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finelinevogue · 3 years

Text

he’s so vogue

Description - you are the journalist for the new Harry Styles December Vogue Issue

A/N - how is everyone doing? hope you enjoy! if you have any requests please feel free to ask. love you all and have a lovely rest of the week!

warnings: swearing

[masterlist]

Being a journalist for Vogue was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

After 3 years of studying English Literature at Surrey University, you never thought, only a year after, you'd be working as an apprentice at Vogue UK. If it weren't for your Aunty, who worked in the fashion design section at Vogue HQ, then you'd no doubt still be a broke-ass, single, lonely student. Ok, lonely you still were but your job was so full-on that you didn't have time for a relationship.

Two years into your apprenticeship you were promoted to an official member of the team, and then another two years later you got promoted to team leader in your department of journalism, and editing; The Media - or as you like to call it - "The Celeb Goss". You were beyond happy with your job and found such passion in every article your wrote. Whether it be about a new celebrity romance or the collapse of one, you found a way to story-tell in such a meditated way that everyone loved your pieces.

That's why the Harry Styles had requested you to be the one to interview him.

Of course you'd written about A-list celebrities in the past, producing articles on pregnancy rumours, or engagements, or breakups, but you'd never met them before authoring an article. You'd met plenty of D-list celebrities who thought they were mega famous, but if you mentioned their names people would turn around and ask "who?".

This is why interviewing Harry Styles was a massive thing for you.

Not very often did you get to do work out in the field, especially in these covid infested days, but nevertheless it was your favourite part of the job. Getting to meet the people you were writing about was completely refreshing, allowing you to obtain a clearer outlook on which direction to take on your journal piece.

You were asked to go to Stonehenge, where the photoshoot was being filmed, as your office of interview. Even though you'd lived in the UK all your life, you'd never actually been to Stonehenge. It wasn't really on your bucket-list, but it was a pleasure to get to see it all the same.

Being the prepared interviewer you were, you'd prepared an array of questions that you were set on asking Harry. You'd never met him before, but after much googling and youtubing of him prior to meeting him today you would already be confident in saying he's the most brilliant man to ever exist. You were really nervous that you were going to screw this interview up and make a terrible mess in front of Harry Styles.

"Lisa! What if I accidentally say something I shouldn't?" You ran your stressed hands through your hair.

This whole morning had been frantic. It had started off by you waking up late, no thanks to Lisa, your best-friend and co-worker, pressing snooze on the alarm. You wanted to look professional today so you'd put on your best shirt - only to spill coffee down it ten minutes later. So now, you smelt of coffee and were wearing what was left in your wardrobe - and it wasn't much. The only things left clean were a pair of pink corduroy flares and some, pastel coloured, graphic t-shirt to go with it.

"You won't. Stop being so negative." Lisa rolled her eyes, probably fed up with the amount of winging she'd heard from you this morning - and you'd only been awake an hour.

"My outfit is hardly professional either." You huffed, pouring the rest of your, second, coffee down the drain.

"Well I think you look gorgeous." Lisa stated, whilst putting her breakfast bar wrapper in the bin.

You and Lisa were back and forth about you stressing, and such, for about half an hour before you had to leave. You had a great panic about losing your glasses too. You could see without them up close, but for long distance viewing and reading you were practically blind. You were taking Lisa's car, since she didn't think you were emotionally stable enough to drive. Lisa was the creative director on the set, and thank goodness she was so you could at least ramble to someone.

After a two hour drive up from London, you arrived at Stonehenge and it was freezing. Although the sun was out, it did nothing to keep your body heated. The journey up had been nice because you sat in your nicely heated car, chatting away with Lisa and blasting some Harry Styles out of the speaker. You'd made it through the first album, and the second one up to Canyon Moon before reaching your destination.

Upon arriving you could just about, without glasses, make out about 15 other cars, arranged at the bottom of a hill. There was an array of Audis and BMWs, a few Range Rovers, which you placed your bets on one was Harrys, and a green, vintage, Jaguar which was most likely belonging to the fashion editor or something. There was also a modern barn, perched at the foot of the hill, which was where Harry would be getting changed in to his various different outfits.

It took you a moment to register that Lisa had parked and was already clambering out of the car, making you look a little idiotic still blankly staring at the beautiful scenes in front, and around, of you.

But it was still bloody freezing.

You jogged a little to the boot and whipped out your white cardigan. Originally you'd thought that this would've been enough to keep you warm, but now you were starting to think otherwise.

The atmosphere here was amazing. People were rushing around left, right and centre loading, and unloading, various pieces of equipment and clothes. You caught sight of brightly coloured fabrics being carried to and from various places. There were the camera crew, and presumably director, all chatting amongst themselves. The smell of the very fresh air was so lush that you'd forgotten what it smelt like - especially after years in London.

You grabbed your bag from the boot, which had your notes, recording kit and laptop stuffed inside, before locking the car and following Lisa in to the barn.

It was lovely and warm inside - a completely different climate to than the outside. It was as if it was Bali inside and Antarctica outside. Better Bali than Antarctica though.

"Ok. Let's put our stuff down over here and then go find people we need to meet and such." Lisa instructed, you still too in awe of the place to fully comprehend what was going on.

You followed Lisa and you two ended up dropping off your stuff next to some other bags. You took a liking to the purse next to your stuff. Next to your bag, it made yours seem ancient - like it was worth nothing more than a penny. It was luscious and a beautiful baby blue colour. You softly ran your hands over it, finding satisfaction in how smooth and subtle it was.

"Hope you're not planning on stealing that, love." A manly voice appeared from behind you. You whipped around to see who's bag you'd been messing with, and it was just your luck that it was to be Harry Styles'. Of all the people's it could've been it had to be his.

Perfect.

He looked dashing. He was in black flares and his iconic 'But daddy i love him', t-shirt, along with a huge green anorak. His hair was prettily clipped back with a pink clip, presumably placed there to gave his curls greater volume. In his hand he had a pink toothbrush and you guessed he'd come back over to put it away in his bag - only to find you caressing it instead.

"Oh - no, no. Not at all. I - uh - I just thought it was beautiful." You stammered over your words, choosing them carefully to try and make you look less like an active criminal.

"Mhm." Harry nodded whilst looking you up and down, most likely judging why a peasant like you, in comparison to him, was touching his expensive property. "Well, I love your flares darlin'." Harry looked down at your trousers, his compliment making you blush a little.

"Thank you. That wasn't professional, and neither is my outfit, I know, and I apologise." You added, because you knew that if your boss knew you turned up today the way you did she would give you a right bollocking - and potentially even fire you.

"Never apologise for flares. You look amazing." Gemma perked up, making you feel more self conscious surrounded by all these other beautiful women. Gemma was in a slouchy, knitted, jumper and basic jeans - no doubt all from shops beyond your budget - and yet she looked like a model fit for the runway for Vogue.

"Okay, sorry." You apologised again, to which you, creepily, got the exact same, stern, look from the Styles siblings at the same time.

"My stylist, Harry, introduced me to big pants. He offered whether I wanted to try a pair of flares, and I was like, 'Flares? That's fucking crazy'!" Harry laughed as he told his story, earning a laugh out of you too. "Now they're my favourite item of clothing. Have a whole wardrobe dedicated to them."

"I wish he was joking." Gemma laughed at her brother and his flare obsession.

"Well you do look handsome in them, so I understand why." Your words rolls off your tongue before you could even comprehend what you were saying. Only after you finished your sentence did you completely intake what you'd just said.

"Good start." Lisa giggled to you, before turning to walk over to the coffee station. It was a help-yourself coffee bar and you knew that you were going to bed at least five cups to get over the last five minutes alone. You'd probably drain the station before letting anyone else have any.

"Oh god." You awkwardly mumbled, not daring to see how weirdly Harry would be looking at you, before walking off outside.

You had spent less than 10 minutes here and yet you'd never felt like a bigger clown. Joining the circus had never been so easy.

The outside wind hit you like a powerful leaf blower, and your hair blew around like crazy - most likely compiling into a birds nest on the top of your head.

Today was supposed to be the start of something great. Your hopes were set on a promotion from your written masterpiece, whilst enjoying the company of one of the most handsome, most lovely, most talented men of this century. Those hopes seemed a little too distant now. They seemed to mock you, as if to laugh at how you ever thought you were going to be any more successful. You'd completely, in more ways than one, made a fool of yourself in front of your interviewee, you were so underdressed, you were caught fondling his Gucci purse and you were still bloody cold.

It all felt too unprofessional for a job where professional was practically the driving force of the company.

You leaned against the barn, taking a deep breath to try and calm yourself. You were a master in over-thinking, but unfortunately that wasn't something you could add to your resumé. You let your eyes close and the other senses come alive for a few moments. The sounds of distant sheep and the smell of the cold wind were just two of the senses that allowed you to take a step back for a minute, and breathe.

"Thank you." A voice interrupted you from your attempt of quick meditation. You looked to your left and noticed Harry standing there, still in the same outfit as before.

"I'm sorry?" You asked confused, taking a step away from the barn to considerately pay more attention to him.

"Thank you - for saying I look handsome in flares." He repeated, smirking when he added the second part.

"Oh." Was all you could respond, feeling too embarrassed to take the conversation any further. "I should—" You pointed back to the barn, using it as an excuse to leave before yet screwed up anymore.

"Lisa told me you're the interviewer." Harry added, and it only occurred to you that you'd never actually introduced yourself. "So it's lovely to finally meet you Y/N." He stuck out his hand for your to shake, which you did willingly. His hands were a lot softer than you'd expected.

"Ho... You know my name?" You asked surprised.

"Of course. I also know you're the best writer in Vogue right now." He flattered you, which made you blush. You had a feeling he'd make you do that a lot today.

"Sure." You rolled your eyes as you spoke sarcastically.

"Well I chose you for a reason, didn't I?" He rhetorically asked.

"I mean.. I, well.. I don't know?" You stumbled over your words, making yourself look like a larger fool than you did already. Today was just turning out to be exactly what you didn't want it to be. "Sorry."

"Stop apologising. You do it too often." He told you, nearly making you apologise again but he gave you a jokingly stern look, as if he knew what you were going to say, and so you decided otherwise.

"Harry!" You both turned to see there was a man waving towards you both, but specifically to Harry. "Come get changed!" The same man shouted. Harry lifted his thumbs up, as if to signal he'd be there shortly.

Harry turned back to you and noticed you shiver a little.

"I'll start the interview after I come back from the dressing rooms, yeah?" Harry asked, taking off his, khaki green, trench-coat in the process. He handed it to you before you could oblige against it.

"Wait what?" You confusedly looked down at the coat and back up to Harry.

"Gives me a piece of mind knowing my interviewer isn't going to die of hypothermia before actually interviewing me." He smiled, obviously attempting to crack a joke and you have to admit you did laugh.

"Thank you." You say, before he runs off to where he's being called to.

••••

You'd been sat inside for a little while, waiting for Harry to come back. It gave you time to perfect your questions though.

Thinking up questions to ask Harry had been a challenging task, but one that you'd been fully invested in. You loved creating questions to ask him that were going to get to understand him on a deeper level. He was a very private man, and you completely respected that. If you crossed any boundaries, with the questions you'd ask, you would write them out of the interview. You liked to think you hadn't thought up a question that would make him feel uncomfortable though.

Pissing off Harry would be on another level of shame.

"Coat kept you warm?" Harrys voice disengaged you from your notebook.

"Hm?" You asked then replayed what he'd just asked in your mind. "Oh, yes. Thank you very much." You stood up, from where you'd been perched on the floor, picking up your nearly finished green tea as you did so.

Only when you stood up did it come to your realisation that Harry was now in costume. He was dressed in luxury. Each item looked like it cost more than your rent, and that was saddening. He looked rich and luxurious. To be quite honest, you were finding it rather difficult to take your eyes off him.

"You think the outfit is Vogue enough?" Harry asked, striking a few poses, which made you laugh. It was refreshing to see him act so relaxed and carefree, rather than a stuck-up-prick you knew some celebrities to be.

"Completely. I love it!" You exclaimed, appreciating the twirl he did for you.

He was wearing a kilt-like skirt and he looked beyond beautiful in it. Fuck toxic masculinity. Fuck being a manly man - like what does that even mean? Harry was embracing gender fluidity and experimenting the ways in which there was no definitive line between men and women's clothes anymore, and you thought it was marvellous. Revolutionary, for times as politically and socially troubled as these.

You started removing the coat in attempt to give it back to him, but he refrained you from doing so by holding on to your forearm.

"Keep it. I thought we could go outside to start the interview, so you'll be needing that." Harry told you, and you agreed - however reluctantly that was. You couldn't really complain though, because the coat did kept you warm and, what's better, it smelt divine - just like you'd imagine Harry to smell.

"Okay. Thank you. Do you want to go now?" You asked hesitantly, not knowing whether he was busy for someone else right now.

"Whenever you're ready, love." He answered, making you feel more relaxed. He was going at your pace and was making you feel settled - he was even more of a gentleman than people described him to be.

The two of you had walked around the backside of the barn in silence, enjoying the comfort of each other's presence. Well, at least you were. It was a blessing no one was back here. It was just you, Harry and the scenery that surrounded Stonehenge.

You approached a bench and you plopped yourself down on one end, whilst Harry sat on the other. He respected the fact that there was a pandemic going on, and didn't want to make you uncomfortable in any way. You still had your mask on, so Harry had taken that as you were very conscious about the virus - which he admired.

You pulled out your glasses, from the depths of one of the coat pockets, and placed them on your face, probably making yourself look even geekier than you already felt. Today was just one of those days you wished you had good eyes...

You opened your spent notebook, musty pages practically falling apart, and turned to the section of questions you needed for that interview. You were so nervous already and you hadn't even asked anything yet, all because of the previous interactions with Harry today. Your shaky hands shuffled through the pages and you cursed under your breath when you struggled to find what you needed.

"Shoot. Come on." You mumbled quietly under your breath, hoping it would make this terrible situation end faster. You mustn't have been as quiet as you thought though.

"Y/N." Harry's name broke through your clouded mind of self-disappointment.

You looked up at him to see him softly smiling at you, blowing all worries away from you away with the wind. "Yes?" You timidly asked, pushing your wind-swept hair out of glasses - where it'd gotten caught.

"You’re alright, love. You don't have to be professional around me, alright? We're just two strangers having a conversation, to get to know each other, okay?" If his words didn't calm you enough, the soothing sound of his husky voice certainly did.

"But that would mean you asking me stuff too?" You replied, confused at his implications of the phrasing 'getting to know each other'.

"Mhm." Harry nodded his head.

"Oh I don't know Mr Styles, i'm not a very interesting person." You answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, pushing your glasses back up the bridge of your nose from where they'd fallen.

"I refuse to believe that." Harry chuckled, making a quick smile appear on your face. "And please call me Harry. Just Harry." He begged, obviously finding it weird you calling him by his professional title. All you wanted, ever, was for your interviewee's to feel comfortable and safe, so if Harry wanted you to call him Harry then so be it.

"Ok, Harry," you sarcastically said, earning a shake of the head on his behalf, "you can ask me a few questions throughout the day." You told him, but you knew he'd struggle to find even two questions when he realises how bland you are.

"Does that mean you only get to ask me a few as well?" Harry smirked, already knowing the answer to that question. Unlike Harry, you had to write an article about today when you got home and so he knew that you'd have to dig as much dirt as possible from him.

"No, sorry. I don't particularly want to lose my job." You paused to look down at your notes, squinting a little as you did to see better. "Okay. Tell me your experience with corona virus."

"Sorry I didn't quite catch that, love." Harry apologised, leaning in slightly to see if he could hear you a second time around.

"Sorry." You looked down to fiddle with your fingers - a habit you'd undertaken when you're embarrassed. "Um..," you cleared your throat, "would you mind if I took off my mask?"

Your timid voice sent tingle down Harrys spine. He didn't think anyone could ever be this sweet. "Not at all, ‘course you can." He replied, again, wanting to make you feel as comfortable as possible.

You hesitantly took off your face mask, feeling like you were in some dramatic movie where they face revealed someone. You kind of liked having the mask on, because, for one, it kept you warm, and for two, you were a little self conscious with how you looked compared to all the other women here today. You shoved the mask in your pocket, with trembling fingers, before looking back down to your notes.

"Woah." You heard Harrys voice being mumbled under the wind. You eyes shot up to his and you noticed him staring right back at you.

"W-what? Is my acne playing up? I knew I should've—" You self-consciously run your hands over the areas you know you got acne. The masks really didn't help when it came to skin care.

"Hey, stop. No. You just... You look beautiful." Harry complimented you, and a roaring blush arose on to your cheeks. You'd never been called beautiful before, and so you were taking the compliment like such a 13-year old.

"Oh, uh, thank you." You awkwardly answered, not really having any other words come to mind in that moment. Harry chuckled under his breath, still keeping eyes on you for some reason.

"Would you mind repeating your last question, I didn't quite catch it?" Harry asked politely.

"Sure. Um, tell me how you've experienced corona virus." You repeated for him, gripping ahold of your pen to start copying what he says and pressing start on your recording device in case you needed it later.

"Well, it's been tedious that's for sure. However, I just want people to be safe and for life to return back to normal, so therefore i've been very MIA for a lot of the time. Keeping to myself mostly. I only went out for hikes or bike rides. All my meetings were online, so it's been very lonely." Harry kept eye contact with your figure the entire time, and if it weren't for you concentrating on writing what he was saying then you'd probably melt away under his gaze.

For such soft eyes he sure was intimidating.

"I presume the loneliness sent you crazy at times." You laughed, because you sure felt that way through lockdown. Curse being single.

"You have no idea." Harry laughed along with you, making you, slowly, feel more at ease.

"Actually, you'd be surprised." You looked at him unsure, before returning down to your notebook.

"Okay then, first question from me," Harrys words made your head shoot up, "How can someone as amazing as yourself be lonely?" He asked and you made a mental tally of how many questions he'd asked.

"Could ask you the very same question, Harry." You slyly replied, avoiding the question by answering with another question. It was a tactic you'd learnt, throughout your years of journalism, when you wanted to dismiss something .

"That's cheating." Harry pointed at you and raised his eyebrows, but you couldn't take your eyes off the big, cheeky, smile perched on his face. You shrugged you're shoulders in defence and returned to your questions. "But you did just call me amazing, so I think i'll let it slide this one time." You blushed, again, when you understood what he meant.

He was amazing though - that was the truth.

"You were in L.A. for the majority of quarantine, am I right to say?" You already knew the answer but your manager had just wanted confirmation.

"Yeah, but L.A. feels like holiday, whereas London feels like home." He answered, which you appreciated. He hasn't got lost in the way that Hollywood could let people. He'd stayed grounded.

"So what did you entertain yourself with during quarantine?" You asked curiously, slightly side-tracking from your pre-written questions - just because you were intrigued (nosey).

"Not much, not to be boring. I ate a lot of bread. I worked out pretty much every day. I wrote quite a bit actually." He used his fingers to pinch his bottom lip, something you'd noticed he did in interviews.

"Does that mean a new album on the way?" Your inner fangirl was screaming at the thought of HS3.

"Can neither confirm nor deny." Harry smirked to himself, like the cheeky bugger he is.

"That's a yes then." You joked, pretending to write it down in your notes.

"You're impossible, you." Harry laughed and shook his head. It made you feel all funny the way you could make him smile like that. You were the source of his happiness for just that moment, and that was enough to make you feel happy for a lifetime - not that he felt the same.

"Next question," you stated, moving swiftly on because you knew you had limited time, "How's your experience with Vogue been so far?"

"Wonderful. Everyone has been so welcoming and that makes it so much easier for me to have fun. It's daunting going at things alone, but i'm getting slowly used to it now." Harry sniffled a little, probably due to the freezing cold weather here.

"Must be strange, not having four best friends around you, all the time, anymore." You stated rather than asked him, sure that he was missing his bandmates. I mean, you were - so he definitely would be.

"Brothers." Harry replied, making you look up at him confused.

"I'm sorry?" You asked, giving him your full attention.

"You said four best friends. Well, actually they're my brothers." His words actually caused a rift in your heart. You could feel it being pulled apart and torn in to two. If you wrote this in to the magazine the fans would have a worldwide passing-away-party.

"Harry." You said softly, slightly tearing up at his words. "God, I swear i'm not normally this emotional." You chest your throat and try to establish your dignity - however there wasn't that much left anymore.

"Oh shut up." Harry looked away obviously trying to hide the fact that he was tearing up too. You laughed at him but didn't draw any more attention to it than you guessed he would've wanted.

"They mean a lot to you then?" You asked, hopefully not treading on any unwanted territories.

"Much more than a lot, yeah." Harry nodded his head, turning it back to face you. He could tell this conversation was now off-the-record because of your closed notebook, your undivided attention towards him and the fact you’d turned off the recording device. He liked being able to look at you, rather than the top of your head. He swore you were the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.

"You still see them often?"

"Not as often as i'd like. Niall did come around the other week to drop off some old guitars he didn't want anymore, and then we ended up playing around with some music for a bit." He admitted, which stitched your heart back together.

"So does that mean a Narry collab?" You teased, biting your bottom lip in anticipation.

"Narry? You so are a directioner." He laughed along with you.

"And you just avoided my question, therefore there is a song out there written only by you and Niall." You concluded, which shut him up.

This conversation was going a lot better than expected. Certainly a lot better than earlier. You will be permanently scarred by the way you spoke to him and handled his belongings. It was going to haunt you forever - and yet he'd forget about it by tomorrow. Or maybe he wouldn't, which is why you felt the need to apologise.

"Harry?" You asked, clearly indicating this was still a conversation away from the interview.

"Yes Y/N?" He watched you intently, listening to your every word.

"I, um, just wanted to apologise for my behaviour earlier. I was just really nervous to meet you, and to be honest still am. I didn't mean to touch your stuff without your consent and I certainly didn't mean to make you uncomfortable with any of my comments. So, i'm sorry. I can only imagine the awful, yet true, things you must think of me." You rambled really quickly, that you were uncertain whether Harry even caught one word of what you'd says.

"Do you know why I asked for you to interview me Y/N?" Harry asked, which wasn't the first thing you expected him to say after your apology.

"No. I...well Lisa told me it was because I can write well or something." You suggested, not wanting to sound egotistical.

"I mean you do write perfectly, but no." You were intrigued now. "I asked for you because I, and this is not for your magazine, have a secret - but not-so-secret - crush on you." This time it was Harrys turn to blush.

"Harry... you don't have to say that to—"

"I'm not saying it for anything. I sincerely think you are the most delightful, most prettiest, most fucking sweetest person i've ever met." Harry exclaimed, which you were taken aback by. Never, ever, did you think that Harry Styles would proclaim his likeness towards you. Ever.

"Harry don't mess with me, please." You shyly spoke, tilting your head down in disbelief that the Harry Styles was smitten about you.

He shuffled along the bench, stopping a little way from you but close enough to reach out for you. Your heartbeat increased when you noticed his hand move closer towards you. It didn't stop till he reached your face. He took his time, courteously, pushing your hair behind your ear before removing you of your glasses. He held the right-eye frame and slowly pulled the glasses off your face.

Once he'd successfully taken them off he folded them up and placed them alongside your closed notebook.

"Can see those pretty eyes now." He whispered quietly, but loud enough for you to hear.

"Don't lie. They're so dull." You mumbled, lifting your head up slightly. His face was still away from you.

"Not to me they're not." He retaliated, looking deep into your eyes as you did his. "I hate this corona virus."

"Why?" His words were so out of the blue sometimes, it gave you whiplash.

"Because I can't be as near to you as I want to be." Harry told you. And yeah, you hated corona too. It was getting a little laborious now.

"Smooth, Styles." You chuckled. You wondered how many new and weird pick-up lines could be made from covid.

"I know." He winked, which honestly would have made you throw up if it were any other man on the planet. Somehow, though, Harry just made it seem attractive - along with every other thing that man ever did. "After this, would you like to come back to my house for a cuppa tea?" He asked sweetly, like a five year old asking whether you wanted to play together.

"Okay. Lisa was my ride though." You said more to yourself than anything else, debating on how you'd even get to Harrys. Uber? Taxi? Lisa? Walk?

"I'll drive us, it's fine. I have to drop Gem off, but i'd be more than happy to chauffeur you." Harry kindly offered, to which you were internally screaming about. You were literally, and metaphorically, having a field-day with all this Harry content and interview.

"Are you sure? I don't want to be a burden." You question politely, not wanting to overstep any boundaries - especially in these covid infested times.

"Of course. I wouldn't have offered otherwise." He protested, waving his hand at if to say it was no bother. You were already trying to work out, in your head, how much petrol money you were going to owe him.

"Then i'd be honoured to have a brew with you Harry." You giggled at how cringe you were being, even if this was just your normal self speaking.

"Great." Harry genuinely smiled, teeth and all. "My shoot should take a couple of hours, but feel free to continue to write and journal. I'm looking forward to reading this particular article." He winked at you before standing up.

"Wonder why?" You sarcastically asked, knowing full-well it was due to his exposure of his own feelings towards you. Even though you'd never says anything back you were quite in agreement on how you felt about him, like he did you. He would be a narcissist to say he knew you liked him the same, out loud, but he knew. And you knew that he knew.

"Wonder why indeed." He gave you one last smile before he'd disappeared for the rest of the afternoon, leaving you to digest and relive the past half an hour or so.

Being Harry Styles' crush was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

••••

After Harry had finished up his shoot he was quick to come find you again.

You'd watched parts of his shoot and he looked magnificent. There wasn't a good enough word to describe how amazing he looked. Harry, his stylist, was probably the best stylist out there. His fashion choices were unmatched and you wanted him to be yours. You were not rich enough nor fashionable enough, ironic for working in a a fashion company, to hire a stylist, but you would if you could.

You were so proud to see what he was achieving now as the person that he was. Harry was just being Harry, without the devilish control of shitty managements or ridiculous amounts of PR stunts. Harry was more free than ever, and it definitely showed just how much he was enjoying it.

You were certain that this Vogue magazine would break the internet - his fans were good at doing that. This could be a turning point for many people, with their outdated and ignorant views. There was no room for people with racist or homophobic or transphobic or xenophobic - and the list does go on - views anymore.

You were waiting by the front door of the barn, to catch Harry as he walked past. You caught sight of him in a white robe, presumably to get changed back into his everyday clothes. He looked really pretty in the robe - very domestic actually.

Today had been a good day.

Harry asked you to send over the more specific Vogue questions to him via email, so he could devote more time in to answering them in a lot more depth. You thought he meant you'd be sending them to some PA in his team, but you were shocked to understand he'd given you his personal email.

People were walking back to their cars and packing away the filming kit. You saw Lisa and the director talking to one another, no doubt discussing some in-work gossip.

"You ready?" Harrys voice reminded you that you'd been waiting for him. You looked to see he was back in the same clothes as this morning, only this time without his coat.

"Here?" You offered, having him over the coat once again but he declined.

"Looks better on you anyways." He winked at you, before walking through the car park and to his car. You were very surprised when you found out Harry was the one to own the green Jaguar. You assumed all celebrities drove the Range Rover, but no. The vintage car added to Harrys immaculate vibe and just made him that little bit more hot.

Harry properly introduced you to Gemma, who was equally as lovely as Harry. They were both amazing people and they were crazily alike. From the way they looked, down to the way they phrased their words, they were mistakingly twins. Gemma explained how Anne, their mum, didn't know they were doing this photoshoot and that it was going to be a surprise, which you thought was so cute.

Gemma spilt a lot of gossip on Harry, to which he got very embarrassed over. You learnt that Harrys first word was Cat. You learnt that Harry is godfather to multiple children, which you found heartwarming. You learnt Harry used to be a baker - which was something he elaborated on for a good half an hour. Harry was just a fountain of memories and Gemma was the one sharing them all with you.

The drive back to London was relaxed. You sat in the back, listening to Harry and Gemma pointlessly argue whilst an Arctic Monkeys album played in the background. You forgot that people like Harry drove, and listened to music, just like other regular people. You often misplaced celebrities in society, thinking they had everything done for them but in reality that (often) wasn't the case - at least not for Harry.

Gemma was dropped off quickly before Harry drove to his. It was no surprise that the Styles siblings didn't live too far away from each other. Harrys house was beautiful. Bigger than anything you could ever dream of buying. It was a palace compared to your cupboard-sized house. You were unbelievably jealous. He gave you the tour of the house, showing you where the toilets were, and even his panic room if necessary.

You migrated to the kitchen for a bit, talking about anything and everything. Getting to know the minuscule pieces of information that no-one else was trusted with, made you feel special. Harry made you feel special - even if he weren't meaning to.

Every moment held a spark. Every touch set off a firework. Every laugh was an electric burst. He made you feel so alive.

"We can go to the living room after this has boiled." Harry said, pointing towards the streaming kettle. He wanted to show off his fancy tea collection he had, and let you have a try if you wanted to. Harry was boring and chose the basic green tea, but, after much deliberation, you chose the cranberry green tea. It intrigued you and it sounded delicious.

"Why the extensive tea collection?" Not even you, a certified caffeine addict, had this much tea in your house. Coffee was a different story and one in which you didn't want to talk about.

"They help me with my meditation." He took the teabags and placed them in his glass mugs. They had a delicate Gucci stamp on them, and you just imagined that they probably worth the same amount as your daily salary.

"You meditate?" You were slightly surprised that he did.

"I try to yeah." Harry nodded, focusing on pouring in the boiling water into the mugs. "I've got very tight hamstrings and so it helps if I meditate twice a day."

Harry finished making the tea, in the light-filled kitchen, before showing you around to the open-lounge area. Everything was modern and chic. It was exactly how you imagined it, but better. The open, red-brick, wall was a beautiful feature and one that you were a whore for! It reminded you of New York and the memories you'd made there one summer.

The sofa was a beautiful velvet, green, sofa. It was soft and gentle, a lot like Harry when you thought about it. The whole house was an architectural masterpiece and you'd be lying if you said you weren't jealous. You sat on one end and Harry went to go and sit on the other end.

"I don't bite you know?" You joked, self-consciously wondering whether he didn't want to be sat near you.

"I know, I just don't want to step on any of your covid boundaries - which is perfectly fine by the way." He added, apprehensively taking the spot next to you.

"No, not at all." You ushered him to sit next to you, as you took a sip from your steaming hot cup of fruity tea. "If I smell though, do tell me!"

"Yeah, you smell bloody awful!" Harry sarcastically remarked, but laughing afterwards to assure you he was joking. The atmosphere went quiet for a minute, only the sounds of passing cars and deep breaths being heard.

"Y/N can I ask you something?" Harry turned the tone of the conversation. It sounded like he wanted to be more serious than you two were being beforehand.

"Anything." You encouraged him to continue. You placed the cup of tea down on the table, deciding it was too hot to drink right now, and gave him your full attention.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" Harry questioned. You didn't think you'd be having a conversation this intense - especially if you had different opinions - on your first day of knowing each other, but here you were.

"I believe you can love someone at first sight. I don't believe you can be in love with someone at first sight. Why?" You were curious as to how his brain had journeyed to this particular topic. You'd never really had this conversation with anyone before, mainly because you were unaware of the true power, and meaning, of love.

"It uh... It doesn't matter." Harry shook his head and you could tell by his body language that he was shutting you out. Maybe you'd made him uncomfortable.

"Sorry I didn't mean to—"

"No, no. Please don't apologise. It's just - I like you a lot more than you may think." Harry shyly told you, which made you all soft inside. He was being vulnerable and that was something you admired in a partner. You didn't just need love, affection and trust in a relationship. No. You needed vulnerability and heartbreak too, and Harry was revealing that part of him to you.

"I like you a lot more than you think too." You repeated, not because you felt bad for him but because you truly did like him a whole lot. Love was a weird yet wonderful thing, and if you were to hazard a guess you'd say you loved Harry.

You couldn't wait to be in love with him.

"Does that mean I get to crown you my girlfriend?" Harry excitedly asked. Harry happy was something that should be made a constant, and you were more than happy to be in control of that.

"At least take me out first." You bargained, wishing for nothing more than to go on a date with Harry. Where you'd go, you had no idea. Everything was closed right now and there was still the chance of becoming sick with corona, but no doubt Harry would think of something not only clever, but special.

Of course you'd love to be Harrys girlfriend. However, you wanted one more, official, opportunity to really get to know him - unprofessionally. You wanted to make sure that you knew, and he knew, that you wanted to be with him because he was the charming Harry you've come to love, not because he was Harry Styles.

"So you're allowing me to take you on a date?" Harry smirked like a little child, your heart fluttering at how excited he was to be able to treat you to dinner.

"Yes, Harry. Yes I am." You answered sweetly, offering him the cutest smile you could.

You can't believe what a turn of events today has been. You've gone from nearly writing yourself on Harrys enemy list to writing yourself on to his 'people he's dated' list. Who knows what the future would offer you. At the start of the day you had wished this whole day to end and for the ground to just swallow you up, now you never wanted it to end. It was too perfect to be true and yet it was.

Harry was the most wonderful human to exist and you were beyond surprised to be the one to catch his attention. You didn't understand why you were so special, but it was nice to feel like this for a change. It was nice to feel wanted.

••••

A few months later and you were officially Harrys girlfriend.

It had been such a crazy few months. Harry religiously took you out on dates every week. Whether it be to grab a hotdog at a local diner, a coffee from a quaint cafe, a walk in Hyde Park or a late-night drive around London - which normally ended up with you falling asleep before you could make it back to yours. On sleepless jet-lagged nights he'll still drive through London's quiet streets, seeing neighborhoods in a new way, just as an excuse to spend time with you.

Harry often stayed over at yours. Even though you looked like you lived in a shoebox compared to Harry, he liked it. He liked the subtly and normality of it all. He wanted your life to remain as normal as possible and, apart from the occasional paparazzi incident, it did. You never had anything to complain about. Of course the online bullying created emotional wounds, at the start of your relationship, but it was nothing that Harry couldn't repair with a bit of love.

Lisa has nominated herself to be maid-of-honour when the day comes - if the day comes. Harry has already pinky sworn that you are it for him. The one, as some may say. You were utterly flattered, but you certainly unsure of what the future help for you both.

You loved Harry, you do love Harry and you will forever always love Harry.

It was ridiculous to think that all this stemmed from you working at Vogue. From you studying English Literature in a city away from London. From you dedicating you extra hours gaining work experience and money to be able get in and afford university. So many moments in life have you stopped and said 'i wish i hadn't have done that', but now you were convinced that they were the best things to have happened to you - because they lead you, all, to Harry.

And, being Harry Styles girlfriend was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

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mindofharry · 3 years

Text

Be My Baby

In which Prince harry and Princess Y/N are set to marry and are more than happy about it. They celebrate in more ways than one.

AHHHH!!! ITS HERE!!! FINALLY! Prince harry is my guilty pleasure. pls treat him with the respect he deserves. these two are officially my favourite people ever.

fluff & FILTHY SMUT!!!!!! feedback is welcome as always! <3

“Princess Y/N is arriving soon, Harry” Anne, the queen of england said putting down her tea. Harry is the prince, next in line for the throne - Marriage is very important to the throne and for the throne. Anne has been very strict about that, preparing Harry for marriage. Princess Y/N of wales, is who Harry is meeting with today. Hopefully, to settle a deal. Harry has never cared for marriage or for a partner. He’s a lone wolf as his family would describe. But if he wants to be king, he needs to marry. And Y/N is looking like the only option at the moment.

Harry nodded putting the paper down and looking up at his mother. He pursed his lips leaning back in his seat.

“Is something the matter, dear?”

Harry shook his head “No, mother. Just tired” he lied, reassuring his mother. Anne didn’t press any further just got one of the servants to pour her more tea. She could read harry very well, she knew her son better than he knew himself. Y/N is perfect for him. Even if they do not marry, she will be a life long friend. But anne is sure they will marry within the year.

And Queen Anne is never wrong.

Y/N was late.

Harry was beginning to become bored, don’t get him wrong he loves his sister and mother. But he can only take so much. All he wanted to do was to be curled up with a book in the abandoned side of the castle - no one except for the young prince had been there. It was locked up for years before harry found the key, it was like a whole new world in there. It was dirty, messy, filthy - just how harry liked it. He decorated a room in there, and it’s like his safe place from all of this. All of these stupidly important responsibilities. His safe haven.

They were meant to be meeting, talking about their futures together. If his mother thought this was what was best for the country, then harry would push through. He hadn’t see Y/N in years, meeting when they were both much younger. No pressure, just the two kids playing in the fields. Y/N was beautiful, so care free. Harry wished he was like Y/N - the only think she seemed to care about were the moon, the sun and the stars. They never saw each other again after that, they have both obviously seen each other in papers and at events. But never talked. Y/N didn’t know why, neither did harry. They weren’t on the same chapter in life. But now, they’re both willing to do what is best for their country.

And maybe it wouldn’t be too bad marrying a soon to be king.

A servant comes into the dining room bowing at the styles family. Harry waits for him to speak - except a tall girl, bumps into him making the servant fall foward. Y/N (the tall girl) giggled, before clearing her throat and bowing at the styles family. Harry smirked and leaned back. Anne was standing a smile on her face as she saw her soon beaming for the first time in months.

“Your highness” Y/N said bowing, nearly falling down again. But she grinned covering it up. Her dress was long and tight - her mother made her wear it. She would much rather be in a nice flowy dress in the woods right now. Maybe reading about the sun. But her mother needed her to do this, so Y/N would.

Y/N’s father died a couple of months back, it was sudden and no one saw it coming. So her mother needed her to marry as Y/N is the oldest of four girls. They needed a man of the house and once Y/N married, harry would be that man. Y/N didn’t like that one bit. She could be the man of the house if she wanted to. She didn’t understand why they needed a man to pay for things, to do stuff for them. Women are just as capable. But there was no fighting with Y/N’s mother. And Y/N knew she was having a rough time without her husband and Y/N’s dad.

“Princess Y/N, it’s good to have you here” Anne said, as a servant helped her back into the seat. Y/N had the same treatment but she looked rather uncomfortable. She was seated infront of harry, which was glad of. It’s a nice view, she’ll admit. He had grown into his baby face, she thought. And that hair. Fuck, that hair.

“Thank you for inviting me, your highness” Y/N said smiling softly. “Your castle is amazing” She said and Anne nodded pointing around at the paintings. “I actually just got these new paintings in from a new artist in rome. Just beautiful, right harry?” Anne said, giving harry the look. His mother is giving him that look a lot recently, Anne just wants what is best for him and harry just doesn’t seem to care at all. It’s like he’s away from reality. In another universe half of the time. Anne was hoping Y/N would be able to bring him back down to earth, but from her entrance in here - Harry and Y/N are a lot more similar than she thought.

“Yeah, they’re beautiful” Harry said staring at the girl infront of him. Y/N blushed under his stare. She had never felt anything like this before for a man. Her stomach was in knots and her cheeks were getting hotter by the second.

The dinner was nice. It was quiet with Y/N trying to keep up the small talk - Anne was impressed with that. Everyone she had invited to the palace would only talk when spoken to, but Y/N had a certain way about her. She had manners of course, the kindest soul, but she talked. She could talk all day if she was allowed. She just never ran out of things to say. But the food was really good, so Y/N was quieter than usual. Harry had one question: did they feed her in the city? The way she was eating was like she had been starved for years.

“This is amazing” Y/N said putting her fork down. Anne grinned at the girl nodding to herself. She had found a keeper.

“Harry, why do you show Y/N around? She’s going to be staying here for the next couple of weeks” Anne announced and Y/N nearly choked on her water, she tapped her chest.

“I am?-“

“she is?”

Harry and Y/N both spoke at the same time, Anne tutted and ordered the servant to fill up her wine.

“Your mother and I have arranged it. Everything you have is here already, you’ll have your own quarters too. Your horse is being transported down here as we speak” Anne said making new room for arguing. “Y/N your mother said she would be happy for us to host you here if the dinner went accordingly. And i think it went more than accordingly” Anne continued sipping her wine.

Harry and Y/N looked to each other their eyes both wide with amusement and shock. Only their parents would do this.

“Now, run along. Gemma and I have some talking to do” Anne ordered, the servants came and helped the princess and prince up following them out of the dinning room. Y/N was rather uncomfortable with the servants being everywhere, she had a lot more freedom at home.

“Hey, you wanna do something fun?” She asked and harry raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“Hey! Intruder” Y/N yelled and the servants looked around quickly, harry was startled when Y/N laughed loudly taking his hand in hers and running down the hallway towards the abandoned part of the castle. Harry grinned and laughed loudly as they ran together.

This girl, he thought.

The door was locked. Harry brought a key out of his pocket and Y/N laughed loudly making harry shush her as he unlocked the door. Quickly they made themselves into the abandoned quarters and giggled to themselves when they heard the servants feet making their way to this side of the castle - but immediately they turned away, knowing that they weren’t allowed on this side of the palace.

Harry was distracted with locking the door, but Y/N was amazed. She looked around at this place and couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her. This place is really fucking amazing, she thought. It’s obviously abandoned, that man she could tell - but it was still so beautiful. Paintings, upon paintings and books at every end. There was high ceilings and stained glass windows giving a nice hew to the room. Y/N brought her hands to her hips and spinned around her dress moving as she did.

“This place is fucking amazing!”

Harry laughed and finally got the door locked popping the key back in his pocket. He moved beside the beautiful girl and didn’t say anything. But Y/N knew.

“You come here often?” She asked and Harry nodded.

“Found it a couple years ago. Think it was my fathers” He said and Y/N sighed looking around.

“It’s beautiful” you’re beautiful, he wanted to say but he bit his lip instead walking in the direction of his safe haven. Y/N quickly caught up placing a hand on his, harry flinched at the touch. This definitely wasn’t allowed. If anyone saw they’d have to marry immediately. But nobody was here, he reminded himself. And with that he squeezed Y/N’s hand a little tighter.

Harry opened the door the room he had been coming to for years now. It had a few chairs, a huge window with curtains on each side, a fire place in the middle and blankets and pillows surrounding the room. Y/N smiled to herself as she saw harry become more himself. It was like this room allowed him to be himself.

“You come in here often?”

Harry nodded making himself comfortable on one of the pillows, Y/N soon followed sitting very close to the prince. Harry had no complaints at all.

“I come here most days. When i need to take a breath, escape my mother and the stupid royal family” Harry said and Y/N giggled leaning in to harry, their lips close.

“I can think of many ways we can escape reality. Why don’t we try one of them?”

Harry let out a sigh and placed his hand on Y/N shoulder, it fell down her arm to her waist. Harry had been with people before, he had kissed and pleasured many, many people. But never did he feel like this. He felt as if she was a goddess, and she would brake it the touch of his finger. She looked almost fragile, like a painting.

“Kiss me, Harry” She ordered and harry wasted no time, placing his lips on hers.

Her lips are soft and gentle, just as harry had expected. He moved his hands up her hips to her shoulders again, Y/N moaned letting harry's tongue into her mouth. Harry groaned and pulled away smirking at that flushed look on her face. He loved it.

Y/N bit her lip standing up, unzipping her dress. She turned around, the only thing she had was a small night dress and corset. Harry cursed under his breath standing up behind her. Everything felt so intimate. They both felt a lot of things, Y/N never wanted this to stop. Harry hugged her from behind, kissing the back of her neck. After a few seconds, Y/N turned around in his hold, holding his gaze. She began to take off her corset and night dress, now bare. She felt confident in Harry's glare, he made her feel good. He sucked in a breath looking down at her perky breasts, her nipples hard from the temperature of the room. He made a mental note to put the fire on after this, Harry knew you two would be in here for as long as you possibly could. He knew his mother would be beyond pissed that they had gone off alone together.

Harry placed a hand on Y/N’s breast, teasing her nipple with his index finger. His rings were cold on her skin making her whimper. Harry smirked at the sound, lowering his head and taking her nipple in his mouth his tongue swirling the nub of it. Y/N’s hands found harrys hair and she tugged on it hard.

“Fuck” She cursed and harry let go with a pop, again he smirked at the sight of the princess. So undone and flustered. Harry absolutely loved it. Holding her gaze, he began to undress unbuttoning his shirt and pants. Heat rushed to his penis, as Y/N watched him undress.

“Want to have you in my mouth” Y/N said, getting on her knees. She knew she would have bruises by the end of this - but she knew it would be worth.

“Don’t make me cum” Harry ordered, Y/N just smirked and pulled his underwear down almost drooling at the sight of his red, cock full of pre-cum. What a sight, she thought. And it’s fucking huge. Bigger than she thought that’s for sure.

She hummed, pumping harry’s rock hard cock. His head flew back, a moan filling the room. Harry wished her hair was pinned back, he needed some to grip. He took both of his hands and gripped the side of her head. Y/N spit on his cock, keeping eye contact with harry.

“Shit”

Y/N licked the tip, running her tongue over the slit, tasting the saltiness of his pre cum. Harry’s eyes rolled to the back of his head.

“You taste so good” She moaned, finally taking his full cock into her mouth. Her hands began pumping the base of the shaft, as she sucked him off. Harry moaned, but tapped the side of her head.

“Need to be in you, no more foreplay” He said and Y/N pouted whipping her lips.

“But i like having you in my mouth” Y/N argued, harry smirked pecking her lips, tasting himself on them. He hummed in agreement. “Next time, let me fuck you” He said kissing her neck, Y/N sighed and placed her lips on his before crawling over to the fireplace - there was a white sheet layed out. Y/N lay down and harry kissed down her stomach, teasingly kissing her thighs. “You’re definitely wet enough for me, aren’t you princess?” Harry said slapping her pussy, Y/N moaned and nodded.

Slowly, harry thrusted into Y/N making them both whimper. “Fuck, you feel so good” Harry said, kissing your lips. Y/N just moaned, gripping his back and putting her legs around his waist. Harry began to move faster, his hands either side of Y/N.

“Faster” Y/N said and harry complied, pounding into her. The moans coming out of the both them were enough to make them both cum within seconds. And that’s basically what happened. They both climaxed, harry falling down into Y/N’s chest. Y/N only felt pleasure and ecstasy.

Shit, her mother picked a good one.

***

“Fuck” Y/N panted into harry’s mouth as he took against the wall. They were left alone for ten minutes, and this happened. They were looking at the new paintings and architecture Anne had got, browsing around the hall. Harry had convinced the servant that his mother was calling and of course the poor servant couldn’t dismiss it, so they had a good ten minutes while the servant searched for the queen.

Harry pounded into her the paintings on the wall knocking loudly, Y/N laughed loudly making harry put a hand over her mouth.

“Don’t want to attract any attention, do we princess?”

They continued their hot and very messy quicky and then made their way to the gardens. Y/N and harry soon found that the gardens would be another safe haven. Beautiful flowers and when the sun is shining a beautiful place to sit and relax.

They couldn’t wait to marry - seen as harry wants Y/N in his bed, all the time. They fuck like bunnies, it’s amazing how they haven’t been caught as of yet. When they get their own palace, harry will christen to the whole place. They’ll fuck in every corner. Every room. Every library and garden.

Y/N looked at harry smiling as he lay on the grass. No one was around as the servant hadn’t arrived back. Y/N quickly looked around before pulling harry into what she could only assume was a place to keep all the fruit and veg away from foxes. It was closed off and you could lock it from the inside.

“Jesus christ Y/N” Harry mumbled kissing your neck as you leaned back on a bench.

“Another round?” You asked with innocent eyes.

“Another round” Harry confirmed lifting up the bottom of her dress and pushing her down so she was flat on the bench. He kissed up her legs, biting down on her thigh.

He pulled up her night gown and saw her bare pussy, wet and glistening just waiting for him. He could cum at the sight. He moaned kissing her thigh, teasing her.

Y/N tugged at harry’s hair, giving him a warning. “Stop, teasing” She pouted and harry smirked finally making his way towards your pussy.

Y/N closed her eyes when she felt harrys breath against her core. “so wet, princess” Harry said, the vibrations going right through her body making her jerk up a little. Harry loved the affect he had on her, the littlest thing would make her jolt with pleasure.

Harry spread her legs a little more, his tongue licking up her slit. Y/N’s tugged on harry’s hair, moaning loudly. Harry watched her unfold becoming so flushed, but Y/N looked so very beautiful in this light.

He pressed his lips to your clit, flicking his tongue up and down. Your hips moved with his tongue movements, harrys hands made their way to your hips trying to get them to stay in place. You wrapped your legs around his shoulders and began to shake and moan.

“Fuck me” You murmured coming down from your high.

“Oh, i will princess”

The days went on and more fucking occurred. Again they fucked like absolute bunnies. They were sure everyone knew by now, but the servants were way too afraid to say anything. Anne would have everyone’s head if she found out what they were doing.

“I can’t wait to marry you” Harry said laying down beside her in their safe haven. Y/N smirked rolling over on her side. He was so beautiful. His eyes, his freckles, that one dimple that came out when he laughed. She was so lucky to call him hers.

“You just want to have me in your bed everyday” She said and harry pretended to think about. “Hmmm, yeah” He said, making Y/N laugh loudly before pecking his lips.

“Can’t believe you’re mine” Harry said pushing her into his chest. Y/N grinned pecking his neck and looking up at him.

“Forever”

#harry styles #prince!harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles requests

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readyplayerhobi · 3 years

Text

La Douleur Exquise

; Horse Hybrid!Taehyung x Lovebird Hybrid!Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst, smut

; Warnings: Penetrative sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, impregnation kink, filmed sex

; Word Count: 14.9k

; Synopsis: Taehyung is in love with his best friend. The problem? He’s a stallion, a horse hybrid who’s basic instinct is to collect a herd of women to protect and procreate. His best friend is a lovebird hybrid and they mate for life. He knows it’s pretty much impossible to be together and that you’d end up hurt, but what happens when he finds out you love him just as much?

; A/N: So, my first fic in like...two months? I started this fic in early July and honestly...I just wanted it finished. If it seems a bit disjointed or something then it was very stop and start...I hope you all enjoy it anyway and that it doesn’t disappoint or anything! It’s taken a WHILE for me to get back into writing (honestly, I almost left lol). Please reblog if you enjoyed and leave me comments and asks!

“Oh...fuck. Fuck, you’re so big, mmm,” The girl on her hands and knees in front of Taehyung moaned, her ass wiggling in desperation as he thrust his hard cock into her soaked pussy. “Harder, please. Please, fuck me harder.”

He hissed as she clenched around him, his entire length disappearing with ease inside her as his hips moved rhythmically. Large hands groped at the globes of her ass, squeezing them and spreading them wide to give the best view possible. Grunting, he slapped at one cheek hard and smirked when she yelped, jerking slightly.

“Such a pretty girl, so pliant and willing, hmm?” Taehyung questioned, his voice low and brusque as he moved hard enough to cause the room to be filled with the sound of skin slapping on skin. “A greedy pussy, so eager for your stallion to get you in foal, aren’t you?”

She moaned in response, her face unseen to him but her body reacted by squeezing around his cock once more. Running one hand along her spine, he hummed in delight before leaning forward and biting down on her shoulder. It was instinctual, something deep in his genes telling him to hold her steady while he filled her up and impregnated her.

His other hand moved down to her clit, the bundle of nerves still soft and silky with her excitement but also swollen hard with her impending orgasm. Years of experience let his fingertips find the exact spot he needed, swirling them in quick circles and making her cry out even louder, hips bucking beneath him.

“That’s a good mare,” He panted, trailing his nose along her neck slowly. “Come for me, come on, you can do it. Tighten that pussy around me and I’ll breed you as you want.”

Her orgasm hit seconds later, body convulsing tightly around him and he grunted, hips jerking forward even more rapidly. She was whining, a babbling mess beneath him as he continued to stimulate her, the effects being just as pleasurable for him too until he too came.

Pressing into her hard, he felt the slight resistance of what must be her uterus against the tip of his cock but she didn’t complain of any pain. One of the benefits of being a fellow horse hybrid was that a mare was biologically compatible with the large cock stallions had. One hand held her hips steady, making sure she didn’t move away as his balls convulsed rhythmically, each time causing his cock to twitch as he continued to ejaculate inside her.

She was breathing hard now, her body covered in a fine layer of sweat that caught the light perfectly and he hummed in appreciation, finally feeling the end of his orgasm. Slowly, he pushed himself upright and licked at his lips as he gave a few, shallow thrusts to wring out his final moments of pleasure and also make sure she got all of his cum.

“You were a good girl for me. We’ll get a nice colt or filly from you.” He mutters, stroking along her back appreciatively. Her skin was darker in certain patches and lighter in others, a result of her American Paint Horse breeding. It was pretty and he let his fingers trail along with the colour distinction.

Finally, though, he pulled out. The noise as he did so was extremely wet, but that was nothing compared to the rush of thick, white cum that slipped out of her used pussy. Pursing his lips, he looked it over carefully before dragging his fingers through some of it and pushing it back inside her. It didn’t matter, stallions were renowned for the large amount of semen they produced and she was probably filled inside.

“And cut!” Called the director, his voice interrupting the silence of the set. Taehyung let out an immediate sigh of relief and sat back, his cock rapidly softening now that the scene was over. His co-star sat up with a groan, stretching to get out the kinks in her back from the position she’d been in for the last ten minutes.

As she did so, the trickle of cum once more became a torrent, slipping down her thighs to collect on the bed. She didn’t pay attention to it and he didn’t say anything, the two of them used to scenes like this by now. Wheein was a consummate professional and one of the best in the porn industry, just like Taehyung.

“That was a good scene,” She complimented him, smiling in gratitude to her assistant who brought a robe that she used to cover herself up with. “Even if the whole ‘dirty talk’ is a little overdone nowadays.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes in agreement, grinning as he accepted the cleaning wipes from his assistant. Without a care in the world, he began to wipe his cock clean as he continued on his discussion with Wheein. She was quickly wiping down her thighs and between her legs as well. They’d both clean up more properly when they went to their dressing rooms but he wouldn’t be seeing her again after this.

Not unless they worked on the same set again.

“Right? It’s so fucking cringe. I wish they’d hire someone who’s an equine if they’re going to write a script featuring two of us. Who even talks like that?” He muttered, tugging on his robe and tying it closed before slipping his feet into the sandals provided to him.

The laugh Wheein gives is sweet, making her entire face light up. She really is a beautiful woman and her body is equally divine, only made even better by her kind and bubbly personality. Not that she’d been able to show that during this scene of course.

It struck Taehyung that she’d probably make a good mare for his herd. Despite the fact they were lamenting how lame the script was that they’d been given, there were some truths to what they’d filmed. A stallion like Taehyung would actively seek out fertile mares from good stock for his herd to breed with.

The better quality the mare’s breeding, the better his foals would be.

At least, that’s what horse hybrids were meant to do. Wheein would probably even agree to it if he asked. He knew that she wasn’t in a herd already and she’d made it pretty clear to him that she’d be open to something outside of their work if he wanted. His deeply-rooted instincts demanded that he take her home and breed her properly, but he just sighed deeply instead.

He may be a horse hybrid, with all the possessive and protective instincts that provided him as a stallion, but he had no actual interest in living his life like that. Which is why he makes a little more small talk with Wheein before leaving to go to his dressing room. The shower he takes is quick, making sure to rub viciously at his body as he tries his hardest to remove any scent of the mare he’d just fucked.

Hybrids were something that had been created long ago. So long ago, no one knew how they were made anymore. The knowledge had been lost in the Hybrid Revolution, three centuries ago when hybrids had refused to be slaves for their human masters anymore. Ever since they’d been treated as equals to everyone else in society.

That didn’t mean that they’d integrated fully of course. Hybrids of different species more often than not stayed with each other or mated with humans. It did happen though, but the differing instincts meant it often was better for a hybrid to simply stay within their species.

Something Taehyung had always found amusing though was the fact that even within their species, a lot of hybrids would only mate within their own ‘breed’. Wheein was a pure American Paint Horse, coming from a long line that could be traced back to when the humans had been breeding horse hybrids for manual labour, protection services and sports purposes.

Back then, the humans treated hybrids exactly like actual horses. They had a studbook and would breed stallions to certain mares to produce characteristics they wanted. Placid nature, easy to work with, intelligent, quick to learn and so forth. When they’d been released, the breeds had continued on the studbooks to this day.

There were plenty who didn’t follow that ideology, of course, Taehyung’s parents were not the same breed after all, but a lot seemed to put stock in being ‘purebred’. It was just another way to act superior in his opinion.

Besides, his parents may not be from the same breed but he was still technically a breed all of his own. His mother was an Arabian while his father a Thoroughbred, meaning he was a breed called an Anglo-Arab. That was considered a breed in its own right, though perhaps not as prestigious as either of his parents.

Whatever he didn’t care about all that. Taehyung had no real interest in following the cultural norms of his heritage. And the reason for that was waiting for him back at his apartment. The thought of that spurred him into cleaning up even faster, making sure he was squeaky clean before pulling on the clothes he’d removed earlier in the day.

Glancing in the mirror once finished, he sighed deeply and looked himself over. A quirk of his kind was that they looked distinctly hybrid in ways that didn’t match others.

A dog hybrid may have the ears of a spaniel while a cat could have the tail of a Persian. Horse hybrids didn’t have any of their animal counterpart’s physical characteristics though, no tails or ears or anything like that. But their animal genes had manifested uniquely in their skin and hair.

If someone was a bay then they would have brown skin in a range of shades while their lower arms, legs and the space around their mouths and nose would be even darker and their hair a luscious black. Taehyung blended a little better than most other horse hybrids, but for others like Wheein, it was more obvious. Her skin was covered in patches of alternating dark and light while her natural hair grew in white and dark brown.

He knew that certain breeds had distinct characteristics as well. An old high school friend was a Friesian with coal-black skin and the most luxuriously thick, wavy black hair. One of his Taehyung’s siblings, on the other hand, had a Lipizzaner mare in his herd; her skin and hair was snow white. It certainly made them easily identifiable.

Taehyung wasn’t quite so obvious. His palomino colouring was visible; pale white hair that was a little too long and softly tousled matched with rich golden skin. Broad shoulders tapered down into a slim waist, currently covered in a loose white button-up. His hair was still wet, dripping onto his shirt while his strong thighs and calves were contained within equally loose-fitting tan trousers.

He didn’t look like someone who’d just filmed pornography, but then again, what did that look anyway? Just a person? Still, he felt a small sense of satisfaction at how well he was going to blend. The last thing he wanted was to go home and have it look obvious what he’d just been doing, even if it was his job.

Chewing on his lip, he grabs his leather cross shoulder bag and exits the dressing room. He promised to get takeout tonight, and he wasn’t going to renege on that deal.

“I have food!” Taehyung calls out, placing the bag of takeout he’d just picked up on the kitchen counter before shrugging off his jacket. By the time he gets back from hanging it up, you’ve already emerged from your bedroom and are pulling plates out of the cupboard while trying to see what he’d gotten.

“What did you get? Chinese?” Looking up at him with a raised brow, Taehyung’s heart stutters for a moment at just how pretty you are. There’s not a trace of makeup on your face right now, you didn’t bother when you were at home, and yet you were still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Like him, you were also a hybrid. The two of you had met in the first class of freshman year in college and had quickly become best friends, despite the differences between you both. He’d also fallen deeply in love with you at some point, even though he knew nothing could happen.

Just as he was driven by the instinct to have sex with multiple women to form a herd, you were driven by your instincts. Only yours were dictated by your lovebird genetics, which meant that you were strictly monogamous. As in, once you entered a relationship and truly fell in love with them then you would never have another relationship.

The antithesis of a horse hybrid then. Taehyung had long known that it meant he would never be able to be with you the way he wanted. You craved monogamy and it simply wasn’t in his genes.

So he’d stayed your best friend, and for the last five years since finishing college, he’d also remained your roommate. The two of you shared a mid-sized apartment in the city centre, close to the university that you worked at as a music professor and within easy driving distance of his workplace.

“No, there’s a new Ethiopian place that’s opened close to work. Seokjin was telling me about it it’s a vegan restaurant and I thought it’d be cool to try it out. No idea what you’d like, or what I’d like, so I just got a bunch of things to try.” Smiling at you, he starts to pull out the carefully packaged food and chuckles as you ‘ooh’ at it all.

“Oooh, I’ve never had Ethiopian food before. I’m excited.” And then you turn that blinding smile onto him and he has to let out a deep breath as slowly as possible to stop himself from doing something silly. He’s long been used to his feelings yet you still make him feel like a teenager again.

Once everything’s out, the two of you take it over to the little table that’s set up between the kitchen and the living room and lay it all out. You quickly dart over to the fridge and grab some water for the two of you before settling down and humming in excitement as everything is unpackaged.

Like Taehyung, you didn’t have many physical attributes of your animal side. Which would have been exceptionally strange given the difference between humans and birds. What you did have though, were black irises to match your pupils and the most exquisitely beautifully coloured hair. The front was a blend of peach, yellow and red which slowly morphed into the familiar lovebird green.

It was all-natural and incredibly pretty, suiting your face and personality so well. The original purpose of lovebird hybrids had been as companions due to their loyalty to their partner alongside musical pursuits. Not everyone was great at music but more often than not, lovebird hybrids tended to excel at singing.

Taehyung loved to hear you sing. Or play the piano or any of the other instruments you’d learnt how to play over the years. You were practically a prodigy when it came to the musical arts and he would forever be in awe of just how talented you were.

Your singing was one of the reasons he’d fallen for you so quickly; your buoyant and always effervescent personality had made him determined to befriend the sweet lovebird hybrid in his class. But it was your singing that had truly captured his heart.

The sweet sound of your voice could be as light as a dandelion seed on a summer breeze or swell as loud and strong as a hurricane. He’d been immediately fascinated the moment he’d first heard you sing and it had never let him go. Taehyung genuinely couldn’t imagine his life anymore without hearing your singing around the apartment; from the quiet songs when you were concentrating to the ones you belted out when you were in a happy mood.

He loved it all. As cheesy as it would sound, he just knew that his life would be dull and quiet without his music-obsessed, colourful, chatty best friend. Which was why he couldn’t give up the small hope of something with you. It was a tiny chance, but as long as you remained unattached then it was there all the same and he would grab onto it tightly.

“Did your shoot go well today?” You distract him out of his wayward thoughts with your question and it takes a few seconds of it to truly penetrate his mind and for him to understand. Almost immediately though, it causes him to twist his lips as he begins to spoon out the food he wants from the containers onto his injera, Ethiopian flatbread, that covers his plate. He hated talking about his job to you. It was like a reminder of what he couldn’t have every time.

But he was a big boy, so he took in a deep breath before looking back at you and giving you his trademark boxy smile.

“It went okay, nothing went wrong which is always a good thing. Wheein was nice and very pleasant to work with, good at her job. The script was just as bad as I originally thought.” Snorting at the memory, he takes a mouthful of food and chews thoughtfully as he takes in the new flavours.

“Let me guess...full of lots of over-the-top horse innuendos and dirty talk?” Chuckling to yourself, you take a drink of cold water before tilting to your head to look him over carefully. Taehyung pauses, unsure of himself for a second before quirking his brow at you.

“Yeah, something like that. I shouldn’t be complaining really...no one watches what I make for the dialogue.” He’s very aware that there’s a slight pout to his lips as he looks back down at his plate, missing the way your expression changes to one of sympathy and protectiveness.

“Well...true I guess, but you’re a great actor outside of that. And I’m not just saying that to you because you’re my best friend TaeTae. You’re genuinely good.” Now he does look at you, taking in the way you look at him with concern and he feels a flare of guilt rise in his stomach. Taehyung would never let you know that the only reason he’d started to work in the pornography industry during college was so that he could satiate his desires without dating multiple women or accidentally creating a herd.

The fact that he was still doing it, seven years after beginning, was because he still held out hope. He knew that he could’ve been something better, entered the world of television or film acting, maybe even theatre. But it would have meant having to flaunt an unending trail of women in front of you.

At least he had a valid and acceptable reason for fucking so many women as a pornstar. The fact that he had no emotional connection to the women who worked alongside him now was a bonus, allowing you to see that he was more than capable of leaving his work in the studio.

Giving you a tight smile, Taehyung nods his head in appreciation. “Thanks, chirp. I appreciate it. And I know, but I think it’s too late now. Too old, you know?”

“Pfft, no way. There are loads of actors who didn’t start their careers until they were older! And no offence, but you’re a guy so you’ve got the kind of lifespan that most women aren’t allowed. You’re only twenty-nine!” The outraged response from you is almost immediate, the piece of injera almost flying out of your hand at your reaction.

Thankfully, you’d just eaten the vegetable wat that you’d scooped up already so there wasn’t any risk of the floor or wall being decorated with Ethiopian stew. That would just be a waste of some good food in Taehyung’s opinion.

But that was irrelevant.

What was relevant was your vehement defence of Taehyung and his talents. The two of you had had this conversation many times over the years and yet it never failed to make him smile. You were adamant he could do better and he knew that he could too. But he didn’t want to. Despite how good his acting was, he had no real interest in actually taking it up as a career outside of porn.

He didn’t care for the lifestyle or travelling or fame. Porn worked well for him at the moment. It satisfied his instincts, it paid well enough and he had a manager that ensured Taehyung only received the best directors, co-stars and films.

What Taehyung would love to do, was to work in fashion design. He loved putting together interesting and unique looks while also thinking up ideas for clothes. His best friend, Jimin, had started a clothing brand of his own a few years ago thanks to the money his parents had loaned him. It was doing pretty well so far and Jimin was constantly sad that Taehyung wouldn’t join him.

The older man, he was only two months older but that meant everything to Park Jimin, had tried everything he could think of to lure his best friend into his company. From offering a creative director role to his sub-brand that would operate almost independently from the parent brand, Calico. And Taehyung had promised him that he’d accept one day.

He would as well. Just not yet. It wasn’t time yet.

“Thanks. Anyway, how was your day? Didn’t you say you had some exams this morning or something?” His segue into another conversation works like a charm and you happily begin to complain about the exams that you’d given your freshman students today. It still boggled his mind that you’d willingly insert yourself into college life again, even if it was in a teaching role but you seemed to thrive in the social aspect of it all.

The two of you continue to talk until there’s no food left, every single piece happily was eaten. Admittedly, most of it was eaten by Taehyung as he had a far larger appetite than you did. It was even bigger today given the workout he’d done during his work hours but you’d been content to hand over what you didn’t want to eat anymore.

Or rather, you’d been content to feed him what you didn’t want. Something he’d had to get used to very early on in his friendship with you was that you retained the instinct to feed those you were close to. That’s what you’d told him anyway, though if he was to be entirely honest he hadn’t seen you feed anyone else before.

Then again, none of the friends you both shared in common was the kind of people who would accept being fed, no matter how much they liked you.

It’s a few hours later that you’re both ready to go to bed; eyes sleepy and movements slow after watching three episodes of The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina while curled up beneath the couch blanket as you both digest your food. Taehyung could have happily fallen asleep where he was, the warmth of you not close enough for him to feel but your scent strong enough to lull him into a peaceful slumber.

“I’m going to bed.” You say loudly, causing him to jerk awake quickly as you push the blanket off your body and stand up. It’s not as quick as you’d normally be but the stretch you give combined with the extraordinarily big yawn lets him know you’re pretty tired.

Not a surprise. It was after 11 pm now and you’d been up since 5:30 am to make sure you had everything set for your classes. A slight wobble as you lose your balance causes him to jump up, resting a hand on the small of your back gently to provide careful assistance while he reaches for the remote with his other to turn off the television.

“Careful, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” Taehyung chuckles, kicking away the blanket which had also become tangled around your feet. A quiet hum from you lets him know that you’re more tired than he’d initially thought.

Not saying anything more, he runs his free hand through the pale blonde strands of his hair as he directs you towards your bedroom. The door is closed to the outside world, unlike his, but the interior is familiar to him once you open it up.

One of the habits you had that came from your lovebird side was that you liked to nest. Which meant your bedroom had everything you loved arranged exactly how you wanted it. Your bed was a canopy style, completely cocooned away from the world except for the entrance. He’d been in once or twice to wake you up when you’d been late for something and he would admit to being fascinated by just how dark and...comfy it all looked.

Soft sheets, multiple fluffy pillows and more covered the top of your bed. He’d love to see what it was like to sleep in it one night because it looked like it could easily be one of the comfiest nights of sleep he’s ever had. A bonus would be if you slept next to him.

One of the more fortunate, or unfortunate depending on how you looked at it, aspects of his heritage was that Taehyung could sleep anywhere. He’d even been known to sleep standing up, which meant that he wasn’t that bothered about what his sleeping space looked like.

Taehyung knew it was something of an honour for him to be even allowed in your bedroom, to be honest, given how protective and territorial you got over your own space. It had been amusing for him to realise this at first, particularly given he wasn’t particularly bothered when it came to his own physical space but upon realising you wouldn’t let anyone else in, he’d used it as a badge of pride.

To himself, of course. No one else would care or even be surprised that your best friend and roommate was the only person allowed in.

Shaking his head, he wishes you goodnight before closing your door quietly and heading to the bathroom for his nightly ritual. The downside to being a porn actor was that he had to follow a proper skincare routine to make sure his skin looked the best. Because obviously, people were paying attention to his beautiful face instead of his massive dick.

Not.

Still, it helped to book more shoots. He had a ‘statuesque’ face that appealed to women or something. So he went along with it and had, admittedly, fantastic skin as a result.

The last thought before he finally fell asleep was that he was pretty sure the oversized black sweatpants you’d been wearing were his.

Taehyung doesn’t get to see a whole lot of you in the next few weeks. He’d ended up having to travel for a shoot that lasted a week and by the time he got back, you were on a much-needed vacation with your friends. As such, he was getting a little grumpy at the lack of interaction with you.

Which was entirely the reason that he’d almost jumped on top of you when you’d finally walked through the apartment door; three long weeks after seeing you last. You’d let him know that you’d be coming home today and he’d had to wait as patiently as he could on the couch, pouting at the fact you hadn’t accepted his offer of going to the airport to meet you.

But with everything in the apartment turned off, he’d used his superior hearing to the best of his abilities and had listened as hard as possible for your footsteps. After so many years, he knew exactly what you sounded like when you walked.

So when he finally heard that familiar beat, alongside the rolling of the wheels on your suitcase, he’d leapt up. There may even be a hole in the wall from how forcefully he’d yanked the door open, his excitement causing him to not pay attention to his strength for a moment before he’s giving you the biggest and brightest grin he possibly can.

“I missed youuuuuu!” Whining loudly, Taehyung wraps his arms around your waist and lifts. The squeal you let out soon dissolves into laughter when he spins you around, mentally marvelling once more at how light you were while his sense went haywire with you so close again. He could feel the softness of your hips as he lets you down, smell the soft peach of your shampoo along with the slight hint of sweat after so long travelling.

It was perfect, and something deep within him relaxed.

You were home. You were safe.

“I missed you too, Tae! Can I please actually come in?” Your laughter is sweet, infectious as always and he stands to the side to let you enter the apartment. Without even asking, he gently takes the handle of your suitcase from you and lifts it with no complaints, heading over to your bedroom.

Given he’s not facing you anymore, he doesn’t see the way you practically swoon at the sight of him using his strength so casually. Or the way you almost drool at his broad shoulders in the plain white shirt he’d thrown on today, the muscles working in a way that made your hands twitch.

“Did you have a good time? Please tell me that Yeji doesn’t have some embarrassing story again this year,” While your yearly vacations with your friends were mostly for sunbathing and catching up, he knew that you all enjoyed re-enacting some college years and that copious amounts of alcohol were drunk. “And I’m not saying about you, I mean just embarrassing full stop. I’m still feeling secondary embarrassment over two years ago.”

“A story which will forever remain buried, thank you very much. But no, we were good this year. Or rather, we weren’t good but I think we’re starting to get a little too old to be drinking so heavily, you know? We can’t recuperate the same way and I get hangovers way too easily. I do not have the physiology to cope with their drinking levels!” There’s a slight whine to your voice, making him smile in amusement as he moves over to lean against the doorway of your room.

While he was fully welcome into your space, he knew that you liked it to be your own. Especially when you’d been away for a while.

“Well, I mean...you are a lovebird. I don’t think there are many alcohol-tolerant birds out there.” That gets him a subtle glare, your pretty lips puckered into a pout. It’s an innocent action, something that shouldn’t bother him in the slightest, and yet his heart stutters and his stomach twists on itself.

What he wouldn’t give to kiss you.

Shaking his head, he tries to force the thoughts out of his mind. Honestly, he was perfectly fine when he was away from you. But when you were around, it was like you were all he could think about. Still, it was hard not to when you looked at him so fondly.

“True. There’s no need to point that out though. Salt in the wound much? Anyway, it was fun. They kept trying to get me to swim in the sea but like...no thank you. Water is for drinking and washing, not for swimming around in.” You’re crouched down, unzipping your suitcase and pulling out the dirty clothes before separating them into the individual bins you have.

Unlike Taehyung, who simply separated his clothes when it came time to wash them, you were very tidy and had bought fancy clothes hamper with three sections. This was probably why Taehyung would accidentally end up with a shrunken shirt or pink underwear from time to time. You paid far more attention to that stuff.

“Swimming is fun though.” Is all he responds with, standing back when you carry the laundry hampers past him. Putting the colours into the washing machine, he watches quietly as you add everything before turning it on. It was fascinating how you’d only been home for less than ten minutes and yet you were already cleaning things up.

Not that he’d made the apartment untidy or anything. It’s just you had a different idea of what was clean to him.

“Okay but, you can say that because you’ve got those shoulders to cut through the water. Not to mention you’re strong anyway. Not so fun for the rest of us. And I don’t mind swimming in a pool. Where I can see the bottom and the size is posted. The ocean though? That’s huge. No thanks.” Smirking, he flops down onto the couch and sighs happily when you push him up before sitting down yourself, letting him rest his head on your thighs.

There was no convincing you though and Tae gave up on the argument pretty quickly, not that he was trying too hard. One thing he’d learnt long ago was that you were perhaps the most stubborn person he’d ever known. It was an endearing trait, most of the time.

“Did you audition for that role?” Your question is innocent, soft fingers trailing through his hair that would have him purring if he was a cat hybrid. Instead, it was just making him get the urge to groom you in turn, his fingers twitching with the need. Ignoring it, he forced himself to just enjoy the touch.

“Yeah. Not sure if I’ve got it though. I got the feeling they weren’t looking for someone like me in the role.” It wasn’t surprising really and he wasn’t offended by the producers of the film he’d gone for. Even porn wanted specific people for specific roles sometimes; it would be silly to think he could get every role he went for.

Not to mention exhausting.

“Well, they’re missing out then,” You say, scratching his scalp until he hums in delight. “Anyone who doesn’t want you is missing out.”

Your words make his heart jump, his breath stuttering as he inhales and wonders if there’s a double meaning to that. But you’re too busy watching the show that you’ve started on Netflix to notice Taehyung’s existential dilemma. Part of him is glad, but there’s another part that wishes he was brave enough to bring it up.

He chooses not to engage with it though, instead just sighing and letting himself relax into the cushions of the couch. It’s nice to be surrounded by your scent once more and to feel your warmth.

“I appreciate that, Chirp. But I’m not letting it get me down. Sometimes they just can’t handle all this.” Gesturing half-heartedly to his body, he’s pleased to hear you laugh at his joke. The sound is sweet, even if the two of you lapse into a comfortable silence after that.

You’re too busy watching your show while he’s half dozing off, eyes closed and breath getting deeper as he starts to drift away. It’s comfortable on the couch, with the temperature just right and his body perfectly relaxed. Which means it’s unsurprising that he falls asleep pretty quickly, completely unaware of anything that’s happening around him as he sleeps.

Taehyung is more than a little disoriented when he finally awakens; the room dark and silent with the lights and television switched off. Frowning, he blinks rapidly before rubbing at his eyes with a hand while sitting up. Stretching his arms out above his head, the groan he lets out is one of relief as stiff muscles relax and a few bones crack.

Reaching out to the coffee table blindly, he grabs his phone and winces when the bright light almost blinds him. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been hugely blessed with the better night sight horses had. Well, he could see better than humans but nothing amazing. Didn’t make it any better when he was subjected to bright light suddenly though.

“Ah, fuck.” He curses, squinting until he can finally focus on the screen. It’s not too late, but it’s a good two hours or so since you’d finally gotten home. Frowning, he just sits there for a moment as his mind finally catches up with the fact he is awake.

Yawning loudly, he finally pulls himself up and decides he should probably go shower before collapsing into bed. Taehyung hadn’t even realised he was tired, but it could have been the comfort of knowing you were back and safe. It wasn’t like he was some over-protective asshole who needed to know your every movement - more that he just felt more content when he knew you were okay.

Walking to his room, he’s scratching at his exposed stomach lazily when he hears the sound of your voice. The door leading to your bedroom is firmly closed but there’s light at the gap on the bottom. His enhanced hearing means that he can easily hear everything you’re saying, which is nothing new.

Over the years though, he’s learnt to carefully block out anything you’re saying when you’re in your room. You deserved your privacy, even if he couldn’t help the fact that he could hear everything perfectly.

And that would have been exactly what he would have done right now. Just carried on through to his bedroom and continued with his plans. Only he can’t help but stop when he hears the familiar syllables of his name. Taehyung knows it’s wrong, but the way you said it is different than normal.

He can’t help but listen, expression curious and his head tilting without even realising it. Your conversation is one-sided but he pays careful attention, still in the middle of the hallway.

“-you know Taehyung, he’s always being attentive and sweet. It’s just his nature, he’s like that with everyone. Yuna...it’s just Tae. He hugs everyone, you’re looking too much into it,” There’s a longer pause now, presumably your best friend talking extensively to you. “Come on, isn’t that what you always tell me? We haven’t seen each other in a while, it’s not surprising he got all touchy.”

Taehyung frowns, lips twisting as he begins to understand a little. Or at least, he thinks he does. If he’s right, Yuna thinks that he likes you. His cheeks heat up as he realises how obvious he’d been with his feelings, even though you make a good argument against it. But you’re wrong and Yuna is very much right.

He does like you, and he’s not quite as touchy-feely with everyone else. Taehyung isn’t even sure how you got that opinion. The only other person he’s remotely as affectionate with is Jimin, and that’s only because he’s known the calico cat hybrid since they were babies. Tae’s mom had worked with Jimin’s mom for decades now, which meant they’d grown up with each other.

“Yuna,” Your whining now, voice going high pitched and your words getting longer. “I thought you were the one who was telling me that I need to get over Tae! And now you’re telling me he’s obviously into me? Make up your mind, woman! Do you want me to ignore my feelings for him or consider telling him? And no, you can’t backtrack in a week or so like you always do. This is serious. I’d be humiliating myself by telling him.”

It’s almost like the world has paused around Taehyung. For a second, he almost feels dizzy and has to rest a palm against the wall as he sways. Your feelings...for him? Did he hear that right? Was he twisting your words into what he hoped you were implying?

Before he can contemplate it anymore in his mind, you go on to say something that shatters the norm for Taehyung.

“It would be humiliating Yuna, you know that. You know what I am, we’ve talked about this. God, I can’t tell Taehyung I love him because then that’s it, I’ve sealed my fate and I won’t be able to get over him. It’s already hard just trying. Having him know? I can’t, not when he can’t give me what I want.” There’s a pain in your voice and his heart twists, stomach bubbling in a way that almost makes him want to vomit as his world changes.

You love him. You. Love. Him.

“It’s not his fault Yuna, we’ve gone through this so many times. I have my instincts and he has his, I’m not going to get angry at something we can’t change. Please...can we just talk about something else? Something that’s not going to make me cry and spend all night thinking? We agreed that we’d try to get me over this, dammit.”

That’s the last thing Taehyung hears as he walks quickly back to his room, having decided that he’s heard far too much of a conversation he clearly shouldn’t have heard. Guilt roils in him, flooding his veins as he flops down onto his bed and stares at the white ceiling of his room. He feels dazed and confused, not sure what he’s meant to think about this sudden change in events.

Taehyung being in love with you was something he’d long ago accepted. But he’d also accepted that nothing would happen from it because of what you wanted in life. Finding out that you wanted him too was game-changing. It was also heartbreaking to know that the only reason you both weren’t together already was because of his instincts.

Suddenly, he sees his career in a whole new light. What was a coping mechanism for him to reduce his innate desires and allow him to give you all the best bits of himself, was probably pure pain for you. The knowledge that you loved him was both exciting and, surprisingly, horrifying.

He knew that love birds would only have one partner, and from what he’d read over the years it meant they only really truly loved one person. If you felt this strongly for Taehyung then did that mean he’d stolen any other choices from you? He’d been holding back to make sure you had a chance to be happy but had he just made it worse?

Swallowing thickly, Taehyung realises there are tears in his eyes as he wonders if he’s ruined everything. The logical part of his mind knows that it’s not his fault if you’ve fallen in love with him, just like it wasn’t your fault he’d fallen for you. But he certainly hadn’t done anything to truly push you away, to try and get you to find someone else to fall in love with and enjoy a happy life.

Had he been selfish?

Rolling onto his stomach, he buries his head into his pillow and lets out a yell. It’s a good job your hearing is only on the level of a normal human because he was positive the extended noise he made would have brought you running otherwise. And he needed to think right now.

There’s probably a solid ten minutes of silence in his room as he lays there, unmoving while his mind races through all his options. If he admitted that he’d overheard you, then he would probably embarrass you. Taehyung would jump at the chance to finally date you, but he knew that you wouldn’t be able to cope with his career.

You were supportive of him now, but you weren’t in a romantic relationship with him. And he doubted you would be comfortable with the knowledge that he was coming home to kiss, cuddle and have sex with you after having done the same things with random women earlier in the day.

If he was honest with himself then Taehyung knew that he wouldn’t be happy with that too. Despite how he was raised, his mom had been one of many mares in the herd his father had kept over the years, he wanted to be the one for you. Which meant he wouldn’t be content to do things with other women that you only wanted to be done.

He wanted the traditional relationship that many horse hybrids would wrinkle their nose at.

So, he had to figure out how to navigate that.

Lifting himself, he grabs his phone and opens up Google. Taehyung didn’t know many horse hybrid’s who wanted to have a monogamous relationship, but he had met a few over the years. Racking his brain, he tries to remember what they had talked about when he’d queried how they could cope with only being with one partner for life.

Despite his interest in the topic, he’d been young at the time and had still very much enjoyed sleeping with as many women as he could. His feelings for you hadn’t quite become what they were today, so he hadn’t listened too intently. Taehyung regretted that now. Tapping his lips for a moment, he contemplates what to write before he begins to type his request into the search engine.

Horse hybrid hormone inhibitors.

It’s three weeks later when Taehyung finally feels comfortable and knowledgeable enough to make a move. He’d made an appointment with his doctor the very next day after overhearing your conversation. He specialised in hybrid care, in particular those for equine hybrids like Taehyung along with the rare donkey or zebra.

Which meant he wasn’t all that shocked at Taehyung’s unusual enquiry. He probably got the occasional query from an equine hybrid about how to be monogamous. It was rare but not unheard of after all. What had shocked him though, was the fact that it was Taehyung asking it.

Kim Taehyung, the infamous porn star who had built a living on his ability to fuck his way through multiple women on camera. Who had his damn fanbase based almost purely on his cock for god’s sake? It was embarrassing to think about, but he’d known what he was getting into when he’d signed the contract in the first place.

He wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t enjoy his job because he did. Taehyung hated that he did, but the sex with many women helped to alleviate all those deeply held instincts and urges within him. Still, now that he knew about you he had no intention of carrying on with his career. Not when he had a chance.

Which was why he’d admitted his feelings towards you to the doctor. Something he’d never thought he’d end up doing, but once everything was out in the open then his doctor was far more understanding of Taehyung’s request. Even encouraging of it. Taehyung was pretty sure that he found the whole story a little sweet and romantic.

Either way, they’d worked out a plan for him to make his life easier if you accepted him. Medications that he would need to take to reduce the overwhelming instincts that drive his hybrid nature and would allow him to engage in monogamy. The idea of that was unbelievably exciting and he’d begun to take his medication only days after the appointment.

After that, he’d gotten together with Jimin. Their weekly hangout usually occurred in a bar, a restaurant or sometimes just hanging around one of their apartments. His best friend had shrieked with delight when Taehyung had explained his predicament and what he was doing to go forward with.

Which had led him to finally asking Jimin if that job offer was still on the plate if everything went right. Taehyung wanted to finally pursue his dream of being a fashion designer and it was so tantalisingly close. He was on the verge of finally having the life he’d always wanted. Hopefully with you.

The first week of being on the medication, which reduced the high levels of testosterone he produced and helped to inhibit his base reactions, had been rough as hell. Taehyung had been on the verge of calling in sick for the first time to a shoot, his body struggling to cope with the change in his body. But he’d pushed through and two weeks later, here he was.

Nervous as fuck and waiting for you to finally come home.

Everything all depended on if you’d accept his request to start a relationship. A serious, romantic relationship that was entirely monogamous. If you said yes, then he had a lawyer all set up to break his contract and a contract just waiting for him with Jimin.

Although really, he’d be quitting his job no matter what happened. He was tired of the porn scene, even if he’d met some wonderfully kind and talented people there. Taehyung had finally decided that he would be moving on with his life and accepting the job with Jimin.

It was up to you whether you wanted to be alongside him, and in what capacity.

The pizza he’d ordered for you both arrived at the same time you came home; a large box of vegetable pizza held in your hands and amusement in your pretty eyes. It makes him smile brightly to see you happy, knowing that you’re pleased he’d taken care of dinner tonight. Especially as it was from your favourite pizzeria; six different kinds of cheeses combined with peppers, onions, eggplant, tomatoes and spinach.

Your favourite kind of pizza, alongside a bottle of red wine that he’d already filled a glass with to let it breathe. The amusement soon turns to suspicion, your brow rising as you kick off your shoes and shrug off your coat.

“What’s all this about?” Gesturing at everything, you settle onto the couch next to him with your legs curled up beneath you. Taehyung bites his lip, sighing softly before reaching out and opening up the box. He doesn’t explain for a few minutes, just letting you both eat a slice of pizza while he watches his beer on the table.

He felt like a teenager, his stomach fizzing with a combination of excitement and nerves that almost makes him feel nauseous. Maybe he shouldn’t be eating right now, but he hasn’t been able to eat all day so far. There would be no use in making himself ill. It would be mortifying for him to throw up all over you.

By the time you’ve eaten two slices, Taehyung has only managed one. But he’s decided that he’s waited long enough. It’s time.

Taking in a deep breath, he lets it out slowly before clearing his throat. After so many years of being friends, he knows that he can talk to you about anything. There are many memories that he’d much rather forget that you’d seen of him, such as that awkward time when he’d had an upset stomach and hadn’t been able to get to the bathroom quick enough.

Not his finest moment and you’d gagged more than once but hey, it was all a bonding experience. Right? Or was that just his opinion on it?

Still, Taehyung found himself pausing; his words sticking in his throat even as he mentally told himself to pull it together. You’d seen all his low points and his highpoints, he did not doubt that you would treat his question with the respect it deserves. But it was still a worry that you might turn him down.

Maybe you’d finally found someone else and wouldn’t want him anymore. The thought made his chest hurt, but he had to know. He had to get the answer to the question that had burned in his thoughts for years now. If you rejected him then he’d be hurt but he’d get over it, especially if it meant you found your happiness.

So why was it so hard to get the words out?

“Hey, are you okay?” Your shoulder bumps into his, pretty face dipping low to catch his eyes. He should have known that you would have realised there was something wrong, or that he wasn’t quite being himself. The way you look at him with such worry and concern makes his anxiety melt away, causing him to smile before he nods.

“I have something to ask you. I mean...you can say no. Please don’t worry about that, if you don’t want to then tell me no. I’ll accept it, I promise. You know I’d never try to force you, right?” He winces, realising that he’s messing this up already given the way your brow creases in confusion. “I mean, god I’m fucking this up. I’m sorry. I just...I have to be honest with you. I accidentally overheard your conversation the other month. I didn’t mean to, it was when you’d come home after your vacation and I’d fallen asleep so I was going back to my room and I overheard you.”

Taehyung is babbling, and he realises that when you gently press a finger to his lips. It would be nice to say that you didn’t look bothered, but there was fear on your face that made him feel sick.

“I believe you.”

Your words are so soft and he almost hums in delight as you run your fingers through his hair, grooming him without even realising. It makes him smile, both at your steadfast belief in him and how you always want to be touching and cleaning him in some way. His fingers itched with the desire to groom you in turn.

He restrained himself, fully aware that if he did then it’d just end up being one half an hour of you both trying to clean each other. The perils of two social hybrids who both have a culture and instinct for grooming. Not what he wanted right now.

The reassurance you give him, combined with the unwavering belief in your eyes, convinces him to just say it. To just get it out and lay his cards on the table. He was nervous, sure, but he’d been nervous many times in his life and he’d overcome all of those moments.

“I heard you say that you like me. In a romantic way. I was really surprised at hearing it, mainly because I didn’t think you’d ever looked at me that way before. Not when I’m the opposite of what you’d want in terms of a relationship. But I want you to know that hearing it made me the happiest I’ve been in a while. Because I like you too. And I have done for a while now. Years.” He says it all with a carefully neutral face, watching you carefully to see if he can gauge your reaction.

For a moment, your expression is a perfect picture in neutrality. The Switzerland of faces, giving nothing away and not letting him see anything that’s going on in your head. It’s frustrating for him when he’s probably feeling too much, but he doesn’t push. Just waits to see what you’ll say.

“What?”

Okay, so perhaps not the eloquent acceptance of his feelings that he’d expected. But it’s not an outright rejection. He can work with this, there’s potential here.

Licking his lips, he takes a deep breath before carefully shifting until he’s facing you on the couch. Your eyes are so wide, shining in the light and making him think it looks like you hold the secrets of the universe deep within. He can’t help but smile at it, at how young and innocent you look.

Smile at the tentative hope he thinks he can spy.

“I like you, Chirp. Like, like you. Probably would use a stronger word if I wasn’t already afraid I’m scaring you away. I know that I’m not what you’d want in a partner, which is why I’ve never made a move over the years. But I’ve always hoped, which is why I never got a herd of my own,

“I love being around you, I love hearing you sing and laugh, I love talking to you, I love hearing you talk to others, I love how you’re so affectionate and always want to groom me along with chatting my ears off. I never said anything though, because most of all, I valued our friendship. And I knew that you wanted someone who could be your life-partner, something I wasn’t sure if I could be.” Taehyung pauses, twisting his lips before looking down at his hands.

“But then I heard you talking and I realised that there might be a possibility. A small one maybe, but I knew I had to at last try. Something I want you to know though is that everything I’m about to tell you that I’ve done has been done for myself because I finally realised that I have to move forward with my life. So, firstly, I talked to my doctor and I’ve started some medication that helps to inhibit my instincts when it comes to relationships and sex.” Pausing, he eyes you to gauge how you’re taking the news.

The head tilt you give is very birdlike, causing him to chuckle without even meaning to. He can’t help it though, not when you look so sweet right then with your bright hair and big eyes.

“I don’t have the urge to have sex with lots of women or make my herd anymore. We talked about it extensively and decided this would be my best course of action to allow me to have a healthy, monogamous relationship. Because of that, I’ve also quit my job and taken up the offer Jimin’s been giving me for years now.”

Despite the fact he’s mid-confession to you, the excitement in his stomach at that very moment is more to do with the fact he was going to finally have his dream career. That he was going to be doing a job which he’d been wanting to accept for years.

Understandably, his words cause you to suddenly gasp in delight before you’re clapping your hands eagerly. The excitement and happiness are purely for him finally taking proper control of his life, ridding himself of the pornography career that he’d enjoyed but hadn’t loved. Something you’d known for a while now.

“Oh my god? You’re going to work with Jimin?! You took the job! TaeTae, I’m so happy for you!” Even though he’d just admitted to you that he was near enough in love with you, your emotions were purely focused on the fact he’d taken the job. Feeling your approval and genuine joy at his life change, he can’t help but give you a wide, boxy grin even while the apples of his cheeks turn a soft rose.

“Thanks, I think Jimin was more excited than anyone to be honest. Pretty sure he’s already organising a design space for me in his building alongside an office. Makes me feel kind of bad for waiting so long to take him up on it but I feel like I’m finally at a place in my life that I’m truly ready for that career change.” That seems to remind you of what he’d told you earlier, about his medication.

Your elated expression slowly fades and he watches in trepidation as your brow creased, the mood dimming. Were you unhappy with his choice? Taking a deep breath, he holds it for a moment before letting it out slowly.

“I want you to know that there is no pressure on you. For anything. I’m going to continue taking this medication because I want to focus on my new career without having to worry about any urges taking over. The side benefit to it means that...well,” He pauses for a moment. “I can have a proper relationship. Or at least, the kind of relationship that you’d want. If you want that. With me.”

There’s complete silence in the room and Taehyung feels the sudden urge to grab another slice of pizza and start eating. Just for something to do with his hands and to distract himself.

He doesn’t push though, just lets you process what he’s told you. It was a lot, so he wasn’t even particularly expecting an answer tonight. If he were being honest, then he wouldn’t be surprised if you took yourself off to your room for the night. Or even went to one of your friends to talk it over with them.

But as usual, you surprise him. You may be small and dainty compared to him, light as a feather and full of cheer, but your personality has always been big and bold. Which is why you tackle the topic head-on.

“I didn’t mean for you to hear, you know that right?” Is your first question and Taehyung nods quickly, reaching out to encompass your much smaller hand with his own. There’s nothing too familiar about the gesture, just a squeeze of reassurance to let you know he understands and isn’t mad or anything.

“I know. It was entirely my fault. I should’ve carried on as soon as I heard that you were talking but I just heard my name and...well.” He trails off, giving an awkward smile that causes you to smile in return. The gentle pressure on his hand makes him realise that you’re now trying to assuage his fears that you were annoyed.

“Hey, it’s okay. You may not have too many physical features of your animal side but you’ve got plenty of their abilities. We both know that you can’t control the fact that you can hear much better, so I don’t blame you. Nor do I blame you for stopping to listen. Especially when you realised what I was talking about,” Now it’s your turn to look abashed, gaze skittering away from his and down to your still joined hands. “I’d have done the same thing if I heard you talking about me.”

Swallowing, Taehyung wonders how he’s meant to respond to that. He didn’t know what he’d say anyway as his stomach feels like it’s full of butterflies suddenly. Really big, horrible butterflies that are making him feel nauseous.

“So yeah, I’m not angry or annoyed over that. Please don’t worry too much. If anything...I’m kind of glad. Because it means you’ve confronted this head-on and now we both know how we feel about each other. Which is that we like each other. A lot. In case it wasn’t clear, I like you too. Really like you. But I also thought it wouldn’t work because I know what I want and need from my partner in my life and I knew that your instincts clashed with that. Again, not your fault. You can’t deny nature and I tried to make sure that you never felt like I was.” There’s a hint of something in your voice but Taehyung can’t figure it out.

Pain? Embarrassment? Worry?

Whatever it is, he doesn’t get a chance to query it because you forge on. The sweet lovebird he’d known for years seems to be wavering between shyness at talking about your feelings and determination to have everything laid out.

He can understand the feeling.

“You know, I’ve fantasised about this for years, but now that it’s happening-”

“You don’t know how to communicate what you’re feeling and it’s all way more awkward and not nearly as romantic or sexy as you’d imagined?” Taehyung finishes for you, biting his lip as he grins broadly. You snort in amusement before nodding, playing with his fingers for a minute or so as you try to rationalise it all in your head.

“Did you go on whatever that medication is...for me? Like...because you wanted a relationship? With me? I know you’ve said it’s also because you wanted a career doing something you’ve always wanted but…” Trailing off, you can’t seem to look him in the eyes.

Carefully, he uses his free hand to lift your chin until he can see you. There’s a brief moment where you try to avoid his gaze before you give in, staring back just as deeply. Nerves, fear and hope are warring within him and he imagines that he can see it reflected in your own eyes.

“I’m not going to say no because overhearing your conversation was what spurred me to talk to my doctor. Finding out that you liked me back and that I might have a chance with you made me want to try to make sure you get the best of me. I knew that there are horse hybrids out there who have monogamous relationships and who are happy, but I didn’t think that would be a possibility for me. And given what I was doing for my career, I thought it was just better to carry on as I was,

“But then when I was talking to him about it all, I realised that it would help me in other aspects of my life too. Yes, I could finally offer you the kind of relationship that you want and that I want to have with you, but it would also let me leave behind the porn and start focusing on what I want to do. You know that I’ve never really been one of those stallions who wants a herd and the porn helped me to get rid of those urges without giving in to them properly. I looked into it for you, but I took it for me.” Licking his lips, Taehyung realises that he feels lighter.

Like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he realises it’s because of what he’d told you. He’d been convinced that he was doing this to have a chance with you in the way he’d always dreamed of, but it was startling to realise that it was having such a positive effect in the rest of his life. For once, he was no slave to his instincts and had full control over himself, his emotions and his desires.

Just the thought of never having to do another film filled him with joy and happiness.

“Good. I wouldn’t want you to have changed yourself for me. But given that you have...what does it mean? Tell me.” Those pretty eyes, so big and wide, watch him intently and he gives a small half-smile as he shrugs with one shoulder.

“I mean...it’s basically like an inhibitor I guess? Reduces the amount of testosterone I produce, makes me less reactive to the scent of mares in heat and all that. There’s a whole bunch of medical stuff that I don’t understand but I just know what the doctor told me. It’s safe, it’s been tested many times before, and if things don’t work out, then I can come off them and be back to my old self. It just means that I won’t have the desire to have a herd or to...well sleep with multiple women, you know? Let’s be monogamous, a one-woman man. Finally.” Chuckling to himself, he runs his fingers through his pale hair so it’s out of his eyes.

“So...we could be together? Like...in a relationship? Just me and you?”

“Yeah. The doctor said that as long as I’m on the medication then I’ll be like any other human or hybrid who doesn’t have a poly instinct. Not that there’s anything wrong with that obviously, but it means we can be together. In the future, if you want to be in a relationship or something...then if we decide to have kids or to not have them, I can get gelded and that’ll get rid of the instincts permanently.” Now your eyes widen in horror, hand covering your mouth as you gasp loudly.

“Gelded? They’d castrate you?” There’s a glance down from his face to his groin from you and he can’t help but laugh at the thought. Even if it does make him want to cup his balls protectively.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay! It’s okay! It’s just a vasectomy. Because I’m a stallion, it’s called being gelded. After that, I’d be officially known as a gelding. No longer able to have babies and with no real instinct to make my herd anymore.” Thankfully you look relieved at that and he wants to tease you about being so worried about his testicles. But instead, he just feels happy that you don’t tease him in turn about talking about potential babies already.

That’s a good sign.

“Okay. Okay...so, let’s think about this logically. I mean, is that being too cold? You admit that you like me back and you’re on medication to allow us to be in a relationship and I’m saying we need to think logically?” Taehyung pauses you with a finger to your lips, a smile on his own before he carefully wraps his arms around your shoulders.

He makes sure to give you plenty of time to make sure that you can pull away if you want to if you’re not comfortable with this, but you don’t. Instead, you almost seem to relax into him and link your arms around his waist. You can probably feel his heart beating through his chest, the muscle working extra hard while he feels a little breathless.

It’s not the first time he’s held you, but it feels different this time. There’s something more intimate about it and he can’t help but take a deep breath in, enjoying your scent.

“It’s fine. I’m kind of glad because I’ve made a complete mess of explaining myself here. So at least one of us can think more logically about it.”

“You didn’t do a terrible job. I mean...I’m certainly not going to vote for you or anything but it wasn’t bad. My question to you then...are we dating now?” And just like that, Taehyung’s breath is taken away. To the point, he almost chokes on his spit and ends up having a coughing fit.

Directly into your face, ruining any hint of romance.

Yep, he’d truly fucked this confession up. Taehyung was just lucky that you’d known him for so long that it just made your nose wrinkle as you wiped at your face with your shirt, grumbling lightly before pushing his shoulder.

“Gross.”

“Sorry! I wasn’t expecting that though! I mean, you just straight up asked. I was expecting like...more talking and exchanging feelings. More awkwardness.” Leaning away from him, you give him a very droll stare that makes him wince. Well, at least it was awkward now.

“Sorry for not living up to those weird expectations I guess? I just figure that we’ve spent long enough dancing around each other, right? I don’t want to waste any more time or have any more miscommunication so if it’s too abrupt for you then I’m still not sorry. I like you, Kim Taehyung. And given what you’ve told me, and what you’ve done for me, I want to finally have that relationship I’ve been wanting for so many years.” The authoritative tone in your voice is more attractive than he’d expected, causing his brow to rise.

Feisty.

“Okay. Yes. Yes, we’re dating. Together. We’re together. Boyfriend and girlfriend. I need to shut up.” Clamming up, he forces his mouth to shut and for his muscles to remain still. In reality, he wants to jump for joy and scream out that this was happening. Even if part of him is embarrassed that he’s incapable of talking now.

It’s all worth it though when you give him a huge smile, so big and bright and full of happiness.

“You’re cute, you know that?” Now he’s blushing; cheeks high and a delightful rose as he tries to contain his smile. He’s supposed to be cool, the epitome of an educated man who is extremely experienced around women. And yet here he is, acting like a teenager getting his first girlfriend.

“Not what I normally get called.” You’re the one who looks a little shy at that, your eyes darting away from his as you bite at your lip. There’s a hint of nerves to you now and something else, something he can’t quite figure out. The way you wiggle slightly in place has him frowning in confusion, wondering what’s made you suddenly so quiet. This was the behaviour he’d been expecting from you, so it felt a relief to finally get it but also strange given how confident you’d been.

“What’s wrong? Where’s my bold girlfriend gone?” Gently poking your waist, he tries to ignore the thrill that rises inside him when he calls you that. It was going to take some time to get used to it.

Thankfully, it also manages to breakthrough whatever shell you’d suddenly formed around yourself. Grasping his hand with your own, you let out a soft whine as he continues to prod at you and he quickly intertwines his fingers with your own. For a moment, he’s too busy staring down at your hand in amused awe to remember what he’d asked you.

“Your hand is tiny, you know that?”

“No, you just have huge hands. All of you is huge, just like all of me is small. The difference between a horse and a lovebird.” Now it’s your turn to push at his stomach, a small smile on your face. Taehyung grins at that, but he grins, even more, when he catches your eyes flicking down to his lap.

It all clicked into place in his head, from the way you got shy at him saying he’s not normally called cute to the way you call him huge. You’re not wrong; Taehyung is massive when compared to you. Denser bones add to it at all, allowing him to lift and move heavy weights with ease whereas you’d developed a lighter bone structure that was more reminiscent of birds.

Taehyung had never broken a bone before, whereas you had to be careful doing certain things. But the size difference between you both was made even more obvious when he thought about sex. He was bigger than most human and hybrid males down below, and he wondered if there was something wrong with him that the knowledge you knew that turned him on.

Not that you’d ever seen him naked or anything, but you weren’t stupid. He was infamous in the porn industry for a reason.

Which suddenly made him consider something, his head tilting slightly as he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Have you ever watched my stuff? Like my films or anything? I know for a fact that some of them are on those free porn sites.” Biting his lip, he watches closely for any positive sign. One of the benefits of being a horse hybrid was that he was highly attuned to microexpressions in others.

Originally meant to watch out for danger and keep himself safe, it was more useful for getting an idea of where a conversation was going. It also made Taehyung feel very stupid that he’d never noticed you were in love with him before.

He doesn’t need to have any extra abilities to read your face right now though, not with how you look almost like you wish the floor would swallow you whole. You can’t even meet his eyes and it delights him.

“You have!”

“No! I wouldn’t do that, you’re my best friend. That’d be weird.” Taehyung can sense the distress in your voice and he forces himself to tone down. He had no issues with the idea of you watching his stuff; if anything it was a turn on. But this relationship was so new that it had barely been born and he didn’t want to push your boundaries just yet.

Still, he felt like he had a right to know.

“Hey, listen to me, it wouldn’t bother me if you did. I actually would find it a turn on to know you’ve watched me. I hope you weren’t upset though, I only did all of that to satisfy my instincts so that I could enjoy my time with you. But I made those films and videos for people to enjoy. If you got off to some of them that I’d consider it a job well done. Don’t feel embarrassed if you did.” Using his free hand, he lets his fingers trail along your cheek. It’s warm beneath his touch, the blood rushing in response to your tumultuous emotions and he reassuringly runs his thumb across it.

“You’re...you’re not bothered by the idea of that?”

Taehyung chuckles at your disbelief and shrugs genially, making sure to portray an aura of calm and serenity. The only thing that bothered him about the idea of you watching his videos was that he was already sporting a semi at the very thought of his supposed ‘innocent’ best friend watching him railing some mare.

Which should be a terrible thought, but it just meant that he was all the more experienced for you. There would be no doubt in his mind that he could show you a world of pleasure that you’d never even imagined; as pompous and egotistic as that sounded.

Sex was his area of expertise though.

“I mean...I knew it was a risk when I started. I make porn. Porn is available freely on the internet and I fully expected some of my friends to be at least a little curious. Plus, there’s the whole ‘horse hybrid’ thing going on. I don’t tend to get embarrassed easily around sex. If anything, it’s kinda exciting knowing that you’ve seen some.” You’re giving him a look of pure confusion and he can’t help but laugh heartily.

Oh, he loves you. He loves how befuddled you are at his refusal to adhere to your expectations. Given how reserved you were normally about sex and relationships, it was delightful to shatter your illusions surrounding him and make your perusal of his work sound like a benefit rather than something to be ashamed of.

“So...what did you think? You’ve never given me a rating before, so I’m curious.” Once more, your eyes dart away from his and he has to stifle a snort at how you suddenly find the wall so interesting. The artwork on there was nice, he’d picked it out himself, but it wasn’t that nice.

He doesn’t push though. What he wants is for this relationship to start on trust and honesty. So if you want to trust him enough to be honest about your opinion then he’d accept that. If it was still too early for you; he’d accept that too.

“It was good. I mean, I haven’t watched much. It was years ago and only a few minutes before I felt weird. Like I was spying on you. That’s it though! I swear I haven’t seen anything else. It felt like I was...perving on you or something.” Grasping at his hands desperately, you give him such big eyes that try to get across your honesty.

It makes his lips quirk in amusement and he links your fingers together once more, squeezing lightly. For a few moments, he considers how to respond to you before deciding to just go for it. Which means he slowly leans forward to you, eyes flicking down to your lips and giving you plenty of chances to pull away and leave.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s a little bit of a relief, knowing you’ve seen at least something. But most importantly...can I kiss you?” Taehyung swears you deflate, your entire body seeming to relax with a deep breath you let out.

He’d be worried if it wasn’t for the huge grin that you have painted on your face now, the delight making your skin almost glow with health and happiness. It’s a beautiful look and he feels like he’s enraptured once more, falling in love with you all over again. At least now he has an outlet for these mushy feelings.

“Finally!”

There’s only time for Taehyung’s eyes to widen in shock before you’re shaking your hands free of his own and grasping at his shirt. With a surprising amount of strength, you jerk him forwards and his lips crash against your own. That’s the only way to describe it, as it kinda hurts. His lips mashed against his teeth a little and his nose bumps against yours, causing him to whine.

You let him go almost immediately, looking intensely embarrassed as you rub at your mouth and nose. He does the same, making sure that there’s nothing wrong with his beloved nose while licking at his lips to soothe the dull ache. But then he can’t help but laugh, the sound bright and rumbling up from his chest as he contemplates what just happened.

Every time that he thought you would zig, you instead zagged. Over the years, he’d learnt to go with the flow with you in regards to this with his friendship but for some reason, he’d never quite realised that it would be much the same with a romantic relationship. You defied his expectations and made him feel like he was constantly on his toes.

He loved it, including when almost headbutted him with your first kiss.

“I am so sorry-” You start, your eyes wide and worry emanating from you. He shakes his head, trying to stifle his amusement before reaching out and cupping your face with a gentle touch.

“Okay, how about we try this again but...a little slower this time, yeah?” Keeping your face steady, he inches forward until he can feel your warm breath on his cheek. You’ve already closed your eyes in anticipation and he has to squash the desire to grin, instead fulfilling both of your wishes by pressing his lips against your own.

It’s a soft and gentle kiss at first, exploratory and uncertain. Neither of you knows how to kiss the other properly, or what the other likes, and so you both simply...take your time. Taehyung’s thumb strokes along with the softness of your cheek while your hands flatten against his chest, palms hot where they rest.

He’s kissed a lot of women in his life; some he’s proud of, some he’s not and some he doesn’t even care about. But this is the best kiss so far. Even as slow and unsure as it is, it’s still the best.

Because it’s you.

There’s more than a hint of inexperience in your kiss and it doesn’t surprise him. He knows that you’ve at least kissed a few people before, but you didn’t have a huge amount of experience in it. Instead, it’s just enough that he feels comfortable but not enough to have you take the lead.

So he does, instead. And given how bold you’d been earlier, he takes the initiative to be bold this time as well.

With almost minimal strength required on his behalf, he slips his hands down to your hips and grips them tightly, lifting and depositing you onto his lap without breaking the kiss. He doesn’t even make a noise as he does so, your weight nothing to him.

His ancestors had been bred for heavy lifting and pulling, after all.

What he doesn’t anticipate though, is the way you moan into his mouth or how you wiggle slightly at his action. Pulling from you, one brow lifts as he looks you over inquisitively. His question is silent, but you understand it immediately. There’s nowhere for you to look now, not when you’re so close to him.

So you stare at his chin instead, carefully avoiding his eyes as your hands move to play with his soft hair. The blonde strands are almost golden instead of platinum in the soft light of the nearby lamp, just visible in his vision from where you stroke them.

“I forget how strong you are sometimes.” The words are muttered and he gets the impression that you’re hoping he doesn’t hear. And that he won’t query it further. But he does, of course, he does.

“Do you have a strength kink, Chirp?”

“Wha-no! That’s, why would I-” Spluttering, you lean back a little and take a moment to shuffle until you’re more comfortable on his lap. Your legs are on either side of his now, comfortable in their almost kneeling position but most of your weight is on his legs. He takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around your waist and tug you closer, enjoying the warmth you give him.

“It’s cool if you do. I can fulfil that. Not yet though, if that’s okay. But I need you to know something right now. I don’t want us to have sex right now. Not yet. Since being a teenager, I’ve been obsessed with sex. An unfortunate side effect of being a stallion. For the first time in my adult life...I don’t feel an insatiable need for it. And it’s kinda nice. I don’t want us to start our relationship with sex. I want us to explore each other and our relationship first and then introduce sex. I need to learn that sex is something intimate and between only us now. I’ve spent too long viewing it as work.” He tries to make sure that his words are carefully said and that he’s not rushing them, but now he’s the one a little nervous.

You’d been far bolder than he’d ever expected and now he was worried that you might expect sex from him immediately. It was an easy, even acceptable, assumption to make given what he was and his career. But he didn’t want that. As he’d said, he wanted to start this relationship with love and trust.

Lust could come later.

There’s no answer from you for a moment and he sighs, letting his hands awkwardly stroke at your sides in an attempt to give them something to do.

“I’m sorry if that’s not what you were expecting. Or not what you wanted. I’m a little surprised you’ve been so forward with me and-” A soft fingertip presses against his lips, causing him to quieten instantly.

Smiling softly, you lean forward and kiss him. It’s just as chaste as the one previously, only you’ve controlled yourself a little more compared to your first attempt. He takes solace in it though and now his body is the one deflating. There’s a silent acceptance in that kiss.

When you finally pull away from him, he finds himself chasing after you. It’s an odd sensation for him to do that without any intention of going further but he finds that he likes it. There’s no doubt that you can feel what’s going on in his pants; he can’t control everything after all but just because his body is saying yes doesn’t mean his mind is.

And you accept that. He can tell instantly, from the reassuring smile you give him and how you embrace him so warmly and carefully.

“It’s okay, Tae. I’ll admit to being a little disappointed but I can understand your reasoning behind it. And I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want to. I know you’d do the same for me. I guess it’s just going to make it better when we finally do get to it, right?” Teasing him, you stick your tongue out and poke at his cheek.

Almost immediately, his nose wrinkles and your laugh lightly. For a moment, the sounds are almost like chirping and he can see your lovebird origins so clearly. That was to say nothing of the fact that you were now subconsciously grooming his hair, fingertips running through the platinum strands and getting rid of any unfortunate kinks or knots.

“Thank you.” He whispers, letting his hands wrap around your waist until he’s hugging you. It takes minimal effort to have you plastered against him, head resting on his shoulder as he embraces you so tightly. You smell heavenly, and he wonders what he did to be given the chance to be with you after so many years.

“Can we go on a date though? I mean...like now?” Tilting his head back, he frowns before looking at the table and the pizza boxes.

“What? Where? We’ve already eaten?”

“Okay, but I’m kinda horny and you’re kinda horny and I think we both need to talk a walk and cool down. So...how about we have our first date? I’ve been waiting a while for this, Kim Taehyung.” Your smile is so big and bright, dazzling him and making his stomach flutter.

He doesn’t even realise he’s nodding until you practically launch yourself from his lap, rushing over to the door and chattering away. If he was being honest, he had no idea what you were talking about as you quickly pulled your shoes on and sorted out your bag.

Taehyung didn’t even care, because he’d done it. He had the girl he’d been in love with for years, who he’d been certain he had no chance with. You could regale him with a thousand and one tales and he’d listen to them all with a content smile because he was yours, and you were his.

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toplinetommy · 3 years

Text

Kill My Lonely Nights - Tyson Jost

a/n: after plotting and replotting this fic for over a month its finally here. my baby and definitely my most favorite thing ive ever written. hope everyone enjoys it as much as i do.

tagging @bqstqnbruin thanks for being my beta and for bouncing ideas around with me and also my fav josty whores 😇 @justjosty @hookingminor @farbutnevergone

Synopsis: tyson finally meets jt’s neighbor — and he’ll stick by her side through her ‘i’m a single and independent woman’ phase as long as jt doesn’t find out

songs: im so tired - lauv, troye sivan; better than heaven - slander; cherry on top - olmos, kyle reynolds

words: 20k+

warnings: alcohol, smut, unprotected sex

“Tyson, you know my neighbor right?”

You roll your eyes at JT’s way of introducing the two of you, because, no, you did not know the curly-headed brunette in front of you. You had seen him in passing a few times when he was over at JT’s but you never learned his name. In fact, the only thing you knew about him was that they were teammates and you got that from deductive reasoning since he was always dressed in some sort of Avalanche merch.

“I’m y/n,” you smile, sticking out your hand for the stranger to shake.

“Tyson,” the no longer nameless stranger responds, a quirky smile on his lips.

“It’s nice to finally put a name to the face,” you respond, your cheeks heating up as you look over him. He’s cute in that quirky way where his head’s a mess of curls, his eyes full of joy, and his shoulders filling out the grey Avs hoodie quite nicely.

“Same here,” Tyson agrees, shoving his hands into his sweatpants pockets. You continued to gather the few things in the living room that were yours before finding your phone charger and giving JT a hug.

“I’ll see you when you get back from Chicago yeah?”

“Yep, have a good birthday!” JT cheers, from his spot on the couch.

With that you bid Tyson and JT a goodbye, choosing to wave at Tyson instead of showing an outright affection towards the stranger. The door shuts behind you as you walk a few feet down the carpeted hallway to your own door.

“Dude,” Tyson starts, turning his attention back on his buddy from where it was lingering on the now-closed door.

“No-”

“You don’t even know what I’m gonna say!” Tyson incredulously interrupts.

“You’re gonna tell me she’s hot because, yeah, anyone can see that. She’s going through this thing she’s been calling a ‘guy cleanse’,” JT explains, putting finger quotes around guy cleanse. Tyson brushes the comment aside, not bothering to ask any more questions. If he’d want to get to know you, he knows he’d have to do it without JT’s help. JT always had this thing of being overprotective over the women in his life, especially being a guy that grew up in hockey with three little sisters.

Another week or so passes before Tyson sees you again. It’s when he’s getting into the elevator after getting dinner with his JT, and you’re just getting home from what Tyson presumes is work and maybe even the liquor store with the purse and lunch box hanging in the crease of your elbow as well as the case of Truly’s in your other hand.

“Hey, it’s y/n, right?” Tyson says in lieu of a greeting. He holds the elevator open for you as you step out, thinking of ways to keep the conversation longer than a simple greeting.

“Yeah,” you smile, warmly at him. He can see that your hands are full as you try to shovel through your bag in search of your keys as you take another step towards your door towards the end of the hallway. “Well, uh, have a good night Tyson.”

Tyson watches as you turn away with a small smile, and suddenly he’s stumbling over his words, trying to make the moment last longer. He’s rarely ever seen you around, most times in passing in this very hallway and the occasional time JT talked to you on the phone when they were on the road. You didn’t go to games, you didn’t hang out with the team, and you were never over at JT’s when Tyson would show up.

But when he had officially met you the other week when you were leaving JT’s apartment, he was transfixed and curious about the girl JT always talked about but never brought around.

“Do you wanna come in for a drink?” You ask, nodding to the case in your hand. You’re asking as more of a common courtesy than anything else, but you can tell that he’s waiting for you to make the next move regarding this run-in with him. The peachiness of his cheeks and his hands shoved into his jacket pockets are proof of that.

“You sure?”

“Any friend of JT is a friend of mine,” you smile, opening your front door and gesturing for Tyson to go in before you.

“Yeah, okay,” Tyson smiles, taking another step towards you and reaching out for the box of Truly’s. “Let me take that for you.”

Tyson graciously takes the case from you and steps through the doorway of your apartment, suddenly losing any train of thought he once had now that he’s in an apartment he’s never been in. He sees the fridge across the way and decides he’ll just stick the drinks in there. There’s thankfully space in the fridge for them and he watches you shred your raincoat and heels by the door. “So, uh, how do you know JT? Like, I know you guys are neighbors but he’s always referring to you as his best friend. I honestly didn’t even know that you lived next to him until the other week.”

You laugh, thinking back to how you even met JT. It was nowhere near being a typical introduction between neighbors, it was honestly pretty far from that. “So, whenever he first moved here like two years ago, I was sitting in my car in the parking garage on the phone with my dad, and this car parks next to me and the driver gets out and completely dings my car. I’m talking a paint scratch that’s starting to rust now.”

“He’s pretty unaware of his space,” Tyson laughs, knowing all too well that his friend did something like that.

“And so, I get out of my car, and I confront him about it, and he apologizes and whatever, not a big deal. But then he gets off the elevator with me and I’m thinking this guy’s gotta be a creep since he’s barely talking to me but then he pulls out his keys and is unlocking the door next to mine, and now he bugs me all the time,” you smile, Tyson making space for you to go into the fridge he’s currently standing in front of.

“You see that picture frame over there?” you nod your head to the wall your TV is mounted on. Tyson walks over to it, inspecting it and noting that neither of the people in it are you or JT. “There’s paint missing behind it because when he was helping me mount my TV he hit the wall with the drill. He got me the frame to cover it but I still haven’t gotten around to putting a picture there.”

Tyson’s eyebrows quirk up, “and how long has it been there?”

“Uh, maybe a year?” you answer, your tone making it sound more like a question as you blush. Tyson only laughs at you, fully understanding how something like that can slip from your mind. You offer him a Truly at that, him not missing an opportunity to chirp you since your flavor of choice was lime, even though his was black cherry, which in your mind was the most basic flavor there was.

He sits across from you at the island while you stand opposite of him, leaning on the granite in front of you. He can’t get enough of your laughter, finding it’s something you do quite often as the two of you share stories. You, on the other hand, have to stop yourself from blushing since he doesn’t break eye contact with you once. It’s starting to get late and you still haven’t eaten dinner, so with an empty Truly in hand, Tyson is reluctantly getting up to head home to prepare for his early practice and flight tomorrow. He doesn’t want to impose on you any further, considering you were essentially strangers an hour ago.

You wave goodbye at him as he walks down the hallway to the elevator, a smile on your face as he nearly runs into Mr. Harter, the man that lives at the end of the hallway. You laugh as he apologizes profusely, something you amount to his Canadian upbringing.

Tyson curses himself over the next few days for not getting your number, and there’s no way in hell he’s asking JT for it. He doesn’t know how he’ll go about getting it, and the possibility of him running into you to get it is slim, with the fact that the Avs have a nine-day roadie on the upper East Coast. He figures he’ll try to ask JT more about you over the course of the trip, and then hopefully weasel his way into getting it.

It’s three days into the roadie and they’re sitting next to each other on the flight from Ottawa to Toronto. JT is busy on his iPad, and Tyson looks around him, seeing Cale and Gravy reading books, and G is passed out behind him. Tyson nudges JT’s shoulder with his, JT pulls out his AirPod and looks towards his buddy.

“So, y/n, eh?” He jumps right in, watching as JT rolls his eyes and moves to put his AirPod back in. “You said she doesn’t date?”

“Correct.”

“Why’s that? She seems like she wouldn’t have any issue in that department.”

“First off, that’s gross. Secondly, even if she was dating, you aren’t allowed to try anything,” Tyson chooses to ignore that part but continues to listen anyway. “She’s just like focused on herself, I don’t know. She knows her worth and knows what she deserves. She’s been single for as long as I’ve known her. It’s no bullshit with her, in every aspect of her life.” JT shrugs his shoulders as he talks. He’s not an expert on the topic because it’s not one you really talk about with him considering it’s just not really a huge part of your life.

Tyson hums along as he listens to JT talk, trying his best not to show why he’s even asking these questions in the first place. He takes what his friend says in stride, not being one to have gone through a phase like the one you’re going through. In fact, Tyson’s never been someone to say no to a date, fully taking advantage of the pro-athlete lifestyle he’s been living for years now. JT knows this, knows what it’s like to be 22, and all eyes on you.

He was there once, but he’s been with Sydney for over two years now. JT knows the locker room talk that goes on within hockey teams, he’s been living it his whole life. Yeah, the Denver room has been the best and the calmest when it comes to comments about guys’ dating lives, but the occasional whistle and chirp is made when one of the single guys has a story to share. The last thing he wants is to hear your name in one of those scenarios.

He doesn’t get your number during that road trip, can’t even find you on social media so he puts his efforts on pause. He even went through the list of people JT followed, your name not coming up once. Come to think of it, he doesn’t even know your last name.

Soon January is ending and February is starting, the season kicking into high gear as the all-star breaks ends and the playoff push truly begins. Tyson still hasn’t seen you around other than the occasional run-in, and you honestly haven’t given him much thought since that night in late January. Your life has always been chaotic, but still in the most organized way, and you’ve barely seen JT with the way his game schedule is laid out. But the middle of February brings Sydney to town and brings too many parties while she’s around.

It’s at Andre’s place where you see Tyson again, warm pleasantries shared between the two of you. He’s a little confused as he watches you chat with almost everyone there, the weird feeling coming from the fact that most people filling the apartment are on the Avalanche roster. He wonders if you’ve already met most of them or if you’re just that outgoing.

Tyson finally makes his way over to you, two cans in hand as he offers you the one with green lettering with a smile.

“A lime White Claw? That’s the way to my heart,” you joke, placing your hand over your heart before taking his offering.

“I was asking around to see if there were any Truly’s,” Tyson laughs, waving his hand around. “But I hope the White Claw is okay.”

“A White Claw definitely isn’t as good as a Truly but it’s a close second, thank you.”

“Right!” Tyson agrees, “People think they all taste the same but there’s a clear hierarchy of which seltzers are better than others.” You laugh along with Tyson at his comment in complete agreement. You tell him your own tier list of seltzers, starting with Truly’s and ranking the Bud Light ones as the worst.

“I’ve only had a few of them, but I’ll take your word for it,” The laughter between the two of you dies down before JT finds you, saying he’s been looking for you for a little bit.

“It’s not my fault I’m hidden by all these huge men,” you roll your eyes, pointing around the room that’s filled with men all over six feet tall.

“Did you know your neighbor was a hard seltzer connoisseur?” Tyson asks with a quirk of his eyebrow, causing you to scoff. You were nowhere being a ‘connoisseur’ of sorts.

JT takes a sip of his drink, “She’s an alcohol connoisseur period, bud.” WIth that JT disappears to go find his girlfriend, leaving the two of you alone. Tyson’s face is filled with confusion at JT’s comment, not entirely sure what his comment even meant.

“I used to bartend in college,” you answer his silent question. “Which makes me JT’s personal bartender most nights.”

“Maybe I’ll have to get you to make me a drink sometime then,” Tyson suggests. It’s a little too forward for his liking but it just slips out, and you giggle at his attempt at flirting. His tan cheeks have a pink flush to them, and you’re sure it’s not from the alcohol since most people have only been here for an hour or so.

“C’mon,” you nod your head in the direction of the kitchen. Tyson silently follows you, weaving between the people and the furniture. “I can get you that drink right now.”

Once you make it to the kitchen you look around the counters, taking note of the different types of liquors laid out. Tyson watches you as your hands move around, picking up and setting down various bottles. When you’re satisfied with your concoction, you hand him a shot glass, one in your own hand to match his.

“It’s a shooter,” you inform him. He puts trust in you, clinging your glass with his own and bringing the glass to his lips as he tips his head back. Your eyes stay on him as his tongue pokes out to swipe the extra liquid off his lips before you realize you haven’t even taken yours yet. His eyes stay locked on you as you throw your own shot back, your eyes reconnecting when you set the glass on the counter next to you.

A shiver runs through you as his eyes watch your every move. You hadn’t noticed it with any of your other previous run-ins with him but he’s intimidating in that way where his presence is radiating that good kind of confidence. You watched him, unbeknownst to him, as he made his way around the room before ever making it to you.

“So what was that you just gave me?” He asks, crossing his ankles and leaning further on the counter behind him. You move to stand next to him, your shoulder brushing his cotton-covered bicep.

“It’s called a lemon drop shot, it’s just vodka and lemon juice so nothing too special,” you shrug, turning to look up at him. “Maybe I’ll get around to making you more drinks.”

Tyson smirks lightly at your comment, his hands gripping the counter behind him. He remembers what JT told him not too long ago about you, and how you’re someone that doesn’t put up with bullshit when it comes to relationships and his heart deflates a bit. He’d much rather keep talking to you and eventually kiss you, but he knows deep down that’s not what he wants with you either. He can tell from your brief encounters that this could be way more than just a few dates, so he holds back and instead bites his lip before pulling his phone out of his pocket.

He passes it over to you, and you hesitate taking it as you look between the black phone and his brown eyes, “so we can plan a time for you to make me drinks.”

“Ah, I see, I see,” you quip back, taking the phone from his hands and opening a new message and typing in your phone number. You respond back to him on your phone, showing that you got the text and opening up the contact to save his information. “Should I put in some funny name for your contact or is Tyson good enough?”

Tyson laughs fully at that, his chest rumbling for a moment before he calms down and tells you his name is just fine for now, “but I won’t complain if you find a better name for me.” Tyson scratches the back of his head for a moment as he places his phone onto the counter next to him, trying to find the words to keep the conversation going.

You leave not too long after that, catching an Uber with JT and Sydney back to your place. Tyson stays near your side most of the night, giving you a full hug as you leave and a promise of texting you soon.

You see Tyson the next morning at brunch with JT and Sydney, his strong, muscular thighs touching yours in the small booth. You get some fancy french toast, Sydney eyeing you from where she sits across from you. She’s been a close friend of yours ever since JT introduced the two of you whenever she first visited. Her eyes keep flicking between you and Tyson and you give her a stern look, silently telling her to knock it off.

“So, y/n,” she starts, a smirk forming on her lips. “How’s the dating life?”

You scoff with a laugh at her question. She knows well enough how that aspect of your life is doing considering you text her on a pretty regular basis. You choose not to answer, the scoff you let out being enough.

“Besides, no guy is good enough for her, right?” JT asks, looking over at you continuing his girlfriend’s train of thought. His eyes glance over at Tyson sitting next to you and Tyson ignores the look his teammate gives him.

“You mean the idiots you always try to set me up with? The ones that don’t live in Denver?” You quip back with a raise of your eyebrows. It’s more of a joke than anything else, but Tyson doesn’t quite understand your tone and mannerisms yet.

His heartbeat speeds up momentarily, thinking that if you hadn’t had any interest in any of JT’s other friends, you definitely wouldn’t have an interest in him. Besides, he may live in Denver now, but that’s not even the whole year when you account for traveling and the offseason.

You miss it, but Tyson changes the subject anyways, which is something you’re grateful for. Brunch passes by and when the waitress comes back with two checks, you knit your eyebrows.

“Actually, could I have my own check? We aren’t together,” you stumble, cheeks heating up at the misinterpretation of yours and Tyson’s relationship.

Tyson takes the check from your outstretched hand, “it’s fine, I got it.”

He’s talking more to you than to the waitress as he smiles warmly at you. You thank him quickly, but not before saying you have enough cash to take care of the tip. He doesn’t argue, following the three of you out of the restaurant and to your car. The two of you linger a little further back than JT and Sydney, both of you reveling in the comfortable silence.

“Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?” You ask.

“Not really, I was probably gonna call my mom and maybe do my laundry,” Tyson answers.

“Do you want to come over and hang out instead? I’m just gonna third wheel the two of them but maybe we can find something to do that’s more interesting than laundry.”

Tyson laughs at the third wheeling comment you make, being all too familiar with being the third wheel around most of his friends. “Sure, yeah, I’ll just follow you all then?”

“That sounds good. I’ll see you in a few,” you say goodbye with a smile and a shy wave, hopping into the backseat of JT’s SUV.

Once you get home, Tyson’s knocking on your door a few minutes later with the same warm smile he seems to always have. He sheds his winter coat as he enters your apartment, throwing it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. He notes the change in clothes, as you’re now wearing an olive green crewneck instead of the wrap top with flowy sleeves you were wearing at the restaurant a few moments prior.

“You a big reader?” He asks, picking up and inspecting the book that’s laid out on the kitchen island. The Power of Now, it reads on the cover. He flips through the first few pages and goes to the back cover to read the reviews.

“Sometimes, it depends on what it is, but I usually just go through phases where I read in all of my free time and then I won’t touch a book again for the next few months,” you admit with a small laugh. “That one’s really good so far though. It’s just about how to live more presently and in the moment.”

Tyson nods his head as he listens, his eyes on you as you speak, “Cale really likes reading this kind of stuff, I should tell him about it.”

“Which one is Cale, again?” You ask, mentally going through the Colorado roster.

This causes Tyson to laugh, “JT really doesn’t bring you around much, eh.”

You laugh along with him, “not really, but that’s on me sometimes. I go to bed too early for my own liking.”

Tyson’s confused as to why he’s never really seen you before at anything. Guys on the team are always bringing their friends around if they can. At first he thought he just always missed you, but he knows he wouldn’t miss someone as carefree and beautiful as you. Nevertheless, he’s glad he’s sitting in your kitchen right now, and to top it all off, he didn't even have to ask you to hang out first.

“Do you read at all?” You ask curiously. You really knew next to nothing about the man in front of you other than that he was Canadian, played hockey, and preferred Truly’s over White Claws (his favorite flavor was still to be unknown to you).

Tyson chokes out a laugh at your question, “No. When we travel I usually play random games with Sammy and he’s been teaching me French. I still don’t know much so don’t go asking me to say anything.”

“Duly noted,” you nod. You move to the pantry, looking for a few things as you continue to respond. “Like I said, my interest in reading comes in waves and you barely speaking French is better than me only knowing English.”

You continue rifling through your pantry, pulling out everything you know you need. You’ve just finished setting all of the dry ingredients you’d need to make brownies when Tyson asks you what the hell you’re doing.

“I was thinking we could make brownies,” you respond, opening your fridge and pulling out the milk, butter, and eggs. You hear the island chair scratch against the hardwood, indicating Tyson getting up.

“Wait a second,” Tyson says causing you to turn around with a confused look on your face. “Are these the brownies Comph always bringing around that his friend makes?”

“They very much are,” you chuckle. He compliments the baked good one more time before you’re putting him to work. The two of you move seamlessly through your small kitchen, both of you sharing smiles and stories to fill the time. There’s a moment where you see a certain glimmer in his eyes paired with a small smirk and you think he’s about to pull one of his infamous Jost pranks that JT was always telling you about. He doesn’t though, and instead just nudges your hip with his. It seems like you’re looking more at him more than focusing on the flexing of his forearms as he mixes the dry ingredients.

Once it’s time to mix the dry and wet ingredients, Tyson all but misses half the bowl, causing a good chunk of it to land on your crewneck and jeans. The brown powder covered the ‘Disney World’ logo across your chest.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” Tyson rushes out, holding back a laugh, because of course he would embarrass himself in front of you and mess up something as simple as that. You move to the sink, shaking off the loose contents into it to help alleviate any sort of mess.

“You’re fine, I promise,” you reassure, turning around to give him a smile. He smiles nervously back at you, not fully knowing your statement was genuine or if you were trying to spare his feelings. He glanced at your chest, trying to see the damage he had done before realizing he was staring directly at your chest and his cheeks flushed. You walked back over to where he was standing, giving him another smile as you began mixing everything together.

“Would you, uh, ever wanna grab dinner with me some time?” He asks, voice higher than normal as he speaks, his heart beating nervously for your answer. Your face falls as you hear the question and you slowly turn around to face the curly headed brunette. Tyson is a great guy, it’s obvious to everyone, and you’re not oblivious to the fact that there’s physical attraction between the two of you. It’s that Tyson is best friends with your best friend who also happens to be your neighbor.

You laugh nervously at the question, the question seemingly coming out of nowhere, before you respond, “Sure, it’s not like it’s a date or anything.”

You brush it off, even though you’re pretty sure he was explicitly asking you out on a date. You turn your focus back to the brownies, popping them in the oven before wandering down your hallway to change into something clean. As Tyson walks over to take a seat on the couch, he sees your retreating figure as you pull your sweatshirt over your head. He stops in his tracks momentarily, seeing your bare back, the skin between your shoulder blades covered by your lacy bralette. He blinks a few too many times as he shakes any thoughts from his head and continues his path to the couch.

Your guys’ friendship quickly develops after that. The two of you starting a snapchat streak and having a long string of text messages involving various TikTok’s and memes alongside the more serious stuff. You seem to be spending more time at JT’s place when Tyson is also there and soon enough Tyson’s leaving JT’s and going the few extra feet to your place instead of home like he says he’s doing.

It’s one of those rare nights where it’s the three of you at JT’s place and you’re all catching up on the latest episode of Hell’s Kitchen. You’re pretty sure JT cheated and watched the new episode already with how quiet he’s being and how absorbed he is in his phone.

“JT, did you already fucking watch this?” You ask, whipping your head to look at the ginger in question. He’s sitting across the room from you in what he claims as ‘his chair’ while you’re sharing the sectional with Tyson, your feet in his lap. “And you wonder why I never watch shows with you. Tyson and I are going to start watching it without you.”

Tyson chuckles at that, his thighs rumbling under your ankles, his hands coming to rest atop of your shins. JT scoffs at you, unaware of your two’s newfound friendship. To him, the only time you ever saw or even talked to Tyson was when he was also around. Besides, he didn’t need to know the ins and outs of every single thing you did in a day, even if Tyson was involved in a good portion of those things.

You let JT’s previous actions of watching your show ahead slide since the episode was finally wrapping up. JT goes back to the Hulu home screen with an exaggerated yawn followed by stretching his arms above his head. It’s then he turns to his two best friends, letting them know he’s going to start heading to bed and that the two of you are more than welcome to hang out for a little while longer. He doesn’t think much of his offering, but it’s one Tyson’s thankful for if it means he gets uninterrupted time with you that isn’t revolving around the team or drinking.

It’s then he remembers how he never found you on social media, something that had bewildered him in the moment but one he forgot about once he got your phone number and snapchat.

“So, this is gonna sound totally weird but do you have an Instagram?” He asks, infliction in his voice and ears turning pink at the question. He remembers how not too long ago he did some heavy duty deep dives into JT’s social media to see if he could find your name only to come up empty handed. Your stomach tightens and the thought of him looking for you, and you definitely don’t take it the weird way he’s insinuating.

“No, I don’t,” you respond, sitting up further in the corner of the couch, Tyson bravely holding onto your ankles. “Which definitely makes me the outlier of our generation. I had it for a while but then I kinda just got sick of it and how fake it was starting to get, so I deleted my account. I have not missed even once, too.”

He nods his head in understanding, he’s been there, especially with being a professional athlete. “I’ve been there. I deleted my twitter a while ago because every time I got on there some nobody would be in my notifications about how I was playing. I really didn’t need that, ya know? Like, I play hockey for a living and I’m very aware of when I’m underperforming. So, it was hard when I would get on my phone and see other people telling me the same things.”

Tyson’s fingers began to brush comfortably over your shins and ankles as he spoke, causing you to start slouching back into the couch.

“I’ve gone back and forth with deleting Instagram but I just can’t seem to make a decision. Besides, I only follow my friends and musicians I like.”

“It’s definitely not for everyone,” you agree with a hum. “The biggest plus is that it gets me off my phone and I’m more absorbed with the real world. It’s all in that book I was reading a while ago that you asked about.”

Tyson remembers that conversation, a smile falling on his lips as he hands rub higher and higher on your calf. The movements are causing you to yawn not a minute later, but you try hard to keep your eyes open to continue to hang out with Tyson. “You a big music guy then?”

Tyson scoffs with a small, playful grip on your leg, “I get the aux in the locker room, so I’d say so. Not a big deal.”

You laugh at his joking manner, snuggling deeper into JT’s couch. Tyson notices how sleepy you’re becoming and he gives your leg another squeeze.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you home,” Tyson suggests as he slips from underneath you to his feet.

You chuckle at that, considering you're more than capable to walk the few feet from JT’s door to your own. Before you can respond saying just that, Tyson’s reaching his hand for yours to help you off the couch.

“My mom raised me to be a gentleman, so I’m walking you home even if it is down the hall.”

You accept his offer, the two of you walking in silence until you’re pushing your key into the lock. You turn back to Tyson once you’ve cracked your door open, wanting to take in the silent, all-too-relationship-like feeling this scenario is. Tyson’s eyes drift from where they’re focused on your eyes to your lips, before he’s scratching the back of his head, a sign of nervousness you’ve quickly caught on to.

“Goodnight, Tyson,” you smile softly, leaning up on your sock clad toes to wrap your arms around his neck and give him a hug. His arms wrap around your middle; his back bending over at an awkward angle to properly reach you. You breathe in his musky scent as his hands spread out over the small of your back. The scruffiness of his beard against the side of your face has you giggling as you pull away.

“Goodnight, y/n,” Tyson reciprocates your smile, walking a few steps backwards before finally turning around and heading to the elevator. Your eyes linger on his toned thighs and maybe even his butt under the cotton of his joggers as he walks the all too familiar way hockey players walk, before finally entering your apartment.

JT’s sitting on your couch this time around, rather than you sitting on his, a too large glass of wine perched in his hand as the two of you catch up. He’s been busy with morning skates and a string of back-to-backs with a road game sprinkled in the middle. It’s getting to be that part of the season where it’s ‘all gas, no breaks’ as he likes to say. They had an earlier than normal game today due to it being a national broadcast on a Sunday, so the two of you ordered take out from one of your usual spots and parked your asses on your couch for the night.

“I feel like we haven’t had best friend time in so long,” JT groans, sipping down the remnants of his wine before standing up for a refill.

“Not all of us can travel the continent on a regular basis,” you chirp with a laugh, one JT matches. The tv show murmurs in the background, it’s one you completely forgot about as JT relates stories and updates on his sisters to you.

“I still can’t believe Jesse graduates soon,” JT starts. “Like, soon when we go to Boston it won’t be the annual family trip since two of the kids are actually in the same city for a change.”

“But that’s so awesome for her, you have to remember that. How’s her season going?”

“They’re doing good, winning games and taking names, she’s really stepped into her captaincy role.” The smile on JT’s face is contagious, causing you to mirror it. You had only met his family a handful of times, only whenever they made the trip out to Denver every now and then. His sister’s, even if you didn’t talk to them regularly, were like your own at this point. JT loved to joke that you were the third sister he never wanted but still somehow ended up with. It was part of the reason he was always trying to set you up with his friends, because to him, if he already knew them, then he knew he trusted them with you. It was more of a joke when it first started over a year ago, but the guy’s he mentioned started to become more serious considerations on your end before you ended up always telling him no.

You were more than okay with being single, being independent, being a woman that never looked for male validation and instead lived life purely for yourself and the people you choose to include with you in that life. JT understood that more than anyone else, that’s why the thoughts you consistently had about Tyson were being shoved deep down inside of you in fear that JT would laugh at the idea and tell you not a chance in hell. It’s why those times you caught each other staring you never did anything about it, or how JT was still unbeknownst to the close friendship you started with him.

It’s why now there’s a silence between the two of you as you take a too-long sip of your wine, a way to stall before opening your mouth and getting JT’s opinion on all of this. You set your glass down on your thigh, your spare hand running along the stem of the glass as you start to speak, avoiding looking over at JT as you do so,

“You know how I don’t date or whatever,” you start, your lip caught between your teeth. You glance over at the redhead on the other couch, seeing him knit his eyebrows as he sets his phone down next to him.

“Yeah,” he draws out, confusion laced in his tone

“Well, I was thinking of maybe getting back out there or something,” you shrug your shoulders, unsure of how to really continue this conversation so you end up on the topic of Tyson being that someone you get back out there with.

“Did someone ask you out?” JT immediately asks with a shake of his head, wondering where all of this is coming from. His full attention is on you now and there’s no way to avoid his eyes as you respond.

“No, I was just thinking about it, I don’t know.”

“Did you, like, have someone in mind?” JT asks, the definitive knit in his forehead still there.

You purse your lips in thought. This would be the time to drop his teammate’s name you think to yourself. His name is heavy on your tongue as you take one more sip of your drink, “Tyson’s kinda cute.”

You say it simply, with a shrug in your shoulders, hoping the ease of your posture radiates towards JT. It doesn’t, just as you expect, a choked out cackle leaving his lips, before he says a harsh ‘no’. The comment deflates you, the knot in your stomach only tightening, mainly because you weren’t really asking him a question and just trying to get that thought out into the open for the first time. JT doesn’t read that as you respond back, telling him was just a thought anyways.

You drop it at that, thoughts running through your head of your close friendship with his teammate, one that’s very close to blurring that line between just friends and something more. It's a problem for another day you think, shoving the thought to the back of your mind as Tyson’s name flashes across your phone screen.

A few more weeks pass of Tyson and you hanging out at JT’s apartment, only for Tyson to follow you to your own apartment before he’d leave for the rink for his game. He slowly began going through his pre-game routine at your place, only to leave with JT under the guise that they would carpool together since his apartment building was on his way to Ball Arena.

Tyson’s cooking his pregame meal in your kitchen, something he had yet to do but when you had told him you had never eaten squash the other day, he made a point to make it his favorite way, even if it meant eating dinner at 4:30. His game day suit was hanging by his coat in your coat closet, you wouldn’t tell him but it was your favorite suit of his. The navy cashmere made the highlights in his dark brown hair pop out and was a nice contrast to his tan skin. He was taking the squash out of the oven, laughing as you made yet another comment on not knowing that was how a squash was cooked.

“What does a squash even taste like?” You ask, peering over the kitchen table to watch him as he places the pan onto the oven to cool down. The bright yellow and oranges of the fruit freak you out a bit, but the smell of garlic and parmesan cheese brings a smile to your face.

“It’s like earthy and nutty, I don’t know. I’m not a Food Network chef.”

The comment has you rolling your eyes with a laugh as you stand up from your chair to retrieve plates and silverware.

“What are you doing?” Tyson asks with a whip of his head as his eyes follow your movements.

You look at him quizzically, pausing your movements on your tippy toes as you reach for the dinner plates, “setting the table?”

“I can do that,” Tyson starts, reaching out for the plates in your hand and setting them on the counter in front of you. “I’m the one cooking.”

“Exactly,” you reason, “And this is my apartment so I know where everything is.”

“I’m wining and dining you, well minus the wine since I have a game.” Tyson shrugs, tending to the squash on the pan and the veggies surrounding it. “That reminds me, the guys are going out after the game, you should come.”

You move around the kitchen as he speaks, filling up two glasses of water to set on the table. He plates the food as he finishes speaking and sets them on the table. It looks colorful and delicious and you’re shocked he can cook something that seems so complicated, especially since you know JT can only cook a burger and some random pasta dish.

“Well, I am going to the game so I don’t see why not,” you finally answer. You hadn’t gone out in weeks it seemed like, mainly due to your earlier than normal mornings and that you were the only single one out of most of your friends. All of your coworkers lived with their partners and were usually the type to bail on a night out so they could stay home. The few single friends you did have lived on completely different schedules than you, so they were either getting home late from work which was around the same time you’d need to call it a night, or were like you and too worried about early mornings to do anything.

But it was a Thursday, and you had taken the weekend off so it was a perfect time to catch your first Avs game of the season, even if it was already a few days into March and the season was halfway over. The both of you eat your dinner with a few laughs, Tyson telling you about how he forced himself to learn to cook over the past two years of living by himself. He even shared a few horror stories of when he lived with JT and Kerf, giving you plenty of dirt to use as blackmail if necessary.

“Dinner was really good, thank you,” you acknowledge standing up and grabbing his plate from him.

“You liked the squash, eh?”

“It wasn’t too bad,” you reply playfully. He knew you liked it with how quickly you scarfed it down and the profuse compliments you offered him. As you clear off the dishes and load the dishwasher, Tyson disappears down the hall only to reappear dressed in his suit, save for the jacket and tie.

“Who are you sitting with tonight? I never asked.” Tyson speaks, making the job of tying his tie look easy as he’s not even looking in the mirror to do so.

“Oh, my coworker, Amelia, and her girlfriend, Gabby,” you respond, leaning back against the counter as you watch Tyson finish up with the details of his suit like putting his cufflinks on and checking his hair in the mirror by your front door.

For a reason Tyson knows too well but ignores, a weight falling off his shoulders as he hears you saying you’re not going with a potential date. But then again, he knows you’re not dating and you more than likely would’ve declined his offer to go out afterward if that were the case. Tyson checks his watch for the time, seeing it’s about time to knock on JT’s door to grab him.

“So, I’ll see you after the game, yeah?”

“Yep, I’ll meet you and JT down by the locker rooms so we can all head out together. Maybe I’ll finally get to meet the infamous Cale.”

The Avs scoot by with a tough division win, one that’s needed to put them in first place in the Central by two points. You’re standing in the hallway of the locker rooms among the other WAG’s that you don’t really recognize due to your lack of knowledge on who’s who. Your nose is buried deep in your phone as you shoot off a text to Amelia telling her to let you know when she gets home safely when you recognize Tyson’s familiar Canadian accent followed by JT’s booming laughter. The two of them reach you, both of them giving you quick hugs before walking to the parking garage.

“Who’s jersey you got on there?” Tyson asks with a nudge of his shoulder into yours. You look down at the 19 stitched into your shoulder with a smirk.

“Only the best Av to ever play the game,” you respond, to which JT rolls his eyes. Tyson’s look of confusion doesn’t change as you answer, still pretty keen to the fact that you’ve never really talked hockey with him besides the stories about practices he’d share with you. “Never told you I didn’t like hockey, just said I never went to games.”

“I’ve tried to get her one of my jerseys and she literally told me she’d return it,” JT interrupts before Tyson can respond. You open your mouth to chirp him back but before you can, JT is calling shotgun once Tyson’s car is in view.

The bar isn’t as packed as you thought it would be, given half of the Avalanche roster was occupying more than a few booths. Andre takes a seat across from where you’re sandwiched between JT and Tyson - a seating arrangement you’re not sure how you got in.

The first round of drinks slowly turns into the third, and you’re no longer squished between two bruly hockey players since JT has found a home at the pool table with Nate and Naz. You had finally met Cale, the blush on cheeks matching Tyson’s description of them. You shared book recommendations with one another while Tyson had wandered off to the bar. It’s then you learn that Tyson’s kind of taken him under his wing, despite the very small age gap and that they live in the same building. Your eyes catch him as he chats with the bartender and a dirty blonde that’s close to his height that you very much did not recognize.

She’s all legs and has an award winning smile from what you see from fifteen away. Tyson’s turned away from you, his back facing you, and if you could see his face filled with that smile that’s showing he’s just trying to be polite to the stranger.

It’s then that you start to fully allow yourself to notice not only the physical attraction you feel towards your new friend, but the emotional one as well. It’s not overwhelming by any means, but the pit in your stomach can only be described as jealousy — a feeling you don’t have much experience with.

You see two new glasses being set in front of them at the same time, assuming that Tyson had bought the stranger a drink. That pit in your stomach only tightens, the smile on your face from Cale’s story falling as you continue to watch them interact.

The pair only talk for a few minutes before the girl walks away, a defeated look on her face. With he departure, you make your way across the hardwood floor to meet him at the bar, nudging his side lightly as you mirrored his stance. He smiled as you greeted him, noting that this was the first time in hours he got you all to himself. You were just as outgoing as he and JT were, always butting into conversations when you had something to say.

“I never asked if you had fun at the game,” he asks, voice somehow still soft even in the loudness of the bar. His voice raises goosebumps on your arms, as you hum before responding.

“It was fun, definitely a good game, just a little too much third wheeling for my liking but I’ll take what I can get.”

The comment is a nod to the feeling Tyson knows all too well, one the two of you seem to always share funny stories about with a dramatic use of eye rolls. You ignore the fact that not even a few minutes prior you were plotting that girl’s death, too busy and entranced with Tyson’s presence.

The night continues to pass with just the two of you in your own little world. You find yourself up on your tiptoes, an arm resting on his muscular bicep as you lean up to speak into his ear. His lips move alongside your temple as he speaks, the scruff of his beard against your forehead causing you to giggle. You’re not even sure if JT or any of the other guys are even still around, but your bubble pops as JT calls your name. You turn your body towards the ginger, your hand on Tyson’s bicep not moving as he says that you two should find an Uber soon.

“Okay, yeah, sure. I’ll be out in a sec, Tyson was just telling me a story,” you let him know. JT knits his eyebrows at the comment but walks outside with a few of the other guys all heading home.

“How are you getting home?” You ask Tyson once you’re face to face with him again.

“Cale and I are gonna Uber back, too,” Tyson answers, his tongue swiping over his lips slowly. Your eyes watch his movement as time seems to slow down as the two of you keep your eyes focused on the others. His eyes are squintier than normal from the alcohol and you’re yours match his in that regard. You’re pretty sure he’s about to kiss you and for once, you’re actually going to let that person kiss you.

Tyson’s eyes flick behind you momentarily before you see his body semi-deflate. He steps away, your hand falling off his bicep for the first time in at least an hour as he picks up his blazer that’s draped over the stool next to him and nods towards the door.

“I think JT’s looking for you.”

Sure enough when you turn around, JT is in the doorway waving his phone in the air and pointing at it, silently telling you that the Uber is almost here. Your shoulders fall as the moment you were sure was about to happen is ruined. Tyson walks you out of the bar, into the brisk start of Spring air. You’re too busy thinking about how you most definitely would’ve let Tyson kiss you and next thing you know, your foot is slipping on the ice and you’re yelping in surprise.

Tyson catches your waist before you can even hit the cold pavement, and again, you’ve found yourself in a compromising position as Tyson’s face is mere inches from yours. You blink away the embarrassment as JT’s comment about your almost accident goes unnoticed by the both of you. You regather your stance, muttering a quiet thank you to the brunette before hugging him and waving goodbye with a soft smile.

“Dude,” Cale chastises, “You like her don’t you?”

The comment made by his building-mate has him stuttering over his words, trying to figure out an answer that’s not a straight up lie. Cale takes that as his answer, though, rolling his eyes with a heavy sigh as the two find their Uber.

“Does JT know?”

“No, because nothing’s going to happen,” Tyson answers curtly as he slumps his shoulders in his seat. “JT told me I couldn't try anything and I’m going to try and respect that. Besides, she doesn’t date so it’s not like I have a real shot or anything.”

“I don’t know, man. She seemed to jump out of her seat and end our conversation when she saw you talking to that girl.”

Cale’s comment silences the two of them for the remainder of the ride back to their building. Tyson hadn’t really paid mind to the fact that the second that girl left, you had appeared and stayed by his side for the remainder of the night. He brushes it off, blaming his inebriated mind for the overthinking before asking Cale how they’ll get his car in the morning.

Tyson wakes up to his phone dinging with a string of texts from you, a smile on his face when sees your name across his screen.

y/n: not sure what you did to me last night but this is the most hungover ive been in forever y/n: thank god i dont have work y/n: jt is still sleeping so im thinking of ditching him to go get breakfast y/n: you in? Tyson: im down Tyson: do you think we could swing by to get my car from the bar too? was gonna have cale drive me but if you can that’d be great

Getting ready for breakfast feels all too real as you do your hair and pick out an outfit before finally brushing your teeth. You tap your fingers an obnoxious amount of times against your steering wheel as you drive to Tyson’s apartment, your lip stuck between your teeth as you softly sing along to the songs flowing through your speakers.

Sitting across from him in the diner feels a little bit suffocating, the events of last night replaying in your mind. The path your eyes follow tends to keep going to his lips before you realize what you’re doing and snapping them right back up to his eyes or to the coffee in your hand. Those lips you sure you were close to kissing last night. He orders some obnoxiously healthy omelette bowl with enough eggs and potatoes on it to feed a house of four, while you get classic french toast.

You don’t miss that opportunity to chirp him, the weight finally off your shoulders as you lighten the mood. Tyson never really caught onto your weirdness, thinking it was some side effect of your hangover.

“Is french toast your favorite food or something?” Tyson asks, mouth a little full as he finishes chewing. You knit your eyebrows in confusion, partly because yes, it is your favorite breakfast food, but why would he think that if he’s only ever seen you eat it right now in this very moment? He sees your confusion, answering your question before you can even ask it.

“You got french toast that one time we went out with JT and Sydney.”

“Oh, it is, actually,” it dawns on you then, even though that morning was over a month ago at this point. It’s sweet that he remembers that, your neck warming at his comment.

“It’s not a big deal,” Tyson shrugs, shoving another forkful of egg into his mouth. And shit, did you actually say that out loud to him? That misstep has your neck heating up even further as you take a large swig of your coffee, mainly so the large mug blocks your face from him.

“Besides,” Tyson starts with a heavy laugh. “You just about inhaled that from what I remember, so it has to be your favorite.”

You drop your jaw in shock from his very true accusation, a slight laugh coming out, “You’re a dick.”

“Hey, at least I’m a dick that paid for your meal,” Tyson acknowledges in a lighthearted tone. You smile at him at that, him sending you one right back. “And before you say you can pay for this one, this is that meal I promised you a while back when we made brownies.”

It dawns on you then, was this a date? Did you accidentally on purpose ask Tyson out on a date? Tyson can sense the wheels turning in your head and drops that topic, instead telling you all about this new artist he’s found on Spotify.

That day’s a turning point for your relationship with Tyson. You end up following him back to his place then, a strange sense of deja vu coming through. The rest of the day is spent shaking your respected hangovers on his couch, your feet perched on his lap, his body naturally leaning towards yours.

Your head’s full of what ifs as you drive the short way back to your apartment, thoughts surrounding the feelings you’ve been ignoring when it comes to why Tyson looks at you the way he does or why he’s always sending you Tik Tok’s about your newfound inside jokes. Your friendship with him is easy, he’s an easy guy to catch feelings for and an even easier guy to fully allow yourself to do that with.

The thought of your friendship with JT clouds your thoughts, though. Unsure of what you should even do considering how quickly he shot you down when all you said was that his friend was cute. You don’t think much of it, knowing that the feelings that are starting to show need to be reciprocated for you to even face that next set of problems.

Soon you’re catching yourself focusing on the number 17 jersey skating around the ice instead of 37 when you have the time to watch their games. Tyson’s eyes are the ones you’re always finding in a room and he’s the one always refilling your drink without a thought. He’s the one you text after a particularly rough day, and he does the same when the Avs snap their eight game winning record. He’s slowly taking that spot as your best friend over from his teammate, a spot you’re sure is slowly turning into more.

It’s another one of those nights where he’s the one you're constantly looking for. This time back at Andre’s apartment with the guys and few significant others as you celebrate yet another Avalanche playoff berth.

You’re drinking far less than the crowd surrounding you, fully buzzed on the atmosphere that is clinching the number one seed in the division with still so much time left in the season. Unlike the group of people that have the day off the next day, you have work, but the thought of missing this night for your two best friend’s wasn’t an option when Tyson texted you as soon as he made it to the locker room after the game was won. Tyson’s hand seems to never be empty, but you soon learn he’s been nursing the same beer since he got to Andre’s. There’s a heavy feeling of contentment washing over him as he celebrates his fourth straight playoff appearance, alongside setting a Central Division record for the fastest team to clinch.

The air between you two has that same fuzzy feeling it’s had for a few weeks now, ever since you had gone out to breakfast with him hungover. The high from the win still filling his veins, that same high radiating towards you as you continually find your way back to his side throughout the night.

Tyson catches you slipping out the door as the sun is just about finished setting and follows you a moment later. You’re leaning against the railing with your arms folded atop of it. It’s the easiest thing in the world for Tyson to step in behind you and place his hands on either side of yours, bracketing you against the cool metal.

The wind blows through your hair, causing you to push some strands back behind your ears as you breathe heavily with Tyson’s new presence.

“You doing alright out here?”’ Tyson asks, one of his laying to rest on top of yours, you fingers interlocking with his.

“Yeah, just wanted to take advantage of Andre’s view,” you respond. Andre’s place had everything, the view of downtown Denver, the suburbs stretching outside of the skyscrapers, but he also had the best view of the mountains you had seen from a complex downtown.

The silence continues between the two of you, the sound of the Denver traffic beneath you filling it out. Tyson’s chest moves behind you with a heavy breath before breaking that silence,

“I talked to my mom this morning.”

“Yeah? How is she?”

“She’s good, but, uh, I called her to tell her about this girl,” he trails off, his chest inflating behind you again as the nerves start to tighten in his stomach. You remain silent, there’s an unspoken understanding that this is something he’s been wanting to get off his chest, something that you too feel the weight of.

“I wanted to tell her about this girl and ask her for advice because it’s complicated since she’s best friends with my best friend who’s also my teammate and I didn’t know if I should put my feelings aside for the sake of my friendship or if I shouldn’t let my friend telling me I couldn’t ask her out stand in the way of my feelings for her.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, the sudden knowledge of the weight his words have. His grip around you had tightened as he spoke, causing you to turn around in his arms slower than you would’ve liked to as your eyes find his. His hands move from the railing to rest on your hips, his grip a little tight yet still soft. Your fingers toy with the hem of his cotton t-shirt, one that accentuates his arms more than you’d like to admit.

You’re not naive, you know that this is that tipping point in your friendship that you’ve been avoiding, yet at the same time anxiously waiting for. He’s right there in front of you, all wide eyed with that playful little glimmer in his eyes and that smile that’s always plastered on his face when he’s with you. It’s the confidence in his smile as he speaks that contradicts the doubt in his eyes and the understanding he has where he knows he needs to take this all slow. He’s not just trying to win you over or get you to bed, he’s trying to show you that he’s what you deserve, that the feelings brewing inside your stomach are two sided.

All of those things are conveyed in the little things and how he hasn’t made any unwarranted moves on you and how he’s always reading the situation before trying anything.

It makes you truly let the feelings you have bubble to the surface as you open your mouth to finally respond, “I don’t think you should ignore your feelings.”

It comes out as a whisper, one where the breaths of air hit Tyson in the chin from how close you two are standing. Nothing else needs to be said, your heart racing in your chest at that first admittance of feelings. Tyson searches your eyes for any sense of doubt, making sure he’s interpreting your words correctly. His hand moves to the junction of your neck, his thumb brushing against the hollow of your cheek. Your hands trail up his sides, brushing the stray curl that’s fallen onto his forehead back in place. He leans into your touch, his nose softly brushing against yours as you close your eyes. His breath fans over your mouth and the hair on his upper lip tickles you before his lips are landing on yours. It’s slow and soft and full of fire as you kiss him back.

You pull apart breathless a few moments later, a smile on your face as you bite your lip. His smile is wider than yours, a sense of smugness behind it. His lips find their way to your forehead, placing a soft, lingering kiss there as he wraps his arms around your body and pulls you tightly to him. A few more heavy breaths are shared before his fingers trail back to your jaw, his thumb running over your bottom lip before pulling you in for another kiss.

His touches are welcome and the chill you felt earlier is gone with his presence, your stomach tightening in a million knots at the man standing before you. Everything he feels is portrayed in his soft eyes and those several moments over the past couple of months where it was just the two of you, getting to know one another much more than you thought you ever would with one of JT’s teammates. The space he gave you as he let you explain your fascination with living the life you did, one with no obsession with social media or what other people thought and one where you carefully curated the people you choose to surround yourself with.

Tyson had slowly worked his way into your heart, one that now had his name written all over it. You smile at the thought, still lost in chocolatey, brown eyes and the way he’s looking at you like the gorgeous view of the Smoky Mountains isn’t right behind you.

“We should go back inside,” you say, breaking the little bubble the two of you had just created. Tyson understands, knowing where the two of you were, knowing who’s just on the other side of the door. Neither of you make any moves to go back inside, and you bask in the cool weather, enjoying the other’s warmth before finally opening the door to the rowdiness that is a bunch of professional hockey players.

JT beckons for you when he sees you come back inside, too drunk to ask where you’ve been for the past fifteen minutes. He’s dragging you to the kitchen, begging you with his eyes to make the room a round of drinks. Tyson smiles at you from a few feet away, silently telling you he’ll find you eventually. He does, making his way to you when everyone’s drink needs are met, his presence causing your stomach to tighten even if he is standing a few feet away from you.

Both of you lay off the drinks for the rest of the night, already tipsy enough from your drinks earlier and in a silent agreement that there’s more to talk about between the two of you once the crowd thins and everyone's on their way home. JT disappears into thin air it seems like until he’s practically yelling that he’s called an Uber for you two.

“I think I’m actually gonna stay for a little longer,” you answer, eyes drifting over to where Tyson is talking with Cale and Andre. He sees you glance over at him, sending a smile right back your way causing you to blush before telling JT he’s fine to head home and that you’ll text him when you get home.

The room starts to clear out after that, Andre’s front door opening and closing every few minutes as Uber’s are called and before you know it you’re in the back of a Kia Sorento, laughing at the lie Tyson told Cale that led to him getting an Uber by himself and your hands tightly intertwined on your lap.

You find out a few months later that he didn’t lie, he just told him that he had finally gotten the nerve to kiss you.

The elevator ride up to his apartment is full of giggles, those giggles only continuing as he fumbles through unlocking his front door. He tells you to stop making fun of him under his breath, a blush spreading from the tips of his ears to his nose.

He’s pulling you inside once the door is unlocked, causing you to lose your balance from the pull. Your laughs quiet down as he stares down at you, that smile you're familiar with nowhere to be found as he licks his lips. He’s pulling you in with those big, brown eyes of his and then you’re kissing him wildly, barely a few feet into his home.

“We should talk about this,” you mutter against his lips, not fully wanting to break away from him. He’s connecting your lips before you can continue, too addicted to the feeling of finally having his lips on yours.

“What is there to talk about?”

“Us, what this is,” you respond between kisses.

Tyson pulls away this time, resting his forehead against yours. He knows the logistics of all of this needs to be worked out, but right now he doesn’t want to think about how he’s making out with JT’s neighbor or his inevitable murder if JT finds out before one of you can tell him.

“Let’s worry about the consequences tomorrow, because right now I can’t keep my hands off of you,” he reasons, dipping his head down to place his lips right below your jaw. “And if the way you’re kissing me is any sign, then I’d say we’re on the same page about how we feel.”

You moan as Tyson’s teeth nip at the skin, his tongue poking past his lips out onto your neck and goosebumps are popping up all along your skin.

You give into him then, too intoxicated in his warmth and the taste of Bud Light on his mouth. It’s a conversation for you in the morning when you’re both nursing your hangovers over a cup of coffee. Your lips move along his hungrily, his hands gripping your face before sliding down your sides and squeezing your ass through your jeans. You tug your fingers through the long curls behind his ears, him pushing you against the nearest wall with a thud and a rattle of a picture frame.

Your lips move along his softly, the passion and fire laced in it enough to cause a wave of electricity through your veins and down to in between your thighs. He’s towering over you with his big personality and his wide shoulders and you feel like you need to get impossibly closer to him as you pull him in by the fabric of his t-shirt. His hands fall to the wall on either side of your head.

“God, I’m never gonna stop kissing you,” Tyson huffs out, causing a quick chuckle to run through your body. It’s quick because as soon as the words are out of Tyson’s mouth, his lips are already back on yours.

“You’re gonna have to stop kissing me if you want to fuck me,” you mutter out, a sly smirk on your lips as you watch Tyson’s eyes grow darker at the insuination. The hands that were bracketing you against the wall slide down to your jaw, his thumb running over your bottom lip again before pushing past your lips. You keep your eyes on his as you suck on the digit, your tongue swirling around it. His resolve slips away from you for a moment, before his other hand drags down your side until his fingers push under your top, the warm fingers ghosting over the skin of your ribs.

His breath is heavy against you, the growing bulge causing his jeans to tighten around him. You’re feeling bold then, as you feel him against your stomach with his thumb still in your mouth and his hand tight around your jaw. He’s frozen in front of you as he watches your eyes, that stupid smirk finally wiped off his face as your hands move under his shirt, your nails scraping against the tight muscles. You hold back both a comment about his abs and a moan at the feeling, all the hard work he’s put into his body clearly paying off as you push his shirt up his chest and over his head.

Your nails drag back down his chest and torso before looping in the waistband of the boxers peeking out from his jeans. His thumb falls from your mouth, the wet digit leaving a trail of your saliva on your chin as you work on pulling his jeans down. His head tips back with a low groan as his member springs free and you sink down to your knees, his hand finding purchase on the back of your head while the other is used to brace himself against the wall.

Tyson sucks in a breath as your hand reaches out to grip the base of his cock, tugging softly a few times as you lick the tip. His mouth waters at the sight of your lips wrapping around the head, your eyes looking right back up at him. You hum around him as you swallow him down, the vibrations causing a groan to escape from Tyson’s mouth. He feels euphoric, even if you haven’t had your mouth on him for more than 60 seconds. His hips involuntarily thrust forward at the wet feeling your mouth gives as you hollow your cheeks around him.

Tyson continued to moan above you as you moved your mouth along him, both of your hands digging into the flesh of his thighs. Tyson’s hand is heavy on the back of your head, not using it to push you deeper onto him, but to ground him as he starts to see stars embarrassingly fast in his eyes.

He pulls you off him then, pulling you up to your feet to stand in front of him once again. There’s a dribble of saliva mixed with his pre-cum on your chin and he wipes it away with his thumb before pulling you in for another harsh kiss. He pushes the two of them to his bedroom, never breaking the kiss as he sheds your shirt and pushes you down onto his bed. You giggle again, the hunger in his eyes all too real as he crawls over your body until he’s hovering over you.

“You’re so fucking beautfiul,” he whispers into your ear, causing shivers to shoot down your body. He runs his hands along your bare sides up to your breasts as he kisses down your neck. His hands brush along your lace covered nipples, making you sharply inhale a breath and arch your back against him. He pulls the fabric down to expose your breasts, his lips still nipping at the skin on your collarbone. He looks down at you again, a sensual look in his eyes that you mirror. His lips attach to one of your nipples, the other being tended to by his fingers as twists and pulls the bud between his thumb and forefinger.

Your hands find purchase in the curls atop his head, pulling at the strands as he breathes a huff of cool air onto your npple before switching to the other one. He makes his way down your body painfully slow, a trail of kisses being left down your stomach until he reaches the waistband of your jeans. He tugs them off just as quickly as he stripped you from your shirt, his eyes locking on the sage green thong you’re wearing and the very obvious wet patch between your legs. He’s impatient from the brief blowjob you gave him and the fact that he’s been imaging this exact moment for far too long now. His fingers dip into the strap of your underwear, his eyes finding yours and asking if this is okay. You respond with a resounding yes as he pulls the underwear off of you.

His lips leave kisses along your thighs, throwing them over his shoulders as his mouth finally makes his way to your center. His beard is rough against the skin of your thighs, a sensation only causing you to whine as he breathes over your clit.

“Tyson,” you whine, causing him to smirk before pressing his tongue to your entrance. The cool, wetness of his tongue has you catching your breath and fisting the sheets underneath you. Tyson moaned against you at the taste as he licked over you a few more times. His lips wrap around your clit, this time causing a full, throaty moan to release from your mouth. One of your hands found its way to his head, holding him impossibly closer to you, the other finding his hand as he interlocks your fingers together.

His tongue dives into your opening, fucking into you as his other arm wraps around your thigh so he can rub his thumb at your clit. His tongue licked around you entrance, alternating between that and fucking into you. His thumb stayed on your clit, rubbing circles hoping to get you to that tipping point, the one you felt nearing with every pass of his tongue over you. Your back arched off the bed, your hips pushing further into Tyson’s face as you felt your high near. Tyson continued at the same pace, pushing you over the edge as you moaned out his name.

He continued to lick softly at you, his thumb slowing down on your clit as he lifted his head up to kiss at your collarbone. The kisses he leaves along your inner thighs gives you time to catch your breathing, your chest still heaving from your orgasm. It’s short lived as his thumb on your clit slides down to your entrance, spreading your wetness around before pushing a finger into you.

His lips make their way back to your clit with the same smirk he had on his face a few minutes ago, wrapping his lips around the bud as he moves he added another finger. You clench down him at the feeling, moans and heavy breaths of air escaping your mouth as Tyson worked his fingers against your g-spot and his mouth worked over your clit. Your hand squeezes his, the pressure becoming too much so soon after your first orgasm. It doesn’t take long for you to groan out his name again as you clench down on his fingers, your second orgasm rushing through you.

He stays down there a moment longer, but you pull him up by his hair, just wanting his lips on yours and his body hovering over you. His beard is wet from both his spit and your juices, and it has you licking your lips and craning your neck upwards. You pull him in with both of your hands, licking into his mouth and tasting yourself on him.

The kiss is heavy, his hands running along your body trying to memorize every dip and curve, the heavy weight of his member on your hip. His curls tickled your forehead, the kiss turning soft as he splayed a hand on your cheek to pull you in tighter. The head of his dick brushed over your mound, a shiver running through you at the feelings, your hips bucking up towards his with a small whine.

You reach your hand down between your bodies to tug on him softly, a whine leaving Tyson’s lips, one that’s swallowed by your kisses. It’s unspoken between the two of you as pulls away from you, only to push your hand away from him and give himself a few tugs as he settles heavily between your thighs.

You share a look, one that’s gleeful and full of smiles as he licks his lips and slowly pushes into you. You moan and whimper at the feeling of him inside of you, your hands clawing at his shoulder blades to pull his body flush against your own.

“You good?” He asks, referring to if you’re ready for him to start moving.

“Yeah,” you whine, looking into his eyes smiling, “I’m good.”

There’s a pause as you answer, both of you understanding the double-meaning behind your answer. It’s more than just telling him you feel good physically, but that you feel more than that when he’s with you.

He leans in to kiss you again, starting a slow pace as he thrusts into you. He moaned out at how tight you were, how well you were taking him as he kissed you. He picked up his pace, thrusting into you harder and faster, with more purpose as he rested on his elbows above you, looking into your eyes. You always got lost in those eyes of his, as he hit your g-spot you tilted your head back, your eyes fluttering closed. They weren’t closed for long as Tyson grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him once again.

“I wanna look at you,” he muttered as he leaned back down to kiss you. Your moans filled the room as the layer of sweat started to thicken on your bodies, his chest rubbing against yours. He lifted your thigh and pushed it against your chest, the new angle causing the knots to tighten in your stomach as you felt you high nearing. Your lips found their way to his neck and down to the dips of his collarbone. Biting down into the flesh as you moan out again, Tyson’s pace quickening as he feels you clenching around him.

“I’m so close,” you moan out, Tyson hitting you deeply. He could feel himself getting close too, his hips starting to stutter as he moved inside of you. Your breasts bouncing as he pounds into you, your eyes screwing shut as your orgasm starts to wash over you. Tyson swallows your moans as he kisses you through your third orgasm.

His breaths are heavy as his orgasm comes soon after yours, spilling into you as he slows his pace down and gently lowers his body weight onto yours. You two stay like that for a few moments, catching your breaths and basking in that post-sex afterglow. He removes himself once you’ve both settled, a whimper leaving your mouth at the newfound emptiness. He disappears to his bathroom, coming right back with a washcloth as he cleans you up. You thank him as he runs the cool, wet cloth over the insides of your thighs, pulling him back for another quick kiss before he disappears into the bathroom once more.

When he gets back, he lays down next to you, pulling your body snug against his. His chest is warm and still a little sticky from the sweat. Your fingers draw aimless patterns along his bare chest, his lips leaving a soft kiss on your forehead and you feel the upturn of his lips when he pulls away. You smile up at him then, leaning up and puckering your lips, asking for a kiss. He obliges with a soft hum and rubs your arm gently before you’re falling asleep against him, a few drops of drool falling onto his chest.

The morning rolls around too quickly for your liking, the curls on Tyson’s head ticking the back of your neck. Neither of you are in a rush to move as he smiles against the bare skin of your back, a few kisses being placed there as you hum and hold his arms tighter to your torso. He’s up from bed moments later, a sweet kiss lingering on your lips as you watch his naked form emerge from bed and pull on a pair of sweats. Your eyes watch over the ripples of muscles between his shoulder blades, down his back and over his ass before he’s running around his apartment in search of your thong.

He remerges with it draped over his finger, a smirk on his lips before he flings it at you, causing a giggle to erupt from your stomach. You pull them on, a large t-shirt being tossed your way to drape over your shoulders. You follow him out to his kitchen then, a small pit in your stomach at the realization of the conversation that needs to be had, the small bubble you’re in at its popping point.

You jump onto his island counter, the coolness of the granite sending shivers down your bare legs, his back to you as he starts the coffee pot. He’s just in a pair of sweats, bright red lines on display on his back. You squeeze your legs together as you cross them, the actions of your late night antics running vividly through your mind.

He presses the warm mug into your hands, his now free hand pushing open your legs to step between them. He’s so close then, probably the closest you’ve really been to him with a sober brain. The heat from his torso radiates towards you, warming not only your skin but your insides as well as you smile at him. He’s still got that wide, goofy smile plastered on his face, the one you’ve grown to love and to look forward to seeing.

Tyson’s hands move to rest on the counter on either side of you, the close proximity between your faces causes you to set your mug down and move your hands to his shoulders.

“What’s going through your mind, pretty girl?” The new pet name has you mentally squealing, your chest tightening as your cheeks heat up.

“Just how last night I was so adamant to talk about everything, but now I’m not so sure I want to break our little bubble,” you start, the huff of breath air coming out softly as you avoid his eye contact, even if he is a few inches away from your face.

It’s hard to concentrate on relaying your feelings to him and fully opening up to a man for the first time in a long time with him standing right there in front of you, in all his shirtless glory — the defined lines of his pecs and abs, the veins protruding from his arms, and the few purple bruises you’d left on the dips of his collarbones. It’s always been hard to think straight around him, you realize, with the way his presence gives you a comforting buzz and that warm, fuzzy feeling in your stomach.

Tyson’s quiet as he watches over you, he licks his lips in thought, a silent hum of agreement coming out. He’s in the exact same boat, the outcome of this conversation not one he’s too scared of, knowing that the way he feels is reciprocated, but rather what the next step is with the best friend you two share. He’s leaning closer into you, a small smile as he places another soft kiss on your lips. It’s one you get lost in, gentle and blissful as your lips move slowly against his. He pulls away first, something he wasn’t able to do last night, before finally being able to put his thoughts into words.

“I just want to make sure we’re on the same page with this. We’re taking a big risk doing this behind JT’s back and I want you to know, no matter what, the risk is worth it with you,” he starts, voice soft and still scratchy from the morning. “And I know you don’t date because you put yourself first and if that’s what you want to do then I’m okay with that, too.”

Your heart melts at the words, your hands cradling his face. Tyson’s always been better with words and feelings than you have over your short friendship with him. The metaphorical door is already wide open in front of you, it’s just a matter of taking that one more small step through it with Tyson, or shutting it and never turning back.

“I don’t date because most people don’t like having independent girls as their girlfriend’s. I put time into myself to be the best person I can be, not only for myself but for others and they don’t like that stuff,” you start to explain, your hands falling from his face to hold both of his hands. “I like you, a lot, Tys, and I want to be with you.”

He smiles wildly at that, the doubt draining from his eyes as he opens his mouth to respond.

You interrupt him though, with a huff of air as you continue speaking, “But JT’s my best friend and I don’t want to hurt him either.”

And Tyson fully understands where you’re coming from, because he’s been struggling with that for the past few months ever since he met you. He thinks back to that conversation on the plane all that time ago and how JT firmly told him to not try anything, but now as he really thinks about it, he’s not sure he meant it because of him and that it was more so because he cared for you and didn’t want to see you get hurt in general.

You can see in his eyes that same wide open door you’re thinking about, the one where you get to explore a relationship with the quirky, optimistic, competitive guy in front of you. The guy that matches your level of confidence as you, the guy that lets you be stubborn and lets you live out that stubbornness because he’s the most patient person you’ve ever met.

The decision’s easy as he stands in front of you, putting the ball in your court, your lip caught between your teeth. He’s waiting for you then, waiting for you to walk through that door or close it and walk out of his apartment. He’s hopeful, knowing that last night wasn’t a fluke and that all the kisses you’ve already shared are real and full of passion and those feelings you’ve been dancing around.

That’s when you give in, wrapping your legs around his torso and pulling him into you with that toothy smile of yours as you place your lips on his hungrily. It’s a kiss full of teeth as he smiles against you, his hands coming to cradle your face as you kiss. It’s much more addicting now that you’re sober and you fully agree with Tyson’s comment from last night about how he’s never going to want to stop kissing you.

You decide later that day that there’s no rush in telling JT, instead opting to see how things go between the two of you for a few weeks. Those two weeks are full of plenty of quality time, a coincidental home stand falling during that time meaning you get him to yourself before facing the reality that is how much he travels. You’re sure you can handle everything the new relationship can throw at you, the honeymoon phase lasting long as the two of you skirt around how you’ll tell JT whenever that time comes.

“I need to leave now if I want to leave for the rink and not see JT,” Tyson warns, prying away from your warm body in bed. You whined in response, wanting to have his warmth for just a little while longer. You let him escape from your grasp, only after asking for one too many kisses. You follow him out into your kitchen, watching him as he pulls on his shoes and finds his keys.

“You sure I can’t get you to stay for at least a cup of coffee?” You muse, giving it one more shot to spend time with him before your work week starts. You make your way to where he’s lingering in your entryway, looking extra cozy with his hood over his messy head of curls. You wrap your arms around his middle, slipping your hands under the cotton of his hoodie to feel his skin against yours.

He leans down to place a soft kiss on your lips, giggling when you follow him as he pulls away, “I really need to get going.”

“Fine,” you hum. “I’ll see you when you get back from Dallas?”

Tyson nods his head with a hum in answer, finally pulling open your front door to get to his car downstairs in the garage without running into JT. But luck isn’t on his side this morning and he gives you one more goodbye hug and kiss in the doorway before shutting the door behind him and coming face to face with a certain redheaded teammate a few feet down.

JT’s eyebrows are knitted as he takes his key out of the lock. His mouth opens a few times in confusion before any words come out. “What was that?”

Tyson doesn’t think he’s ever been at such a loss for words as he is right now. He looks between the door he just shut and his friend a few times, trying to wrap his brain around what this scene looks like. It’s not even 8:30 in the morning on Sunday, and to anyone, this looks like the start of a walk of shame.

“Uh, y/n and I were hanging out and we fell asleep so she let me sleep in her guest room,” Tyson lies. He hopes it’s convincing, his voice didn’t waver but his hands flailed around a little more than normal when he talks and he scratched his beard, something he always does when he’s nervous.

“I’m pretty sure I just saw you kiss her,” JT explains, voice stern as he completely turns to look at Tyson. “And you don’t just kiss people goodbye.”

Tyson stumbles over an explanation for that, no logical reason coming to mind.

“You were just kissing y/n!” JT exclaims, a rise in his voice as he starts to fill in the blanks. Now he’s starting to connect the dots of your tendency to bail on him on the nights you’d normally hang out and Tyson’s lack of interest in guys’ night or after game celebrations with the team. The giggling he would hear through the wall late at night, the girly squeals, and the few times he remembered hearing the bedpost hit against your shared wall a little too hard for his liking. “You just fucking kissed my best friend after I told you to not get involved with her!”

Tyson moves to close the distance between him and his best friend, but JT takes one back, effectively cancelling it out. Tyson’s opening and closing his mouth, trying to figure out the best course of action for this premature conversation. The two of you had just figured everything out in the past few days, telling JT about your newfound relationship hadn’t even come up in conversation yet.

“How long has this been going on for?”

“Barely two weeks,” Tyson stutters out, watching as JT’s face fills with more anger. “Comph, just let me explain,” he tries again, but JT just shakes his head and heads for the doorway for the stairwell instead of the elevator. It’s a huge flight of stairs given that he lives on the 11th floor of the building. He wants to follow his friend, but knows that space is what he needs and instead presses the button for the elevator and gets in, leaving him alone in his thoughts.

When he meets up with him at the rink, JT’s still avoiding him which is hard considering their stalls are only separated by one other in the locker room. Cale hadn’t even made it to the rink yet, so someone wasn’t even there to put up a wall between the two. Gabe takes notice as he walks around the room after taping his ankles, his eyebrows knitting at the fact that Tyson, who’s normally cheery even this early in the morning and bugging JT, is putting on his pads and skates with his mouth shut.

It’s something Gabe puts in the back of his mind, just thinking that Tyson had a rough night or morning. It’s during morning skate that Gabe, and almost everyone else, notices something is off between the pair. JT doesn’t chirp him like normal when they take face-offs against one another, he’s not by his side in between drills, and JT sticks his stick out a little too far during a one-on-one, sending Tyson to the ice during a drill that no one should be falling during. Bednar thinks nothing of it, just telling Tyson to stay on his two feet.

Practice eventually ends but the silent treatment between the two continues. JT’s uncharacteristically quiet to everyone that talks to him, something clearly on his mind. Meanwhile Tyson’s nerves are causing him to not shut up as Cale shares a story about his rough commute this morning.

As Tyson and Cale quiet down, Gabe steps in, pointing between the two of them, “What’s up with you two today?”

“Nothing,” Tyson lies quickly, not wanting anyone else to get involved in this. Even if their captain is just trying to help, Tyson’s not sure there’s anything Gabe can say to help.

JT scoffs, tying his shoes before standing up, “He’s fucking my best friend.” Cale, who was taking him leisurely time with getting dressed suddenly stands up and crosses the room to where Gravy was, avoiding any possible conflict.

Gabe’s eyes pop out of his head as Tyson responds, “we’re not fucking.”

“So the banging into my wall last night wasn’t you?” JT asks in an accusatory tone.

“Well, we’re not like,” Tyson starts, gesturing his hands in front of his body in a way to finish that sentence, soon realizing he doesn’t want to add fuel to fire by saying he was in fact fucking his best friend last night. “It’s not just that, we’re together.”

Gabe, who thought this was probably a misunderstanding of one of Tyson’s pranks or even just JT not winning a stupid bet, is just as shocked as JT was a few hours agao when he saw two of his best friends kissing. The captain isn’t entirely sure of how to navigate this situation, one that hasn’t really happened in any of his locker rooms. He doesn’t have much else to say to the two of them other than to figure it out and that a girl shouldn’t get between two friends that are as close as they are.

With that, Tyson’s trying to apologize to JT, tell him that there’s more to the story but JT wants nothing of it, and is throwing his jacket on and running out the door. Everything in Tyson’s being wants to follow him back to his place and beg for him to hear him out, but instead he’s racing back to your place, ignoring the fact that he still has to pack for their quick road trip.

Tyson all about sprints up the 11 flights of stairs to your door, knocking on your door with urgency until the door swings open. You move to the side as you let him in, clearly seeing how frantic he is with his flushed cheeks and the excessive knocking.

“JT saw me leave this morning,” Tyson lets out, a little out of breath from his run up the stairs. Tyson’s waiting for you to respond but you’re still not getting it. “He saw me kiss you goodbye and then didn’t talk to me all practice then when Landy confronted us he was just like ‘Tyson’s fucking my best friend’ and I tried to explain but-”

“Tys,” you interrupt his rambling, taking a step forward to reach out to him. Your hands grab his in an attempt to ground him, your thumbs rubbing back and forth on the back of his hands. “It’ll be okay.”

“He literally tripped me in practice today!”

“That’s because he can be a petty asshole. He doesn’t hate you, he probably just feels betrayed because he didn't know any of this was going on.” You try to console him, pushing all of your anxieties and paranoia aside to deal with the panicking boy in front of you.

“Let me talk to him, you need to go home and pack for your road trip since I know you haven’t yet.”

“But,”

“I’ll come over right after and update you, I promise.”

WIth that, Tyson kisses you goodbye as you push him to the elevator with a promise that everything is going to be okay before giving yourself a pep talk and bursting into JT’s apartment next to yours.

He spots you before you can greet him and you can see quite a few different feelings crossing over his face.

“Oh, God, are you here to also tell me that you’re not just fucking my best friend, too?” JT scoffs, causing your heart to plummet into your ass. “I really don’t want to listen to any excuses you may have about this.”

“Stop being an asshole for just one second and let me explain,” you reprimand him, already over the fact that your so-called best friend won’t even hear you out. “How is this any different from the countless times you tried to set me up with your friends? Is this not the same thing?”

It’s a genuine question that shuts up JT, because really, it’s not much different in your eyes. For over a year now, JT’s been showing you pictures of buddies he has from back home or from college or even friends of friends that he’d think would suit you. You had always turned him down because to you, dating wasn’t something you wanted other people to really interfere with, even if some of his friends were young, successful, bachelor types.

“Because it’s Tyson,” JT answers simply with a shrug of his shoulders. You look at him, hands clenching at your sides with the vague and uninterested tone. He’s barely even looking at you as he tidies up his kitchen, something he always did when trying to fill silence.

“What the fuck is that even supposed to mean?” You ask incredulously. “You’ve told me a million times he’s one of the best people you’ve ever met.” You bite your tongue from adding a comment about how he is one of the best people you’ve also met.

“The other guys weren’t professional athletes, it’s pretty simple from how I see it.”

“But you could set me up with your friends from Chicago and New York and Michigan but I find one of your friends here in Denver then it’s off limits? Because he plays a sport for a living? If that’s the case then I shouldn’t be friends with you either.” It’s a low blow, you know that, but it finally catches his attention as he drops the cloth he’s wiping the counter with. His eyes finally connect with yours and it’s then he finally notices how hurt you are by the lack of emotion in both his words and his body language. There are tears in your eyes as you look up at the ceiling to try and even your breathing.

“It's an honor for anyone to have a place in my life JT and that includes you,” you continue. “Tyson understands that. He understands that I'm my own person before anything else but he’s still there when I'm stubborn. I've been single for so long and I truly know what I want, what I deserve to feel and I get that with him.”

You often don’t get this deep with the red head, but his lack of wanting to understand you has you emotional as you think of all the benefits of being with Tyson. The few months of being his friend were a perfect build up to the past few weeks of it being more, of sharing a life with someone else.

“You know him better than most people and if you can honestly tell me he’s no good for me right now then I’ll end it,” you suggest, your heart beating fast as you wait for an answer. JT has come to be one of your best friends in your life, even if he is just your neighbor, and at this moment it’s hard to think of putting a guy between you. Even if that guy is the first guy you’ve really felt this way towards.

“I’m not gonna tell you that,” JT admits with a heavy sigh. He makes his way across the room to you before continuing. “He’s my best friend, too, and if there’s anyone that knows everything about both of you, it’s me. I guess I just felt like you were hiding a secret from me and we don’t do that, ya know? I just wish you could’ve told me.”

You laugh snidely at that, “Do you not remember like two months ago when I told you I thought Tyson was cute and you shot that down before I was even done talking?”

The wheels turn and the light bulb goes off in JT’s brain as he remembers that conversation from a while back, “I won’t confirm nor deny that I said that.”

The both of you laugh lightheartedly at that, pulling him in for a much needed hug, both of you apologizing to the other. The weight on your shoulders is liften as he pulls away, thankful for the fact that you have such an understanding person for a best friend.

“You want to watch an episode of Psych? I think we can fit one in before I have to leave.”

You contemplate it, knowing that a few miles away Tyson is in his apartment panicking as he waits for some sort of update from you. You know you need to tell him how your conversation just went, but something inside you is telling you that JT needs you to spend time with him to normalize everything.

“Sure,” you smile, walking over to his couch and laying on it long ways, forcing JT to sit by himself in his chair. You pull out your phone to text Tyson, smiling as you type out an explanation.

y/n: just finished talking to jt y/n: everything’s good but i think i need to just hang out with him to make him feel better about everything tyson: you sure? y/n: yes, ill call you when he leaves for the airport💚

Everything gets sorted out when you call Tyson an hour later, calming his nerves as you give him a detailed play-by-play of everything that was said between you and JT. The comfortable silence before you hang up is almost filled with him telling you he loves you, but he knows he needs to talk to JT first and needs to tell you in person, and not over the phone as he boards a flight.

The flight was filled with awkward air as most of the guys saw what happened with Tyson and JT in the locker room when practice ended that morning, and even if they weren’t there for that, they felt the tension between them. It’s not until a few hours later when Tyson’s doing his hair before the game when he hears a knock on his hotel door.

He swings the door open to see JT, his hands shoved in his short pockets as he stares right back at Tyson.

“Can we talk?”

“Uh, yeah,” he responds nervously, stepping out of the way to let his friend through the door. The two of them awkwardly stand a few feet away, that meme about two straight guys sitting six feet away in a hot tub because they’re not gay going through Tyson’s brain.

“I, uh, wanted to apologize about everything earlier. I’ll admit, I overreacted a bit and I shouldn’t have tripped you in practice. It was just a lot to take in, especially because I didn’t really know that you two were that close. And I feel like a bad friend now for not knowing that.”

JT’s apology is way more than what Tyson thought he would get from his friend. He knew yours and his conversation went well, but that didn’t mean he still wasn’t scared JT was going to punch him or yell at him or literally anything that wasn’t an amicable conversation between two adults.

“It’s fine, man. It’s on us for keeping you in the dark on this one and I’m sorry for that. I think we barely knew what was going on until it was all happening,” Tyson starts to explain. He’s trying not to look at his feet, knowing that JT needs to see the feelings in his face, those feelings that are very much real to him.

“And it’s real for you? It’s not a game? Because I swear to God, Tyson.” JT darts, voice stern.

“God, no, this isn’t a game to me JT,” Tyson answers quickly, head shaking in disgust at the thought. “I’m not just trying to bag her and call it some accomplishment or whatever you think this is. If that was the case I wouldn’t even be having this conversation with you and you’d already hate me,” he shudders at those words, unable to ever think he could do any wrong to you. “You told me a while ago that it’s no bullshit with her and I know that because it isn’t for me either.”

JT takes a seat on the bed in the room as his friend speaks, taking it all in. It’s a lot for him to take in, but Tyson really is one of the best people he’s ever met and he has little to no doubt that he’s telling the truth about how he feels. If the tears brimming your eyes earlier in the day said anything, you feel the exact same way. The room is silent once Tyson is done talking, his nerves causing him to be quiet for once as JT figures out his next move.

“I hear one bad bad thing from y/n, then it’s over,” JT warns, Tyson nodding his head along in agreement. “And if the guys start talking about your sex life I will be cutting your dick off.”

“Got it.”

“Okay, now that that’s out of the way, how’d you get her to go for you? I’ve been trying to get her a guy for forever.”

“Easy, have you seen my charming smile?” Tyson jokes with that crooked smirk of his, happy to see that JT is already moving on from that heavy stuff and onto best friend stuff. JT rolls his eyes heavily at the joke, a light ‘shut up’ coming out as he laughs.

Tyson explains everything then, the same wide smile on his face he had when he scored his first hat trick. He tells JT about how he wined and dined you on more than one occasion, how he learned those little, obscure things about you that you caught you off guard whenever he remembered them, and most importantly, just spent uninterrupted time with you, getting to know the ins and outs of your life. To Tyson, getting you to open up to him was difficult yet still a tranquil thing to do. The latter severely outweighed the former, as the sense of serenity he felt with you would always overpower any of those harder moments.

The team returns to Denver two days later, a quick road trip to Dallas and St Louis in the books with the regular season ending within the week. You can see that it’s that time of the year on both JT and Tyson’s face, their eyes a little more sunken in with the back half push, even if they’ve already clinched the playoffs. There’s only a few more games left to round out March and the beginning of April, the guys’ still waiting on their round one opponent.

Tyson heads straight for your place when the plane touches down late Wednesday night. You’d talked to him every day for the past few days, but not being able to see him much after JT finding out caused a lot of anxiety for the both of you. The problem may be solved with that, but seeing the other would just give you that little extra push that this was the right thing to do.

Tyson enters your apartment quietly, dropping his backpack and suit jacket down onto the nearby couch as he navigates his way through your apartment in the dark. The light of your string lights in your bedroom illuminates the hallway, soft sounds coming from your phone as Tyson walks in on you laying on your side.

“Hey,” he gently greets with a smile, pausing in the doorway to admire you. You set your phone down, turning around to face the man leaning against the door frame.

You smile just as wide as he does, responding with just as gentle of a ‘hey’. That anxiety you felt over the course of the last few days instantly dissolving at the sight of the man in your doorway.

“Why’re you standing all the way over there?” You ask with a pout.

“I can’t just look at you?” Tyson laughs, making his way over to you slowly. He joins you in bed, crawling over you like he’s still not dressed in one of his expensive custom suits.

“Not when I haven’t seen you in a few days,” you complain with a giggle, the same pout still glued to your face. He places a quick kiss on your lips in response, giving into your silent ask while also erasing that puppy dog look from your face. You’d only officially been with Tyson a few weeks now, the butterflies still heavily present in your stomach everytime your lips meet his.

“Do you not have clothes to change into?” You ask, referring to the crisp white button down he’s still wearing. He nods his head no against yours,

“Only what’s dirty from the roadie. Besides, I plan on being naked here pretty soon,” he smirks playfully. The comment has you shoving him off you with a roll of your eyes, only causing him to laugh loudly at your reaction. You know he’s partly kidding, using that as an excuse to get up from bed to go to the bathroom.

When you emerge from the bathroom, he’s finally shed his clothes and is under your covers. He opens his arms for you to snuggle into him. You do, resting your head on his bicep as he wraps both of his arms back around you.

“I missed you,” you let out. “Because I didn’t know what was gonna happen when you got back with everything going on with JT.”

“I missed you, too, but I’ve always missed you when we left for road trips,” he responds, letting you in on a little secret that clues you in once again to how real this is and how long it’s truly been going on for. “He’s fine with everything, he just told me we can’t act too much like a couple around him.”

You chuckle at that because of course that was the part JT focused on when they talked. As you look up at him, your heart is full and your head still has that same fuzzy feeling it always has when you’re around him. With him you’ve never really felt lonely, something you often felt even when you were around people before him. Those love songs you once heard on the radio that annoyed you no longer do, and instead you welcome them when they play spontaneously in the car or at the bar and parties or even at Avalanche games.

The thoughts swimming around in your head have you swinging your leg over him, straddling his hips with his hands on your waist and yours on his ribs. That doe-eyed smile he has is focused on you, a grin spreading over your face at the way everything’s worked out with him. Your heart flutters as he gently squeezes your side, a small squeak coming out. He leans up on his elbows then, admiring the view he has of you. He slowly yet full-heartedly fell for you over the time he’s known you and you can see it in the way his gaze turns soft and as the quirkiness drops from his expression.

You’ve slowly fallen in love with the man underneath you, too, and you lean down to kiss him one more time. It’s slow like they always seem to be with him in scenarios like this, where it’s just the two of you and the sounds of your breathing.

The playoffs fly by quickly with the pace they’re winning at, a WAG jacket wrapped tightly around your shoulders to every game you make it to. A new one is shoved into your hands at the start of the Stanley Cup playoffs, Mel telling you it’s a special occasion that calls for a new jacket, even if it is just for a series and even though you’ve just barely broken in your first one.

You go into that offseason with your newly crowned Stanley Cup Champion of a boyfriend, flying out to Chicago over the summer for JT’s day with the cup and spending a whole week in St. Albert when its Tyson’s turn with it.

And that picture frame you never found a picture for that’s hanging up on your wall by your TV? It’s been occupied now with a photo of you sandwiched between JT and Tyson on the ice after Game 6 against the Tampa Bay Lightning, the Cup on the ice in front of the three of you, faces full of glee with confetti falling around you.

Plus One

The pitter patter of small feet running along the hardwood floors of the hallway, followed by a squeal of ‘daddy’ has you setting your glass down and following after her. Your daughter’s giggle is heard through the house, the familiar sound of your husband dropping his bags by the front door following soon after.

“What’re you still doing up, baby girl?” Tyson chastises the four year old as you round the corner to find the two of them still by the door, your daughter in Tyson’s arms as he gives her a kiss.

“Sage said she wouldn’t go to bed until daddy came home for story time,” you answer for Sage. She only giggles in response.

“How about you go get in bed and mommy and daddy will come tell you a story in a minute?” Tyson asks, playing with her little fingers.

“Okay daddy!” She agrees instantly, running all the way up the stairs and down the hall to her bedroom. The brown curls she got from Tyson bounce as she runs, your heart warming at the heavy resemblance she has to her father.

“How are you doing, baby?” Tyson hums as you give him the usual welcome home kiss, his hand coming to rest on your protruding stomach.

“Good, the back pain is much more manageable now, but I’m still going to the bathroom every hour it seems like,” you shrug as you answer. He’d been on the longest road trip of the season so far, one that means the season is almost over. You’d tried extremely hard this time around to get pregnant at the right time so your next child would arrive during the offseason and not in the middle of the conference finals like your first did a few years ago.

“Soon enough we’ll have her running and occupying all of Sage’s free time,” Tyson muses, the two of you making your way to your bedroom so he could change into comfier clothes. You smile at the thought of Sage finally having a little sister to play with and hopefully become best friends with.

When you don’t get to Sage’s room fast enough, she’s racing into yours and Tyson’s room and plopping down onto your spacious bed. You join her, Tyson following, knowing that she’d much rather be sandwiched between the two of you than in her tiny bed in her own room. She leans into her dad’s side, something she’s always done, but you don’t mind — you love seeing them get so close.

“Did you bring a book, sweetie?” You ask her, taming some of her curls.

“No, tell me the story of how you met daddy again,” she proposes, causing you and Tyson to share a look. It’s her favorite story, one she asks you to relay to her at least once a week, and the one she asks for the most when Tyson’s been gone.

The two of you tell the story to her anyway, taking turns as you tell her how upset Uncle JT was about the two of you dating, all the way to the jokes he made sure to make when he gave a speech at your wedding six years ago now.

#tyson jost imagine #alex writes #nhl imagine #hockey writing #when i post this i’ll be at work lmao i’m really posting it then dipping

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darthmaulification · 3 years

Note

(Idk why I thought this but I think it’s funny) Imagine din and reader going back to visit Karga for a job and reader is a apparent heart throb to most of the villagers (not that she knows) and like “hi mrs. Parker” Friday style, these women are see them walking by going “hi Reader~” with cara teasing of reader the whole time having to tell the ladies that reader is already taken with din.

A/N: you are my very first request, so i decided to do a full, bonifide one shot! thank you so very much!! 🥰💕💕

oddly enough, din doesn’t show his bucket in this until the very end. 💀 it became really cara-centric for some reason. hope that’s okay! 😖

also, the trope of “everyone collectively loves person, but person is so utterly oblivious to it” is, without fail, one of the funniest bits any piece of media can pull lmao.

hope you enjoy! 💗

content: references of sex (kinda), saucy language, gender neutral!reader (my first time writing a gn reader 😲), reader being completely “no thoughts head empty” type of oblivious, cara just brutally teasing reader, soft!din makes an appearance!, cara is also kinda a bisexual icon???

word count: 1,775

“... What do you mean?”

Cara looks at you strange. She searches your face for a few seconds longer, eyebrows furrowed, trying to see if you’re serious.

“Are you fucking with me?” She deadpans evenly, and you tilt your head slightly, blinking. You slowly shake your head, raising an eyebrow.

“No...?” You drag out the word and Cara barks a sudden, loud laugh at your genuine confusion, tossing back her head as she does. She straightens up in her seat, still chuckling lightly, and picks up her glass of spotchka. Cara leans against the backrest, draping her free arm over it.

“You’re really not fucking with me, huh?” She mutters with a grin, bringing the glass to her lips and taking a low, long sip, her eyes not leaving yours. You frown, puzzled.

“Cara, I have no ide—"

“Everyone wants to fuck you.” Cara interrupts and it takes a moment for the blunt, vulgar words to register, but when they do you feel heat rise in your cheeks. You visibly recoil, sputtering out an answer.

“I— What are— There's no—” All Cara does as you fumble over your words, getting more and more red in the face, is shrug, an easy grin on her face.

“Yeah, everyone wants to get in your pants, can’t say I blame ‘em.” Her grin turns downright predatory and it gives you the final push to spit out a reply.

“WHAT?” The word comes out incredulous and far louder that you had meant, causing you to cringe at the sound of your voice reverberating in the cantina. People glance over at you and you give the crowd a sheepish, nervous smile. Thankfully, everyone turns back to whatever they were doing, no questions asked. Then your head whips back to Cara, whose all smug-looking, to shoot her a glare. Your face is positively burning, and you just know she can see it.

“Are you fucking with me?” You throw her own question back at her, but it falls flat because all it does is grow the shit-eating grin that’s plastered on Cara’s face. She shrugs, gesturing around lazily to the room at large.

“Jax, the Rodian over there, gives you puppy dog eyes, Kol and Zaltor— the Trandoshans, not the Togrutas, by the way— look at your ass every time they get, that pink Twi’lek gal over there practically fawns over you— think her names’ Numa or Nima or something, the Duros over there...”

Cara continues listing off more and more names, and with each one (some who you know and have spoken to) you feel yourself getting more and more flustered. You sink low in your chair, staring wide eyed into your spotchka, hands on your temples.

“Good Maker.” You groan, placing your hands over your face and slumping onto the table. Cara (finally) stops listing literally the entire population of the village and gazes at you quizzically. She tilts her head.

“Don’t like being the sex idol of the town?” She teases and you groan again, louder this time. You glare up at her through your fingers, still furiously blushing. Oh, how you wish Din was here to beat the snot out of Miss Dune...

“No. This is a nightmare.” You growl out, going back to digging your face into the table, hoping the sandstone would just swallow you whole. Before Cara can reply, a new voice sounds up.

“U-Um, hi.” You stiffen and turn your head to the side to see two Twi’leks, one taller than the other, standing next to the table. They seem a bit nervous, fidgeting with their lekku and rocking on their feet, but something tells you they’re here for... something. The moment you meet Cara’s gaze, your face blanches.

“Kill me now.”

“Hey, pretty ladies.”

You groan and Cara flirts at the exact same time, Cara’s strong voice unfortunately gaining the upper hand. Both Twi’lek giggle, and the taller of the two, the lavender skinned one, flutters her eyelashes. Even more unfortunately, you make eye contact with her. She flushes when you meet her gaze.

“O-Oh my— Stars, um hi!” She and her companion devolve into giggles again and you force yourself to sit up. Giving them a forced smile, you rest your hands under your chin and elbows on the table.

“Hello. What can I do for you?” You ask through gritted teeth, attempting to keep your strained voice relatively nice, while also fighting back both the blush that’s still on your cheeks and the urge to shoot Cara with your blaster. Thankfully, the Twi’leks have gotten over the apparent “meeting their idol” giggles, because now the shorter one places a dusty tan hand on the table and leans in. A bright, stunning smile spreads across her face, but something flirty burns in her eyes.

“Mm. Me and my sister here have just been seeing you around so often.” She says, voice a obviously practiced mix of playfully coy and feigning ignorance. You glance from her, to her lavender sister, then to Cara. And your luck must really be in the gutters, or maybe Cara just wants to torture you—or both— but the mercenary only offers you a grin, lifts her spotchka to her lips, and sips. Your hands curl into fists.

“Yeah, I—”

“You’re talking to Mando’s squeeze, babes.” Cara interrupts yet again and all three sets of eyes land on her. Two of them moon-eyed and incredulous if not also disappointed, one of them so embarrassed that Carasynthia Dune, you are a dead woman—

“Really?” The lavender Twi'lek’s eyes are so blown wide you almost think they’d roll out of her head. Her sister looks just as awestruck, and both look a tad bit fearful. You go to speak, but Cara (you’re really starting to hate her) opens her mouth again and beats you to the cut.

“Mm hm. Y’all are hitting on the Mando’s sweetheart. Pretty bold, honestly, he’s real protective over this one.” The blush you put all your hard work into smothering returns full force at Cara’s words, and the Twi’leks start looking a bit flustered themselves, though for another reason.

“So sorry!” The lavender one breaks first and goes running off to a Rodian and Zabrak sitting at a far table. She leans in close, seeming to whisper something into their ears, and suddenly all three of them are looking at you with a strange mix of disappointment, lust, and fear. You hastily look away and hide your face behind your hand.

“Aw. Shame.” The tan Twi’lek purses her lips, pushing herself off the table, and you begrudgingly force yourself to look at her. She gives you that stunning smile again and winks.

“You know I’m here for you.” She says and sashays off to where her sister is. Across the room, she gives you another wink and flutters her fingers. Pretty sure that all your bloods’ in your face, you turn to Cara, slowly.

“Cara.” You say her name lowly, looking her dead in the eye. She’s grinning, and blows a lock of her hair out of her face. She feigns an unassuming, innocent look, but both you and her know better.

“Yeah?” She’s walking on thin ice and she knows it, but you also know she’s never been afraid of risk.

“I’m going to kill you.” You say, coming across as deadly serious as you possibly can. Cara’s grin widens, her eyes twinkling, and she downs the last of her spotchka.

“I know,” She starts and she shrugs, “But you know I couldn’t resist.”

You want to reach over and smack her a good one, but a voice alerts you to a certain someone at your side.

“Hey.” Din’s low, modulated voice gentle pulls your attention to him and you turn your head to look up at your silver-clad lover. Even with the dark T-visor, you know exactly where to look to find those soft, doe eyes beneath it. A small smile creeps across your face.

“Hey.” You reply and he offers a hand to you, which you gladly accept. Like always, his hand is large and warm and strong, and it makes you feel completely at peace. Din helps you up to your feet, settling you close, but not too close, to his side.

“I got the next few pucks, and the kid’s already in the Crest, so we’re ready to head out...” Din trails off and tilts his head, and you can feel his curious gaze roam your face.

“Your face is... pretty flushed. Are you feeling okay?” He asks it so gently and sweetly, his gloved hand still holding yours, that it’s almost enough to make you forget why your all disheveled in the first place. Letting out a forced, somewhat breathy laugh, you pull your hand away to cross your arms over your chest.

“Um, yeah, yeah— I’m good.” You assure him, but Din knows you so he turns his attention on Cara, whose sprawl in her seat, looking like a satisfied loth cat.

“What did you do?” He asks, keeping his voice neutral, but there’s a hint of that good ol’ Din Protectiveness seeping in too. Part of you celebrates that Din’s finally here to beat up Cara, but all the other parts of you just want to hop on back the Razor Crest and get the Hell out of here. Cara lazily raises her hands in mock surrender, tilting her head into her shoulder.

“Just playing, that’s all.” She replies, eying your spotchka from across the table. She and Din are in some type of staring match even as she reaches and snags your drink. You don’t care enough to protest. Din stares at Cara for a few seconds longer before he shifts on his feet and turns back to you.

“Ready to go, cyare?” His voice is like warm like sunshine, and it makes your entire being light up. You nod and smile, uncrossing your arms to grab his hand. His thick fingers close around yours, encasing your hand in his.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.” You reply as you both start walking, tethered to one another by the most sacred link you can while in public. Din and you walk side by side, a Mandalorian and his beloved, through the cantina and out the door.

Cara watches you leave, then looks around at all the inhabitants of the cantina who had also watched you and the Mando leave hand-in-hand. She nearly laughs at all the looks of disappointment. You really were the village heart throb.

And as Cara downs the last of her (your) spotchka, she ponders,

Dammit. Wish it was me instead of Mando.

#star wars #star wars din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #cara dune #anon #anon ask #request

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

semicolon, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: He knew you. You knew him. Or rather, you both had an idea of the other, only to find that perhaps you connected on a much more carnal, animalistic level. It only took a hotel bar, New Year’s Eve, and the words, “Nice tattoo.”

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; alludes to attempted suicide; intense smut (fem reader, BDSM themes, semi-public exposure, restraints, nipple play, tit slapping, m-receiving oral, pussy spanking, doggy); non-idol!AU; rich heir, dom!Yoongi x tattooed, sub!reader; shifts back and forth between Yoongi’s POV and your POV

–

He was sure it was you.

You had tattoos now. A geometric lotus in your right inner forearm and a filled-in circle with a four-sided starburst around it on your inner left forearm. He observed you turning your head and there was a semicolon tattoo under your left ear. You moved your hair to cover it and nursed your rum and coke, alone. The tight black dress you were wearing was sinful at best. Closer to positively illegal with the way it clung to your breasts and squeezed them together. No one was approaching your table in this hotel bar. It was impossible to approach you when you looked that good.

You tapped at your phone, frowning.

He picked up his glass of whiskey and glided to you.

“Nice tattoo.”

You froze. Your eyes followed his finger, to your left forearm.

“It’s the symbol of the Sith Order,” you replied coolly.

“Star Wars?”

You lifted your head, raising an eyebrow. Beautiful makeup. Smokey eyes, red lips, your beauty marks visible. You hadn’t hidden them with foundation. He appreciated that.

“Yes.”

He set his glass on your table and slid into a chair. “Aren’t the Sith evil?”

You didn’t respond to that. Merely smiled at him, eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Do I know you?” you asked, tapping your nails on your glass. Matte black. Interesting.

To be honest, he wasn’t sure. You had attended to the same university. He could guess why you had the semicolon tattoo, because he had been in the hallway, witnessing the event when the ambulance took you to the hospital. He had been sleeping with a girl on your dorm floor.

Admittedly, not one of his proudest moments.

He cocked his chin to your right forearm. “And the lotus tattoo?”

You shrugged. “Just a recommendation from my tattoo artist.”

He took a slow, even sip of his whiskey. “Any more?”

You rested your chin on your fingers, placing your elbow on the table.

“You’d have to take me home to find out.”

Somehow, he did not think you were referring to your under-ear tattoo. He raised an eyebrow. “A woman like you, unclaimed? I can’t imagine why.”

You chuckled, lowering your hand to sip your rum and coke. “Perhaps it’s just personal preference.” You frowned, wincing, as if you remembered something unpleasant. “And perhaps it’s society who doesn’t like women who have their tattoos exposed.”

He thought about his fair skin. The many times he had thought about getting inked, but chickening out because he couldn’t think of committing to one specific image or words for that long. Perhaps he was fickle in that sense.

“Min Yoongi.”

He didn’t extend his hand, just stated his name. You paused, holding your glass over your cleavage, blocking it from his view. A moment of silence, a beat passing between your eyes. And then you gave him your name. Yes, it was you. The name had seen in the school newspaper the next day. The name that left the school, disappearing after the incident. He often wondered if you were okay. You seemed okay, looking at him with discerning eyes.

“You are the son of the owner of this hotel.”

Yoongi paused. He placed his glass on the table.

“Something like that.”

You raised a brow and placed your drink on your table. Expression pensive for a moment before you spoke again, tone light and playful.

“Well, perhaps you’ll be interested to know I just had a very unsatisfying one-night stand on the fifteenth floor, so I’ve come to drink the memory away.”

His lips curled into an entertained smile. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

You sighed and licked your teeth sharply. “On New Year’s Eve, too, no less.” You tapped your cheek with your index finger. “I suppose that means this year is off to a bad start.”

He looked at his Rolex watch. And then at you and your cleavage, breasts violently pushed together by your tight black dress. His eyes flickered back to yours. You were watching him carefully, aware of his traveling gaze. He smirked.

“There’s still time to remedy that.”

There was something about those eyes that haunted you.

You weren’t sure why, because you were quite sure you had never meant this man before. But maybe in a haze, in a dream? You tilted your head. Black hair, half-pushed back to reveal his forehead, dark eyes, pale skin. The kind of handsome that reminded you of midnights and moonlight, with a raspy voice to match. Expensive black suit with ironed lapels, black silk handkerchief in his breast pocket, patterned with the logo of a high-end fashion designer. Crisp white dress shirt, with a platinum tie clip on his slim black tie.

Well-dressed. Sophisticated. Dangerous.

You did not know Min Yoongi, but it felt like you knew him.

The entire time he was talking, you were watching his movements. For some reason, the heir to this hotel chain was speaking to you. You weren’t that special. That’s how you wanted it. The more anonymous you were, the less people questioned your actions. There’s no way Min Yoongi would know you. And why wasn’t he in the hotel club instead of this quieter, more low-profile hotel bar? Most people wanted to party on New Year’s Eve. The hotel was hosting a huge one at the moment.

You?

You just wanted a good fuck, honestly.

So when he offered, it surprised you. A lot of people would tell you that it was dangerous to have sex with a stranger. A rich man, no less.

But you were also the one with the Sith Order symbol tattooed to your arm.

Your lips curved to match his smirk.

“You got a room?”

He licked his lips.

“They’re all my rooms.”

It started the instant the two of you stepped into the elevator. Your long black fur coat was around your arms, shoulders exposed. No purse, because you had sewed pockets into the coat for your belongings. Less to lose this way. Yoongi had taken you to the back of the hotel, through dark hallways and shadows.

“Service elevator. Less people.”

You cocked your head as he pressed the up button, speaking again.

“Less paparazzi.”

You shrugged. “Someone has probably already caught you and posted it on Twitter.”

The elevator pinged and the doors slid open. You stepped inside and he shoved you into the wall, pressing his expensive suit into your body as the doors slid closed. Eyes on yours, hot breath in your face.

“No cameras,” he growled softly.

The numbers were climbing up, up.

Your tongue slid out as you tilted your head. You pressed it against his lower lip. His eyes were so dark they looked black in this lighting. So close to him that you were breathing in his exhale mixed with his pine-scented cologne.

“What are you waiting for?” you whispered. “Give me a taste of your power.”

Should you have provoked Min Yoongi? Maybe not, because his kiss sucked your breath away, his large hands coming up and holding you in place as he teased your lips, nipping at the thin skin, making you gasp into his mouth. He had you pressed into the metal wall of the elevator, one of his legs slipping between yours, thigh pressed into the hem of your short dress. Lips to lips, working you, teasing you with his tongue, not giving it to you.

He backed up a little, breathing down on you and your panting mouth.

“You bought this dress for someone else to take off, hm?” he purred, lips dark pink from kissing you.

“I brought it for the sole purpose of being taken off.” Your chest was heaving, ribcage constricted by the boning of your dress. “It’s not attached to a particular person.”

His hands slid down your head, trailing on your bare shoulders. Sliding into the fur, staring at your face the entire time. Drumming against the slinky fabric of your tight dress as if you were the grand piano and he was the pianist.

“It could be.”

Yoongi tilted his head, lips brushing against yours.

“It could be for me.”

One by one, his fingertips hooked under the hem of your dress, nails pressed against your bare thighs. His hands were cold, sending tingling shivers all over your nerves. Eyes half-lidded, smokey orbs locked with yours. Your lips curved into a succubus’s smile.

“It’s yours now.”

He chuckled, yanking the hem up and over your ass. Chilled air rushed to your naked thighs, your black lace, French-cut panties out in the open. He looked down at your quivering legs and then his eyes immediately fixated onto it. Another tattoo. You watched as Yoongi took it in, able to see it because the boldly printed script was on the space were your right leg and crotch connected, that dip of flesh right above your pussy. His eyes flickered back to you.

He raised his eyebrows.

“’Good luck’, huh?”

You grinned.

“Good luck.”

The elevator dinged.

A housekeeping worker with their cart craned above the supplies to look at you two and then immediately looked away, closing their eyes. Unmoving like a statue. Didn’t try to roll the cart into the elevator, didn’t say anything. They knew exactly who Yoongi was and it seemed like they knew exactly why you were there.

“Come.”

He didn’t take your hand. He simply removed his heat from you and glided through the doors like an elegant ghost. You followed, heels clicking on the floor before touching the carpet. Like your dress, your slim heels were the slightest bit uncomfortable. It kept you at attention and highly aware of your surroundings, even though you had a few drinks.

Your eyes traveled over the lavish wallpaper, the plush red carpet. Over-the-top intricate and extravagant that bordered on gaudy. This was the top floor. The penthouse. You didn’t have to go far. The entire wing was the room.

You wondered why he took you here just for a simple fuck.

Yoongi unlocked the door.

“There’s only one stipulation.”

“Tell me.”

You held up the condoms from your pocket.

Yoongi smiled.

He was going to tie you up.

You watched as he pressed a button and the metal bar descended from the ceiling, complete with leather straps. You raised your eyebrows. Yoongi watched your expression carefully. The bedroom was dark, only lit by moody red LED lights from behind the bed and low sconces. The color reflected off his pale skin, casting half of his face in shadow.

The button had been behind a locked panel. He was probably the sole owner of that key.

“You are welcome to leave at any time.”

He said the words without emotion. You removed your fur coat, placing it on the oversized black velvet armchair. Everything in the room was in various shades of black and navy, in plush fabrics or luxurious leather.

“You spend a lot on your hobbies,” you commented.

Yoongi smirked.

“Sex is a performance.”

Your eyes connected. He removed his blazer. Like all of his movements, it was a swift and practiced manner, with two fingers hooked around the collar as he walked towards you. He tossed it on top of your coat. Now Yoongi was right next to you, your black dress still bunched around your waist. He did not have a particularly oppressive presence, but it was more like the company of the ocean. Expansive with unreachable depth, strikingly beautiful, and would have absolutely no qualms in drowning you.

Yoongi made sure your eyes were on him.

His long fingers deftly removed his cufflinks, sliding them into his pants pocket before slowly rolling up his sleeves. He was wearing multiple silver bracelets on each wrist, no rings. He folded the crisp white fabric up to his elbows, revealing his lean forearms. He had nice hands. Pampered ones.

“Scared?” he asked casually.

You reached up to the hook-and-eyes at the front of your dress. His eyes followed your movement. One. Two. Your words complimenting the removal of each one. Your breasts slowly relaxed from their prison, held in place by your free hand holding the top of your dress so you could travel downwards.

“Fear is natural,” you whispered quietly. “It is merely a tool in the realm of the strong.”

Yoongi’s lips curved into a slow smile. “Do you intend to speak like that the entire time?”

You chuckled as the last one was undone. “No. I’m only informing you I’m a bit of a masochist.”

And then you released your hand holding up the dress, causing it to unfurl and slide down, stopping at your hips and flaring out like a flower.

Yoongi wondered if you did this all the time.

He wondered if this was a product of your life experiences or your instinctual nature. He watched as you slid the dress down your thighs, letting it fall to the floor. You stepped out of it, only in your heels and panties. His teeth sunk into his lower lip.

Yoongi had taken a lot of people to this room. All strangers. Never one he knew from the past, no matter how insignificant. That made you the exception, even if you didn’t remember. His memory was still so vivid to this day.

He let his eyes roam over your body. As he predicted, you had great tits. The dress accentuated them after all. There was another tattoo. Script on the left side of your ribcage. You noticed him looking and turned slightly so he could read it. He had to think. It was in English, like your crotch tattoo, although that one was easier to translate.

“’The world is quiet here’?” he echoed.

the world was written so it was only visible from the front, is visible from the side, and quiet here visible from the back. Printed a typewriter’s font, no punctuation, the placement deliberate and thought-out.

You smiled. “Book quote.”

Yoongi liked it when you smiled. He reminded him of his own, a little hesitant but self-aware of your own quiet confidence. He lifted his hand and placed it behind your head, guiding you to him.

“You are very interesting,” he murmured into your mouth before he kissed you again. Tasting like rum and coke mixed with oceanic blackberry. He had smelled that scent before, although not on skin. He recalled the counter of cologne, the glass bottles with the unisex design. High-end.

On your skin, it smelled like sex itself.

He slid his tongue in between your soft lips, running it over your teeth. Drinking in your gasps, taking it all. He liked it when you breathed into his mouth too. You let it out like smoke, drifting into him. Your hands came up to hold onto his upper arms, steadying yourself. He liked the feeling of your hands as well, the way each finger curled around to grip him tightly. His thrust his tongue in and out, slowly, each moan chaining to the last. His hands in your hair, tangling it up, making a mess.

Yoongi opened his eyes just a crack. They landed on the tattoo in your left forearm, the filled-in circle with the four-sided starburst.

What had made you get a symbol like that tattooed to you?

He pulled you along, still kissing you, towards the metal bar. Turned you around, kissing down your jaw to the back of your neck. His hands slid down your hair, tracing your spine. Fuck. Such a beautiful back, with a lovely curve, so perfect to bend over. He dug his nails into it and you whined under him.

Yoongi didn’t bother asking you if you wanted it. You had a mouth; you could use it.

And you were grinding your ass into his crotch so, clearly, he didn’t have to ask.

He folded your arms behind you, forearm above forearm, tying you to the metal bar with the leather straps. One on each of your wrists, one tucked in the inside your elbows, binding them to each other and then all to the metal. He did not want to cover your tattoos but he had to. The position had you bent over, ass sticking out, tits hanging down, back slightly arched.

“Do I need to secure your waist or can you hold it?”

You turned your head back and raised an eyebrow. The curve of your profile, so perfect against the red light.

“What you need to do is fuck me already.”

He grinned.

Yoongi pulled up a chair and sat down right in the front of you.

You gave him a slightly annoyed expression. He smirked at you, placing his fingers on your chin, lifting it slightly.

“I thought you wanted a satisfying fuck?” he drawled.

“And yet nothing is happening.”

“Foreplay is just as important as pounding your pussy.”

You suddenly felt his other hand ghost under your nipple, palm barely grazing it. You tried to drop your body into it but were stopped by your restraints. Yoongi cocked an eyebrow amusedly. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“What are you waiting for?”

His thumb slid up your chin. He pressed it into your lips, forcing it open, rubbing your tongue with the pad of his finger. You made a disgruntled noise, saliva collecting where he touched you. You tried to close your lips but he held your jaw down, grip strong and immovable. Spit was trickling down your chin, covering his fingers and dripping onto the floor.

“Waiting for you to give in to me,” Yoongi murmured huskily.

Your heartrate accelerated disconcertingly in your chest. His dark eyes on yours, consuming you, keeping you in this slightly uncomfortable position. And you wanted it. You could feel it, the heat inside you, stroked from embers to full-blown fire, because somehow Min Yoongi could see right through you and knew you wanted what he was composing.

This midnight was his.

He seemed to know that you came to this conclusion. Maybe your pupils were dilated. Maybe it was your shallowed breathing. Maybe it was your trembling body, shaking at his touch. He removed his wet finger and slid it down your collarbones, smearing your own spit on you, before cupping your breast, squeezing it. You sucked in a breath, moaning his name softly as his other hand matched the first, kneading your breasts, rubbing your nipples with his palms.

“Y-Yoongi…”

You gasped as you felt his wrists slide up and the chains of his bracelets scrape your sensitive nipples, blooming pinpricks of pain over your chest. His palms came back, soothing you, his dark eyes intensely focused on your face, not looking away. His fingers pressed into your skin and he closed them in on your nipples, pinching them hard enough so that you could feel it, but not so hard that it was unbearable. He held you there like that. Seconds ticked past. Long, grueling seconds that felt like hours.

Yoongi was very calm about it as you slowly unraveled in his hands.

You body began to move involuntarily, raising your chest so his fingers pulled on your nipples a little. He still did not move his hands. You couldn’t go far with the metal bar digging into your back. He watched you try different things to get more stimulation, fingers motionless. If you moved too much, you were afraid he was going to let go and not give you more. You craved more. Needed it.

“Yoongi, please… Harder…”

His dark eyes were hypnotizing you.

The position of his fingers changed. He clamped your nipples between the joints of his index and middle fingers. You yelped, back banging against the metal. He pressed his thumbs against the hardened nubs, rubbing them harshly. Expression unchanging, forever on you.

“I thought you wanted it harder.”

His voice was deep, calm, with a hint of raspy delight. The sensation was a stark contrast to what he was doing before, shooting sparks of pleasure through your body. You shuddered, bucking into it, knees collapsing a bit as he stimulated your nipples.

“Hold.”

A single command and your knees locked to obey, entire body shaking. Yoongi pulled your nipples towards him, pushing your breasts together as he did so. Your back had to curve abruptly against the cold metal bar at his action. He lowered his head, trailing kisses along your collarbone. You whined, his touch hard and lips soft, eyelids fluttering as your nipples slipped out from his fingers. His large hands quickly twisted to cup your tits, keeping them up and pushed together as he kissed down the curve, nipping sharply at your skin. Leaving small red marks all over, sucking at some points to bruise you.

He didn’t need to speak. His lips told you everything, travelling all over your breasts hungrily, your swollen and abused nipples waiting, patterning your skin before his tongue snaked out.

“F-fuck, Yoongi…”

The pink tip pressed against the inflamed nub, pushing it around delicately. Strands of black hair framed his sculpted brows and those dark eyes were on you again. He closed his lips around it. Your eyelids slid closed, feeling the softness of his mouth and his tongue swiping all over, swift circles.

Then he sucked, hard.

Your eyes flew open, jutting your chest into his face. Yoongi chuckled in his throat and continued to suck, pulsating around your nipple, scraping his teeth against it. One of his hands came up and matched the rhythm of his mouth, tweaking and assaulting your other nipple forcefully. Your core throbbed with need, soaking your panties so much that they stuck to your folds. The scent of your arousal was getting stronger and stronger, a heavy sweetness.

He released your nipples abruptly and you gasped, feeling him lick a fat stripe possessively over your tits. Saliva dripping down, coating them all over. He removed his hand. You panted, trying to catch your breath.

“What’s my name?” he whispered quietly.

You lifted your trembling head, hair covering half your face. Your knees felt like jelly.

“Y-Yoongi.”

He slapped your tits.

You yelped, his open palm creating hot friction on your abused nipples. It wasn’t a hard hit, but an expansive one that covered a lot of surface area. It was obvious he knew what he was doing. Pain trickled throughout your body, pussy throbbing with need.

“Again.”

“Yoongi.”

He slapped you again, from the other side. You shuddered, sucking in your stomach at the sudden pain that seemed to swallow you up, but somehow it didn’t really hurt, instantly morphing into tinges of arousal. It was probably the way he was looking at you. His appearance was bored, but his eyes were trained onto your body, ink-black pupils shimmering with power in his dark brown irises.

“Again.”

Your eyes dropped down. He spread his legs. It was like he knew what you wanted. His erection strained against his tailored black slacks. It was impossible to hide with how closely fitted they were to his body. Your eyes went back up to his face. His expression was still unbothered.

“Yoongi,” you breathed, the clearest you’ve sounded yet.

Smack! You whined at the force, back against the cold metal. Smack! A half-moan, a half-sob as you felt his bracelets scrape against your skin. Smack! Your breasts banged together, softness against stinging softness, and it just felt so good as the pain crawled through your nervous system, devastating you. Your head was arched back, staring at the ceiling, mouth open and panting.

Yoongi reached up and pushed your head back down. He used his other hand to trace your lips, smeared with lipstick and saliva.

“I’m going to fuck this hole now.”

There was a short silence. He was waiting for you to say no.

You didn’t say anything.

Yoongi stood up and unbuttoned his pants right in front of your face. Your eyes followed his fingers as he unzipped them. The flaps opened and his cock fought against the smooth fabric of his boxer briefs, swelling as it was released from the confines of his pants. He pressed it into your nose and you inhaled his scent, oppressive and erotic, making you moan hotly against it.

You wanted it in you so bad that your juices were leaking down your thighs.

You felt his palm caress your head, smoothing your hair. He rocked his hips into your face, humping your open mouth. You pressed your tongue against his clothed cock, whimpering at how close it was and yet so far. His words drifted down to you in a low growl, teasing and domineering.

“Good luck.”

He removed his hardness from your face. Your eyes flickered up to him, a smirk on your lips. Yoongi matched your devious expression, pushing down his underwear. His cock sprung up into your vision, overtaking it. Oh, fuck. The head already dark red, leaking pre-cum. Veins standing out along the length, waiting to be stroked by your tongue. It was the hottest image you had ever seen, Yoongi’s smug face above you, his stiff cock so close to your lips that you could feel the heat. And fuck, he smelled so good, as if his pine cologne, his skin, and his arousal made an unholy pheromone combination that made you open your mouth, exhaling hotly over the glistening head.

Yoongi shoved it into your lips with one swift stroke.

You reeled, expanding your throat as he buried himself into it, sucking in a tight breath. It was a skillful, deliberate movement, one that didn’t jar your gag reflex immediately. You had plenty of practice from former encounters to not gag at first instinct, but Yoongi also seemed practiced, as if he had shoved his dick down many throats before.

His large hand fitted around the back of your head. Not moving.

His taste overwhelmed your mouth. Your tongue slid around expertly, running down the length, moaning around him. His eyes were closed but you could see his pink lips curve upward. You closed your own eyes, squeezing him in your throat as your tongue rubbed along the veins, pressing him into the roof of your mouth.

“You do not disappoint,” Yoongi sighed in satisfaction.

He pulled out a little and your tongue instantly went to the head, licking slow circles all over, teasing the opening with your tongue, spreading it out before sliding under to stimulate the thin skin between the head and length. Yoongi moaned above you, your name finally falling from his lips. You did not realize it would have such an effect on you until he said it. It made your thighs clench and pussy throb, agonizingly forced to wait until he was done with your mouth.

He began to thrust into your face, slow but forceful, tipping your head back a little so the head stroked against the roof of your mouth before hitting the back of your throat. You took it, helpless, bent over, knees aching as he fucked your mouth, almost lazily. His hand had a firm grip on your head, pushing himself in over and over.

“Keep it tight for me,” he murmured. “You’re doing so good.”

You closed your lips around him, meeting the base of his cock, your cries muffled and vibrating along his hard length, adding stimulation. You looked up, seeing his tensed jaw, pleasure painting his features, eyes closed. Yoongi wasn’t trying to get off fast; he was trying to build it to a crescendo, and your mouth was his tool to do it. In, out, in, out, each time a little rougher, a little more force. Rubbing your throat raw, jaw aching, but you were so focused on the soft pants coming from his lips that you didn’t notice.

“Your mouth is so perfect,” Yoongi gritted out, rocking his hips a little faster. “So soft and tight.”

His eyes opened halfway and he noticed you staring at him as he fucked your mouth. He inhaled sharply at the sight.

“So fucking sexy,” he mumbled. “You want to swallow me?”

You hummed needily in response, gazing imploringly at him. He smirked.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

He rolled his hips, faster, harder. You noticed the muscles in his neck tense, his hand gripping you tighter as he chased his release, fingers digging into your scalp, his cock trembling in your wetness as you sucked your cheeks in. Yoongi clenched his jaw, eyes closing again. His hips smacked into your face repeatedly, your name a low hiss as he thrust particularly roughly into your throat, the head being choked by your wet vise.

“Fuck...”

Sudden, jerking strings of cum shot down your throat, painting it white, pumping straight into your mouth. You swallowed hard, barely able to take a breath before his cock violently shuddered, filling you up with more of his salty, thick taste. He held your head as you gulped around him, groaning as he felt your throat close in on the sensitive head continually.

“That’s it…”

His fingers curled into your hair, lifting it away from your neck and collecting it behind you so he could look down at you drinking his orgasm.

“What a pretty picture and all for me.”

His eyes honed in on the semicolon tattoo under your left ear.

It flexed and moved as you swallowed, flickering in and out of vision as the small dangling black gems on your ear hid it. His eyes slid back to your fucked-out face, struggling for breath but being denied by his hold on you.

You might have a personal preference when it came to being single, but Yoongi was a rapacious man, and he wanted to own your mouth. He doubted he could buy it with money, but perhaps he could make you addicted to him. He pulled out of your lips and you whined deliciously.

Inwardly, he grinned like a devil.

Yoongi leaned down and lifted your head, kissing your swollen lips. You kissed him back, starved and hungry for his softness, his gentle touches that were matched by his roughness. Did you always look this good? He wanted you beside him so he could study you, so he could push you to your knees whenever he wanted, so you could resist him and so he could teach you a lesson.

But you deserved the fuck you had asked for. He could smell how turned on you were and he had promised after all. His tongue slid into your mouth and he tasted himself, a familiar taste that somehow tasted better when it was mixed with your saliva.

Yoongi did not think he was going to invite any more strangers into this room after this.

He broke the kiss. Your eyes on him, burning him to the core. He removed his shoes and socks, standing up. Stepped out of his pants, still wearing his shirt and tie. He kept them on as a sign of his power over you. You looked so perfectly submissive, just like this. He had to move out of your line of vision.

There was no way you knew what he was thinking, but he still didn’t trust himself. He did not want to get carried away. He had a job to do.

And that was to fuck you.

He moved around to your quivering legs, seeing your soaked panties. Not commenting, but his cock twitched seeing it, knowing it was him that made you this way. His fingers closed in on the top of them, yanking up. You jerked you head back, moaning hotly at the action. The black lace dug into your skin, seeping into your slick folds. He kept his voice measured despite his desperate need to shove himself into you right now.

“Count to four.”

He dug your panties into you as he spoke and made you whine as he pulled from side to side. The delicate fabric was ripping a little.

“One.”

He spanked your pussy with his large palm. The sound was loud and wet, traveling throughout the entire wing, along with your scream of pleasure. Yoongi was getting hard already listening to you. Even in the low light, he could tell your pussy lips were becoming puffy, reddening. His hand was smeared with your juices and he resisted the urge to lick it.

“Keep going,” he nudged gently.

He heard you panting. “Two.”

Smack! The sound, the sound, it turned him on so much as the lustful moan was torn out of you, your raw throat turning it almost feral. He twisted your panties in your slit, watching the fabric tear slowly against your inflamed skin, drinking in your squeals and whines as he tortured you.

“T-three.”

Slap! His fingers were coated in slickness, watching the wetness splatter between your legs as he hit you. Your ass was backing up into your panties, trying to get more, stopped by the metal bar. If you wanted him to stop, you wouldn’t have uttered the final number, gasping it out hurriedly.

“Four.”

Smack! Yoongi slapped the hardest yet and your knees buckled, almost sobbing. He shoved your kneecaps with his, locking them back in place. Your legs were shuddering hard, barely holding up, but your mouth was telling him a different story, choked gasps of pleasure.

“Fuck, Yoongi, yes…”

He pulled your panties down. They were practically ruined by his grip. That was too bad; they were quite beautiful. He intended on buying you new ones. Perhaps he could come with you to select them.

He paused for a moment to grab a condom, holding it in his hand before returning to you.

“Yoongi, p-please fuck me…”

You craned your head to look at him, the perfect profile. He raised an eyebrow.

“Fuck me with your pretty cock, p-please…”

He stared down at your gorgeous back, the peeks of your tattoos in his restraints, your ass stuck up in the air, pussy lips swollen and leaking from his spanking. He couldn’t see it right now, but he knew the ‘GOOD LUCK’ tattoo was there, right next to your pussy. Yoongi wondered who the artist was.

Perhaps they had been lucky like him.

He felt a surge of annoyance.

Yoongi stepped up to your ass, lifting his cock and pressing the length against your wetness. You started, almost moving away.

“It’s not in you.” He kept his voice even. “You will know if it was in you.”

He exhaled quietly as he rubbed his length and his balls against your wet slit, keeping the head away from you. You were warm, soft, and so, so slick. He was semi-hard, but he could feel himself getting harder as he pressed your ass around his cock, fucking the crevice between your cheeks. He knew it would be better inside you, but for some reason he needed to punish you a little. Needed to let you know that he was irate that there were others before him, that somehow fate cheated him by not having your paths cross sooner.

There was nothing you could do about that, but Yoongi didn’t care.

You were moaning under him, hips pushing back to meet his thrusts, your pussy smacking his balls, coating them with your lubrication. He closed his eyes, letting himself enjoy it. Fuck, you had a nice ass, malleable and lush in his hands. He wanted to own this ass too. You mouth, your tits, your ass.

He knew he would want your pussy too once he was in it.

“Yoongi, please…”

He pressed his fingers into your skin, sliding them inward. Held his cock carefully so it wouldn’t leak on you as he retreated.

“Ah, you’re right,” he purred. “You’ve earned it.”

He opened the condom, sliding it on. His cock jerked in his hands, already desperate for what was to come. He was the kind of man who lived under so much discipline that he knew nothing else. Although life could not be controlled, he could control himself and his emotions.

Yoongi pressed the head against your entrance. Sucked in a breath.

Sank in slowly.

Oh.

God.

Yoongi was not religious, but he swore he saw glimpses of heaven the second his cock was fully enveloped by your pussy. It was tight, it was soft, and each ridge clenched around him, roughly stimulating the head after he had mildly edged himself with your ass moments earlier. You pulsed around him, constricting him inside you as the base of his crotch touched your abused pussy lips.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

He needed to own this pussy.

Yoongi pulled back and shoved himself back in, gasping at the tightness. It was not because you weren’t turned on. It was because you were clenching around him, pressing your walls inward to choke his cock and, if possible, his cock became harder knowing this, harder as he heard you cry out in satisfaction.

“Yes, Yoongi, yes…”

He began to fuck you, rolling his hips into yours, trying to keep it slow and steady to drive you crazy, but to be honest, he was done for, because Yoongi had never experienced such power, never had a body fuck him back with such force, never heard such delicious, desperate mewls of need as he thrusted into you, slamming your hips together with loud squelches. It was probably a lot, his cock hitting you deep and your pussy already sensitive from his spanking, and yet you told him to hold you tighter, fuck you harder.

“Use me, Yoongi,” you gasped. “You feel so good, fuck, Yoongi, your cock is so fucking good…”

How did you know all the words that made him weak? How did you know exactly how to sound to make him want you more? And you took it all despite your shivering legs, despite your tits violently bouncing with every thrust, despite him pressing down on your lower back to hit you deeper. He watched you throw your head back, a long sinful wail slipping from your lips, hair flaring out like fire and you came all over his cock, pussy spasming and clenching around him.

Yoongi’s eyes widened, hips ramming into you. The head smacked against your tightest spot and he saw stars, the pleasure hitting its peak and plummeting into him, taking his breath away. He shot aggressively into the condom, pumped out by your pussy clamping down around his length, sucking it all out. His eyes rolled back into his head with how good it felt. This had never happened to him before. The moans of his name rang in his ears, encompassing him as his cock twitched inside you, the perfect combination of sound and sensation.

If Yoongi ever heard your voice again, it would be synesthetic experience for him, because he would remember this sound and this feeling for the rest of his life.

Outside, the clock stuck midnight, and fireworks overtook the sky in thundering booms.

“Was that a satisfying fuck?”

“Very.”

Yoongi reached over and tucked a spare strand of hair behind your left ear. You sat in his lap, in the armchair with the windows wide open, revealing a perfect view of all the fireworks overtaking the moonlight. It was a bit wasteful for your taste. Not that good for the environment. Yoongi informed you that he would look into more sustainable alternatives.

He pressed his lips into your neck.

“The next time you want to stay at one of my hotels, I will make myself available.”

You chuckled. “Can you afford a pause in your schedule?”

You could feel him sucking a red mark into your skin.

“What else can I do when a member of the Sith Order visits?”

You laughed and he smirked against your newly-made hickey.

same au as exclamation mark !

punctuation au dom!myg and jjk | period . | comma , | question mark ? | apostrophe ‘

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi smut #bts smut #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #min yoongi smut

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ks-dreams-fantasies · 3 years

Note

Rio smut?! Where the reader is married with 3 kids but she is currently going through a separation. She is in friend group with Beth,Annie, and Ruby. They all work for Rio and reader calls Rio over one day to talk about “business” and he’s confused on why she wants to talk and when he comes over to her house she asks him to fuck her and Rio delivers🙂🥵. Please

*GIF NOT MINE*

As you wish boss -Rio (Good Girls)

Hey love ! Thanks for your request, hope you like what I wrote ☺️ Enjoy some smut 👅 This is a longer one and I wrote it late at night , it’s not proofread sorry in advance

Also this takes place in season 2 before Ben transitionned so that’s why there is mention of Sadie

Warning: Language, Smut

Word Count : 3k

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

“I need to get Stan out of there” Ruby said panicking as you and Annie tried to comfort her. Turner had arrested him Tuesday morning and Ruby couldn’t stop crying.

“I know we said we were out, but it’s the fastest way to get the money to bail him out” You called out looking at the both of them

“We could do it!” Annie said confidently “Plus we could all use the money, my sister doesn’t have to know” she continued

“We can’t go behind her back Annie” Ruby replied shaking her head disapproving of the idea. She didn’t want to do that to her bestfriend, but part of her was in need of the cash. “We need to tell Beth”

“We can’t, she’s an addict Ruby, it would be like giving a drink to an alcoholic. She’s trying her best and it wouldn’t be fair of us to bring her back in after all the effort she has done. It would only be one time, enough to get Stan out, enough to help (Y/N) with the divorce and enough for me and Sadie”Annie said trying to convince her.

“I mean, how would we even do it? Did you forget about the fact that we’ve been banned for every wholesale store? Beth’s the one who came up with the idea”

“As much as I love my sister, we don’t need her for that, we all have brains, let’s use them and find a way, it’s shouldn’t be too hard” Annie answered

“And how do we even find this guy, I mean Beth’s always been the one contacting him. Do you even know how to get to the man?” Ruby couldn’t believe she was even thinking about it

“I’ll do it” you said, finally speaking “I’ll get in contact with him”

“And how will you do that?” Ruby said finishing her coffee

“Let me take care of it” you replied, taking her mug to fill it in.

“Don’t” she said motioning to your hands “I have to go get the kids from school, we’ll catch up later”she continued standing up, picking up her purse before leaving

“Ok, so we’re really doing this?” Annie said excitedly

“I guess so, it’s going to help all of us, especially Ruby” you sighed “Anyway, anything to take my mind off of my stupid ex” you said rolling your eyes

“How are you doing by the way, with this whole situation?”

“I’m fine, the kids are starting to get used to it slowly, they’re often talking about his new girlfriend though, it’s kinda pissing me off. I mean he’s the one who fucked up and he gets to be happy with someone else? Like don’t get me wrong, I’m good without him, I wasn’t happy anymore, I was staying with him for the kids. It’s not like we had sex often, but it’s the only thing I miss, you know?” You asked shrugging your shoulders. Of course, you were taking care of yourself when you felt the need to, but you couldn’t help but admit you were missing the touch of a man.

“I get it” she chuckled

You talked for a bit before she left, leaving you all alone as you washed the dishes. When the kids came back from school, you prepared their bags for the weekend as they were going on a camping trip with their father and his new bimbo. He was coming to get the two little ones while you were going to your eldest’s baseball game.

“You have everything? Don’t forget I’m dropping you off at your dads after the game and he won’t be happy if you’re missing something” You said to him as you both hopped in the car, fastening your seatbelt.

“Don’t worry mom, I have everything. Can we go now? I don’t want to be late, Marcus said we could practice together before the game” He said as you drove off.

You never told the girls before, but your son was on the same team as Rio’s son. You didn’t see each other often, most of the time, Rhea was taking him to his games, but when you did see him, you would glance at each other from across the bleachers. He was a totally different person when Marcus was around. He still looked intimidating, but you could see his softer side when he would smile and clap as his son made a good play, encouraging him.

As you arrived at the field, your son went running to Marcus as you looked through the bleachers trying to find a familiar figure. Today was just your luck, as you saw Marcus’s dad sitting there, typing on his phone, probably taking care of business as he waited for the game to start. You made your way towards him, while other women stared at you as you sat next to the man dressed in black. He lifted his eyes from his phone, watching you, as you played with your own fingers.

“How you doing mama?” he said, his voice deep, hearing a gasp coming from a lady behind you. Rio was attractive and you weren’t the only one agreeing to that. Maybe it was the confidence, the danger, the relationship he had with his kid or even the neck tattoo, but you were not the only mom swooning over him. The difference with you, was that you didn’t let it show. They were always trying to get his attention, by sitting next him or trying to make conversation. Some of them even brought juice boxes and snacks for Marcus, trying to make him like them by gaining his son’s appreciation. You, on the other hand, never sat close to him or even spoke to him. Your relationship was strictly business related but it didn’t stop you from thinking about him in a different aspect. You didn’t want to admit it, but you sometimes happened to be thinking about him while pleasuring yourself. You couldn’t help but think about his dark seductive eyes or even his plump lips, and the fact that a man hadn’t touched you for what felt like years made you wish he would roam your body with his strong veiny hands.

You coughed softly “We need to talk” you said looking towards the field

“Yeah? About what” he replied smirking down at you

“Not here” you answered, not wanting to meet his amused eyes “Tonight, my house” you whispered as the game started. You didn’t talk after that you could feel his eyes on you from time to time and you could hear the bickering from behind you making you roll your eyes internally. As the kids won their game, Marcus and your son came running towards you two, looking happier than ever.

“Dad did you see that?” Marcus asked his dad, jumping around excitedly

“I did pap, you did great, who’s your friend?” he said looking at your son

“That’s Lucas, we always practice together”

“Well nice to meet you little man” Rio said smiling at Lucas “We have to go, but I guess I’ll see you around yeah?” He semi asked diverting his gaze towards you, winking, before leaving

You proceeded to go back to your car, heading towards your ex’s house, dropping off Lucas for the weekend

You later got ready as you opted for a more revealing but still classy outfit, waiting for Rio to come over. You were coming down the stairs as you heard a knock, taking a deep breath before opening the door, surprised to meet your ex’s figure.

“Are you going somewhere? You look hot” he said eyeing up and down as you scoffed, rolling your eyes

“What do you want David?”

“Lucas forgot his headphone, he needs them for the ride”

You sighed “Wait here” you got to your son’s room, picking what he needed before going back downstairs, shoving them on his chest “Goodbye David” You said slamming the door to his face. You walked through the kitchen as you grabbed a glass pouring some gin into it. You took a sip as you heard the door open again

“Ok David, what do you want now I told you I-“ you stopped dead in your track as your eyes laid on the tall criminal that stood in front of you.

“That’s not a very nice welcome mama” Rio smirked, his voice thick and croaky, sending shivers down your spine

“You could’ve knocked” You responded your voice laced with attitude as you tried to sound unfazed by his actions

“That’s no fun though” Rio threw back avoiding your remark, stepping closer to the kitchen island as you stood on the other side, fixing him a glass. As you made it slide across the countertop. He took it, nodding at you, before taking a sip himself

“Why did you want to see me (Y/N)?” he questioned you as you tried your best not to look surprised that he actually knew your name. It was the first time you heard him say it and it made you quiver slightly. “We want to do business” You said trying to sound confident as you took another sip of your drink

“I thought you said you were out” he looked amused as he gazed at your fidgeting fingers

“Well, you see, Beth is out, that doesn’t mean we need to stop doing business with you” you swallowed the remaining of your drink, hoping it would give you a boost of confidence. “Of course, no need to mention, it would stay between us” You said stepping a few feet closer to him but not close enough to reach him

“And how would you wash the money” he asked downing his glass, looking deeply into your eyes, a grin plastered on his face

“Why don’t you let me take care of that, you just need to provide the money, and we’ll do the rest for you” You managed to say with a pleasant smile, proud by your assurance

“Ok so 500 g’s to start, and we’ll see how it goes” He shrugged, his voice filled with pure enjoyment as he watched your eyes grow slightly bigger

“500 grand?” You gulped. How would you do that in a week, you didn’t even know how you would proceed to wash all the money

“If you can’t handle it, I can find someone else for the job” he said stepping closer to you

“We’ll handle it” You responded immediately, almost cutting him off. You turned around as you filled both of your drinks, taking a sip right after you put the bottle back on the kitchen counter.

He stared at you, an amused smile on his lips as you almost gulp down the entirety of its content

“Good” he said looking at his glass, now full. “Was there anything else you wanted from me?” he said as he took in your outfit. You were dressed in all black, his favorite color and he couldn’t help but admit that you looked amazing. Beth was good looking, but he always found you breath taking. He took another step forward, facing you completely, your chest almost touching as you hold in a gasp, now feeling nervous. You breathed threw your nose, processing the words that would next come out of your mouth before looking straight at him.

“I want you to fuck me” you said trying to sound confident and demanding. He looked at you closely trying to find one thing that would indicate that you were messing with him

“Don’t joke around mama” He stated raising his left eyebrow, eyes filled with lust, licking his lips softly.

“If you’re not the man for the job, I can always find someone else” you managed to say, surprising yourself with your boldness, as you rephrased the words he said earlier. A smirk appeared on his lips as you went to take a step back to get away from him. He decided otherwise, grabbing your arm, pulling your body to him as you slammed against his firm chest, crashing his mouth to yours, almost gasping startled by his actions. His lips were soft and sweet but at the same time so rough. Your hand moved to the back of his neck wanting more, as you felt him smirk withing the kiss. You had been fantasizing about this for a moment now, and by the looks of it he had been too. His touches were hungry and intense, his hands grasping your waist tightly as you let a muffled moan past your lips. You both pulled away to catch your breath as you diverted your kisses to his neck. You’d always dreamed of putting your mouth on the dark ink covering his throat and you were finally being able to do it.

“Fuck” he murmured as your hands moved up his back, taking his shirt off interrupting your kisses on his neck for a few seconds. Your lips went right back to it, now having more skin to touch. Your hands made their way to his belt, undoing it, looking up at him biting your bottom lip. His eyes were filled with lust and desire, his hand grabbed your neck slightly as you let out a small gasp

“Do I need to remind you who I am sweetheart?” he asked, not liking that you questioned his competence

“Maybe you do” you said with a devilish grin. Your words were enough for Rio to turn you around and to bend you over the counter. His hands found the waistband of your jeans pulling them down, growling at the sight of your almost bare ass. Rio yanked your underwear leaving the bottom half of your body completely naked. You could feel the warm fluid slowly leaking out from your fold as you anticipated his next move.

“Never question my abilities mama” he said in a husky tone as he slapped your ass hard. You let out a loud moan already feeling the sting his hands left behind. He pressed his growing crotch against you lowering his mouth to your ear whispering.

“Am I clear?” He slapped your ass once again when you didn’t answer, making you whimper. You felt him take a step back as he dropped his pants coming back to press his erection against your bare skin. You pushed your body back to get even closer to him, but his hands steadied your figure, grabbing your hips firmly.

“Did you forget who’s in charge here?” He said teasing your slit with his erected member. “Let me show you” he continued as he pushed his tip inside of you slowly stretching you out making you moan. He groaned lowly as he rammed into you making you shriek in pleasure. It felt better than anything you’d ever imagined before. His tip was brushing your deep spot and you couldn’t contain yourself anymore, screaming as he pushed in and out of you at a fast pace. The pleasure was immaculate as you stood on your tiptoes giving him an even better access to your aching core. He slapped your ass one more time before grabbing a fistful of your hair, bringing you to him as he started kissing bellow your ear.

“Fuck, you’re soaking wet for me” He stated, moving his hand to rub your needy clit. The way he was playing with the bundle of nerves between your shaky legs, brought you closer to the edge.

“Is that what you wanted mama? Am I fucking you good enough?” He asked as your eyes rolled back making you see stars from the pleasure he was giving you. Each stroke was getting deeper and deeper as you grabbed the kitchen counter, moaning loudly, encouraging him to keep pleasuring you like he was doing. He rubbed your clit a little bit faster and before you could even comprehend what was happening, you were coming undone, clenching around him.

“Yes! Oh my- fuck Rio” you moaned, tears welling in your eyes as your orgasm took over you. He didn’t stop, but you could feel his thrusts getting sloppier indicating he was close to his release. The sight of your ass bouncing back against him was all it took for him to spill his loads into you, letting out a throaty groan. He pulled out of you slowly taking a step back pulling up his pants. You stood up, making your way to the bathroom, cleaning yourself as you put on a pair of shorts. As you came back in the kitchen, Rio was still there, finishing his drink, staring at you with a slight smirk on his face

“What’s with the smirk?” You asked trying to sound like someone who didn’t just get railed on the kitchen countertop. He downed his drink, putting it back on the island as he walked forward, standing in front of you. He looked you up and down, meeting your gaze, pulling a piece of your hair back from your face

“I got the job done, didn’t I?” he smiled cockily as you rolled your eyes

“Whatever” he laughed at the way you tried to ignore his previous question. You both knew you were satisfied with what had just happened moments ago even if you tried to hide it.

“I’ll contact you for the drop off” he said as you smiled content that the deal was still on

“As you wish, boss” you answered teasingly as he slapped your ass one last time before exiting throught the front door, leaving you shocked and alone. You liked it and you were scared to admit that you would like for it to happen again. That night, as you got into bed, your mind couldn’t help but wander to the man always dressed in all black. You couldn’t help but to think about his eyes, his hands, his mouth, his cock… Oh how he made you feel so good was not even understandable. Why would you even question his ability to please you? How was he so good at it? Everything he did was just … perfect.

The real question was: was there something he wasn’t good at?

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

Thanks for reading

Hope you liked it, let me know what you think

-K

#rio #rio x reader #rio good girls #rio imagine #daddy rio #good girls nbc #good girls fanfic #goodgirls #good girls rio #manny montana

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imaginesandinserts · 3 years

Text

Irreverent Drabbles: Perils of Realization

Title: Irreverent Drabbles: Perils of Realization Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: G Words: 6078

A/N: This takes place chronologically between chapters 28 and 29.

Irreverent Series Masterlist

You went on a date.

You realized that you were in love with Hotch, and your first instinct was to go on a date with someone else.

In all respects, it was a relatively good decision. Hotch was your boss and despite the close relationship you enjoyed with him, any romantic relationship between the two of you was impossible.

Miles Burton was a Senior White House Advisor whom you'd run into during your social obligations as a member of the Women in Service organization who had persistently flirted with you at the Griffiths fundraiser and had made it a point to say hello at the following two events you'd both been in attendance for.

Once you'd come to the fairly life-ruining conclusion that you were head-over-heels in love with Aaron Hotchner, you made sure to actually flirt back the next time you saw Miles Burton. That was how you found yourself on the date that had you questioning ever having harbored an attraction to men - dinner and drinks accompanied by a rendition of the 101 Life Accomplishments of Miles T. Burton.

This was hell.

After dinner, Miles had insisted on driving you home, and you cursed yourself for having taken a cab to dinner in order to avoid the lack of parking options in downtown. For some reason, he'd gotten it into his head that paying for dinner entitled him to having your mouth wrapped around his cock while he was parked in the street overlooking your house. You'd extracted yourself from the situation with as much contained outrage and dignity as you could muster, and having closed the front door, you find yourself leaning against it with only one thought in your head – Aaron Hotchner would never.

*------------*

"Rough night?"

You look over at Derek as he peers at you over his coffee mug, his eyes filling with amusement, no doubt having already taken in your slightly puffy face and the extra large cup of coffee you're carrying. After Miles had driven away - you'd watched from your window just in case - you'd needed a drink, which had turned into two drinks and ultimately falling asleep on the couch. You'd woken up late and having rushed out of the house - sans makeup - had arrived at work just in time. Hotch may no longer be upset at you being five minutes late, but he's still entirely stringent about punctuality and you hate to disappoint him.

"Bad date," you respond, dropping into your chair and whipping out the little compact and concealer from your bag so that no one else sees you looking like this.

Emily perks up at that, walking over to perch herself on your desk, the beginnings of a grin already forming on her face. "You finally went out with Burton?"

You look up at her, slightly shaking your head in disapproval at her glee. She'd warned you against him. Something about bad vibes, but since it hadn't been anything concrete, you'd impulsively gone against it. You should've known better. Emily's gut, when it came to men, was impeccably accurate.

Pursing your lips, you make sure your face no longer bears the telltale marks of having fallen asleep, drunk on your couch, before you look up at her and Derek once more. "He tried to Lewinsky me," you tell them ruefully, a scowl making its way onto your face as Emily unsuccessfully stifles a snort.

Derek's eyebrows rise in question. "It's fine, I'm okay," you assure him, before looking back at Emily. "You were right. He's an arrogant creep."

"I'm sorry," she tells you, scooching up further onto your desk and swiping up your coffee before you could stop her. "Everyday I continue to be attracted to men feels like a waste."

"Tell me about it," you mutter, careful to not allow your eyes to slip up to the landing where his office was.

"Oh come on, we're not all bad."

Both you and Emily turn to Derek with looks that say exactly what you think about that particular statement.

"Geez, tough crowd." He raises his hands in surrender, turning away from you both and back to his screen, no doubt to message Pen and fill her in on everything.

"I'd make a good lesbian."

You look up at Emily, who has a contemplative look on her face as she continues to take sips of your coffee. Your coffee. Your hot, perfectly sweetened and foamy latte.

"You would," you agree with her, reaching out for the cup, which she thankfully hands to you, before her eyes flit up to the landing. You turn and follow her gaze, eyes coming to rest on Hotch.

He's wearing the navy blue suit with the nice red patterned Gucci tie that you'd helped Jack pick out for him on Father's day. He has a folder on his hand and his brow is already furrowed, straining under the weight of the world far too early in the morning. His eyes move from the papers in his hand to all of you looking up at him, muscles tensed and breath held tight.

"Briefing. Now."

It takes only two words from him to get you all scrambling from your desks and rushing upstairs, his tone telling you everything you needed to know.

It was going to be a bad one.

*------------*

Five girls missing, three bodies found. Based on the pattern, it's already a foregone conclusion that the fourth girl was also dead. Not that you'd tell her parents that. Not until there was a body. All of your efforts were concentrated on girl number five.

You've felt the eyes of the entire team on you ever since the third body was found and Caroline Geller, lucky contestant number five, had been taken from the parking lot of a grocery store after work. All five girls were around the same age, pretty, low-risk, and had no connection to the unsub that you'd been able to work out.

You look up from the notes you'd taken while talking to Caroline's friends from work to see Hotch looking at you. When your eyes meet his, he's quick to look away, turning back towards the screen in front of him. You know why they're all concerned. While all of the girls are roughly the same age as you, Caroline Geller looked like you. Same hair color, similar features, comparable build – at first glance one might mistake her for you.

She taught ballet at the local dance school, volunteered at the soup kitchen every week, and had recently gotten engaged to her fiancé, a beautiful and heartbroken man who had planted himself on a bench outside the precinct and refused to leave his post.

You'd been at their home, combed through their life, seen the wedding invitation pinned to the refrigerator, held her pointe shoes in your hands as you looked around at everything left behind.

Your eyes stay fixed on Hotch's back as he continues to assess the screen of suspects and look at the evidence board, as though willing something to fall into place. He seems more affected by this case, this girl's disappearance, more than any other in recent memory. There's this childish, naïve part of you that's hoping against hope that it has something to do with you. Because she reminds him of you. More likely, it's the fact that he's had to walk past her fiancé, every time he's left the precinct. Hotch had been the one to speak with him, and the poor man had broken down into tears right in front of his eyes. It was enough to affect even the coldest of hearts and Hotch hardly fit the bill of a cold-hearted man, despite any misconceptions made based on his reticent exterior. Aaron Hotchner was one of the kindest and most sincere people you've ever met – devout father, responsible team leader. His very aura commanded the sort of respect reserved for those men, the kind of men everyone looked up to and knew they'd never be.

Somehow, he's permeated your entire life without you realizing it. Ever since the two of you had made up, it felt like things were back to normal, even more than before he'd left. You had dinner with them as often as possible. Both him and Jack slept over at least once a week when there wasn't a case going on. The sight of Hotch in pajamas, disappearing into your guest bedroom was becoming a familiar one. It's beyond normal coworkers, beyond a normal friendship – you can finally admit that to yourself.

How it had happened though - how the two of you had allowed it to happen - still remained a mystery. It had been innocuous enough in the beginning. Accompanying Jack and Hotch to the Zoo or the Smithsonian. Relieving Jess when Hotch couldn't get away and she had to go home to her own family. Keeping him company late nights at the office because you hated seeing him be the last one there.

You can feel a lump rise in your throat as your eyes stay on his frame, watching as he points out an additional factor for Reid to consider in his geographic profile. You didn't deserve him. You didn't deserve someone like him, even if he were to give you the time of day.

You've already thought through how it would go if you were to tell him. Blocked out what you'd say and how'd respond. The initial shock of your revelation would catch him off-guard. He'd falter ever so slightly. It would be quickly followed by a professional and kindhearted rejection. You were his subordinate. You were too young. He's sorry if he did or said anything that might have led you on. Of course, he understands if you need some time and space to gather yourself and make your peace with the matter. Of course you'd still see Jack, he'd never deny you his son again. And he wouldn't. He'd stay true to his word.

But you'd never be the same again. You'd never be able to look at him again and feel anything but the sting of that rejection. The confirmation – you weren't good enough. It didn't matter that you'd changed everything. It didn't matter that you'd tried and tried to atone. You weren't good enough. You never would be. Not for that. Not for him. Slowly, you'd start to withdraw. You wouldn't be able to help yourself. It would hurt too much, just being near him. Without meaning to, you'd lose him.

*------------*

Samuel Nolen, age 45, a landscaper who'd worked jobs around each of the women's workplaces in the weeks leading up to their disappearance. He'd been the only common link Garcia had been able to pinpoint and he fit the profile exactly. Older white male, non-threatening demeanor, rotating job that gave him the freedom to watch his victims uninterrupted. Grew up with a single father, mother left the family when he was nine years old and was never heard from again. Garcia had found out that she'd moved out to Vegas and had a relatively successful career as a cabaret dancer.

He was sat in the interrogation room with both Rossi and Reid talking to him while the rest of you watched from the other side. There was something almost gentle about how he held himself, how he shied away from Rossi and leaned more towards Reid, whom he perceived as non-threatening. The guess was that he'd lured in his victims under the guise of needing help, and based on the man in front of you, you could see how some women might fall for it. He seemed nice. If there's one thing this job has taught you, it's that men don't ask for help from women. If a man is asking you for help, run.

Neither Rossi nor Reid were having much success with him. You could all see the twitch in his fingers as they curled around something imaginary. All of the victims had died via strangulation. The hope was that you'd captured him before he'd managed to get back to Caroline and subject her to the same fate.

Derek and JJ had been the ones to pick him up, and as Derek had marched him past you, through the precinct, Samuel's eyes had caught yours and they'd lingered, sending a chill racing down your spine. He might be able to fake it long enough to lure those women to their deaths, but there was no hiding that look in his eyes. The look of a predator.

"I want to talk to the female agent. I'll only talk to her."

It was the first thing he'd said since the interrogation had started half an hour ago. You feel yourself tense, the eyes of the rest of the team on you immediately. None of you needed to ask which agent. From the corner of your eye you look at Hotch beside you. He isn't looking at you, still glaring at the unsub through the mirror, but you can see that his jaw is set tightly.

When Rossi and Reid exit, Rossi immediately looks to you before his eyes go over you and to Hotch. You don't have to turn to see that they're engaged in a wordless debate about the right next move.

You can't help but think of that lovely empty house. The despondent man still seated outside. Those satin shoes that had just been broken in. They deserved to be worn.

"Hotch," you turn to face him, making up your mind as you do. You're going in. You're going to get answers.

He's already looking at you and you can tell that he doesn't like it at all. His forehead is already wrinkled and you can literally see the dissent on his mouth. He's incredibly protective of the team and everyone knows that you're being asked for because you look most like the victim. His ritual has been interrupted and he's going to be eager to resume it. With you as proxy.

"I have to go in," you tell him, before he can say anything to dissuade you from the notion. There was no point in waiting. Every second you waited, your chances of finding Caroline worsened.

His eyes bore into you, silently speaking his every concern into existence. You didn't have to do this, there was always another way. You look so much like her. You look too much like her. If you go in there, he won't see you. He'll see her.

It is a tense minute as you and Hotch look at one another. He's giving you the chance to back out despite knowing that's the last thing you'd do. Finally, a nod comes from him.

"We still have the personal effects that were found in her car?" You're already walking out to the main office as you direct your question to Emily, who is quick to follow you. She guides you to a box of items, among which there's some pieces of clothing. Grabbing the box, you go back to the office overlooking the interrogation room. If he was going to think you were Caroline, then you'd play into it.

Quickly, you shuffle through the clothing in front of you, selecting a well-worn seeming crewneck with her alma mater on it. Slipping your blazer off, you pull the sweater over your head, adjusting so it hung off of you in a manner reminiscent of how Caroline wore it in the photos you'd seen. You shuck off your heels as well, finding a pair of low flats in the box, which you don instead.

Behind you, you can feel the eyes of the team on you as you slowly transform yourself. For the final touch, you take your hair out of your usually prim updo and let it down. Your hair was a little bit longer than Caroline's, but, as you part it down the left side just as she did, you figure it was close enough.

Turning finally to face the unsub, you take your first breath as Caroline Geller.

*------------*

Aaron watches, fists bunched tightly together, thumb itching to move, to do something that would accomplish something larger simply watching and waiting.

They all knew what you were doing - playing up the similarities between yourself and the victim to draw out whatever it was about these women that played to the unsub's compulsions. Prey on his weaknesses just as he'd preyed on them. It was a good tactic – one he could feel forming in your head as you'd searched through the evidence box in search of props for your scene.

You're good in the field, there's no doubt about it. But here, in the interrogation room, that's where you really shine. It was one of the hardest taught skills and it was the one that you had outperformed in beyond imagination from the very start. Your methods unpredictable and out of the box, but highly effective. Out of them all, you were always the best at getting inside the heads of the unsubs and finding that one little thing that made them break.

He's seen it before countless times now, been witness to each spoken word, well placed emphasis, timely pause. The interrogation room was a stage and you were always the star.

It had been the topic of some conversation between himself and Rossi – how you'd managed to convince some of the toughest unsubs to crack under the pressure of your presence. Aaron, personally, chalked it up to your childhood and upbringing. When your entire life was a performance, you know how to play your role.

Now, as he watches you, he sees how you've managed to mimic the mannerisms of Caroline Geller from the home videos you'd seen of her – the slight tilt of the head, the fiddling with the ends of your hair. Your voice has shifted as well, a slightly higher and happier pitch, more like what one might expect of a dance teacher with students in primary school. You've done your homework on this one, that one is easily clear. However, it's the slight pause you have as the Unsub addresses you as Caroline, the nearly imperceptible tension in your shoulders as the Unsub mocks Caroline's desolate fiancé whom Aaron hadn't the heart to look at. This one had gotten to you, and you wouldn't be able to deny it. Not to him.

At long last, you get what you're searching for. The docks by the east river.

The answer came at a price – twenty five long minutes with just you and the Unsub as he poked and prodded at your psyche just as you did to him.

The confirmation from Garcia, of a heat signature at the given location, comes within the minute and Aaron is quick to rap his knuckles against the glass, signaling your curtain call.

*------------*

You can't save them all. That's the one lesson every new agent learns at their own pace.

You can't save them all.

She'd suffocated before you could get to her. You'd been too late.

JJ hadn't let you see Caroline's body, dragging you back and away from the dock containers when Derek had emerged with a somber face, slowly shaking his head.

Your gun feels heavy in your hand, and it is only out of sheer rote habit that you manage to disarm and reholster the weapon. JJ stands with you as the flurry of people begin to process the scene, lit only by the red and blue flashing lights of the police cars.

You'd failed. You'd been too slow to extract the location, too slow to get there. You'd been too damn slow.

You've lost victims before. Everyone has. But you lived in this girl. You'd worn her clothes, her shoes, taken her name. You'd walked like her, changed your voice to mimic hers. It was as though, by pretending to be her, you'd taken in a part of her that now yearned to reunite with the rest of its whole, but it wasn't able to. So now a piece of Caroline Geller rattled inside of you, sobbing and crying out for the rest of itself.

Hotch and Emily finally emerge and you follow JJ to join them as Hotch assigns everyone their roles. One of the policemen interjects and informs him that Caroline's fiancé had insisted on coming along and was now waiting with a deputy by the barricades. You see Hotch nod, his eyes briefly moving towards the direction of the barricade, before refocusing on the team and instructing Reid to assist with the evidence logging.

As everyone starts to disperse, you can feel a lead ball drop into the pit of your stomach, knowing that Hotch now had the task of informing the fiancé that Caroline Geller was dead.

"Hotch," you begin, his name coming out full and heavy, sitting in your mouth like warm air.

He halts at your voice, turning back towards you. He'd already given you your assignment, so he has to be wondering what you could possibly have to say to him.

You look up at him. It's just you, him, and Emily left now, as she waits for you to help her with processing paperwork on the unsub that Hotch had tasked you both with. "I – ," you falter as you meet his eyes, and you can barely see a hint of him behind them. He'd already donned his mask to go face the fiancé.

"I'm sorry," you manage quickly, jaw tight and heart clenching at the awfulness of the job that he now has to do. The job he always has to do.

The only acknowledgement you receive that he had even heard what you said over the din of the police and ambulance sirens, was the barest of wrinkling to his forehead. The ever so slight slippage of the mask during which you thought you might get to catch a glimpse of him, but he catches it far too quickly and keeps it in place. As if it never happened. Not even nodding, he turns away and walks towards the barricade.

It's a miserable few hours for Emily afterwards, you're sure, as you monotonously follow her back to the police station and begin the task of coordinating with the local office to handle the case and subsequent prosecution.

Emily likes to talk while the two of you work together. Rarely ever do the two of you work without talking, however she seems to pick up on your mood fairly well and the two of you quietly go through all of the required processes.

"You know what your problem is?"

You look up at Emily, who had finally broken the silence, her sharp voice cutting through the small storage room that the two of you inhabited, gathering all of the files that would need to be sent off to the local office.

You swallow, bracing yourself for the worst. At your slight nod, she proceeds, her voice a calm fury like you'd never seen before. "Even after everything you've done, after everything you had to go through, you seem to harbor this delusion that you're not supposed to be here."

"What're you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you. Apologizing to Hotch. You think you don't belong here. That you aren't good enough. You think that girl dying today was your fault."

You scoff, shaking your head. "It was my fault," you retort, grabbing the box you'd just finished packing and making your way to the door before you're blocked by Emily, preventing your escape.

"No, it wasn't. The only person responsible for that girl's death is the guy who's going to rot in prison for the rest of his miserable, fucked up life."

You sigh, shuffling your weight from one foot to the other. "If I'd gotten – "

"You can't save everyone," she interrupts, barreling onwards. "We're going to try. We're going to try our best every single time. But we can't save everyone. None of us can. Not you, not me, not even Hotch. But that doesn't make it your fault."

Emily stares down at you, reaching out and grabbing the heavy box out of your hands and setting it down on the floor by your feet. You look away, up at the ceiling, tears pricking at your eyes, causing them to burn. Your chest feels tight and you take a shuddered breath. The lure of wanting to believe her was so very strong, struck against the waves of dissonance it posed in your head.

Emily softens her voice, reaching out towards you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders as she easily pulls you into her chest. "Hotch isn't blaming you. He doesn't think you have anything to be sorry for."

*------------*

The plane ride back was a somber affair, everyone on the team off on their own. Spencer was reading a new book whose title had caught your interest, Rossi was tucked away in a corner with his eyes closed but you're not sure if he's actually asleep. Both Emily and JJ were sitting close together, quietly sharing a bag of Cheetos while JJ worked on her presentation to Henry's class for Career Day and Emily bided the time alternating between reading the trashy romance she'd found left behind in her hotel room and staring out the window. Derek sat across from you with his headphones on, leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed. Across the way, you can see Hotch diligently working on his report for the case, the only sound emanating from his faint taps against the keyboard.

Emily's words still play in your head, now competing with that churning voice that you'd had in your head for the past few weeks – you would never be good enough for the likes of Aaron Hotchner. Her words were starting to put some minute cracks in the foundation of that particular statement, and you had no idea what to make of that.

You hear the tapping of the keyboard stop momentarily and watch as Hotch turns up to look at you, your eyes meeting for a long second, before he breaks his gaze, returning back to the screen in front of him. From your seat, you can barely make out a slight crinkling of his forehead as his hands hover above the keyboard, as though faltering in typing out his next words. You have to guess that he's arrived at the part of his statement around the interrogation. You turn away, following Emily's lead and staring out your own window, while unbeknownst to you, his eyes can't help but return to you countless times more.

It felt as though you'd thought of very little besides Hotch, since that day that your mother had visited. She'd left in the wake of one of the few times you'd seen him lose his cool with someone, and having it be done on your behalf, in your defense, had somehow unveiled this entirely ridiculous truth that you'd tried in vain to deny.

You were in love with Aaron Hotchner.

You had no idea what to do with that.

Dating other people hadn't worked out so well.

Trying to simply get over it had been an exercise in vain.

You've run miles in your own head, trying to make sense of it. The question begged itself – why Aaron Hotchner? If you merely wanted a husband and kids, you've no doubt you could have that with anyone you got along with well enough.

Your mind had briefly flitted back to that final date you'd had with Cedric Kensington. It had been highly promising, you'd finally felt it heading in a definite direction and you could see it. You could see yourself being with Cedric, marrying him, having children with him if you were so inclined. Had you not gotten the call from Garcia, informing you that Foyet was back on the grid, who knows what could have happened. Maybe you could've had that with Cedric. Having that perfect life with someone else was not entirely out of the realm of possibility.

You'd thought of John. How it had never been the right time when it came to the two of you. Then finally, when you could conceive being something real with him, you'd faltered. You couldn't go through with it. It hadn't been the right time to choose him. It hadn’t been the right time to choose anyone but yourself.

It had taken you some time but you think you've finally come to the right conclusion of why it was Hotch and no one else – the possibility of losing him was terrifying. Even when the two of you had been on the outs, you hadn't been able to leave, staying anchored to him despite being furious with him. Seeing him had been torture. Not seeing him had been so much worse, and you couldn't bring yourself to endure that again.

Given the absolute fact of the matter – you being in love with Hotch - there were really only two paths forward that you could see. Ignore it and hope it goes away, or tell him and pray you didn't lose him in the process.

The Pro/Con list to that second option had begun, unbidden, the week prior. Your mind going rogue and dreaming up ridiculous and absurd scenarios of you confessing your truth to him.

Pro: You're absolutely, unshakably, madly in love with him.

Con: There's a fairly good chance that he does not and will never reciprocate those feelings.

Pro: Aaron Hotchner was loyal to you. You had always felt he was, but your conversation a few weeks back had cemented that. He would do anything to help you, no matter what.

Con: He's twelve years older than you and has a kid.

Pro: You love his kid.

Con: Between the two of you, your past trauma could be its own wing in the Library of Congress.

Pro: You're both good at getting the other person to talk.

Con: You work together and workplace romances are frowned upon. He was your supervisor, and dating him would no doubt lead to rumors and malicious gossip, which would follow you the rest of your career at the Bureau. It could tarnish you entirely and it could also hurt him.

Con: You would not be alright if the two of you didn't work out. You know that you weren't even together, but the idea of ending things with Hotch, after knowing what it was to have him – that would break you entirely.

Con: He was going to say no, so it was all a moot point.

Towards the end, you'd run out of items for the Pros to balance out each Con, and as of now, the Cons were definitely in the lead.

*------------*

The two of you are once again the last two people in the office. Emily had been the last to leave, leaving her book from the plane on your desk, having already put sticky note bookmarks in all the right spots. She'd winked as she left, encouraging you to skip the rest of the book and skip straight to the good stuff. You had to smile at her attempts to cheer you up. Some friends bought you a drink. Emily Prentiss curated sex scenes that she thought you'd enjoy reading.

You glance up and see that Hotch's door is shut, the orange blush emanating through the glass windows, alluding to the fact that he'd given up on using the overhead lights. They were too bright for him and gave him headaches, so despite the strain on his eyes, he preferred to read by the glow of his desk lamp. With Jack away at sleepaway camp for Cub Scouts for the week, he's unlikely to leave early.

You grab your finished report and head up the stairs to his door, stopping and knocking before hearing his permission to enter. As you open the door, your eyes go immediately to his desk, however he's not seated behind it. Instead, you're greeted by a most unfamiliar sight.

Aaron Hotchner is seated on the brown leather couch in his office, a glass of amber liquid in his hands. You don't think you've ever seen Hotch not working in his office. Sure, he'll take a break here and there when you interrupt, but the image of him outright sitting on the couch, not a report in sight, was entirely foreign to you.

It feels as though you're intruding. Like you’ve stumbled upon something entirely private, because Hotch doesn’t strike you as the kind of guy that makes a habit out of drinking in his office by himself.

You could imagine this was something he did with Rossi on occasion, the two of them sharing a drink after a rough case or catching up and reminiscing about the so-called good old days, before the team had a plane on call.

"You can set that on the desk," he tells you, his voice deeper, made warm by the liquor. He doesn't look up from his glass, eyes fixed on something in the far off distance.

Unsure how to react to the sight in front of you, you quickly make your way across his office, setting your file on top of the already tall stack at the edge of his desk.

Turning around, you quickly walk back towards the door, eager to not bother him any longer than absolutely necessary. When you get to the door, you hesitate, turning back to face him. Before you can stop yourself, you can feel the words tumbling out of you. "Hotch, are you alright?"

He looks up in your direction, his expression entirely unreadable. He nods slowly, and you can see a deep sigh work its way through him, before he finally meets your eyes.

"It was a rough case. Telling the families isn't something I'll ever get used to, I think."

You nod sympathetically. It wasn't fair that it always fell on him.

"I'll be fine, though. Just need to be alone after some of them."

You nod again, not trusting yourself to say much. As you turn to leave, taking his words as your cue, he speaks again.

"You can stay."

You turn back, your head tilting in some confusion as you meet his eyes once more. He looks at you for a second longer, before reaching over to the side table and grabbing a second glass. He pours from the bottle of good scotch that Rossi had given him last Christmas while you watch him.

Proffering the glass in your direction, he beckons you forward. "You're easy to be alone with."

Somehow, in a slight daze, you manage to walk back towards the couch, reaching out and grasping the heavy crystal glass in your hand. He motions for you to join him and you sink into your usual spot, tucking your legs underneath yourself.

His eyes stay on you as you settle in and take a sip of the scotch, feeling it burn your lips, the tip of your tongue, before blooming into a subtle smoky sweetness in your mouth, settling into your stomach like dying embers.

"Are you alright?" he asks, watching you carefully.

You try not to squirm under his inspecting gaze, unable to offer much beyond a shrug. "I will be."

It's quiet for a moment as he continues to look at you and you distract yourself with a stray thread in the cushion stitching.

You hear him clear his throat, shifting slightly on the couch so that his leg bends at the knee as he turns his body to face you, arm stretched out on the back of the couch, fingers grazing the top of your shoulder. "You did everything you could."

You feel that heavy tug in your stomach, unable to look at him, knowing that your face would betray you entirely.

He says your name, soft on his lips, gentle with every part of you. He waits until you look up at him, meeting his brown eyes that held the warmth of an everlasting hearth.

"You did."

You nod slowly, because who were you to disagree with him. Because if Aaron Hotchner said you did everything you could, then maybe it was true.

Not much more is said that night, as the two of you sit side by side.

Pro: You could be alone with Aaron Hotchner.

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