearing them,” you groaned. “Either he made me toss things he didn’t like or I outgrew them when I had Julia.”

“Pssh. There is bound to be something in this closet. Move aside and let the master work! You worry about getting undressed so as soon as I find the perfect thing, you can put it on,” Lau said, moving you to dig through the hung up clothes. She pushed each article aside, her eyes lighting up at the item she found hidden in the back of the closet. “I see something tiny and black and honestly, me likey!”

“Oh god, no!” You hollered at her, tossing your shirt in the bin and trudging over to your friend in just your bra. That was like… my Halloween costume before I was pregnant! I wouldn’t be able to fit in that even if I tried.”

“Please,” Camile groaned. “You look even better now than your did when we were younger. Pregnancy did you good. You’re that one percent.”

“Lies,” you grumbled at her. “I put on so much weight after I had Julia.” The girls sent you short glares. “Fine! I will try it on! But it won’t fit! Now should I wear it to the bar.”

“Please,” Lau laughed. “You will look bomb as fuck. Plus, all girls should own a lbd.”

“Lbd?” You questioned.

“Little black dress! Get with the times and get dressed. The uber will be here in two minutes,” Camile joked.

You quickly threw on the black dress, smoothing out the fabric as much as you could. The dress ended at your mid thigh, the skirt flaring out. The thin straps rested upon your shoulders, the bodice hugging your torso perfectly. You were surprised you slid into the fabric as easy as you did. You spun a few times in front of the mirror, your hands resting on your stomach a bit. “I look horrible.”

“Are you mental?” Lau asked. “You look brilliant.”

“All the guys will want a piece of that ass,” Camile followed.

“I’m not looking for a hook up though,” you bluntly stated.

“Unless it was Stiles,” Camile continued, Stiles’ name coming out in a sing-song tone.

“No,” you grumbled.

“You’re the one that has been texting him nonstop for the past two weeks!” She belted. And she wasn’t lying. Two weeks without your husband meant two weeks that you were able to text the single man of your dreams. They weren’t flirty texts - or at least, you didn’t think they were. Just a bunch of ‘hey’, ‘how you doing?’, and random small conversations you would break into. There would be some small times that he would call you up during the day, asking if you’d like to come over for lunch and some time with baby Ben, which you never failed to accept instantly.

Needless to say, you were falling hard for the man.

“And you noticed too that you’ve stopped wearing your wedding ring,” Lau pointed out. You glanced down at your right hand, your finger bare of the diamond ring. “I know you just got the divorce papers today, but you stopped wearing it a while ago.”

“That’s not because of anything in particular,” you told them. “It just didn’t feel right to wear anymore.”

“Well, that’s nothing to worry about now,” Camile huffed, jumping off the bed. “Uber. Now. Drinks. Now. Drunk dancing. Now. This is the only time we don’t have the kids so let’s use the opportunity while we can.”

“Amen sista!” Lau laughed, pulling everyone out of the house, you fumbling to put your heels on on the way out the door.

You arrived at a local bar not thirty minutes later, the three of you making your way instantly to the bar. Lau ordered a few rounds of shots as well at martinis for everyone. Shoving a shot in everyone’s direction, she held hers up to the dim light.

“To new starts!” she cheered. You and Camile laughed, holding yours up as well. With a echoed cheer, you all downed the bitter liquid, shaking your head at the taste. “One more!”

“You’re going to kill me tonight,” you groaned.

“You love us,” Camile grinned, handing you the shot glass.

Drink after drink was washed down your throat, the girls flooding your system with multiple varieties of alcoholic substance. Your mind was buzzed before you knew what hit you, laughter befalling your lips at the simplest things. You dragged the girls to the dance floor to dance to a few songs before returning to your spot at the bar, the bartender already placing new drinks down for you. You silently were thankful at that time that Camile’s husband, Mitch, was wealthy with the government.

And to your surprise, multiple guys had walked up to you, attempting to make conversation before wandering away when you showed zero interest. Both of your friends nudged your sides, telling you how the guys were flirting, but you didn’t care to listen.

The guys attempting to talk to you weren’t anything compared to the one on your mind, even in this fuzzy state.

“Ugh,” you groaned, leaning on the bar. “I forgot how it feels to go out and enjoy a night to myself.”

“I know,” Lau groaned happily. “It’s been so long since we’ve been able to get away from the kids. And you had it worse than us. Joe never gave two shits if you could get away. You have done everything for Julia. So for once, it’s nice that you could get out.”

“Have you told her yet?” Camile asked.

“No,” you replied, circling your finger on the rim of the martini glass. “I really should though. But how do you tell your daughter that your parents are getting divorced?”

“It’s probably best to just tell her,” Lau told you. “But, I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

“I hope.”

You felt a tap on your shoulder, turning slightly in your seat to look at the person interrupting your girl time. Your eyes met the familiar honey ones you had come to adore over the weeks, our heart jumping in your chest. “Hey Y/N. I thought that was you.”

“Stiles! Hey,” you started, sliding off the seat to give him a proper hug. “What are you… what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be home with your kids?”

“Hey! I’m allowed to get out once in a while!” he laughed. “My stepmom took the kids for the night. She likes to take them from me and spoil them. I will get them back from her in the morning and Cici will probably be hyped up on sugar or something, having not slept. Ben might be alright. But enough about me. What about you? What brings you out tonight?”

“Oh you know,” you mumbled, turning to Lau and Camile who were giving you small thumbs ups. “Just having a well deserved girl’s night.”

“Wow, cool. So your husband is at home with Julia? That’s nice to see for once. I never see him around when Julia is doing practice or school activities. Always you,” he said. “You deserve to get out for the night.”

“Yeah,” you muttered, licking your lips. “Actually, he’s um…” you paused for a second, a lump in your throat. For two weeks, you hadn’t said a word. But the papers on your kitchen table egged on in your mind and the words slipped out anyway. “He’s not really in the picture anymore.”

“Oh my God,” Stiles frowned, his hand resting on your arm. “Wow. I didn’t even know. I’m so sorry.” He rubbed his face a bit, his chin neatly shaven. “I don’t even know where to start or what to say. Are you alright?”

“It’s been hard but I’m surviving,” you told him. “I can’t say I haven’t been happier since he left but the divorce papers on my table kind of hit home this morning.”

“I’m so sorry. How long has he been gone?”

You drummed your fingers on the bar a few times before answering. “Two weeks.”

“But we…”

“Yeah,” you hummed. “I’m sorry I never mentioned it. “I thought it would be weird if I mentioned that I had just caught my husband cheating on me, kicked him out and was potentially getting a divorce. Now that I have the papers, I guess it’s easier to admit.”

“Aw, Y/N. You don’t need to apologize at all. I just wish I knew sooner so I could help you through it more. You’ve been here lately helping me with my own problems but you’ve had yours. I feel like a shitty person for not helping more.” He bit his lip slightly, sideways glancing at the bar. “But, I am glad I ran into you tonight. Can I buy you a drink maybe? And maybe we can chat for a bit?”

“Well, I mean…” you glanced back at the girls who were sliding off their chairs.

“We were just going for a dance!” Camile said. “We’ll see you in a bit!”

“It was nice seeing you Stiles!” Lau laughed, the two girls scampering away quickly. You glared after them, bitterly thinking, Those bastards.

Stiles ordered you both drinks, the pair of you moving to a small couch in the corner to chat. He sipped at his beer a bit before leaning back into the plush couch, eying your form. “So, did I mention that you look amazing tonight?”

You blushed, looking down at the drink in your hand. “I don’t look that good.”

“Seriously?” he laughed. “You look amazing, Y/N. It’s different than your normal outfits but you look beautiful.”

“Well, thanks,” you said, tucking hair behind your ear.

Stiles chuckled at your flushed face, placing his beer on the table. “So, can I give a little confession?”

“Of course,” you hummed.

“Alright. Don’t freak out on me,” he joked. “I was hanging out with Stuart the one day and we were chatting about our kids and Star Wars because surprisingly, they all have Star Wars related names.”

You cut him off before he could continue. “No way. I knew that Luke was because Lau was pissed when Stuart named him Luke just so he could say ‘Luke, I am your father,” even if that’s not the right quote. But your babies? Really?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Liar. You’re a filthy liar.”

“I am not!” He said. “Ben’s name is Ben Kenobi Stilinski. I know Abi would have hated it but I has that perfect ring to it. And he already has it better than I did growing up. Ben Kenobi is better than being cursed with a name like mine. Unpronounceable and misspelled way too often.”

“Really? I knew Stiles was a nickname, but I didn’t know it was that bad for you,” you hummed. “I’m sure you’re over exaggerating.”

“You try living with the name Mieczyslaw Stilinski then,” he laughed. Your nose scrunched, tongue sticking out slightly.

“Ok, I lied. That’s bad,” you grimaced jokingly. Stiles shoved your arm, shaking his head. “What about Cici then? As far as I’m away, there are no Cici’s in Star Wars.”

“Her middle name, actually,” he laughed. His face fell for a second as he glanced up at the ceiling. “Did you know Cici is just a nickname? Her middle name would have been her first name if I didn’t propose the name I did.” Your head tilted in question. “We named her after my mom. My mom passed away when I was eight, so it seemed like a perfect homage to her. So her full name is Claudia Leia Stilinski.”

“That’s beautiful,” you muttered in awe, the name ringing through your ears.

“It really is. But she chose to go by Cici for short because she sometimes hates the fact that she will never get to meet her grandma outside of the cemetery.”

“Wow,” you said, slightly wiping at your eyes to avoid ruining your makeup. “That’s rough. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. She decided this when she was three and it kind of just stuck. She’s gotten better over the years. She used to hate going to visit grandma and now she’s always willing because she can share so many things with her and mommy.”

“Cici really is a strong girl,” you told him.

“I got lucky,” he laughed. “Enough about that. Back to my confession!” he readjusted in his seat, sliding a bit closer to your side. “So, as we were talking, I may have asked a bit about you. This was just after we started talking more and I was trying to get a little insight on how to actually approach you. I didn’t want to seem weird like I normally am.”

“You asked about me?” you repeated, dumbfounded.

Stiles chuckled, running his hand through his hair. “Well, yeah. That’s where the confession comes in.” He took a deep breath, nose flaring slightly. “I’ve always kind of had a thing for you.”

“What?!” You hollered, breaking into a laugh.

“Oh, come on! I thought you knew that!” Stiles chuckled. “Of all of the moms at the school, you are my favorite. Even when I was with Abi, I hate to say it, I had the tiniest crush on you.”

“No way.”

“Yes!” he chuckled. “You do so much for your daughter and Cici and even Luke and Stephen. I’ve seen you do everything for them. You support them. You don’t force them to do anything. It’s always Julia’s decision to do what she does like the T-ball team or that time she decided to take up piano?”

“Oh God,” you grumbled, hiding your face in your hands. “I remember that!”

“Yeah. But that was her call.” He licked his lips, leaning forward onto his knees. “I think the best thing is that you raised her right. She’s such a great kid. She’s nice and polite. And I can say that because she’s my daughter’s best friend. I am harder on that aspect because I want good kids around Cici. I don’t have to worry with Julia. And you know, you make me look bad.”

“What?” you laughed. “Why?”

“Cici gives me so much shit about the lunches you make for Julia. Always asks why I can’t do that for her.” You both let out loud laughs, Stiles’ arm slinging onto the back of the couch behind you. “Why do you have to make my life harder, Y/N? You’re killing me. You’re tearing me apart!”

“Did you just reference The Room?” You laughed.

“Ugh, you are so perfect,” he sighed. “Marry me please.”

“Moving a bit fast, aren’t you, Stiles?” You asked, the alcohol in your system giving you a surge of confidence. His eyes flashed a bit as he looked down at you. “Shouldn’t we kiss before you try marrying me?”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, His eyes darkening slightly. “Maybe you’re right,” he mumbled. “But would that be alright? You’re still going through this divorce and I don’t want to rush you into anything.”

“You wouldn’t be rushing me if that’s what I want,” you told him, reaching out to run your fingers along his cheeks, tracing them along the constellation of moles on his jawline. “And let me just say, Stiles. What I want is you.”

“Well,” he muttered, leaning in until his lips were brushing yours slightly. “Let’s just take it slow then, shall we?”

With a short nod from you, Stiles smiled, leaning forward to connect your lips in a gentle kiss. His lips enveloped yours completely, his nose brushing yours as he pressed further against you. You allowed him to take control, your nails scraping lightly against his cheek. His own hand, large and veiny, moved to the back of your neck, threading through your locks. He used your neck to pull you closer, his lips dragging against yours as you shared tiny, open-mouth kisses.

He pulled away once for a short, ragged breath before delving in for more, stronger and sloppier than before. His tongue darted from between his lips to swipe at yours, slithering through a small gap in your lips. The tip of his tongue ran along yours, his throat swallowing the low moan you let out.your tongue attempted to play with his in return, though his always seemed to overpower it and remain in control.

His free hand moved down to your waist, giving it a short squeeze before moving to rest on your bare thigh. Your dress had ridden up to allow his fingers to press into your leg that had wrapped itself over his lap. Your lips never disconnected as your fingers slid along his jawline to the top of his shirt, playing with the hem of the black fabric.

Stiles pulled away to lick his hips, panting heavily. “Wow,” he huffed, his eyes fluttering open. Your own followed, neither of you realizing you had shut them in the midst of the pleasure. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for that.”

“I think I can guess,” you told him. “Because I’ve wanted that for awhile myself.”

“Really?” He asked. You gave him a smile and a nod, the man smiling wider. “Well, maybe it wouldn’t be bad to continue.”

“I’d be down for that.”

Your lips met in a short kiss, the touch teasing him for more. Stiles groaned slightly, his hand sliding up your dress a bit to your ass, squeeze it through your panties. You could feel his hard on through his jeans pressing against your leg, the throbbing running from him to you. “Can I confess something else?”

You blinked at him, pulling away slightly to look at him. “What?”

“It’s not so much of a coincidence that I showed up here while you were here,” he hummed. You continued to gaze at him confused. “You may have booty texted me saying that you had come to the bar for some drinks. And some… other things.”

You blinked in wonder before it clicked. You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “I think Lau was actually the one to booty text you off of my phone,” you admitted. “I lent it to her earlier because she left hers at home and she wanted to check on Stu. I didn’t think she’d sneak into my messages.”

“Oh,” he laughed. “That might make more sense then. Because what she sent… my god.”

You eyed him slightly, biting at your lip. “What exactly did she message you?”

Stiles’ eyes glinted with an overwhelming amount of mischief, almost enough to match his name. “Why don’t I show you?”

You found yourself pressed against the bathroom door minutes later, the man’s lips to yours in a fiery kiss, his fingers fumbling with the lock. Your legs wobbled in the heels and you were thankful that Stiles kept you upright, his body pressed firmly to yours. The second he got the lock in place, he was hiking up the dress to your waist, playing with the hem of your panties. Your hands attempted to undo his belt, but you were failing miserably in the blur of the kiss.

He pushed off the door, keeping you pressed to him as he swung around, dropping you on the closed toilet seat. “Are we really doing this?” You asked him, Stiles dropping to his knees between your legs. His teeth nipped at your bare stomach, inching closer to the black lace you wore.

“Are you against it?” he asked, tugging the top of your panties with his teeth, his eyes rolling up your body to meet yours. “We can stop if you’d prefer. You are still married after all. If this is too fast then we can stop.”

“I’m getting divorced and my husband is staying with the chick he masturbated with,” you hummed at him. “As far as I’m aware, I’m not married. In less than a week, I will no longer be his wife. This is just something from my wildest dreams.”

“Well, if you’re alright, let me show you a good time, baby,” he huskily said, pulling at the panties. Your response was simple: lifting your ass off of the toilet seat to allow him to remove the intruding lace. His nose flared with his deep breaths, your panties left in a pile on his side. The man pushed your legs apart, salivating at the picture perfect sight of your dripping pussy. “My god, it’s beautiful.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard that,” you told him, Stiles glancing up at you. “Joe never said those things. Hell, I don’t think he really ever gave me oral. Maybe when we were younger but I think he hated the way it looked.”

“Then he’s crazy,” Stiles grumbled, licking his finger to run it through his folds. He listened to you moan quietly, grinning to himself. “Because this is delectable. Who wouldn’t love this?”

“My ex-husband.”

“That’s why he’s your ex now,” Stiles hummed, leaning forward to run his tongue through your folds in place of his finger. Your eyes shut, head falling back at the sensational feeling of his tongue lapping at your core, the tip prodding at your entrance. You moans filled the bathroom, his fingers reaching forward to tangle in his tousled hair.

His tongue, after sliding through your folds a few times, found home in your core, swirling it in circles to gather every drop of arousal you were releasing. He was surprisingly deep with just his tongue, the man having the ability to hit spots you didn’t know felt good until now. “Holy shit,” you would moan at him, following any words released with his name.

He groaned in response to anything you uttered, his tongue speeding up against you. The faint slurp of his tongue and lips smothering your core was loud, the feeling just as intense. His eyes were focused up at your face as he assaulted you with the wet article in his mouth, watching your face contort into different pleasurable looks. Your fingers would tug at his hair, pulling him into you more as if to encourage him to go faster.

He pulled away from you for a brief second only to replace his missing tongue with two fingers immediately afterwards. The two fingers automatically curled directly into your g-spot, a near scream ripped from inside you. Your free hand gripped at the toilet, your legs wrapping around his back. The heels were digging into his back, but Stiles said nothing about it. He focused on the thrusting of his fingers, his nails scraping at every sensitive inch of your pussy, and his tongue pressing to your clit to flick at the swollen nub. Your mind was blanking quickly the more he thrust into you,,

“Holy shit, Stiles,” you moaned at him, the man not bothering to look at you this time. Your back arched off the back of the toilet, scraping at his scalp with your nails. His tongue continued to flick at your clit, drawing random shapes and letters that happened to spell his name along the way. His fingers spread your core wide whenever he pulled them from inside you, scissoring your entrance when he thrust back in deep to your sweet spot.

You knew you weren’t going to last much longer, the lack of orgasm in years building inside you. Stiles could feel it too, your walls hugging at his fingers the longer he thrust. He ceased licking your clit, his hot breath fanning over it as he spoke. “Cum for me, baby. If it feels good, let go. You deserve it.”

His words made you snap, his fingers coated in waves of juices seconds later, your walls holding him close. Your fingers in his hair tightened, pulling him closer unconsciously. Your body shook as the pleasure of your orgasm washed over you, a loud moan of his name slipping from your lips multiple times. His fingers slowed to ease you through the bliss you were feeling, smiling up at your the entire time.

As he pulled his fingers from your core and licked them clean, you were smiling. He carefully pulled you up from the seat, holding you up on shaky legs. “How was that?” He asked.

“”Probably one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had. And definitely the best oral I’ve had,” you admitted to him. Stiles smiled, placing a chaste kiss to your lips.

“I’m glad you think so. I was afraid I was out of practice,” he joked, finally releasing you when you were steady on your feet. “Let me get washed up and we should head back to the bar. Your friends might start to wonder why we disappeared.”

“Right,” you hummed at him, grabbing your panties from the floor. You heard the water running in the sink, Stiles washing his hands clean of your arousal. You watched him from the corner of your eye as you slid the moist lace onto your body, smoothing out the dress. Stiles eyes were shining in the overhead lights as you watched him, you mouth watering as you eyed his firm body.

Man does he look good. You told yourself. You watched his muscled bulge under his shirt, the black fabric hugging his biceps perfectly. The short sleeves he wore for once allowed you to see the veins that protruded from his arms, running down his forearm to his hands, equally as veiny. His dark jeans hugged his body as well, showing the tent that had formed from his own arousal. Every movement he made caused his shirt to ride up, giving you perfect view of the defined abs he had developed in his FBI training, something he had done before moving home and settling into the town police to be with his family. The six pack was covered by a trail of dark hair that ran straight into his pants, your mind only picturing what it led to. The band of his black boxer briefs poked from the top of his jeans, the familiar ‘Calvin Klein’ logo on the elastic.

You moved closer to him without realizing, Stiles placing a hand to his chest in shock when he turned to face you. “You scared the shit out of me,” he groaned. “What’s up, babe?”

“I want to return the favor,” you told him, fumbling with his belt once more, succeeded this time in unhooking the metal latch.

“Oh, Y/N. You don’t have to do that,” he tried to tell you, the crack in his voice deceiving him. He tried to back away, but his back hit the porcelain sink instead. You stepped in time with him, popping the button on his jeans and lowering the zipper. “Really, babe, you don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t have to,” you whispered, carefully dropping to your knees this time. You tugged his pants down, his boxer briefs stuck to the denim. His erection sprung free from its confines, almost smacking you in the face with how big and hard it was. Your jaw went slack at the sheer size of him, the length twitching in the open air. The tip was swollen and red, dribbles of precum seeping from the slit. Dark, curly hairs surrounded the base. “Holy… How is this possible?”

“How is what possible?” He asked.

“You’re so… huge. I’ve never seen something so big,” you rasped. Thinking aloud, you even told him, “I think you’re more than twice the size of Joe.”

“So you’ve never had good sex?” he quipped. “Never had a guy properly please you?”

“I’m starting to doubt my entire marriage,” you joked. You wrapped your hand around his shaft, stroking it slowly a few times. Stiles let out a throaty groan, gripping at the sink to keep himself upright. More precum seeped from the tip as your stroked him casually, your mouth watering at the sight. “Seriously doubting everything.”

“I think you’re going to make me doubt mine too,” Stiles grumbled. Your tongue ran over his tip, savoring the taste of him. The man above you let out a throaty moan, eyes growing hazy. “Abi was amazing but fuck. This is fantastic.”

You hummed quietly, wrapping your lips around him completely. Stiles let out a louder groan, moving his hand to thread his fingers through your hair. He watched you stroke his shaft, relishing in the feeling of your tongue swirling around head of his cock. Your hollowed cheeks made the feeling tight, your sucking powerful around him. His precum dripped onto your tongue, the taste giving you a subtle umami flavor.

With a single tug of your hair, you mouth bobbed along his length in unison with your hand, strong every inch of him in perfect rhythm. Your tongue swirled around his shaft, running along the pulsing vein on the underside of his shaft. Whenever you touched the vein, Stiles would moan loudly, his shaft twitching against your cheeks. Your hold around him tightened, drawing out every drop of precum you could.

“Fuck, this is the best blow job I’ve ever had,” Stiles gasped, following his words with a breathy moan of your name. He felt your lips curl up around know, knowing you were smiling at his confession. “Keep going baby.”

Your hand released his shaft, both arms wrapping around his form to grab ahold of his plump ass. Your nails dug into his skin, your head bobbing faster than before. The tip of his cock pressed into the back of your throat, an occasional gag released from you. Your nose buried into the dark hairs around the base, lovingly sucking at the entirety of his cock. His jaw tightened, lips puckering in his chase for his release.

“Keep going, baby. I’m so close,” he panted, the knot inside of him tightening, threatening to unravel any second. Your bobs sped up, sucking strengthening, tongue running over every inch of his shaft. His chest heaved for air. You knew he was closing in on his orgasm and you were ready to swallow every drop the man had inside him.

Until his phone started ringing.

Your bobs slowed to a stop, pulling away from his cock with a single string of saliva hanging from the tip. Stiles let out a frustrated groan, running his hands against his face and through his hair. “Seriously? A guy can’t get a blow job from a beautiful girl without being interrupted?”

You dug into his pocket on the floor, pulling out his phone. “It’s Melissa?” you stated questionably.

“What?’ he spoke up quickly. He grabbed the phone from your hand, swiping the green button and pressing the device to his ear. “Hey Melissa. Is everything ok?” It went silent as he listened to whoever was on the other line, his teeth gnawing on his lip. “Really? The one night I try to get away and he doesn’t want to sleep?” Silence again. “It’s fine. It’s not your fault. I will be there as soon as I can. Try another bottle and give him his Yoda and he might stop crying.” One last gap of silence. “I know. I love you too. Thanks, Melissa.”

He hung up the phone, groaning as he helped you up. “Stepmom?” you asked.

“Yeah. Apparently Ben is being fussy tonight since I’m not there. He’s never had issues going to sleep for Melissa before but he’s having one of those nights,” he said, fixing his pants. His frown was evident, his eyes sorrowful. “I’m sorry to cut this short.”

“It’s fine, Stiles,” you told him. “I know how it is when your baby calls. Benny needs you right now. Go to him.”

“Are you sure?” Stiles asked. You giggled at his concern, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

“Of course,” you confirmed. You helped fix his hair and his clothes, pressing yourself into his chest lightly. “Maybe, we can pick this up sometime.”

“I’d like that,” he said, cracking a smile. “A lot, actually. This was the best night I’ve had in awhile.” He cupped your face in his large hand, placing a lingering kiss to your lips. “Thank you for a great night, babe. I’ll text you.”

“Yeah,” you hummed, watching him slip out the door. You glanced in the mirror, fixing yourself before following after him, the man already gone from the bar. The smile on your face was evident regardless.

You made your way to Lau and Camile, the two girls sipping on some water. Camile eyes lit up, wrapping her arms around you once you sat down. “We want all of the details. And don’t even try to tell us nothing happened.”

“We saw the kiss,” Lau hummed. “We say the hand on your thigh that went to your ass. And we saw you guys sneak off.”

“Then ironically he leaves two minutes ago right before you came from that same direction.”

“You both screamed sex.”

“Spill,” both girls said in unison.

“We didn’t have sex,” you told them. The girls’ faces fell. “But I can’t say he’s bad at oral considering I just had the best orgasm in my life.” The two girls blinked before squealing, wrapping their arms around you in a tight hug.

This man is truly amazing. Where has he been all my life?

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